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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Silence, by 
+C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Golden Silence
+
+Author: C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson
+
+Illustrator: George Brehm
+
+Release Date: August 23, 2006 [EBook #19108]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN SILENCE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Nash, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                           THE GOLDEN SILENCE
+
+
+
+
+                                BOOKS BY
+
+                       C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON
+
+
+                    THE MOTOR MAID
+                    LORD LOVELAND DISCOVERS AMERICA
+                    SET IN SILVER
+                    THE LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR
+                    THE PRINCESS PASSES
+                    MY FRIEND THE CHAUFFEUR
+                    LADY BETTY ACROSS THE WATER
+                    ROSEMARY IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
+                    THE PRINCESS VIRGINIA
+                    THE CAR OF DESTINY
+                    THE CHAPERON
+
+
+
+
+                             [Illustration]
+          "'Allah sends thee a man--a strong man, whose brain
+                 and heart and arm are at thy service'"
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                                GOLDEN
+                                SILENCE
+
+                                   by
+
+                              C.N. & A.M.
+                              WILLIAMSON
+
+                             [Illustration]
+
+                      Illustrated by GEORGE BREHM
+
+
+
+
+                         GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK
+                       DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+                                  1911
+
+           ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
+           INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
+
+              COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY C. N. & A. M. WILLIAMSON
+
+
+
+
+                                   TO
+
+                               _Effendi_
+
+                                HIS BOOK
+
+
+
+
+
+THE GOLDEN SILENCE
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+Stephen Knight was very angry, though he meant to be kind and patient
+with Margot. Perhaps, after all, she had not given the interview to the
+newspaper reporter. It might be what she herself would call a "fake."
+But as for her coming to stop at a big, fashionable hotel like the
+Carlton, in the circumstances she could hardly have done anything in
+worse taste.
+
+He hated to think that she was capable of taking so false a step. He
+hated to think that it was exactly like her to take it. He hated to be
+obliged to call on her in the hotel; and he hated himself for hating it.
+
+Knight was of the world that is inclined to regard servants as automata;
+but he was absurdly self-conscious as he saw his card on a silver tray,
+in the hand of an expressionless, liveried youth who probably had the
+famous interview in his pocket. If not there, it was only because the
+paper would not fit in. The footman had certainly read the interview,
+and followed the "Northmorland Case" with passionate interest, for
+months, from the time it began with melodrama, and turned violently to
+tragedy, up to the present moment when (as the journalists neatly
+crammed the news into a nutshell) "it bade fair to end with
+marriage-bells."
+
+Many servants and small tradespeople in London had taken shares, Stephen
+had heard, as a speculative investment, in the scheme originated to
+provide capital for the "other side," which was to return a hundred per
+cent. in case of success. Probably the expressionless youth was
+inwardly reviling the Northmorland family because he had lost his money
+and would be obliged to carry silver trays all the rest of his life,
+instead of starting a green grocery business. Stephen hoped that his own
+face was as expressionless, as he waited to receive the unwelcome
+message that Miss Lorenzi was at home.
+
+It came very quickly, and in a worse form than Stephen had expected.
+Miss Lorenzi was in the Palm Court, and would Mr. Knight please come to
+her there?
+
+Of course he had to obey; but it was harder than ever to remain
+expressionless.
+
+There were a good many people in the Palm Court, and they all looked at
+Stephen Knight as he threaded his intricate way among chairs and little
+tables and palms, toward a corner where a young woman in black crape sat
+on a pink sofa. Her hat was very large, and a palm with enormous
+fan-leaves drooped above it like a sympathetic weeping willow on a
+mourning brooch. But under the hat was a splendidly beautiful dark face.
+
+"Looks as if he were on his way to be shot," a man who knew all about
+the great case said to a woman who had lunched with him.
+
+"Looks more as if he were on his way to shoot," she laughed, as one does
+laugh at other people's troubles, which are apt to be ridiculous. "He's
+simply glaring."
+
+"Poor beggar!" Her companion found pleasure in pitying Lord
+Northmorland's brother, whom he had never succeeded in getting to know.
+"Which is he, fool or hero?"
+
+"Both. A fool to have proposed to the girl. A hero to stick to her, now
+he has proposed. He must be awfully sick about the interview. I do think
+it's excuse enough to throw her over."
+
+"I don't know. It's the sort of business a man can't very well chuck,
+once he's let himself in for it. Every one blames him now for having
+anything to do with Miss Lorenzi. They'd blame him a lot more for
+throwing her over."
+
+"Women wouldn't."
+
+"No. Because he happens to be young and good-looking. But all his
+popularity won't make the women who like him receive his wife. She isn't
+a woman's woman."
+
+"I should think not, indeed! We're too clever to be taken in by that
+sort, all eyes and melodrama. They say Lord Northmorland warned his
+brother against her, and prophesied she'd get hold of him, if he didn't
+let her alone. The Duchess of Amidon told Lady Peggy Lynch--whom I know
+a little--that immediately after Lorenzi committed suicide, this Margot
+girl wrote to Stephen Knight and implored him to help her. I can quite
+believe she would. Fancy the daughter of the unsuccessful claimant to
+his brother's title writing begging letters to a young man like Stephen
+Knight! It appeals to one's sense of humour."
+
+"What a pity Knight didn't see it in that light--what?"
+
+"Yet he has a sense of humour, I believe. It's supposed to be one of his
+charms. But the sense of humour often fails where one's own affairs are
+concerned. You know he's celebrated for his quaint ideas about life.
+They say he has socialistic views, or something rather like them. His
+brother and he are as different from one another as light is from
+darkness. Stephen gives away a lot of money, and Lady Peggy says that
+nobody ever asks him for anything in vain. He can't stand seeing people
+unhappy, if he can do anything to help. Probably, after he'd been kind
+to the Lorenzi girl, against his brother's advice, and gone to see her a
+few times, she grovelled at his feet and told him she was all alone in
+the world, and would die if he didn't love her. He's just young enough
+and romantic enough to be caught in that way!"
+
+"He's no boy. He must be nearly thirty."
+
+"All nice, normal men are boys until after thirty. Lady Peggy's new name
+for this poor child is the Martyr Knight."
+
+"St. Stephen the Second is the last thing I heard. Stephen the First was
+a martyr too, wasn't he? Stoned to death or something."
+
+"I believe so," hastily returned the lady, who was not learned in
+martyrology. "He will be stoned, too, if he tries to force Miss Lorenzi
+on his family, or even on his friends. He'll find that he'll have to
+take her abroad."
+
+"That might be a good working plan. Foreigners wouldn't shudder at her
+accent. And she's certainly one of the most gorgeously beautiful
+creatures I ever saw."
+
+"Yes, that's just the right expression. Gorgeous. And--a _creature_."
+
+They both laughed, and fell to talking again of the interview.
+
+Stephen Knight's ears were burning. He could not hear any of the things
+people were saying; but he had a lively imagination, and, always
+sensitive, he had grown morbidly so since the beginning of the
+Northmorland-Lorenzi case, when all the failings and eccentricities of
+the family had been reviewed before the public eye, like a succession of
+cinematograph pictures. It did not occur to Stephen that he was an
+object of pity, but he felt that through his own folly and that of
+another, he had become a kind of scarecrow, a figure of fun: and because
+until now the world had laughed with instead of at him, he would rather
+have faced a shower of bullets than a ripple of ridicule.
+
+"How do you do?" he inquired stiffly, and shook Miss Lorenzi's hand as
+she gave it without rising from the pink sofa. She gazed up at him with
+immense, yellowish brown eyes, then fluttered her long black lashes in a
+way she had, which was thrilling--the first time you saw it. But Stephen
+had seen it often.
+
+"I am glad you've come, my White Knight!" she said in her contralto
+voice, which would have been charming but for a crude accent. "I was so
+afraid you were cross."
+
+"I'm not cross, only extremely ang--vexed if you really did talk to that
+journalist fellow," Stephen answered, trying not to speak sharply, and
+keeping his tone low. "Only, for Heaven's sake, Margot, don't call
+me--what you did call me--anywhere, but especially here, where we might
+as well be on the stage of a theatre."
+
+"Nobody can hear us," she defended herself. "You ought to like that dear
+little name I made up because you came to my rescue, and saved me from
+following my father--came into my life as if you'd been a modern St.
+George. Calling you my 'White Knight' shows you how I feel--how I
+appreciate you and everything. If you just _would_ realize that, you
+couldn't scold me."
+
+"I'm not scolding you," he said desperately. "But couldn't you have
+stopped in your sitting-room--I suppose you have one--and let me see you
+there? It's loathsome making a show of ourselves----"
+
+"I _haven't_ a private sitting-room. It would have been too
+extravagant," returned Miss Lorenzi. "Please sit down--by me."
+
+Stephen sat down, biting his lip. He must not begin to lecture her, or
+even to ask why she had exchanged her quiet lodgings for the Carlton
+Hotel, because if he once began, he knew that he would be carried on to
+unsafe depths. Besides, he was foolish enough to hate hurting a woman's
+feelings, even when she most deserved to have them hurt.
+
+"Very well. It can't be helped now. Let us talk," said Stephen. "The
+first thing is, what to do with this newspaper chap, if you didn't give
+him the interview----"
+
+"Oh, I did give it--in a way," she admitted, looking rather frightened,
+and very beautiful. "You mustn't do anything to him. But--of course it
+was only because I thought it would be better to tell him the truth.
+Surely it was?"
+
+"Surely it wasn't. You oughtn't to have received him."
+
+"Then do you mind so dreadfully having people know you've asked me to
+marry you, and that I've said 'yes'?"
+
+Margot Lorenzi's expression of pathetic reproach was as effective as her
+eyelash play, when seen for the first time, as Stephen knew to his
+sorrow. But he had seen the one as often as the other.
+
+"You must know I didn't mean anything of the sort. Oh, Margot, if you
+don't understand, I'm afraid you're hopeless."
+
+"If you speak like that to me, I shall simply end everything as my
+father did," murmured the young woman, in a stifled, breaking voice. But
+her eyes were blazing.
+
+It almost burst from Stephen to order her not to threaten him again, to
+tell her that he was sick of melodrama, sick to the soul; but he kept
+silence. She was a passionate woman, and perhaps in a moment of madness
+she might carry out her threat. He had done a great deal to save her
+life--or, as he thought, to save it. After going so far he must not fail
+now in forbearance. And worse than having to live with beautiful,
+dramatic Margot, would it be to live without her if she killed herself
+because of him.
+
+"Forgive me. I didn't mean to hurt you," he said when he could control
+his voice.
+
+She smiled. "No, of course you didn't. It was stupid of me to fly out. I
+ought to know that you're always good. But I _don't_ see what harm the
+interview could do you, or me, or any one. It lets all the world know
+how gloriously you've made up to me for the loss of the case, and the
+loss of my father; and how you came into my life just in time to save me
+from killing myself, because I was utterly alone, defeated, without
+money or hope."
+
+She spoke with the curiously thrilling emphasis she knew how to give her
+words sometimes, and Stephen could not help thinking she did credit to
+her training. She had been preparing for the stage in Canada, the
+country of the Lorenzis' adoption, before her father brought her to
+England, whither he came with a flourish of trumpets to contest Lord
+Northmorland's rights to the title.
+
+"The world knew too much about our affairs already," Stephen said
+aloud. "And when you wished our engagement to be announced in _The
+Morning Post_, I had it put in at once. Wasn't that enough?"
+
+"Every one in the world doesn't read _The Morning Post_. But I should
+think every one in the world has read that interview, or will soon,"
+retorted Margot. "It appeared only yesterday morning, and was copied in
+all the evening papers; in this morning's ones too; and they say it's
+been cabled word for word to the big Canadian and American dailies."
+
+Stephen had his gloves in his hand, and he tore a slit across the palm
+of one, without knowing it. But Margot saw. He was thinking of the
+heading in big black print at the top of the interview: "Romantic Climax
+to the Northmorland-Lorenzi Case. Only Brother of Lord Northmorland to
+Marry the Daughter of Dead Canadian Claimant. Wedding Bells Relieve Note
+of Tragedy."
+
+"We've nothing to be ashamed of--everything to be proud of," Miss
+Lorenzi went on. "You, of your own noble behaviour to me, which, as I
+said to the reporter, must be making my poor father happy in another
+world. Me, because I have won You, _far_ more than because some day I
+shall have gained all that father failed to win for me and himself. His
+heart was broken, and he took his own life. My heart would have been
+broken too, and but for you I----"
+
+"Don't, please," Stephen broke in. "We won't talk any more about the
+interview. I'd like to forget it. I should have called here yesterday,
+as I wired in answer to your telegram saying you were at the Carlton,
+but being at my brother's place in Cumberland, I couldn't get back
+till----"
+
+"Oh, I understand," Margot cut in. Then she laughed a sly little laugh.
+"I think I understand too why you went to Cumberland. Now tell me.
+Confession's good for the soul. Didn't your brother wire for you the
+minute he saw that announcement in _The Morning Post_, day before
+yesterday?"
+
+"He did wire. Or rather the Duchess did, asking me to go at once to
+Cumberland, on important business. I found your telegram, forwarded from
+my flat, when I got to Northmorland Hall. If I'd known you were moving,
+I wouldn't have gone till to-day."
+
+"You mean, dear, you wouldn't have let me move? Now, do you think
+there's any harm in a girl of my age being alone in a hotel? If you do,
+it's dreadfully old-fashioned of you. I'm twenty-four."
+
+During the progress of the case, it had been mentioned in court that the
+claimant's daughter was twenty-nine (exactly Stephen Knight's age); but
+Margot ignored this unfortunate slip, and hoped that Stephen and others
+had forgotten.
+
+"No actual harm. But in the circumstances, why be conspicuous? Weren't
+you comfortable with Mrs. Middleton? She seemed a miraculously nice old
+body for a lodging-house keeper, and fussed over you no end----"
+
+"It was for your sake that I wanted to be in a good hotel, now our
+engagement has been announced," explained Miss Lorenzi. "I didn't think
+it suitable for the Honourable Stephen Knight's future wife to go on
+living in stuffy lodgings. And as you've insisted on my accepting an
+income of eighty pounds a month till we're married, I'm able to afford a
+little luxury, dearest. I can tell you it's a pleasure, after all I've
+suffered!--and I felt I owed you something in return for your
+generosity. I wanted your _fiancée_ to do you credit in the eyes of the
+world."
+
+Stephen bit his lip. "I see," he said slowly.
+
+Yet what he saw most clearly was a very different picture. Margot as she
+had seemed the day he met her first, in the despised South Kensington
+lodgings, whither he had been implored to come in haste, if he wished to
+save a wretched, starving girl from following her father out of a cruel
+world. Of course, he had seen her in court, and had reluctantly
+encountered her photograph several times before he had given up looking
+at illustrated papers for fear of what he might find in them. But
+Margot's tragic beauty, as presented by photographers, or as seen from
+a distance, loyally seated at the claimant's side, was as nothing to the
+dark splendour of her despair when the claimant was in his new-made
+grave. It was the day after the burial that she had sent for Stephen;
+and her letter had arrived, as it happened, when he was thinking of the
+girl, wondering whether she had friends who would stand by her, or
+whether a member of his family might, without being guilty of bad taste,
+dare offer help.
+
+Her tear-blotted letter had settled that doubt, and it had been so
+despairing, so suggestive of frenzy in its wording, that Stephen had
+impulsively rushed off to South Kensington at once, without stopping to
+think whether it would not be better to send a representative combining
+the gentleness of the dove with the wisdom of the serpent, and armed for
+emergencies with a blank cheque.
+
+Margot's hair, so charmingly dressed now, folding in soft dark waves on
+either side her face, almost hiding the pink-tipped ears, had been
+tumbled, that gloomy afternoon six weeks ago, with curls escaping here
+and there; and in the course of their talk a great coil had fallen down
+over her shoulders. It was the sort of thing that happens to the heroine
+of a melodrama, if she has plenty of hair; but Stephen did not think of
+that then. He thought of nothing except his sympathy for a beautiful
+girl brought, through no fault of her own, to the verge of starvation
+and despair, and of how he could best set about helping her.
+
+She had not even money enough to buy mourning. Lorenzi had left debts
+which she could not pay. She had no friends. She did not know what was
+to become of her. She had not slept for many nights. She had made up her
+mind to die as her father had died, because it seemed the only thing to
+do, when suddenly the thought of Stephen had flashed into her mind, as
+if sent there by her guardian angel. She had heard that he was good and
+charitable to everybody, and once she had seen him looking at her
+kindly, in court, as if he were sorry for her, and could read something
+of what was in her heart. She had imagined it perhaps. But would he
+forgive her for writing to him? Would he help her, and save her life?
+
+Any one who knew Stephen could have prophesied what his answer would be.
+He had hated it when she snatched his hand to kiss at the end of their
+interview; but he would scarcely have been a human young man if he had
+not felt a sudden tingle of the blood at the touch of such lips as
+Margot Lorenzi's. Never had she seemed so beautiful to him since that
+first day; but he had called again and again, against his brother's
+urgent advice (when he had confessed the first visit); and the story
+that the Duchess of Amidon was telling her friends, though founded
+entirely on her own imagination of the scene which had brought about
+Stephen's undoing, was not very far from the truth.
+
+Now, he saw a picture of Margot as he had seen her in the lodgings she
+hated; and he wished to heaven that he might think of her as he had
+thought of her then.
+
+"I've got something important to say to you," the girl went on, when she
+realized that Stephen intended to dismiss the subject of the hotel, as
+he had dismissed the subject of the interview. "That's the reason I
+wired. But I won't speak a word till you've told me what your brother
+and the Duchess of Amidon think about you and me."
+
+"There's nothing to tell," Stephen answered almost sullenly. And indeed
+there was no news of his Cumberland visit which it would be pleasant or
+wise to retail.
+
+Margot Lorenzi's complexion was not one of her greatest beauties. It was
+slightly sallow, so she made artistic use of a white cosmetic, which
+gave her skin the clearness of a camellia petal. But she had been
+putting on rather more than usual since her father's death, because it
+was suitable as well as becoming to be pale when one was in deep
+mourning. Consequently Margot could not turn perceptibly whiter, but she
+felt the blood go ebbing away from her face back upon her heart.
+
+"Stephen! Don't they mean to receive me, when we're married?" she
+stammered.
+
+"I don't think they've much use for either of us," Stephen hedged, to
+save her feelings. "Northmorland and I have never been great pals, you
+know. He's twenty years older than I am; and since he married the
+Duchess of Amidon----"
+
+"And her money! Oh, it's no use beating about the bush. I hate them
+both. Lord Northmorland has a fiendish, vindictive nature."
+
+"Come, you mustn't say that, Margot. He has nothing of the sort. He's a
+curious mixture. A man of the world, and a bit of a Puritan----"
+
+"So are you a Puritan, at heart," she broke in.
+
+Stephen laughed. "No one ever accused me of Puritanism before."
+
+"Maybe you've never shown any one else that side of you, as you show it
+to me. You're always being shocked at what I do and say."
+
+For that, it was hardly necessary to be a Puritan. But Stephen shrugged
+his shoulders instead of answering.
+
+"Your brother is a cold-hearted tyrant, and his wife is a snob. If she
+weren't, she wouldn't hang on to her duchess-hood after marrying again.
+It would be good enough for _me_ to call myself Lady Northmorland, and I
+hope I shall some day."
+
+Stephen's sensitive nostrils quivered. He understood in that moment how
+a man might actually wish to strike a nagging virago of a woman, no
+matter how beautiful. And he wondered with a sickening heaviness of
+heart how he was to go on with the wretched business of his engagement.
+But he pushed the question out of his mind, fiercely. He was in for this
+thing now. He _must_ go on.
+
+"Let all that alone, won't you?" he said, in a well-controlled tone.
+
+"I can't," Margot exclaimed. "I hate your brother. He killed my
+father."
+
+"Because he defended the honour of our grandfather, and upheld his own
+rights, when Mr. Lorenzi came to England to dispute them?"
+
+"Who knows if they _were_ his rights, or my father's? My father believed
+they were his, or he wouldn't have crossed the ocean and spent all his
+money in the hope of stepping into your brother's shoes."
+
+There were those--and Lord Northmorland and the Duchess of Amidon were
+among them--who did not admit that Lorenzi had believed in his "rights."
+And as for the money he had spent in trying to establish a legal claim
+to the Northmorland title and estates, it had not been his own, but lent
+him by people he had hypnotized with his plausible eloquence.
+
+"That question was decided in court----"
+
+"It would be harder for a foreigner to get an English nobleman's title
+away than for a camel to go through the eye of the tiniest needle in the
+world. But never mind. All that's buried in his grave, and you're giving
+me everything father wanted me to have. I wish I could keep my horrid
+temper better in hand, and I'd never make you look so cross. But I
+inherited my emotional nature from Margherita Lorenzi, I suppose. What
+can you expect of a girl who had an Italian prima donna for a
+grandmother? And I oughtn't to quarrel with the fair Margherita for
+leaving me her temper, since she left me her face too, and I'm fairly
+well satisfied with that. Everybody says I'm the image of my
+grandmother. And you ought to know, after seeing her picture in dozens
+of illustrated papers, as well as in that pamphlet poor father
+published."
+
+"If you want me to tell you that you are one of the handsomest women who
+ever lived, I'll do so at once," said Stephen.
+
+Margot smiled. "You really mean it?"
+
+"There couldn't be two opinions on that subject."
+
+"Then, if you think I'm so beautiful, don't let your brother and his
+snobbish Duchess spoil my life."
+
+"They can't spoil it."
+
+"Yes, they can. They can keep me from being a success in their set, your
+set--the _only_ set."
+
+"Perhaps they can do that. But England isn't the only country, anyhow.
+I've been thinking that when--by and by--we might take a long trip round
+the world----"
+
+"_Hang_ the world! England's my world. I've always looked forward to
+England, ever since I was a little thing, before mamma died, and I used
+to hear father repeating the romantic family story--how, if he could
+only find his mother's letters that she'd tried to tell him about when
+she was dying, perhaps he might make a legal claim to a title and a
+fortune. He used to turn to me and say: 'Maybe you'll be a great lady
+when you grow up, Margot, and I shall be an English viscount.' Then,
+when he did find the letters, behind the secret partition in
+grandmother's big old-fashioned sandal-wood fan-box, of which you've
+heard so much----"
+
+"Too much, please, Margot."
+
+"I _beg_ your pardon! But anyway, you see why I want to live in England.
+My life and soul are bound up in my success here. And I could have a
+success. You know I could. I am beautiful. I haven't seen any woman
+whose face I'd change for mine. I won't be cheated out of my
+happiness----"
+
+"Very well, we'll live in England, then. That's settled," said Stephen,
+hastily. "And you shall have all the success, all the happiness, that I
+can possibly give you. But we shall have to get on without any help from
+my brother and sister-in-law, and perhaps without a good many other
+people you might like to have for friends. It may seem hard, but you
+must make up your mind to it, Margot. Luckily, there'll be enough money
+to do pleasant things with; and people don't matter so immensely, once
+you've got used to----"
+
+"They do, they do! The right people. I _shall_ know them."
+
+"You must have patience. Everybody is rather tired of our names just
+now. Things may change some day. I'm ready to begin the experiment
+whenever you are."
+
+"You are a dear," said Margot. And Stephen did not even shiver. "That
+brings me to what I had to tell you. It's this: after all, we can't be
+married quite as soon as we expected."
+
+"Can't we?" he echoed the words blankly. Was this to be a reprieve? But
+he was not sure that he wanted a reprieve. He thought, the sooner the
+plunge was made, the better, maybe. Looking forward to it had become
+almost unbearable.
+
+"No, I _must_ run over to Canada first, Stephen. I've just begun to see
+that. You might say, I could go there with you after we were married,
+but it wouldn't be the same thing at all. I ought to stay with some of
+my old friends while I'm still Margot Lorenzi. A lot of people were
+awfully good to father, and I must show my gratitude. The sooner I sail
+the better, now the news of our engagement has got ahead of me. I
+needn't stop away very long. Seven or eight weeks--or nine at most,
+going and coming."
+
+"Would you like to be married in Canada?" Stephen asked; perhaps partly
+to please her, but probably more to disguise the fact that he had no
+impatient objections to raise against her plan. "If you wished, I could
+go whenever----"
+
+"Oh no, no!" she exclaimed quickly. "I wouldn't have you come there for
+anything in the world. That is. I mean----" she corrected herself with
+an anxious, almost frightened side glance at him--"I must fight it out
+alone. No, I don't mean that either. What a stupid way of putting it!
+But it would bore you dreadfully to take such a journey, and it would be
+nicer anyhow to be married in England--perhaps at St. George's. That
+used to be my dream, when I was a romantic little girl, and loved to
+stuff my head full of English novels. I should adore a wedding at St.
+George's. And oh, Stephen, you won't change your mind while I'm gone? It
+would kill me if you jilted me after all. I shouldn't live a single day,
+if you weren't true."
+
+"Don't talk nonsense, my dear girl. Of course I'm not going to change
+my mind," said Stephen. "When do you want to sail?"
+
+"The end of this week. You're sure you won't let your brother and that
+cruel Duchess talk you over? I----"
+
+"There's not the slightest chance of their talking to me at all,"
+Stephen answered sharply. "We've definitely quarrelled."
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+When he had dutifully seen Miss Lorenzi off at the ship, leaving her
+with as many flowers, novels, and sweets as even she could wish, Stephen
+expected to feel a sense of relief. But somehow, in a subtle way, he was
+more feverishly wretched than when Margot was near, and while planning
+to hurry on the marriage. He had been buoyed up with a rather youthful
+sense of defiance of the world, a hot desire to "get everything over."
+The flatness of the reaction which he felt on finding himself free, at
+least of Margot's society, was a surprise; and yet Stephen vaguely
+understood its real meaning. To be free, yet not free, was an
+aggravation. And besides, he did not know what to do or where to go, now
+that old friends and old haunts had lost much of their attraction.
+
+Since the announcement of his engagement to Miss Lorenzi, and especially
+since the famous interview, copied in all the papers, he disliked
+meeting people he knew well, lest they should offer good advice, or let
+him see that they were dying to do so.
+
+If it had been weak to say, "Be my wife, if you think I can make you
+happy," one day when Margot Lorenzi had tearfully confessed her love for
+him, it would be doubly weak--worse than weak, Stephen thought--to throw
+her over now. It would look to the world as if he were a coward, and it
+would look to himself the same--which would be more painful in the end.
+So he could listen to no advice, and he wished to hear none. Fortunately
+he was not in love with any other woman. But then, if he had loved
+somebody else, he would not have made the foolish mistake of saying
+those unlucky, irrevocable words to Margot.
+
+Stephen would have liked to get away from England for a while, but he
+hardly knew where to look for a haven. Since making a dash through
+France and Italy just after leaving Oxford, he had been too busy amusing
+himself in his own country to find time for any other, with the
+exception of an occasional run over to Paris. Now, if he stopped in
+England it would be difficult to evade officious friends, and soon
+everybody would be gossiping about his quarrel with Northmorland. The
+Duchess was not reticent.
+
+Stephen had not yet made up his mind what to do, or whether to do
+anything at all in his brief interval of freedom, when a letter came, to
+the flat near Albert Gate, where he had shut himself up after the
+sailing of Margot. The letter was post-marked Algiers, and it was a long
+time since he had seen the writing on the envelope--but not so long that
+he had forgotten it.
+
+"Nevill Caird!" he said to himself as he broke the neat seal which was
+characteristic of the writer. And he wondered, as he slowly, almost
+reluctantly, unfolded the letter, whether Nevill Caird had been reminded
+of him by reading the interview with Margot. Once, he and Caird had been
+very good friends, almost inseparable during one year at Oxford. Stephen
+had been twenty then, and Nevill Caird about twenty-three. That would
+make him thirty-two now--and Stephen could hardly imagine what "Wings"
+would have developed into at thirty-two. They had not met since
+Stephen's last year at Oxford, for Caird had gone to live abroad, and if
+he came back to England sometimes, he had never made any sign of wishing
+to pick up the old friendship where it had dropped. But here was this
+letter.
+
+Stephen knew that Caird had inherited a good deal of money, and a house
+in Paris, from an uncle or some other near relative; and a common friend
+had told him that there was also an Arab palace, very ancient and very
+beautiful, in or near Algiers. Several years had passed since Nevill
+Caird's name had been mentioned in his hearing, and lately it had not
+even echoed in his mind; but now, the handwriting and the neat seal on
+this envelope brought vividly before him the image of his friend: small,
+slight, boyish in face and figure, with a bright, yet dreamy smile, and
+blue-grey eyes which had the look of seeing beautiful things that nobody
+else could see.
+
+     "DEAR LEGS,"
+
+began the letter ("Legs" being the name which Stephen's skill as a
+runner, as well as the length of his limbs, had given him in
+undergraduate days).
+
+     "Dear Legs,
+
+     "I've often thought about you in the last nine years, and hope
+     you've occasionally thought of me, though somehow or other we
+     haven't written. I don't know whether you've travelled much, or
+     whether England has absorbed all your interests. Anyhow, can't you
+     come out here and make me a visit--the longer it is, the more I
+     shall be pleased. This country is interesting if you don't know it,
+     and fascinating if you do. My place is rather nice, and I should
+     like you to see it. Still better, I should like to see you. Do come
+     if you can, and come soon. I should enjoy showing you my garden at
+     its best. It's one of the things I care for most, but there are
+     other things. Do let me introduce you to them all. You can be as
+     quiet as you wish, if you wish. I'm a quiet sort myself, as you may
+     remember, and North Africa suits me better than London or Paris. I
+     haven't changed for the worse I hope, and I'm sure you haven't, in
+     any way.
+
+     "You can hardly realize how much pleasure it will give me if you'll
+     say 'yes' to my proposal.
+
+                                          "Yours as ever
+
+                                          "NEVILL CAIRD, alias 'Wings,'"
+
+Not a word of "the case," though, of course, he must know all about
+it--even in Algiers. Stephen's gratitude went out to his old friend,
+and his heart felt warmer because of the letter and the invitation. Many
+people, even with the best intentions, would have contrived to say the
+wrong thing in these awkward circumstances. There would have been some
+veiled allusion to the engagement; either silly, well-meant
+congratulations and good wishes, or else a stupid hint of advice to get
+out of a bad business while there was time. But Caird wrote as he might
+have written if there had been no case, and no entanglement; and acting
+on his first impulse, Stephen telegraphed an acceptance, saying that he
+would start for Algiers in two or three days. Afterwards, when he had
+given himself time to think, he did not regret his decision. Indeed, he
+was glad of it, and glad that he had made it so soon.
+
+A few weeks ago, a sudden break in his plans would have caused him a
+great deal of trouble. There would have been dozens of luncheons and
+dinners to escape from, and twice as many letters to write. But nowadays
+he had few invitations and scarcely any letters to write, except those
+of business, and an occasional line to Margot. People were willing to be
+neglected by him, willing to let him alone, for now that he had
+quarrelled with Northmorland and the Duchess, and had promised to marry
+an impossible woman, he must be gently but firmly taught to expect
+little of Society in future.
+
+Stephen broke the news to his man that he was going away, alone, and
+though the accomplished Molton had regrets, they were not as poignant as
+they would have been some weeks earlier. Most valets, if not all, are
+human, and have a weakness for a master whose social popularity is as
+unbounded as his generosity.
+
+Molton's services did not cease until after he had packed Stephen's
+luggage, and seen him off at Victoria. He flattered himself, as he left
+the station with three months' wages in his pocket, that he would be
+missed; but Stephen was surprised at the sense of relief which came as
+Molton turned a respectable back, and the boat-train began to slide out
+of the station. It was good to be alone, to have loosed his moorings,
+and to be drifting away where no eyes, once kind, would turn from him,
+or turn on him with pity. Out there in Algiers, a town of which he had
+the vaguest conception, there would be people who read the papers, of
+course, and people who loved to gossip; but Stephen felt a pleasant
+confidence that Nevill Caird would know how to protect him from such
+people. He would not have to meet many strangers. Nevill would arrange
+all that, and give him plenty to think about during his weeks of
+freedom.
+
+Algiers seemed a remote place to Stephen, who had loved life at home too
+passionately to care for foreign travel. Besides, there was always a
+great deal to do in England at every season of the year, and it had been
+difficult to find a time convenient for getting away. Town engagements
+began early in the spring, and lasted till after Cowes, when he was keen
+for Scotland. Being a gregarious as well as an idle young man, he was
+pleased with his own popularity, and the number of his invitations for
+country-house visits. He could never accept more than half, but even so,
+he hardly saw London until January; and then, if he went abroad at all,
+there was only time for a few days in Paris, and a fortnight on the
+Riviera, perhaps, before he found that he must get back. Just after
+leaving Oxford, before his father's death, he had been to Rome, to
+Berlin, and Vienna, and returned better satisfied than ever with his own
+capital; but of course it was different now that the capital was
+dissatisfied with him.
+
+He had chosen the night train and it was not crowded. All the way to
+Dover he had the compartment to himself, and there was no rush for the
+boat. It was a night of stars and balmy airs; but after the start the
+wind freshened, and Stephen walked briskly up and down the deck,
+shivering slightly at first, till his blood warmed. By and by it grew so
+cold that the deck emptied, save for half a dozen men with pipes that
+glowed between turned-up coat collars, and one girl in a blue serge
+dress, with no other cloak than the jacket that matched her frock.
+Stephen hardly noticed her at first, but as men buttoned their coats or
+went below, and she remained, his attention was attracted to the slim
+figure leaning on the rail. Her face was turned away, looking over the
+sea where the whirling stars dipped into dark waves that sprang to
+engulf them. Her elbows rested on the railing, and her chin lay in the
+cup of her two hands; but her hair, under a blue sailor-hat held down
+with a veil, hung low in a great looped-up plait, tied with a wide black
+ribbon, so that Stephen, without wasting much thought upon her, guessed
+that she must be very young. It was red hair, gleaming where the light
+touched it, and the wind thrashed curly tendrils out from the thick
+clump of the braid, tracing bright threads in intricate, lacy lines over
+her shoulders, like the network of sunlight that plays on the surface of
+water.
+
+Stephen thought of that simile after he had passed the girl once or
+twice, and thinking of it made him think of the girl herself. He was
+sure she must be cold in her serge jacket, and wondered why she didn't
+go below to the ladies' cabin. Also he wondered, even more vaguely, why
+her people didn't take better care of the child: there must be some one
+belonging to her on board.
+
+At last she turned, not to look at him, but to pace back and forth as
+others were pacing. She was in front of Stephen, and he saw only her
+back, which seemed more girlish than ever as she walked with a light,
+springing step, that might have kept time to some dainty dance-music
+which only she could hear. Her short dress, of hardly more than ankle
+length, flowed past her slender shape as the black, white-frothing waves
+flowed past the slim prow of the boat; and there was something
+individual, something distinguished in her gait and the bearing of her
+head on the young throat. Stephen noticed this rather interesting
+peculiarity, remarking it more definitely because of the almost mean
+simplicity of the blue serge dress. It was of provincial cut, and
+looked as if the wearer might have bought it ready made in some country
+town. Her hat, too, was of the sort that is turned out by the thousand
+and sold at a few shillings for young persons between the ages of twelve
+and twenty.
+
+By and by, when she had walked as far forward as possible, the deck
+rising under her feet or plunging down, while thin spray-wreaths sailed
+by on the wind, the girl wheeled and had the breeze at her back. It was
+then Stephen caught his first glimpse of her face, in a full white blaze
+of electric light: and he had the picture to himself, for by this time
+nearly every one else had gone.
+
+He had not expected anything wonderful, but it seemed to him in a flash
+of surprise that this was an amazing beauty. He had never seen such
+hair, or such a complexion. The large eyes gave him no more than a
+passing glance, but they were so vivid, so full of blue light as they
+met his, that he had a startled impression of being graciously accosted.
+It seemed as if the girl had some message to give him, for which he must
+stop and ask.
+
+As soon as they had passed each other, however, that curious, exciting
+impression was gone, like the vanishing glint on a gull's wing as it
+dips from sun into shadow. Of course she had not spoken; of course she
+had no word to give him. He had seemed to hear her speak, because she
+was a very vital sort of creature, no doubt, and therefore physically,
+though unconsciously, magnetic.
+
+At their next crossing under the light she did not look at him at all,
+and he realized that she was not so extraordinarily beautiful as he had
+at first thought. The glory of her was more an effect of colouring than
+anything else. The creamy complexion of a very young girl, whipped to
+rose and white by the sea wind; brilliant turquoise blue eyes under a
+glitter of wavy red hair; these were the only marvels, for the small,
+straight nose was exactly like most pretty girls' noses, and the mouth,
+though expressive and sweet, with a short upper lip, was not remarkable,
+unless for its firmness.
+
+The next time they passed, Stephen granted the girl a certain charm of
+expression which heightened the effect of beauty. She looked singularly
+innocent and interested in life, which to Stephen's mood seemed
+pathetic. He was convinced that he had seen through life, and
+consequently ceased forever to be interested in it. But he admired
+beauty wherever he saw it, whether in the grace of a breaking wave, or
+the sheen on a girl's bright hair, and it amused him faintly to
+speculate about the young creature with the brilliant eyes and blowing
+red locks. He decided that she was a schoolgirl of sixteen, being taken
+over to Paris, probably to finish her education there. Her mother or
+guardian was no doubt prostrate with sea-sickness, careless for the
+moment whether the child paraded the deck insufficiently clad, or
+whether she fell unchaperoned into the sea. Judging by her clothes, her
+family was poor, and she was perhaps intended for a governess: that was
+why they were sending her to France. She was to be given "every
+advantage," in order to command "desirable situations" by and by.
+Stephen felt dimly sorry for the little thing, who looked so radiantly
+happy now. She was much too pretty to be a governess, or to be obliged
+to earn her own living in any way. Women were brutes to each other
+sometimes. He had been finding this out lately. Few would care to bring
+a flowerlike creature of that type into their houses. The girl had
+trouble before her. He was sure she was going to be a governess.
+
+After she had walked for half an hour she looked round for a sheltered
+corner and sat down. But the place she had chosen was only comparatively
+sheltered, and presently Stephen fancied that he saw her shivering with
+cold. He could not bear this, knowing that he had a rug which Molton had
+forced upon him to use on board ship between Marseilles and Algiers. It
+was in a rolled-up thing which Molton called a "hold-all," along with
+some sticks and an umbrella, Stephen believed; and the rolled-up thing
+was on deck, with other hand-luggage.
+
+"Will you let me lend you a rug?" he asked, in the tone of a benevolent
+uncle addressing a child. "I have one close by, and it's rather cold
+when you don't walk."
+
+"Thank you very much," said the girl. "I should like it, if it won't be
+too much trouble to you."
+
+She spoke simply, and had a pretty voice, but it was an American voice.
+Stephen was surprised, because to find that she was an American upset
+his theories. He had never heard of American girls coming over to Paris
+with the object of training to be governesses.
+
+He went away and found the rug, returning with it in two or three
+minutes. The girl thanked him again, getting up and wrapping the dark
+soft thing round her shoulders and body, as if it had been a big shawl.
+Then she sat down once more, with a comfortable little sigh. "That does
+feel good!" she exclaimed. "I _was_ cold."
+
+"I think you would have been wiser to stop in the ladies' cabin," said
+Stephen, still with the somewhat patronizing air of the older person.
+
+"I like lots of air," explained the girl. "And it doesn't do me any harm
+to be cold."
+
+"How about getting a chill?" inquired Stephen.
+
+"Oh, I never have such things. They don't exist. At least they don't
+unless one encourages them," she replied.
+
+He smiled, rather interested, and pleased to linger, since she evidently
+understood that he was using no arts to scrape an acquaintance. "That
+sounds like Christian Science," he ventured.
+
+"I don't know that it's any kind of science," said she. "Nobody ever
+talked to me about it. Only if you're not afraid of things, they can't
+hurt you, can they?"
+
+"Perhaps not. I suppose you mean you needn't let yourself feel them.
+There's something in the idea: be callous as an alligator and nothing
+can hit you."
+
+"I don't mean that at all. I'd hate to be callous," she objected. "We
+couldn't enjoy things if we were callous."
+
+Stephen, on the point of saying something bitter, stopped in time,
+knowing that his words would have been not only stupid but obvious,
+which was worse. "It is good to be young," he remarked instead.
+
+"Yes, but I'm glad to be grown up at last," said the girl; and Stephen
+would not let himself laugh.
+
+"I know how you feel," he answered. "I used to feel like that too."
+
+"Don't you now?"
+
+"Not always. I've had plenty of time to get tired of being grown up."
+
+"Maybe you've been a soldier, and have seen sad things," she suggested.
+"I was thinking when I first saw you, that you looked like a soldier."
+
+"I wish I had been. Unfortunately I was too disgustingly young, when our
+only war of my day was on. I mean, the sort of war one could volunteer
+for."
+
+"In South Africa?"
+
+"Yes. You were a baby in that remote time."
+
+"Oh no, I wasn't. I'm eighteen now, going on nineteen. I was in Paris
+then, with my stepmother and my sister. We used to hear talk about the
+war, though we knew hardly any English people."
+
+"So Paris won't be a new experience to you?" said Stephen, disappointed
+that he had been mistaken in all his surmises.
+
+"I went back to America before I was nine, and I've been there ever
+since, till a few weeks ago. Oh see, there are the lights of France! I
+can't help being excited."
+
+"Yes, we'll be in very soon--in about ten minutes."
+
+"I am glad! I'd better go below and make my hair tidy. Thank you ever so
+much for helping me to be comfortable."
+
+She jumped up, unrolled herself, and began to fold the rug neatly.
+Stephen would have taken it from her and bundled it together anyhow, but
+she would not let him do that. "I like folded things," she said. "It's
+nice to see them come straight, and I enjoy it more because the wind
+doesn't want me to do it. To succeed in spite of something, is a kind of
+little triumph--and seems like a sign. Good-bye, and thank you once
+more."
+
+"Good-bye," said Stephen, and added to himself that he would not soon
+again see so pretty a child; as fresh, as frank, or as innocent. He had
+known several delightful American girls, but never one like this. She
+was a new type to him, and more interesting, perhaps, because she was
+simple, and even provincial. He was in a state of mind to glorify women
+who were entirely unsophisticated.
+
+He did not see the girl getting into the train at Calais, though he
+looked for her, feeling some curiosity as to the stepmother and the
+sister whom he had imagined prostrate in the ladies' cabin. By the time
+he had arrived at Paris he felt sleepy and dull after an aggravating
+doze or two on the way, and had almost forgotten the red-haired child
+with the vivid blue eyes, until, to his astonishment, he saw her alone
+parleying with a _douanier_, over two great boxes, for one of which
+there seemed to be no key.
+
+"Those selfish people of hers have left her to do all the work," he said
+to himself indignantly, and as she appeared to be having some difficulty
+with the official, he went to ask if he could help.
+
+"Thank you, it's all right now," she said. "The key of my biggest box is
+mislaid, but luckily I've got the man to believe me when I say there's
+nothing in it except clothes, just the same as in the other. Still it
+would be very, very kind if you wouldn't mind seeing me to a cab. That
+is, if it's no bother."
+
+Stephen assured her that he would be delighted.
+
+"Have your people engaged the cab already," he wanted to know, "or are
+they waiting in this room for you?"
+
+"I haven't any people," she answered. "I'm all by myself."
+
+This was another surprise, and it was as much as Stephen could do not to
+blame her family audibly for allowing the child to travel alone, at
+night too. The thing seemed monstrous.
+
+He took her into the court-yard, where the cabs stood, and engaged two,
+one for the girl, and one for her large luggage.
+
+"You have rooms already taken at an hotel, I hope?" he asked.
+
+"I'm going to a boarding-house--a _pension_, I mean," explained the
+girl. "But it's all right. They know I'm coming. I do thank you for
+everything."
+
+Seated in the cab, she held out her hand in a glove which had been
+cleaned, and showed mended fingers. Stephen shook the small hand
+gravely, and for the second time they bade each other good-bye.
+
+In the cold grey light of a rainy dawn, which would have suited few
+women as a background, especially after a night journey, the girl's face
+looked pearly, and Stephen saw that her lashes, darker at the roots,
+were bright golden at the turned-up ends.
+
+It seemed to him that this pretty child, alone in the greyness and rain
+of the big foreign city, was like a spring flower thrown carelessly into
+a river to float with the stream. He felt an impulse of protection, and
+it went against his instincts to let her drive about Paris unprotected,
+while night had hardly yielded to morning. But he could not offer to go
+with her. He was interested, as any man of flesh and blood must be
+interested, in the fate of an innocent and charming girl left to take
+care of herself, and entirely unfitted for the task; yet she seemed
+happy and self-confident, and he had no right, even if he wished, to
+disturb her mind. He was going away without another word after the
+good-bye, but on second thoughts felt that he might ask if she had
+friends in Paris.
+
+"Not exactly friends, but people who will look after me, and be kind,
+I'm sure," she answered. "Thank you for taking an interest. Will you
+tell the man to go to 278A Rue Washington, and the other cab to follow?"
+
+Stephen obeyed, and as she drove away the girl looked back, smiling at
+him her sweet and childlike smile.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+Stephen had meant to stop only one day in Paris, and travel at night to
+Marseilles, where he would have twelve or fifteen hours to wait before
+the sailing of the ship on which he had engaged a cabin. But glancing
+over a French paper while he breakfasted at the Westminster, he saw that
+a slight accident had happened to the boat during a storm on her return
+voyage from Algiers, and that she would be delayed three days for
+repairs. This news made Stephen decide to remain in Paris for those
+days, rather than go on and wait at Marseilles, or take another ship. He
+did not want to see any one he knew, but he thought it would be pleasant
+to spend some hours picture-gazing at the Louvre, and doing a few other
+things which one ought to do in Paris, and seldom does.
+
+That night he went to bed early and slept better than he had slept for
+weeks. The next day he almost enjoyed, and when evening came, felt
+desultory, even light-hearted.
+
+Dining at his hotel, he overheard the people at the next table say they
+were going to the Folies Bergères to see Victoria Ray dance, and
+suddenly Stephen made up his mind that he would go there too: for if
+life had been running its usual course with him, he would certainly have
+gone to see Victoria Ray in London. She had danced lately at the Palace
+Theatre for a month or six weeks, and absorbed as he had been in his own
+affairs, he had heard enough talk about this new dancer to know that she
+had made what is called a "sensation."
+
+The people at the next table were telling each other that Victoria Ray's
+Paris engagement was only for three nights, something special, with
+huge pay, and that there was a "regular scramble" for seats, as the girl
+had been such a success in New York and London. The speakers, who were
+English and provincial, had already taken places, but there did not
+appear to be much hope that Stephen could get anything at the last
+minute. The little spice of difficulty gave a fillip of interest,
+however; and he remembered how the charming child on the boat had said
+that she "liked doing difficult things." He wondered what she was doing
+now; and as he thought of her, white and ethereal in the night and in
+the dawn-light, she seemed to him like the foam-flowers that had
+blossomed for an instant on the crests of dark waves, through which
+their vessel forged. "For a moment white, then gone forever." The words
+glittered in his mind, and fascinated him, calling up the image of the
+girl, pale against the night and rainy sea. "For a moment white, then
+gone forever," he repeated, and asked himself whence came the line. From
+Burns, he fancied; and thought it quaintly appropriate to the fair child
+whose clear whiteness had thrown a gleam into his life before she
+vanished.
+
+All the seats for this second night of Victoria Ray's short engagement
+were sold at the Folies Bergères, he found, from the dearest to the
+cheapest: but there was standing room still when Stephen arrived, and he
+squeezed himself in among a group of light-hearted, long-haired students
+from the Latin Quarter. He had an hour to wait before Victoria Ray would
+dance, but there was some clever conjuring to be seen, a famous singer
+of _chansons_ to be heard, and other performances which made the time
+pass well enough. Then, at last, it was the new dancer's "turn."
+
+The curtain remained down for several minutes, as some scenic
+preparation was necessary before her first dance. Gay French music was
+playing, and people chattered through it, or laughed in high Parisian
+voices. A blue haze of smoke hung suspended like a thin veil, and the
+air was close, scented with tobacco and perfume. Stephen looked at his
+programme, beginning to feel bored. His elbows were pressed against his
+sides by the crowd. Miss Ray was down for two dances, the Dance of the
+Statue and the Dance of the Shadow. The atmosphere of the place
+depressed him. He doubted after all, that he would care for the dancing.
+But as he began to wish he had not come the curtain went up, to show the
+studio of a sculptor, empty save for the artist's marble masterpieces.
+Through a large skylight, and a high window at the back of the stage, a
+red glow of sunset streamed into the bare room. In the shadowy corners
+marble forms were grouped, but in the centre, directly under the full
+flood of rose-coloured light, the just finished statue of a girl stood
+on a raised platform. She was looking up, and held a cup in one lifted
+hand, as if to catch the red wine of sunset. Her draperies, confined by
+a Greek ceinture under the young bust, fell from shoulder to foot in
+long clear lines that seemed cut in gleaming stone. The illusion was
+perfect. Even in that ruddy blaze the delicate, draped form appeared to
+be of carved marble. It was almost impossible to believe it that of a
+living woman, and its grace of outline and pose was so perfect that
+Stephen, in his love of beauty, dreaded the first movement which must
+change, if not break, the tableau. He said to himself that there was
+some faint resemblance between this chiselled loveliness and the vivid
+charm of the pretty child he had met on the boat. He could imagine that
+a statue for which she had stood as model might look like this, though
+the features seemed to his eye more regular than those of the girl.
+
+As he gazed, the music, which had been rich and colourful, fell into
+softer notes; and the rose-sunset faded to an opal twilight, purple to
+blue, blue to the silver of moonlight, the music changing as the light
+changed, until at last it was low and slumberous as the drip-drip of a
+plashing fountain. Then, into the dream of the music broke a sound like
+the distant striking of a clock. It was midnight, and all the statues
+in the sculptor's bare, white studio began to wake at the magic stroke
+which granted them a few hours of life.
+
+There was just a shimmer of movement in the dim corners. Marble limbs
+stirred, marble face turned slowly to gaze at marble face; yet, as if
+they could be only half awakened in the shadows where the life-giving
+draught of moonlight might not flow, there was but the faintest flicker
+of white forms and draperies. It was the just finished statue of the
+girl which felt the full thrill of moonshine and midnight. She woke
+rapturously, and drained the silver moon-wine in her cup (the music told
+the story of her first thought and living heart-beat): then down she
+stepped from the platform where the sculptor's tools still lay, and
+began to dance for the other statues who watched in the dusk, hushed
+back into stillness under the new spell of her enchantments.
+
+Stephen had never seen anything like that dance. Many pretty _premières
+danseuses_ he had admired and applauded, charming and clever young women
+of France, of Russia, of Italy, and Spain: and they had roused him and
+all London to enthusiasm over dances eccentric, original, exquisite, or
+wild. But never had there been anything like this. Stephen had not known
+that a dance could move him as this did. He was roused, even thrilled by
+its poetry, and the perfect beauty of its poses, its poises. It must, he
+supposed, have been practised patiently, perhaps for years, yet it
+produced the effect of being entirely unstudied. At all events, there
+was nothing in the ordinary sense "professional" about it. One would
+say--not knowing the supreme art of supreme grace--that a joyous child,
+born to the heritage of natural grace, might dance thus by sheer
+inspiration, in ecstasy of life and worship of the newly felt beauty of
+earth. Stephen did know something of art, and the need of devotion to
+its study; yet he found it hard to realize that this awakened marble
+loveliness had gone through the same performance week after week, month
+after month, in America and England. He preferred rather to let himself
+fancy that he was dreaming the whole thing; and he would gladly have
+dreamed on indefinitely, forgetting the smoky atmosphere, forgetting the
+long-haired students and all the incongruous surroundings. The gracious
+dream gave him peace and pleasure such as he had not known since the
+beginning of the Northmorland case.
+
+Through the house there was a hush, unusual at the Folies Bergères.
+People hardly knew what to make of the dances, so different from any
+ever seen in a theatre of Paris. Stephen was not alone in feeling the
+curious dream-spell woven by music and perfection of beauty. But the
+light changed. The moonlight slowly faded. Dancer and music faltered, in
+the falling of the dark hour before dawn. The charm was waning. Soft
+notes died, and quavered in apprehension. The magic charm of the moon
+was breaking, had broken: a crash of cymbals and the studio was dark.
+Then light began to glimmer once more, but it was the chill light of
+dawn, and growing from purple to blue, from blue to rosy day, it showed
+the marble statues fast locked in marble sleep again. On the platform
+stood the girl with uplifted arm, holding her cup, now, to catch the
+wine of sunrise; and on the delicately chiselled face was a faint smile
+which seemed to hide a secret. When the first ray of yellow sunshine
+gilded the big skylight, a door up-stage opened and the sculptor came
+in, wearing his workman's blouse. He regarded his handiwork, as the
+curtain came down.
+
+When the music of the dream had ceased and suddenly became
+ostentatiously puerile, the audience broke into a tumult of applause.
+Women clapped their hands furiously and many men shouted "brava, brava,"
+hoping that the curtain might rise once more on the picture; but it did
+not rise, and Stephen was glad. The dream would have been vulgarized by
+repetition.
+
+For fully five minutes the orchestra played some gay tune which every
+one there had heard a hundred times; but abruptly it stopped, as if on
+a signal. For an instant there was a silence of waiting and suspense,
+which roused interest and piqued curiosity. Then there began a delicate
+symphony which could mean nothing but spring in a forest, and on that
+the curtain went up. The prophecy of the music was fulfilled, for the
+scene was a woodland in April, with young leaves a-flicker and blossoms
+in birth, the light song of the flutes and violins being the song of
+birds in love. All the trees were brocaded with dainty, gold-green lace,
+and daffodils sprouted from the moss at their feet.
+
+The birds sang more gaily, and out from behind a silver-trunked beech
+tree danced a figure in spring green. Her arms were full of flowers,
+which she scattered as she danced, curtseying, mocking, beckoning the
+shadow that followed her along the daisied grass. Her little feet were
+bare, and flitted through the green folding of her draperies like white
+night-moths fluttering among rose leaves. Her hair fell over her
+shoulders, and curled below her waist. It was red hair that glittered
+and waved, and she looked a radiant child of sixteen. Victoria Ray the
+dancer, and the girl on the Channel boat were one.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+The Shadow Dance was even more beautiful than the Dance of the Statue,
+but Stephen had lost pleasure in it. He was supersensitive in these
+days, and he felt as if the girl had deliberately made game of him, in
+order that he should make a fool of himself. Of course it was a pose of
+hers to travel without chaperon or maid, and dress like a school girl
+from a provincial town, in cheap serge, a sailor hat, and a plait of
+hair looped up with ribbon. She was no doubt five or six years older
+than she looked or admitted, and probably her manager shrewdly
+prescribed the "line" she had taken up. Young women on the
+stage--actresses, dancers, or singers, it didn't matter which--must do
+something unusual, in order to be talked about, and get a good free
+advertisement. Nowadays, when professionals vied with each other in the
+expensiveness of their jewels, the size of their hats, or the smallness
+of their waists, and the eccentricity of their costumes, it was perhaps
+rather a new note to wear no jewels at all, and appear in ready-made
+frocks bought in bargain-sales; while, as for the young woman's air of
+childlike innocence and inexperience, it might be a tribute to her
+cleverness as an actress, but it was not a tribute to his intelligence
+as a man, that he should have been taken in by it. Always, he told
+himself, he was being taken in by some woman. After the lesson he had
+had, he ought to have learned wisdom, but it seemed that he was as
+gullible as ever. And it was this romantic folly of his which vexed him
+now; not the fact that a simple child over whose fate he had
+sentimentalized, was a rich and popular stage-dancer. Miss Ray was
+probably a good enough young woman according to her lights, and it was
+not she who need be shamed by the success of the Channel boat comedy.
+
+He had another day and night in Paris, where he did more sightseeing
+than he had ever accomplished before in a dozen visits, and then
+travelled on to Marseilles. The slight damage to the _Charles Quex_ had
+been repaired, and at noon the ship was to sail. Stephen went on board
+early, as he could think of nothing else which he preferred to do, and
+he was repaid for his promptness. By the time he had seen his luggage
+deposited in the cabin he had secured for himself alone, engaged a deck
+chair, and taken a look over the ship--which was new, and as handsome as
+much oak, fragrant cedar-wood, gilding, and green brocade could make
+her--many other passengers were coming on board. Travelling first class
+were several slim French officers, and stout Frenchmen of the commercial
+class; a merry theatrical company going to act in Algiers and Tunis; an
+English clergyman of grave aspect; invalids with their nurses, and two
+or three dignified Arabs, evidently of good birth as well as fortune.
+Arab merchants were returning from the Riviera, and a party of German
+students were going second class.
+
+Stephen was interested in the lively scene of embarkation, and glad to
+be a part of it, though still more glad that there seemed to be nobody
+on board whom he had ever met. He admired the harbour, and the shipping,
+and felt pleasantly exhilarated. "I feel very young, or very old, I'm
+not sure which," he said to himself as a faint thrill ran through his
+nerves at the grinding groan of the anchor, slowly hauled out of the
+deep green water.
+
+It was as if he heard the creaking of a gate which opened into an
+unknown garden, a garden where life would be new and changed. Nevill
+Caird had once said that there was no sharp, dividing line between
+phases of existence, except one's own moods, and Stephen had thought
+this true; but now it seemed as if the sea which silvered the distance
+was the dividing line for him, while all that lay beyond the horizon was
+mysterious as a desert mirage.
+
+He was not conscious of any joy at starting, yet he was excited, as if
+something tremendous were about to happen to him. England, that he knew
+so well, seemed suddenly less real than Africa, which he knew not at
+all, and his senses were keenly alert for the first time in many days.
+He saw Marseilles from a new point of view, and wondered why he had
+never read anything fine written in praise of the ancient Phoenician
+city. Though he had not been in the East, he imagined that the old part
+of the town, seen from the sea, looked Eastern, as if the traffic
+between east and west, going on for thousands of years, had imported an
+Eastern taste in architecture.
+
+The huge, mosque-like cathedral bubbled with domes, where fierce gleams
+of gold were hammered out by strokes of the noonday sun. A background of
+wild mountain ranges, whose tortured peaks shone opaline through long
+rents in mist veils, lent an air of romance to the scene, and Notre Dame
+de la Garde loomed nobly on her bleached and arid height. "Have no fear:
+I keep watch and ward over land and sea," seemed to say the majestic
+figure of gold on the tall tower, and Stephen half wished he were of the
+Catholic faith, that he might take comfort from the assurance.
+
+As the _Charles Quex_ steamed farther and farther away, the church on
+the mountainous hill appeared to change in shape. Notre Dame de la Garde
+looked no longer like a building made by man, but like a great sacred
+swan crowned with gold, and nested on a mountain-top. There she sat,
+with shining head erect on a long neck, seated on her nest, protecting
+her young, and gazing far across the sea in search of danger. The sun
+touched her golden crown, and dusky cloud-shadows grouped far beneath
+her eyrie, like mourners kneeling below the height to pray. The
+rock-shapes and island rocks that cut the blue glitter of the sea,
+suggested splendid tales of Phoenician mariners and Saracenic pirates,
+tales lost forever in the dim mists of time; and so Stephen wandered on
+to thoughts of Dumas, wishing he had brought "Monte Cristo," dearly
+loved when he was twelve. Probably not a soul on board had the book;
+people were so stupid and prosaic nowadays. He turned from the rail on
+which he had leaned to watch the fading land, and as he did so, his eyes
+fell upon a bright red copy of the book for which he had been wishing.
+There was the name in large gold lettering on a scarlet cover, very
+conspicuous on the dark blue serge lap of a girl. It was the girl of the
+Channel boat, and she wore the same dress, the same sailor hat tied on
+with a blue veil, which she had worn that night crossing from England to
+France.
+
+While Stephen had been absorbed in admiration of Marseilles harbour, she
+had come up on deck, and settled herself in a canvas chair. This time
+she had a rug of her own, a thin navy blue rug which, like her frock,
+might have been chosen for its cheapness. Although she held a volume of
+"Monte Cristo," she was not reading, and as Stephen turned towards her,
+their eyes met.
+
+Hers lit up with a pleased smile, and the pink that sprang to her cheeks
+was the colour of surprise, not of self-consciousness.
+
+"I _thought_ your back looked like you, but I didn't suppose it would
+turn out to be you," she said.
+
+Stephen's slight, unreasonable irritation could not stand against the
+azure of such eyes, and the youth in her friendly smile. Since the girl
+seemed glad to see him, why shouldn't he be glad to see her? At least
+she was not a link with England.
+
+"I thought your statue looked like you," he retorted, standing near her
+chair, "but I didn't suppose it would turn out to be you until your
+shadow followed."
+
+"Oh, you saw me dance! Did you like it?" She asked the question eagerly,
+like a child who hangs upon grown-up judgment of its work.
+
+"I thought both dances extremely beautiful and artistic," replied
+Stephen, a little stiffly.
+
+She looked at him questioningly, as if puzzled. "No, I don't think you
+did like them, really," she said. "I oughtn't to have asked in that
+blunt way, because of course you would hate to hurt my feelings by
+saying no!"
+
+Her manner was so unlike that of a spoiled stage darling, that Stephen
+had to remind himself sharply of her "innocent pose," and his own
+soft-hearted lack of discrimination where pretty women were concerned.
+By doing this he kept himself armed against the clever little actress
+laughing at him behind the blue eyes of a child. "You must know that
+there can't be two opinions of your dancing," said he coolly. "You have
+had years and years of flattery, of course; enough to make you sick of
+it, if a woman ever----" He stopped, smiling.
+
+"Why, I've been dancing professionally for only a few months!" she
+exclaimed. "Didn't you know?"
+
+"I'm ashamed to say I was ignorant," Stephen confessed. "But before the
+dancing, there must have been something else equally clever.
+Floating--or flying--or----"
+
+She laughed. "Why don't you suggest fainting in coils? I'm certain you
+would, if you'd ever read 'Alice.'"
+
+"As a matter of fact, I was brought up on 'Alice,'" said Stephen. "Do
+children of the present day still go down the rabbit hole?"
+
+"I'm not sure about children of the _present_ day. Children of my day
+went down," she replied with dignity. "I loved Alice dearly. I don't
+know much about other children, though, for I never had a chance to make
+friends as a child. But then I had my sister when I was a little girl,
+so nothing else mattered."
+
+"If you don't think me rude to say so," ventured Stephen, "you would
+seem to me a little girl now, if I hadn't found out that you're an
+accomplished star of the theatres, admired all over Europe."
+
+"Now you're making fun of me," said the dancer. "Paris was only my third
+engagement; and it's going to be my last, anyway for ever so long, I
+hope."
+
+This time Stephen was really surprised, and all his early interest in
+the young creature woke again; the personal sort of interest which he
+had partly lost on finding that she was of the theatrical world.
+
+"Oh, I see!" he ejaculated, before stopping to reflect that he had no
+right to put into words the idea which jumped into his mind.
+
+"You see?" she echoed. "But how can you see, unless you know something
+about me already?"
+
+"I beg your pardon," he apologized. "It was only a thought. I----"
+
+"A thought about my dancing?"
+
+"Not exactly that. About your not dancing again."
+
+"Then please tell me the thought."
+
+"You may be angry. I rather think you'd have a right to be angry--not at
+the thought, but the telling of it."
+
+"I promise."
+
+"Why," explained Stephen, "when a young and successful actress makes up
+her mind to leave the stage, what is the usual reason?"
+
+"I'm not an actress, so I can't imagine what you mean--unless you
+suppose I've made a great fortune in a few months?"
+
+"That too, perhaps--but I don't think a fortune would induce you to
+leave the stage yet a while. You'd want to go on, not for the money
+perhaps, but for the fun."
+
+"I haven't been dancing for fun."
+
+"Haven't you?"
+
+"No. I began with a purpose. I'm leaving the stage for a purpose. And
+you say you can guess what that is. If you know, you must have been
+told."
+
+"Since you insist, it occurred to me that you might be going to marry.
+I thought maybe you were travelling to Africa to----"
+
+She laughed. "Oh, you _are_ wrong! I don't believe there ever was a girl
+who thinks less about marrying. I've never had time to think of such
+things. I've always--ever since I was nine years old--looked to the one
+goal, and aimed for it, studied for it, lived for it--at last, danced
+towards it."
+
+"You excite my curiosity immensely," said Stephen. And it was true. The
+girl had begun to take him out of himself.
+
+"There is lunch," she announced, as a bugle sounded.
+
+Stephen longed to say, "Don't go yet. Stop and tell me all about the
+'goal' you're working for." But he dared not. She was very frank, and
+evidently willing, for some reason, to talk of her aims, even to a
+comparative stranger; yet he knew that it would be impertinent to
+suggest her sitting out on deck to chat with him, while the other
+passengers lunched.
+
+He asked if she were hungry, and she said she was. So was he, now that
+he came to think of it; nevertheless he let her go in alone, and waited
+deliberately for several minutes before following. He would have liked
+to sit by Miss Ray at the table, but wished her to see that he did not
+mean to presume upon any small right of acquaintanceship. As she was on
+the stage, and extremely attractive, no doubt men often tried to take
+such advantage, and he didn't intend to be one of them; therefore he
+supposed that he had lost the chance of placing himself near her in the
+dining-room. To his surprise, however, as he was about to slip into a
+far-away chair, she beckoned from her table. "I kept this seat for you,"
+she said. "I hoped you wouldn't mind."
+
+"Mind!" He was on the point of repaying her kindness with a conventional
+little compliment, but thought better of it, and expressed his meaning
+in a smile.
+
+The oak-panelled saloon was provided with a number of small tables, and
+at the one where Victoria Ray sat, were places for four. Three were
+already occupied when Stephen came; one by Victoria, the others by a
+German bride and groom.
+
+At the next table were two French officers of the Chasseurs d'Afrique,
+the English clergyman Stephen had noticed on deck, and a remarkably
+handsome Arab, elaborately dressed. He sat facing Victoria Ray and
+Stephen Knight, and Stephen found it difficult not to stare at the
+superb, pale brown person whose very high white turban, bound with light
+grey cord, gave him a dignity beyond his years, and whose pale grey
+burnous, over a gold-embroidered vest of dark rose-colour, added
+picturesqueness which appeared theatrical in eyes unaccustomed to the
+East.
+
+Stephen had never seen an Arab of the aristocratic class until to-day;
+and before, only a few such specimens as parade the Galerie Charles
+Trois at Monte Carlo, selling prayer-rugs and draperies from Algeria.
+This man's high birth and breeding were clear at first glance. He was
+certainly a personage aware of his own attractions, though not
+offensively self-conscious, and was unmistakably interested in the
+beauty of the girl at the next table. He was too well-bred to make a
+show of his admiration, but talked in almost perfect, slightly guttural
+French, with the English clergyman, speaking occasionally also to the
+officers in answer to some question. He glanced seldom at Miss Ray, but
+when he did look across, in a guarded way, at her, there was a light of
+ardent pleasure in his eyes, such as no eyes save those of East or South
+ever betray. The look was respectful, despite its underlying passion.
+Nevertheless, because the handsome face was some shades darker than his
+own, it offended Stephen, who felt a sharp bite of dislike for the Arab.
+He was glad the man was not at the same table with Miss Ray, and knew
+that it would have vexed him intensely to see the girl drawn into
+conversation. He wondered that the French officers should talk with the
+Arab as with an equal, yet knew in his heart that such prejudice was
+narrow-minded, especially at the moment when he was travelling to the
+Arab's own country. He tried, though not very strenuously, to override
+his conviction of superiority to the Eastern man, but triumphed only far
+enough to admit that the fellow was handsome in a way. His skin was
+hardly darker than old ivory: the aquiline nose delicate as a woman's,
+with sensitive nostrils; and the black velvet eyes under arched brows,
+that met in a thin, pencilled line, were long, and either dreamy or
+calmly calculating. A prominent chin and a full mouth, so determined as
+to suggest cruelty, certainly selfishness, preserved the face from
+effeminacy at the sacrifice of artistic perfection. Stephen noticed with
+mingled curiosity and disapproval that the Arab appeared to be vain of
+his hands, on which he wore two or three rings that might have been
+bought in Paris, or even given him by European women--for they looked
+like a woman's rings. The brown fingers were slender, tapering to the
+ends, and their reddened nails glittered. They played, as the man
+talked, with a piece of bread, and often he glanced down at them, with
+the long eyes which had a blue shadow underneath, like a faint smear of
+kohl.
+
+Stephen wondered what Victoria Ray thought of her _vis-à-vis_; but in
+the presence of the staring bride and groom he could ask no questions,
+and the expression of her face, as once she quietly regarded the Arab,
+told nothing. It was even puzzling, as an expression for a young girl's
+face to wear in looking at a handsome man so supremely conscious of sex
+and of his own attraction. She was evidently thinking about him with
+considerable interest, and it annoyed Stephen that she should look at
+him at all. An Arab might misunderstand, not realizing that he was a
+legitimate object of curiosity for eyes unused to Eastern men.
+
+After luncheon Victoria went to her cabin. This was disappointing.
+Stephen, hoping that she might come on deck again soon, and resume their
+talk where it had broken off in the morning, paced up and down until he
+felt drowsy, not having slept in the train the night before. To his
+surprise and disgust, it was after five when he waked from a long nap,
+in his stateroom; and going on deck he found Miss Ray in her chair once
+more, this time apparently deep in "Monte Cristo."
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+He walked past, and she looked up with a smile, but did not ask him to
+draw his chair near hers, though there was a vacant space. It was an
+absurd and far-fetched idea, but he could not help asking himself if it
+were possible that she had picked up any acquaintance on board, who had
+told her he was a marked man, a foolish fellow who had spoiled his life
+for a low-born, unscrupulous woman's sake. It was a morbid fancy, he
+knew, but he was morbid now, and supposed that he should be for some
+time to come, if not for the rest of his life. He imagined a difference
+in the girl's manner. Maybe she had read that hateful interview in some
+paper, when she was in London, and now remembered having seen his
+photograph with Margot Lorenzi's. He hated the thought, not because he
+deliberately wished to keep his engagement secret, but because the
+newspaper interview had made him seem a fool, and somehow he did not
+want to be despised by this dancing girl whom he should never see again
+after to-morrow. Just why her opinion of his character need matter to
+him, it was difficult to say, but there was something extraordinary
+about the girl. She did not seem in the least like other dancers he had
+met. He had not that feeling of comfortable comradeship with her that a
+man may feel with most unchaperoned, travelling actresses, no matter how
+respectable. There was a sense of aloofness, as if she had been a young
+princess, in spite of her simple and friendly ways.
+
+Since it appeared that she had no intention of picking up the dropped
+threads of their conversation, Stephen thought of the smoking-room; but
+his wish to know whether she really had changed towards him became so
+pressing that he was impelled to speak again. It was an impulse unlike
+himself, at any rate the old self with which he was familiar, as with a
+friend or an intimate enemy.
+
+"I hoped you would tell me the rest," he blurted out.
+
+"The rest?"
+
+"That you were beginning to tell."
+
+The girl blushed. "I was afraid afterwards, you might have been bored,
+or anyway surprised. You probably thought it 'very American' of me to
+talk about my own affairs to a stranger, and it _isn't_, you know. I
+shouldn't like you to think Americans are less well brought up than
+other girls, just because _I_ may do things that seem queer. I have to
+do them. And I am quite different from others. You mustn't suppose I'm
+not."
+
+Stephen was curiously relieved. Suddenly he felt young and happy, as he
+used to feel before knowing Margot Lorenzi. "I never met a brilliantly
+successful person who was as modest as you," he said, laughing with
+pleasure. "I was never less bored in my life. Will you talk to me
+again--and let me talk to you?"
+
+"I should like to ask your advice," she replied.
+
+That gave permission for Stephen to draw his chair near to hers. "Have
+you had tea?" he inquired, by way of a beginning.
+
+"I'm too American to drink tea in the afternoon," she explained. "It's
+only fashionable Americans who take it, and I'm not that kind, as you
+can see. I come from the country--or almost the country."
+
+"Weren't you drawn into any of our little ways in London?" He was
+working up to a certain point.
+
+"I was too busy."
+
+"I'm sure you weren't too busy for one thing: reading the papers for
+your notices."
+
+Victoria shook her head, smiling. "There you're mistaken. The first
+morning after I danced at the Palace Theatre, I asked to see the papers
+they had in my boarding-house, because I hoped so much that English
+people would like me, and I wanted to be a success. But afterwards I
+didn't bother. I don't understand British politics, you see--how could
+I?--and I hardly know any English people, so I wasn't very interested in
+their papers."
+
+Again Stephen was relieved. But he felt driven by one of his strange new
+impulses to tell her his name, and watch her face while he told it.
+
+"'Curiouser and curiouser,' as our friend Alice would say," he laughed.
+"No newspaper paragraphs, and a boarding-house instead of a fashionable
+hotel. What was your manager thinking about?"
+
+"I had no manager of my very own," said Victoria. "I 'exploited' myself.
+It costs less to do that. When people in America liked my dancing I got
+an offer from London, and I accepted it and made all the arrangements
+about going over. It was quite easy, you see, because there were only
+costumes to carry. My scenery is so simple, they either had it in the
+theatres or got something painted: and the statues in the studio scene,
+and the sculptor, needed very few rehearsals. In Paris they had only
+one. It was all I had time for, after I arrived. The lighting wasn't
+difficult either, and though people told me at first there would be
+trouble unless I had my own man, there never was any, really. In my
+letters to the managers I gave the dates when I could come to their
+theatres, how long I could stay, and all they must do to get things
+ready. The Paris engagement was made only a little while beforehand. I
+wanted to pass through there, so I was glad to accept the offer and earn
+extra money which I thought I might need by and by."
+
+"What a mercenary star!" Stephen spoke teasingly; but in truth he could
+not make the girl out.
+
+She took the accusation with a smile. "Yes, I am mercenary, I suppose,"
+she confessed with unashamed frankness, "but not entirely for myself. I
+shouldn't like to be that! I told you how I've been looking forward
+always to one end. And now, just when that end may be near, how foolish
+I should be to spend a cent on unnecessary things! Why, I'd have felt
+_wicked_ living in an expensive hotel, and keeping a maid, when I could
+be comfortable in a Bloomsbury boarding-house on ten dollars a week. And
+the dresser in the theater, who did everything very nicely, was
+delighted with a present of twenty dollars when my London engagement was
+over."
+
+"No doubt she was," said Stephen. "But----"
+
+"I suppose you're thinking that I must have made lots of money, and that
+I'm a sort of little miseress: and so I have--and so I am. I earned
+seven hundred and fifty dollars a week--isn't that a hundred and fifty
+pounds?--for the six weeks, and I spent as little as possible; for I
+didn't get as large a salary as that in America. I engaged to dance for
+three hundred dollars a week there, which seemed perfectly wonderful to
+me at first; so I had to keep my contract, though other managers would
+have given me more. I wanted dreadfully to take their offers, because I
+was in such a hurry to have enough money to begin my real work. But I
+knew I shouldn't be blessed in my undertaking if I acted dishonourably.
+Try as I might, I've only been able to save up ten thousand dollars,
+counting the salary in Paris and all. Would you say that was enough to
+_bribe_ a person, if necessary? Two thousand of your pounds."
+
+"It depends upon how rich the person is."
+
+"I don't know how rich he is. Could an Arab be _very_ rich?"
+
+"I daresay there are still some rich ones. But maybe riches aren't the
+same with them as with us. That fellow at lunch to-day looks as if he'd
+plenty of money to spend on embroideries."
+
+"Yes. And he looks important too--as if he might have travelled, and
+known a great many people of all sorts. I wish it were proper for me to
+talk to him."
+
+"Good Heavens, why?" asked Stephen, startled. "It would be most
+improper."
+
+"Yes, I'm afraid so, and I won't, of course, unless I get to know him in
+some way," went on Victoria. "Not that there's any chance of such a
+thing."
+
+"I should hope not," exclaimed Stephen, who was privately of opinion
+that there was only too good a chance if the girl showed the Arab even
+the faintest sign of willingness to know and be known. "I've no right to
+ask it, of course, except that I'm much older than you and have seen
+more of the world--but do promise not to look at that nigger. I don't
+like his face."
+
+"He isn't a nigger," objected Victoria. "But if he were, it wouldn't
+matter--nor whether one liked his face or not. He might be able to help
+me."
+
+"To help you--in Algiers?"
+
+"Yes, in the same way that you might be able to help me--or more,
+because he's an Arab, and must know Arabs."
+
+Stephen forgot to press his request for her promise. "How can I help
+you?" he wanted to know.
+
+"I'm not sure. Only, you're going to Algiers. I always ask everybody to
+help, if there's the slightest chance they can."
+
+Stephen felt disappointed and chilled. But she went on. "I should hate
+you to think I _gush_ to strangers, and tell them all my affairs, just
+because I'm silly enough to love talking. I must talk to strangers. I
+_must_ get help where I can. And you were kind the other night.
+Everybody is kind. Do you know many people in Algeria, or Tunisia?"
+
+"Only one man. His name is Nevill Caird, and he lives in Algiers. My
+name is Stephen Knight. I've been wanting to tell you--I seemed to have
+an unfair advantage, knowing yours ever since Paris."
+
+He watched her face almost furtively, but no change came over it, no
+cloud in the blueness of her candid eyes. The name meant nothing to her.
+
+"I'm sorry. It's hardly worth while my bothering you then."
+
+Stephen wished to be bothered. "But Nevill Caird has lived in Algiers
+for eight winters or so," he said. "He knows everybody, French and
+English--Arab too, very likely, if there are Arabs worth knowing."
+
+A bright colour sprang to the girl's cheeks and turned her extreme
+prettiness into brilliant beauty. It seemed to Stephen that the name of
+Ray suited her: she was dazzling as sunshine. "Oh, then, I will tell
+you--if you'll listen," she said.
+
+"If I had as many ears as a spear of wheat, they'd all want to listen."
+His voice sounded young and eager. "Please begin at the beginning, as
+the children say."
+
+"Shall I really? But it's a long story. It begins when I was eight."
+
+"All the better. It will be ten years long."
+
+"I can skip lots of things. When I was eight, and my sister Saidee not
+quite eighteen, we were in Paris with my stepmother. My father had been
+dead just a year, but she was out of mourning. She wasn't old--only
+about thirty, and handsome. She was jealous of Saidee, though, because
+Saidee was so much younger and fresher, and because Saidee was
+beautiful--Oh, you can't imagine how beautiful!"
+
+"Yes, I can," said Stephen.
+
+"You mean me to take that for a compliment. I know I'm quite pretty, but
+I'm nothing to Saidee. She was a great beauty, though with the same
+colouring I have, except that her eyes were brown, and her hair a little
+more auburn. People turned to look after her in the street, and that
+made our stepmother angry. _She_ wanted to be the one looked at. I knew,
+even then! She wouldn't have travelled with us, only father had left her
+his money, on condition that she gave Saidee and me the best of
+educations, and allowed us a thousand dollars a year each, from the time
+our schooling was finished until we married. She had a good deal of
+influence over him, for he was ill a long time, and she was his
+nurse--that was the way they got acquainted. And she persuaded him to
+leave practically everything to her; but she couldn't prevent his making
+some conditions. There was one which she hated. She was obliged to live
+in the same town with us; so when she wanted to go and enjoy herself in
+Paris after father died, she had to take us too. And she didn't care to
+shut Saidee up, because if Saidee couldn't be seen, she couldn't be
+married; and of course Mrs. Ray wanted her to be married. Then she would
+have no bother, and no money to pay. I often heard Saidee say these
+things, because she told me everything. She loved me a great deal, and I
+adored her. My middle name is Cecilia, and she was generally called Say;
+so she used to tell me that our secret names for each other must be 'Say
+and Seal.' It made me feel very grown-up to have her confide so much in
+me: and never being with children at all, gave me grown-up thoughts."
+
+"Poor child!" said Stephen.
+
+"Oh, I was very happy. It was only after--but that isn't the way to tell
+the story. Our stepmother--whom we always called 'Mrs. Ray,' never
+'mother'--liked officers, and we got acquainted with a good many French
+ones. They used to come to the flat where we lived. Some of them were
+introduced by our French governess, whose brother was in the army, but
+they brought others, and Saidee and Mrs. Ray went to parties together,
+though Mrs. Ray hated being chaperon. If poor Saidee were admired at a
+dinner, or a dance, Mrs. Ray would be horrid all next day, and say
+everything disagreeable she could think of. Then Saidee would cry when
+we were alone, and tell me she was so miserable, she would have to marry
+in self-defence. That made me cry too--but she promised to take me with
+her if she went away.
+
+"When we had been in Paris about two months, Saidee came to bed one
+night after a ball, and waked me up. We slept in the same room. She was
+excited and looked like an angel. I knew something had happened. She
+told me she'd met a wonderful man, and every one was fascinated with
+him. She had heard of him before, but this was the first time they'd
+seen each other. He was in the French army, she said, a captain, and
+older than most of the men she knew best, but very handsome, and rich as
+well as clever. It was only at the last, after she'd praised the man a
+great deal, that she mentioned his having Arab blood. Even then she
+hurried on to say his mother was a Spanish woman, and he had been partly
+educated in France, and spoke perfect French, and English too. They had
+danced together, and Saidee had never met so interesting a man. She
+thought he was like the hero of some romance; and she told me I would
+see him, because he'd begged Mrs. Ray to be allowed to call. He had
+asked Saidee lots of questions, and she'd told him even about me--so he
+sent me his love. She seemed to think I ought to be pleased, but I
+wasn't. I'd read the 'Arabian Nights', with pictures, and I knew Arabs
+were dark people. I didn't look down on them particularly, but I
+couldn't bear to have Say interested in an Arab. It didn't seem right
+for her, somehow."
+
+The girl stopped, and apparently forgot to go on. She had been speaking
+with short pauses, as if she hardly realized that she was talking aloud.
+Her eyebrows drew together, and she sighed. Stephen knew that some
+memory pressed heavily upon her, but soon she began again.
+
+"He came next day. He was handsome, as Saidee had said--as handsome as
+the Arab on board this ship, but in a different way. He looked noble and
+haughty--yet as if he might be very selfish and hard. Perhaps he was
+about thirty-three or four, and that seemed old to me then--old even to
+Saidee. But she was fascinated. He came often, and she saw him at other
+houses. Everywhere she was going, he would find out, and go too. That
+pleased her--for he was an important man somehow, and of good birth.
+Besides, he was desperately in love--even a child could see that. He
+never took his eyes off Saidee's face when she was with him. It was as
+if he could eat her up; and if she flirted a little with the real French
+officers, to amuse herself or tease him, it drove him half mad. She
+liked that--it was exciting, she used to say. And I forgot to tell you,
+he wore European dress, except for a fez--no turban, like this man's on
+the boat, or I'm sure she couldn't have cared for him in the way she
+did--he wouldn't have seemed _possible_, for a Christian girl. A man in
+a turban! You understand, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, I understand," Stephen said. He understood, too, how violently
+such beauty as the girl described must have appealed to the dark man of
+the East. "The same colouring that I have," Victoria Ray had said. If
+he, an Englishman, accustomed to the fair loveliness of his
+countrywomen, were a little dazzled by the radiance of this girl, what
+compelling influence must not the more beautiful sister have exercised
+upon the Arab?
+
+"He made love to Saidee in a fierce sort of way that carried her off her
+feet," went on Victoria. "She used to tell me things he said, and Mrs.
+Ray did all she could to throw them together, because he was rich, and
+lived a long way off--so she wouldn't have to do anything for Say if
+they were married, or even see her again. He was only on leave in Paris.
+He was a Spahi, stationed in Algiers, and he owned a house there."
+
+"Ah, in Algiers!" Stephen began to see light--rather a lurid light.
+
+"Yes. His name was Cassim ben Halim el Cheikh el Arab. Before he had
+known Saidee two weeks, he proposed. She took a little while to think it
+over, and I begged her to say 'no'--but one day when Mrs. Ray had been
+crosser and more horrid than usual, she said 'yes'. Cassim ben Halim was
+Mohammedan, of course, but he and Saidee were married according to
+French law. They didn't go to church, because he couldn't do that
+without showing disrespect to his own religion, but he promised he'd not
+try to change hers. Altogether it seemed to Saidee that there was no
+reason why they shouldn't be as happy as a Catholic girl marrying a
+Protestant--or _vice versa_; and she hadn't any very strong convictions.
+She was a Christian, but she wasn't fond of going to church."
+
+"And her promise that she'd take you away with her?" Stephen reminded
+the girl.
+
+"She would have kept it, if Mrs. Ray had consented--though I'm sure
+Cassim didn't want me, and only agreed to do what Saidee asked because
+he was so deep in love, and feared to lose my sister if he refused her
+anything. But Mrs. Ray was afraid to let me go, on account of the
+condition in father's will that she should keep me near her while I was
+being educated. There was an old friend of father's who'd threatened to
+try and upset the will, for Saidee's sake and mine, so I suppose she
+thought he might succeed if she disobeyed father's instructions. It
+ended in Saidee and her husband going to Algiers without me, and Saidee
+cried--but she couldn't help being happy, because she was in love, and
+very excited about the strange new life, which Cassim told her would be
+wonderful as some gorgeous dream of fairyland. He gave her quantities of
+jewellery, and said they were nothing to what she should have when she
+was in her own home with him. She should be covered from head to foot
+with diamonds and pearls, rubies and emeralds, if she liked; and of
+course she would like, for she loved jewels, poor darling."
+
+"Why do you say 'poor?'" asked Stephen. "Are you going to tell me the
+marriage wasn't a success?"
+
+"I don't know," answered the girl. "I don't know any more about her than
+if Cassim ben Halim had really carried my sister off to fairyland, and
+shut the door behind them. You see, I was only eight years old. I
+couldn't make my own life. After Saidee was married and taken to
+Algiers, my stepmother began to imagine herself in love with an American
+from Indiana, whom she met in Paris. He had an impressive sort of
+manner, and made her think him rich and important. He was in business,
+and had come over to rest, so he couldn't stay long abroad; and he urged
+Mrs. Ray to go back to America on the same ship with him. Of course she
+took me, and this Mr. Henry Potter told her about a boarding-school
+where they taught quite little girls, not far from the town where he
+lived. It had been a farmhouse once, and he said there were 'good
+teachers and good air.' I can hear him saying it now. It was easy to
+persuade her; and she engaged rooms at a hotel in the town near by,
+which was called Potterston, after Mr. Potter's grandfather. By and by
+they were married, but their marriage made no difference to me. It
+wasn't a bad little old-fashioned school, and I was as happy as I could
+be anywhere, parted from Saidee. There was an attic where I used to be
+allowed to sit on Saturdays, and think thoughts, and write letters to my
+sister; and there was one corner, where the sunlight came in through a
+tiny window shaped like a crescent, without any glass, which I named
+Algiers. I played that I went there to visit Saidee in the old Arab
+palace she wrote me about. It was a splendid play--but I felt lonely
+when I stopped playing it. I used to dance there, too, very softly in
+stockinged feet, so nobody could hear--dances she and I made up together
+out of stories she used to tell me. The Shadow Dance and the Statue
+Dance which you saw, came out of those stories, and there are more you
+didn't see, which I do sometimes--a butterfly dance, the dance of the
+wheat, and two of the East, which were in stories she told me after we
+knew Cassim ben Halim. They are the dance of the smoke wreath, and the
+dance of the jewel-and-the-rose. I could dance quite well even in those
+days, because I loved doing it. It came as natural to dance as to
+breathe, and Saidee had always encouraged me, so when I was left alone
+it made me think of her, to dance the dances of her stories."
+
+"What about your teachers? Did they never find you out?" asked Stephen.
+
+"Yes. One of the young teachers did at last. Not in the attic, but when
+I was dancing for the big girls in their dormitory, at night--they'd
+wake me up to get me to dance. But she wasn't much older than the
+biggest of the big girls, so she laughed--I suppose I must have looked
+quaint dancing in my nighty, with my long red hair. And though we were
+all scolded afterwards, I was made to dance sometimes at the
+entertainments we gave when school broke up in the summer. I was the
+youngest scholar, you see, and stayed through the vacations, so I was a
+kind of pet for the teachers. They were of one family, aunts and
+nieces--Southern people, and of course good-natured. But all this isn't
+really in the story I want to tell you. The interesting part's about
+Saidee. For months I got letters from her, written from Algiers. At
+first they were like fairy tales, but by and by--quite soon--they
+stopped telling much about herself. It seemed as if Saidee were growing
+more and more reserved, or else as if she were tired of writing to me,
+and bored by it--almost as if she could hardly think of anything to say.
+Then the letters stopped altogether. I wrote and wrote, but no answer
+came--no answer ever came."
+
+"You've never heard from your sister since then?" The thing appeared
+incredible to Stephen.
+
+"Never. Now you can guess what I've been growing up for, living for, all
+these years. To find her."
+
+"But surely," Stephen argued, "there must have been some way to----"
+
+"Not any way that was in my power, till now. You see I was helpless. I
+had no money, and I was a child. I'm not very old yet, but I'm older
+than my years, because I had this thing to do. There I was, at a
+farmhouse school in the country, two miles out of Potterston--and you
+would think Potterston itself not much better than the backwoods, I'm
+sure. When I was fourteen, my stepmother died suddenly--leaving all the
+money which came from my father to her husband, except several thousand
+dollars to finish my education and give me a start in life; but Mr.
+Potter lost everything of his own and of mine too, in some wild
+speculation about which the people in that part of Indiana went mad. The
+crash came a year ago, and the Misses Jennings, who kept the school,
+asked me to stay on as an under teacher--they were sorry for me, and so
+kind. But even if nothing had happened, I should have left then, for I
+felt old enough to set about my real work. Oh, I see you think I might
+have got at my sister before, somehow, but I couldn't, indeed. I tried
+everything. Not only did I write and write, but I begged the Misses
+Jennings to help, and the minister of the church where we went on
+Sundays. The Misses Jennings told the girls' parents and relations
+whenever they came to visit, and they all promised, if they ever went to
+Algiers, they would look for my sister's husband, Captain Cassim ben
+Halim, of the Spahis. But they weren't the sort of people who ever do go
+such journeys. And the minister wrote to the American Consul in Algiers
+for me, but the only answer was that Cassim ben Halim had disappeared.
+It seemed not even to be known that he had an American wife."
+
+"Your stepmother ought to have gone herself," said Stephen.
+
+"Oh--_ought_! I very seldom saw my stepmother after she married Mr.
+Potter. Though she lived so near, she never asked me to her house, and
+only came to call at the school once or twice a year, for form's sake.
+But I ran away one evening and begged her to go and find Saidee. She
+said it was nonsense; that if Saidee hadn't wanted to drop us, she would
+have kept on writing, or else she was dead. But don't you think I should
+have _known_ if Saidee were dead?"
+
+"By instinct, you mean--telepathy, or something of that sort?"
+
+"I don't know what I mean, but _I should have known_. I should have felt
+her death, like a string snapping in my heart. Instead, I heard her
+calling to me--I hear her always. She wants me. She needs me. I know it,
+and nothing could make me believe otherwise. So now you understand how,
+if anything were to be done, I had to do it myself. When I was quite
+little, I thought by the time I should be sixteen or seventeen, and
+allowed to leave school--or old enough to run away if necessary--I'd
+have a little money of my own. But when my stepmother died I felt sure I
+should never, never get anything from Mr. Potter."
+
+"But that old friend you spoke of, who wanted to upset the will?
+Couldn't he have done anything?" Stephen asked.
+
+"If he had lived, everything might have been different; but he was a
+very old man, and he died of pneumonia soon after Saidee married Cassim
+ben Halim. There was no one else to help. So from the time I was
+fourteen, I knew that somehow I must make money. Without money I could
+never hope to get to Algiers and find Saidee. Even though she had
+disappeared from there, it seemed to me that Algiers would be the place
+to begin my search. Don't you think so?"
+
+"Yes, Algiers is the place to begin," Stephen echoed. "There ought to be
+a way of tracking her. _Some one_ must know what became of a more or
+less important man such as your brother-in-law seems to have been. It's
+incredible that he should have been able to vanish without leaving any
+trace."
+
+"He must have left a trace, and though nobody else, so far, has found
+it, I shall find it," said the girl. "I did what I could before. I asked
+everybody to help; and when I got to New York last year, I used to go to
+Cook's office, to inquire for people travelling to Algiers. Then, if I
+met any, I would at once speak of my sister, and give them my address,
+to let me know if they should discover anything. They always seemed
+interested, and said they would really do their best, but they must have
+failed, or else they forgot. No news ever came back. It will be
+different with me now, though. I shall find Saidee, and if she isn't
+happy, I shall bring her away with me. If her husband is a bad man, and
+if the reason he left Algiers is because he lost his money, as I
+sometimes think, I may have to bribe him to let her go. But I have money
+enough for everything, I hope--unless he's very greedy, or there are
+difficulties I can't foresee. In that case, I shall dance again, and
+make more money, you know--that's all there is about it."
+
+"One thing I do know, is that you are wonderful," said Stephen, his
+conscience pricking him because of certain unjust thoughts concerning
+this child which he had harboured since learning that she was a dancer.
+"You're the most wonderful girl I ever saw or heard of."
+
+She laughed happily. "Oh no, I'm not wonderful at all. It's funny you
+should think so. Perhaps none of the girls you know have had a big work
+to do."
+
+"I'm sure they never have," said Stephen, "and if they had, they
+wouldn't have done it."
+
+"Yes, they would. Anybody would--that is, if they wanted to, _enough_.
+You can always do what you want to _enough_. I wanted to do this with
+all my heart and soul, so I knew I should find the way. I just followed
+my instinct, when people told me I was unreasonable, and of course it
+led me right. Reason is only to depend on in scientific sorts of things,
+isn't it? The other is higher, because instinct is your _You_."
+
+"Isn't that what people say who preach New Thought, or whatever they
+call it?" asked Stephen. "A lot of women I know had rather a craze about
+that two or three years ago. They went to lectures given by an American
+man they raved over--said he was 'too fascinating.' And they used their
+'science' to win at bridge. I don't know whether it worked or not."
+
+"I never heard any one talk of New Thought," said Victoria. "I've just
+had my own thoughts about everything. The attic at school was a lovely
+place to think thoughts in. Wonderful ones always came to me, if I
+called to them--thoughts all glittering--like angels. They seemed to
+bring me new ideas about things I'd been born knowing--beautiful things,
+which I feel somehow have been handed down to me--in my blood."
+
+"Why, that's the way my friends used to talk about 'waking their
+race-consciousness.' But it only led to bridge, with them."
+
+"Well, it's led me from Potterston here," said Victoria, "and it will
+lead me on to the end, wherever that may be, I'm sure. Perhaps it will
+lead me far, far off, into that mysterious golden silence, where in
+dreams I often see Saidee watching for me: the strangest dream-place,
+and I've no idea where it is! But I shall find out, if she is really
+there."
+
+"What supreme confidence you have in your star!" Stephen exclaimed,
+admiringly, and half enviously.
+
+"Of course. Haven't you, in yours?"
+
+"I have no star."
+
+She turned her eyes to his, quickly, as if grieved. And in his eyes she
+saw the shadow of hopelessness which was there to see, and could not be
+hidden from a clear gaze.
+
+"I'm sorry," she said simply. "I don't know how I could have lived
+without mine. I walk in its light, as if in a path. But yours must be
+somewhere in the sky, and you can find it if you want to very much."
+
+He could have found two in her eyes just then, but such stars were not
+for him. "Perhaps I don't deserve a star," he said.
+
+"I'm sure you do. You are the kind that does," the girl comforted him.
+"Do have a star!"
+
+"It would only make me unhappy, because I mightn't be able to walk in
+its light, as you do."
+
+"It would make you very happy, as mine does me. I'm always happy,
+because the light helps me to do things. It helped me to dance: it
+helped me to succeed."
+
+"Tell me about your dancing," said Stephen, vaguely anxious to change
+the subject, and escape from thoughts of Margot, the only star of his
+future. "I should like to hear how you began, if you don't mind."
+
+"That's kind of you," replied Victoria, gratefully.
+
+He laughed. "Kind!"
+
+"Why, it's nothing of a story. Luckily, I'd always danced. So when I was
+fourteen, and began to think I should never have any money of my own
+after all, I saw that dancing would be my best way of earning it, as
+that was the one thing I could do very well. Afterwards I worked in real
+earnest--always up in the attic, where I used to study the Arabic
+language too; study it very hard. And no one knew what I was doing or
+what was in my head, till last year when I told the oldest Miss Jennings
+that I couldn't be a teacher--that I must leave school and go to New
+York."
+
+"What did she say?"
+
+"She said I was crazy. So did they all. They got the minister to come
+and argue with me, and he was dreadfully opposed to my wishes at first.
+But after we'd talked a while, he came round to my way."
+
+"How did you persuade him to that point of view?" Stephen catechized
+her, wondering always.
+
+"I hardly know. I just told him how I felt about everything. Oh, and I
+danced."
+
+"By Jove! What effect had that on him?"
+
+"He clapped his hands and said it was a good dance, quite different from
+what he expected. He didn't think it would do any one harm to see. And
+he gave me a sort of lecture about how I ought to behave if I became a
+dancer. It was easy to follow his advice, because none of the bad things
+he feared might happen to me ever did."
+
+"Your star protected you?"
+
+"Of course. There was a little trouble about money at first, because I
+hadn't any, but I had a few things--a watch that had been my mother's,
+and her engagement ring (they were Saidee's, but she left them both for
+me when she went away), and a queer kind of brooch Cassim ben Halim gave
+me one day, out of a lovely mother-o'-pearl box he brought full of
+jewels for Saidee, when they were engaged. See, I have the brooch on
+now--for I wouldn't _sell_ the things. I went to a shop in Potterston
+and asked the man to lend me fifty dollars on them all, so he did. It
+was very good of him."
+
+"You seem to consider everybody you meet kind and good," Stephen said.
+
+"Yes, they almost always have been so to me. If you believe people are
+going to be good, it _makes_ them good, unless they're very bad indeed."
+
+"Perhaps." Stephen would not for a great deal have tried to undermine
+her confidence in her fellow beings, and such was the power of the
+girl's personality, that for the moment he was half inclined to feel she
+might be right. Who could tell? Maybe he had not "believed" enough--in
+Margot. He looked with interest at the brooch of which Miss Ray spoke, a
+curiously wrought, flattened ring of dull gold, with a pin in the middle
+which pierced and fastened her chiffon veil on her breast. Round the
+edge, irregularly shaped pearls alternated with roughly cut emeralds,
+and there was a barbaric beauty in both workmanship and colour.
+
+"What happened when you got to your journey's end?" he went on, fearing
+to go astray on that subject of the world's goodness, which was a sore
+point with him lately. "Did you know anybody in New York?"
+
+"Nobody. But I asked the driver of a cab if he could take me to a
+respectable theatrical boarding-house, and he said he could, so I told
+him to drive me there. I engaged a wee back room at the top of the
+house, and paid a week in advance. The boarders weren't very successful
+people, poor things, for it was a cheap boarding-house--it had to be,
+for me. But they all knew which were the best theatres and managers, and
+they were interested when they heard I'd come to try and get a chance to
+be a dancer. They were afraid it wasn't much use, but the same evening
+they changed their minds, and gave me lots of good advice."
+
+"You danced for them?"
+
+"Yes, in such a stuffy parlour, smelling of gas and dust and there were
+holes in the carpet it was difficult not to step into. A dear old man
+without any hair, who was on what he called the 'Variety Stage,' advised
+me to go and try to see Mr. Charles Norman, a fearfully important
+person--so important that even I had heard of him, away out in Indiana.
+I did try, day after day, but he was too important to be got at. I
+wouldn't be discouraged, though. I knew Mr. Norman must come to the
+theatre sometimes, so I bought a photograph in order to recognize him;
+and one day when he passed me, going in, I screwed up my courage and
+spoke. I said I'd been waiting for days and days. At first he scowled,
+and I think meant to be cross, but when he'd given me one long,
+terrifying glare, he grumbled out: "Come along with me, then. I'll soon
+see what you can do." I went in, and danced on an almost dark stage,
+with Mr. Norman and another man looking at me, in the empty theatre
+where all the chairs and boxes were covered up with sheets. They seemed
+rather pleased with my dancing, and Mr. Norman said he would give me a
+chance. Then, if I 'caught on'--he meant if people liked me--I should
+have a salary. But I told him I must have the salary at once, as my
+money would only last a few more days. I'd spent nearly all I had,
+getting to New York. Very well, said he, I should have thirty dollars a
+week to begin with, and after that, we'd see what we'd see. Well, people
+did like my dances, and by and by Mr. Norman gave me what seemed then a
+splendid salary. So now you know everything that's happened; and please
+don't think I'd have worried you by talking so much about myself, if you
+hadn't asked questions. I'm afraid I oughtn't to have done it, anyway."
+
+Her tone changed, and became almost apologetic. She stirred uneasily in
+her deck chair, and looked about half dazedly, as people look about a
+room that is new to them, on waking there for the first time. "Why, it's
+grown dark!" she exclaimed.
+
+This fact surprised Stephen equally. "So it has," he said. "By Jove, I
+was so interested in you--in what you were telling--I hadn't noticed.
+I'd forgotten where we were."
+
+"I'd forgotten, too," said Victoria. "I always do forget outside things
+when I think about Saidee, and the golden dream-silence where I see her.
+All the people who were near us on deck have gone away. Did you see them
+go?"
+
+"No," said Stephen, "I didn't."
+
+"How odd!" exclaimed the girl.
+
+"Do you think so? You had taken me to the golden silence with you."
+
+"Where can everybody be?" She spoke anxiously. "Is it late? Maybe
+they've gone to get ready for dinner."
+
+From a small bag she wore at her belt, American tourist-fashion, she
+pulled out an old-fashioned gold watch of the kind that winds up with a
+key--her mother's, perhaps, on which she had borrowed money to reach New
+York. "Something must be wrong with my watch," she said. "It can't be
+twenty minutes past eight."
+
+The same thing was wrong with Stephen's expensive repeater, whose
+splendour he was ashamed to flaunt beside the modesty of the girl's poor
+little timepiece. There remained now no reasonable doubt that it was
+indeed twenty minutes past eight, since by the mouths of two witnesses a
+truth can be established.
+
+"How dreadful!" exclaimed Victoria, mortified. "I've kept you here all
+this time, listening to me."
+
+"Didn't I tell you I'd rather listen to you than anything else? Eating
+was certainly not excepted. I don't remember hearing the bugle."
+
+"And I didn't hear it."
+
+"I'd forgotten dinner. You had carried me so far away with you."
+
+"And Saidee," added the girl. "Thank you for going with us."
+
+"Thank you for taking me."
+
+They both laughed, and as they laughed, people began streaming out on
+deck. Dinner was over. The handsome Arab passed, talking with the spare,
+loose-limbed English parson, whom he had fascinated. They were
+discussing affairs in Morocco, and as they passed Stephen and Victoria,
+the Arab did not appear to turn; yet Stephen knew that he was thinking
+of them and not of what he was saying to the clergyman.
+
+"What shall we do?" asked Victoria.
+
+Stephen reflected for an instant. "Will you invite me to dine at your
+table?" he asked.
+
+"Maybe they'll tell us it's too late now to have anything to eat. I
+don't mind for myself, but for you----"
+
+"We'll have a better dinner than the others have had," Stephen
+prophesied. "I guarantee it, if you invite me."
+
+"Oh, do please come," she implored, like a child. "I couldn't face the
+waiters alone. And you know, I feel as if you were a friend, now--though
+you may laugh at that."
+
+"It's the best compliment I ever had," said Stephen. "And--it gives me
+faith in myself--which I need."
+
+"And your star, which you're to find," the girl reminded him, as he
+unrolled her from her rug.
+
+"I wish you'd lend me a little of the light from yours, to find mine
+by," he said half gaily, yet with a certain wistfulness which she
+detected under the laugh.
+
+"I will," she said quickly. "Not a little, but half."
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+Stephen's prophecy came true. They had a better dinner than any one else
+had, and enjoyed it as an adventure. Victoria thought their waiter a
+particularly good-natured man, because instead of sulking over his
+duties he beamed. Stephen might, if he had chosen, have thrown another
+light upon the waiter's smiles; but he didn't choose. And he was happy.
+He gave Victoria good advice, and promised help from Nevill Caird. "He's
+sure to meet me at the ship," he said, "and if you'll let me, I'll
+introduce him to you. He may be able to find out everything you want to
+know."
+
+Stephen would have liked to go on talking after dinner, but the girl,
+ashamed of having taken up so much of his time, would not be tempted.
+She went to her cabin, and thought of him, as well as of her sister; and
+he thought of her while he walked on deck, under the stars.
+
+"For a moment white, then gone forever."
+
+Again the words came singing into his head. She was white--white as this
+lacelike foam that silvered the Mediterranean blue; but she had not gone
+forever, as he had thought when he likened her whiteness to the
+spindrift on the dark Channel waves. She had come into his life once
+more, unexpectedly; and she might brighten it again for a short time on
+land, in that unknown garden his thoughts pictured, behind the gate of
+the East. Yet she would not be of his life. There was no place in it for
+a girl. Still, he thought of her, and went on thinking, involuntarily
+planning things which he and Nevill Caird would do to help the child, in
+her romantic errand. Of course she must not be allowed to travel about
+Algeria alone. Once settled in Algiers she must stay there quietly till
+the authorities found her sister.
+
+He used that powerful-sounding word "authorities" vaguely in his mind,
+but he was sure that the thing would be simple enough. The police could
+be applied to, if Nevill and his friends should be unable to discover
+Ben Halim and his American wife. Almost unconsciously, Stephen saw
+himself earning Victoria Ray's gratitude. It was a pleasant fancy, and
+he followed it as one wanders down a flowery path found in a dark
+forest.
+
+Victoria's thoughts of him were as many, though different.
+
+She had never filled her mind with nonsense about men, as many girls do.
+As she would have said to herself, she had been too busy. When girls at
+school had talked of being in love, and of marrying, she had been
+interested, as if in a story-book, but it had not seemed to her that she
+would ever fall in love or be married. It seemed so less than ever, now
+that she was at last actually on her way to look for Saidee. She was
+intensely excited, and there was room only for the one absorbing thought
+in mind and heart; yet she was not as anxious as most others would have
+been in her place. Now that Heaven had helped her so far, she was sure
+she would be helped to the end. It would be too bad to be true that
+anything dreadful should have happened to Saidee--anything from which
+she, Victoria, could not save her; and so now, very soon perhaps,
+everything would come right. It seemed to the girl that somehow Stephen
+was part of a great scheme, that he had been sent into her life for a
+purpose. Otherwise, why should he have been so kind since the first, and
+have appeared this second time, when she had almost forgotten him in the
+press of other thoughts? Why should he be going where she was going, and
+why should he have a friend who had known Algiers and Algeria since the
+time when Saidee's letters had ceased?
+
+All these arguments were childlike; but Victoria Ray had not passed far
+beyond childhood; and though her ideas of religion were her
+own--unlearned and unconventional--such as they were they meant
+everything to her. Many things which she had heard in churches had
+seemed unreal to the girl; but she believed that the Great Power moving
+the Universe planned her affairs as well as the affairs of the stars,
+and with equal interest. She thought that her soul was a spark given out
+by that Power, and that what was God in her had only to call to the All
+of God to be answered. She had called, asking to find Saidee, and now
+she was going to find her, just how she did not yet know; but she hardly
+doubted that Stephen Knight was connected with the way. Otherwise, what
+was the good of him to her? And Victoria was far too humble in her
+opinion of herself, despite that buoyant confidence in her star, to
+imagine that she could be of any use to him. She could be useful to
+Saidee; that was all. She hoped for nothing more. And little as she knew
+of society, she understood that Stephen belonged to a different world
+from hers; the world where people were rich, and gay, and clever, and
+amused themselves; the high world, from a social point of view. She
+supposed, too, that Stephen looked upon her as a little girl, while she
+in her turn regarded him gratefully and admiringly, as from a distance.
+And she believed that he must be a very good man.
+
+It would never have occurred to Victoria Ray to call him, even in
+thought, her "White Knight," as Margot Lorenzi persisted in calling him,
+and had called him in the famous interview. But it struck her, the
+moment she heard his name, that it somehow fitted him like a suit of
+armour. She was fond of finding an appropriateness in names, and
+sometimes, if she were tired or a little discouraged, she repeated her
+own aloud, several times over: "Victoria, Victoria. I am Victoria,"
+until she felt strong again to conquer every difficulty which might rise
+against her, in living up to her name. Now she was of opinion that
+Stephen's face would do very well in the picture of a young knight of
+olden days, going out to fight for the True Cross. Indeed, he looked as
+if he had already passed through the preparation of a long vigil, for
+his face was worn, and his eyes seldom smiled even when he laughed and
+seemed amused. His features gave her an idea that the Creator had taken
+a great deal of pains in chiselling them, not slighting a single line.
+She had seen handsomer men--indeed, the splendid Arab on the ship was
+handsomer--but she thought, if she were a general who wanted a man to
+lead a forlorn hope which meant almost certain death, she would choose
+one of Stephen's type. She had the impression that he would not hesitate
+to sacrifice himself for a cause, or even for a person, in an emergency,
+although he had the air of one used to good fortune, who loved to take
+his own way in the small things of life.
+
+And so she finally went to sleep thinking of Stephen.
+
+It is seldom that even the _Charles Quex_, one of the fastest ships
+plying between Marseilles and Algiers, makes the trip in eighteen hours,
+as advertised. Generally she takes two half-days and a night, but this
+time people began to say that she would do it in twenty-two hours. Very
+early in the dawning she passed the Balearic Isles, mysterious purple in
+an opal sea, and it was not yet noon when the jagged line of the Atlas
+Mountains hovered in pale blue shadow along a paler horizon. Then, as
+the turbines whirred, the shadow materialized, taking a golden solidity
+and wildness of outline. At length the tower of a lighthouse started out
+clear white against blue, as a shaft of sunshine struck it. Next, the
+nearer mountains slowly turned to green, as a chameleon changes: the
+Admiralty Island came clearly into view; the ancient nest of those
+fierce pirates who for centuries scourged the Mediterranean; and last of
+all, the climbing town of Algiers, old Al-Djézair-el-Bahadja, took form
+like thick patterns of mother-o'-pearl set in bright green enamel, the
+patterns eventually separating themselves into individual buildings.
+The strange, bulbous domes of a Byzantine cathedral on a hill sprang up
+like a huge tropical plant of many flowers, unfolding fantastic buds of
+deep rose-colour, against a sky of violet flame.
+
+"At last, Africa!" said Victoria, standing beside Stephen, and leaning
+on the rail. She spoke to herself, half whispering the words, hardly
+aware that she uttered them, but Stephen heard. The two had not been
+long together during the morning, for each had been shy of giving too
+much of himself or herself, although they had secretly wished for each
+other's society. As the voyage drew to a close, however, Stephen was no
+longer able to resist an attraction which he felt like a compelling
+magnetism. His excuse was that he wanted to know Miss Ray's first
+impressions of the place she had constantly seen in her thoughts during
+ten years.
+
+"Is it like what you expected?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," she said, "it's like, because I have photographs. And I've read
+every book I could get hold of, old and new, in French as well as
+English. I always kept up my French, you know, for the same reason that
+I studied Arabic. I think I could tell the names of some of the
+buildings, without making mistakes. Yet it looks different, as the
+living face of a person is different from a portrait in black and white.
+And I never imagined such a sky. I didn't know skies could be of such a
+colour. It's as if pale fire were burning behind a thin veil of blue."
+
+It was as she said. Stephen had seen vivid skies on the Riviera, but
+there the blue was more opaque, like the blue of the turquoise. Here it
+was ethereal and quivering, like the violet fire that hovers over
+burning ship-logs. He was glad the sky of Africa was unlike any other
+sky he had known. It intensified the thrill of enchantment he had begun
+to feel. It seemed to him that it might be possible for a man to forget
+things in a country where even the sky was of another blue.
+
+Sometimes, when Stephen had read in books of travel (at which he seldom
+even glanced), or in novels, about "the mystery of the East," he had
+smiled in a superior way. Why should the East be more mysterious than
+the West, or North, or South, except that women were shut up in harems
+and wore veils if they stirred out of doors? Such customs could scarcely
+make a whole country mysterious. But now, though he had not yet landed,
+he knew that he would be compelled to acknowledge the indefinable
+mystery at which he had sneered. Already he fancied an elusive
+influence, like the touch of a ghost. It was in the pulsing azure of the
+sky; in the wild forms of the Atlas and far Kabyle mountains stretching
+into vague, pale distances; in the ivory white of the low-domed roofs
+that gleamed against the vivid green hill of the Sahel, like pearls on a
+veiled woman's breast.
+
+"Is it what you thought it would be?" Victoria inquired in her turn.
+
+"I hadn't thought much about it," Stephen had to confess, fearing she
+would consider such indifference uninteresting. He did not add what
+remained of the truth, that he had thought of Algiers as a refuge from
+what had become disagreeable, rather than as a beautiful place which he
+wished to see for its own sake. "I'd made no picture in my mind. You
+know a lot more about it all than I do, though you've lived so far away,
+and I within a distance of forty-eight hours."
+
+"That great copper-coloured church high on the hill is Notre Dame
+d'Afrique," said the girl. "She's like a dark sister of Notre Dame de la
+Garde, who watches over Marseilles, isn't she? I think I could love her,
+though she's ugly, really. And I've read in a book that if you walk up
+the hill to visit her and say a prayer, you may have a hundred days'
+indulgence."
+
+Much good an "indulgence" would do him now, Stephen thought bitterly.
+
+As the ship steamed closer inshore, the dreamlike beauty of the white
+town on the green hillside sharpened into a reality which might have
+seemed disappointingly modern and French, had it not been for the
+sprinkling of domes, the pointing fingers of minarets with glittering
+tiles of bronzy green, and the groups of old Arab houses crowded in
+among the crudities of a new, Western civilization. Down by the wharf
+for which the boat aimed like a homing bird, were huddled a few of these
+houses, ancient dwellings turned into commercial offices where shipping
+business was transacted. They looked forlorn, yet beautiful, like
+haggard slavewomen who remembered days of greatness in a far-off land.
+
+The _Charles Quex_ slackened speed as she neared the harbour, and every
+detail of the town leaped to the eyes, dazzling in the southern
+sunshine. The encircling arms of break-waters were flung out to sea in a
+vast embrace; the smoke of vessels threaded with dark, wavy lines the
+pure crystal of the air; the quays were heaped with merchandise, some of
+it in bales, as if it might have been brought by caravans across the
+desert. There was a clanking of cranes at work, a creaking of chains, a
+flapping of canvas, and many sounds which blend in the harsh poetry of
+sea-harbours. Then voices of men rose shrilly above all heavier noises,
+as the ship slowly turned and crept beside a floating pontoon. The
+journey together was over for Stephen Knight and Victoria Ray.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+A first glance, at such close quarters, would have told the least
+instructed stranger that he was in the presence of two clashing
+civilizations, both tenacious, one powerful.
+
+In front, all along the shore, towered with confident effrontery a
+massive line of buildings many stories high, great cubes of brick and
+stone, having elaborate balconies that shadowed swarming offices with
+dark, gaping vaults below. Along the broad, stone-paved street clanged
+electric tramcars. There was a constant coming and going of men. Cloaked
+and hooded white forms, or half-clad apparitions wrapped in what looked
+like dirty bagging, mingled with commonplace figures in Western dress.
+But huddled in elbow-high with this busy town of modern France (which
+might have been Marseilles or Bordeaux) was something alien, something
+remote in spirit; a ghostly band of white buildings, silent and pale in
+the midst of colour and noise. Low houses with flat roofs or miniature
+domes, small, secret doorways, tiny windows like eyes narrowed for
+spying, and overhanging upper stories supported on close-set, projecting
+sticks of mellow brown which meant great age. Minarets sprang up in mute
+protest against the infidel, appealing to the sky. All that was left of
+old Algiers tried to boast, in forced dumbness, of past glories, of
+every charm the beautiful, fierce city of pirates must have possessed
+before the French came to push it slowly but with deadly sureness back
+from the sea. Now, silent and proud in the tragedy of failure, it stood
+masked behind pretentious French houses, blocklike in ugliness, or
+flauntingly ornate as many buildings in the Rue de Rivoli or Boulevard
+Haussmann.
+
+In those low-browed dwellings which thickly enamelled the hill with a
+mosaic of pink and pearly whiteness, all the way up to the old fortress
+castle, the Kasbah, the true life of African Algiers hid and whispered.
+The modern French front along the fine street was but a gay veneer
+concealing realities, an incrusted civilization imposed upon one
+incredibly ancient, unspeakably different and ever unchanging.
+
+Stephen remembered now that he had heard people decry Algiers,
+pronouncing it spoiled and "completely Frenchified." But it occurred to
+him that in this very process of spoiling, an impression of tragic
+romance had been created which less "spoiled" towns might lack. Here
+were clashing contrasts which, even at a glance, made the strangest
+picture he had ever seen; and already he began to feel more and more
+keenly, though not yet to understand, something of the magic of the
+East. For this place, though not the East according to geographers, held
+all the spirit of the East--was in essence truly the East.
+
+Before the ship lay fairly in harbour, brown men had climbed on board
+from little boats, demanding to be given charge of the passengers' small
+luggage, which the stewards had brought on deck, and while one of these
+was arguing in bad French with Stephen, a tall, dark youth beautifully
+dressed in crimson and white, wearing a fez jauntily on one side,
+stepped up with a smile. "_Pardon, monsieur_," he ventured. "_Je suis le
+domestique de Monsieur Caird._" And then, in richly guttural accents, he
+offered the information that he was charged to look after monsieur's
+baggage; that it was best to avoid _tous ces Arabes là_, and that
+Monsieur Caird impatiently awaited his friend on the wharf.
+
+"But you--aren't you Arab?" asked Stephen, who knew no subtle
+differences between those who wore the turban or fez. He saw that the
+good-looking, merry-faced boy was no browner than many a Frenchman of
+the south, and that his eyes were hazel; still, he did not know what he
+might be, if not Arab.
+
+"_Je suis Kabyle, monsieur; Kabyle des hauts plateaux_," replied the
+youth with pride, and a look of contempt at the shouting porters, which
+was returned with interest. They darted glances of scorn at his
+gold-braided vest and jacket of crimson cloth, his light blue sash, and
+his enormously full white trousers, beneath which showed a strip of pale
+golden leg above the short white stockings, spurning the immaculate
+smartness of his livery, preferring, or pretending to prefer, their own
+soiled shabbiness and freedom. The Kabyle saw these glances, but,
+completely satisfied with himself, evidently attributed them to envy.
+
+Stephen turned towards Victoria, of whom he had lost sight for a moment.
+He wished to offer the Kabyle boy's services, but already she had
+accepted those of a very old Arab who looked thin and ostentatiously
+pathetic. It was too late now. He saw by her face that she would refuse
+help, rather than hurt the man's feelings. But she had told him the name
+of the hotel where she had telegraphed to engage a room, and Stephen
+meant at the instant of greeting his host, to ask if it were suitable
+for a young girl travelling alone.
+
+He caught sight of Caird, looking up and waiting for him, before he was
+able to land. It was the face he remembered; boyish, with beautiful
+bright eyes, a wide forehead, and curly light hair. The expression was
+more mature, but the same quaintly angelic look was there, which had
+earned for Nevill the nickname of "Choir Boy" and "Wings."
+
+"Hullo, Legs!" called out Caird, waving his Panama.
+
+"Hullo, Wings!" shouted Stephen, and was suddenly tremendously glad to
+see the friend he had thought of seldom during the last eight or nine
+years. In another moment he was introducing Nevill to Miss Ray and
+hastily asking questions concerning her hotel, while a fantastic crowd
+surged round all three. Brown, skurrying men in torn bagging, the
+muscles of whose bare, hairless legs seemed carved in dark oak; shining
+black men whose faces were ebony under the ivory white of their turbans;
+pale, patient Kabyles of the plains bent under great sacks of flour
+which drained through ill-sewn seams and floated on the air in white
+smoke, making every one sneeze as the crowd swarmed past. Large grey
+mules roared, miniature donkeys brayed, and half-naked children laughed
+or howled, and darted under the heads of the horses, or fell against the
+bright bonnets of waiting motor cars. There were smart victorias, shabby
+cabs, hotel omnibuses, and huge carts; and, mingling with the floating
+dust of the spilt flour was a heavy perfume of spices, of incense
+perhaps blown from some far-off mosque, and ambergris mixed with grains
+of musk in amulets which the Arabs wore round their necks, heated by
+their sweating flesh as they worked or stalked about shouting guttural
+orders. There was a salt tang of seaweed, too, like an undertone, a
+foundation for all the other smells; and the air was warm with a hint of
+summer, a softness that was not enervating.
+
+As soon as the first greeting and the introduction to Miss Ray were
+confusedly over, Caird cleverly extricated the newcomers from the thick
+of the throng, sheltering them between his large yellow motor car and a
+hotel omnibus waiting for passengers and luggage.
+
+"Now you're safe," he said, in the young-sounding voice which pleasantly
+matched his whole personality. He was several years older than Stephen,
+but looked younger, for Stephen was nearly if not quite six feet in
+height, and Nevill Caird was less in stature by at least four inches. He
+was very slightly built, too, and his hair was as yellow as a child's.
+His face was clean-shaven, like Stephen's, and though Stephen, living
+mostly in London, was brown as if tanned by the sun, Nevill, out of
+doors constantly and exposed to hot southern sunshine, had the
+complexion of a girl. Nevertheless, thought Victoria--sensitive and
+quick in forming impressions--he somehow contrived to look a thorough
+man, passionate and ready to be violently in earnest, like one who would
+love or hate in a fiery way. "He would make a splendid martyr," the girl
+said to herself, giving him straight look for straight look, as he began
+advising her against her chosen hotel. "But I think he would want his
+best friends to come and look on while he burned. Mr. Knight would chase
+everybody away."
+
+"Don't go to any hotel," Nevill said. "Be my aunt's guest. It's a great
+deal more her house than mine. There's lots of room in it--ever so much
+more than we want. Just now there's no one staying with us, but often we
+have a dozen or so. Sometimes my aunt invites people. Sometimes I do:
+sometimes both together. Now I invite you, in her name. She's quite a
+nice old lady. You'll like her. And we've got all kinds of
+animals--everything, nearly, that will live in this climate, from
+tortoises of Carthage, to white mice from Japan, and a baby panther from
+Grand Kabylia. But they keep themselves to themselves. I promise you the
+panther won't try to sit on your lap. And you'll be just in time to
+christen him. We've been looking for a name."
+
+"I should love to christen the panther, and you are more than kind to
+say your aunt would like me to visit her; but I can't possibly, thank
+you very much," answered Victoria in the old-fashioned, quaintly
+provincial way which somehow intensified the effect of her brilliant
+prettiness. "I have come to Algiers on--on business that's very
+important to me. Mr. Knight will tell you all about it. I've asked him
+to tell, and he's promised to beg for your help. When you know, you'll
+see that it will be better for me not to be visiting anybody. I--I would
+rather be in a hotel, in spite of your great kindness."
+
+That settled the matter. Nevill Caird had too much tact to insist,
+though he was far from being convinced. He said that his aunt, Lady
+MacGregor, would write Miss Ray a note asking her to lunch next day, and
+then they would have the panther-christening. Also by that time he
+would know, from his friend, how his help might best be given. But in
+any case he hoped that Miss Ray would allow his car to drop her at the
+Hotel de la Kasbah, which had no omnibus and therefore did not send to
+meet the boat. Her luggage might go up with the rest, and be left at the
+hotel.
+
+These offers Victoria accepted gratefully; and as Caird put her into the
+fine yellow car, the handsome Arab who had been on the boat looked at
+her with chastened curiosity as he passed. He must have seen that she
+was with the Englishman who had talked to her on board the _Charles
+Quex_, and that now there was another man, who seemed to be the owner of
+the large automobile. The Arab had a servant with him, who had travelled
+second class on the boat, a man much darker than himself, plainly
+dressed, with a smaller turban bound by cheaper cord; but he was very
+clean, and as dignified as his master. Stephen scarcely noticed the two
+figures. The fine-looking Arab had ceased to be of importance since he
+had left the ship, and would see no more of Victoria Ray.
+
+The chauffeur who drove Nevill's car was an Algerian who looked as if he
+might have a dash of dark blood in his veins. Beside him sat the Kabyle
+servant, who, in his picturesque embroidered clothes, with his jaunty
+fez, appeared amusingly out of place in the smart automobile, which
+struck the last note of modernity. The chauffeur had a reckless, daring
+face, with the smile of a mischievous boy; but he steered with caution
+and skill through the crowded streets where open trams rushed by, filled
+to overflowing with white-veiled Arab women of the lower classes, and
+French girls in large hats, who sat crushed together on the same seats.
+Arabs walked in the middle of the street, and disdained to quicken their
+steps for motor cars and carriages. Tiny children with charming brown
+faces and eyes like wells of light, darted out from the pavement, almost
+in front of the motor, smiling and begging, absolutely, fearless and
+engagingly impudent. It was all intensely interesting to Stephen, who
+was, however, conscious enough of his past to be glad that he was able
+to take so keen an interest. He had the sensation of a man who has been
+partially paralyzed, and is delighted to find that he can feel a pinch.
+
+The Hotel de la Kasbah, which Victoria frankly admitted she had chosen
+because of its low prices, was, as its name indicated, close to the
+mounting of the town, near the corner of a tortuous Arab street, narrow
+and shadowy despite its thick coat of whitewash. The house was kept by
+an extremely fat Algerian, married to a woman who called herself
+Spanish, but was more than half Moorish; and the proprietor himself
+being of mixed blood, all the servants except an Algerian maid or two,
+were Kabyles or Arabs. They were cheap and easy to manage, since master
+and mistress had no prejudices. Stephen did not like the look of the
+place, which might suit commercial travellers or parties of economical
+tourists who liked to rub shoulders with native life; but for a pretty
+young girl travelling alone, it seemed to him that, though it was clean
+enough, nothing could be less appropriate. Victoria had made up her mind
+and engaged her room, however; and so as no definite objection could be
+urged, he followed Caird's example, and held his tongue. As they bade
+the girl good-bye in the tiled hall (a fearful combination of all that
+was worst in Arab and European taste) Nevill begged her to let them know
+if she were not comfortable. "You're coming to lunch to-morrow at
+half-past one," he went on, "but if there's anything meanwhile, call us
+up on the telephone. We can easily find you another hotel, or a pension,
+if you're determined not to visit my aunt."
+
+"If I need you, I promise that I will call," Victoria said. And though
+she answered Caird, she looked at Stephen Knight.
+
+Then they left her; and Stephen became rather thoughtful. But he tried
+not to let Nevill see his preoccupation.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+As they left the arcaded streets of commercial Algiers, and drove up the
+long hill towards Mustapha Supérieur, where most of the best and finest
+houses are, Stephen and Nevill Caird talked of what they saw, and of
+Victoria Ray; not at all of Stephen himself. Nevill had asked him what
+sort of trip he had had, and not another question of any sort. Stephen
+was glad of this, and understood very well that it was not because his
+friend was indifferent. Had he been so, he would not have invited
+Stephen to make this visit.
+
+To speak of the past they had shared, long ago, would naturally have led
+farther, and though Stephen was not sure that he mightn't some day
+refer, of his own accord, to the distasteful subject of the Case and
+Margot Lorenzi, he could not have borne to mention either now.
+
+As they passed gateways leading to handsome houses, mostly in the Arab
+style, Nevill told him who lived in each one: French, English, and
+American families; people connected with the government, who remained in
+Algiers all the year round, or foreigners who came out every winter for
+love of their beautiful villa gardens and the climate.
+
+"We've rather an amusing society here," he said. "And we'd defend
+Algiers and each other to any outsider, though our greatest pleasure is
+quarrelling among ourselves, or patching up one another's rows and
+beginning again on our own account. It's great fun and keeps us from
+stagnating. We also give quantities of luncheons and teas, and are sick
+of going to each other's entertainments; yet we're so furious if there's
+anything we're not invited to, we nearly get jaundice. I do
+myself--though I hate running about promiscuously; and I spend hours
+thinking up ingenious lies to squeeze out of accepting invitations I'd
+have been ill with rage not to get. And there are factions which loathe
+each other worse than any mere Montagus and Capulets. We have rival
+parties, and vie with one another in getting hold of any royalties or
+such like, that may be knocking about; but we who hate each other most,
+meet at the Governor's Palace and smile sweetly if French people are
+looking; if not, we snort like war-horses--only in a whisper, for we're
+invariably polite."
+
+Stephen laughed, as he was meant to do. "What about the Arabs?" he
+asked, with Victoria's errand in his mind. "Is there such a thing as
+Arab society?"
+
+"Very little--of the kind we'd call 'society'--in Algiers. In Tunis
+there's more. Much of the old Arab aristocracy has died out here, or
+moved away; but there are a few left who are rich and well born. They
+have their palaces outside the town; but most of the best houses have
+been sold to Europeans, and their Arab owners have gone into the
+interior where the Roumis don't rub elbows with them quite as
+offensively as in a big French town like this. Naturally they prefer the
+country. And I know a few of the great Arab Chiefs--splendid-looking
+fellows who turn up gorgeously dressed for the Governor's ball every
+year, and condescend to dine with me once or twice while they're staying
+on to amuse themselves in Algiers."
+
+"Condescend!" Stephen repeated.
+
+"By Jove, yes. I'm sure they think it's a great condescension. And I'm
+not sure you won't think so too, when you see them--as of course you
+will. You must go to the Governor's ball with me, even if you can't be
+bothered going anywhere else. It's a magnificent spectacle. And I get on
+pretty well among the Arabs, as I've learned to speak their lingo a bit.
+Not that I've worried. But nearly nine years is a long time."
+
+This was Stephen's chance to tell what he chose to tell of his brief
+acquaintance with Victoria Ray, and of the mission which had brought her
+to Algiers. Somehow, as he unfolded the story he had heard from the girl
+on board ship, the scent of orange blossoms, luscious-sweet in this
+region of gardens, connected itself in his mind with thoughts of the
+beautiful woman who had married Cassim ben Halim, and disappeared from
+the world she had known. He imagined her in an Arab garden where orange
+blossoms fell like snow, eating her heart out for the far country and
+friends she would never see again, rebelling against a monstrous tyranny
+which imprisoned her in this place of perfumes and high white walls. Or
+perhaps the scented petals were falling now upon her grave.
+
+"Cassim ben Halim--Captain Cassim ben Halim," Nevill repeated. "Seems
+familiar somehow, as if I'd heard the name; but most of these Arab names
+have a kind of family likeness in our ears. Either he's a person of no
+particular importance, or else he must have left Algiers before my Uncle
+James Caird died--the man who willed me his house, you know--brother of
+Aunt Caroline MacGregor who lives with me now. If I've ever heard
+anything about Ben Halim, whatever it is has slipped my mind. But I'll
+do my best to find out something."
+
+"Miss Ray believes he was of importance," said Stephen. "She oughtn't to
+have much trouble getting on to his trail, should you think?"
+
+Nevill looked doubtful. "Well, if he'd wanted her on his trail, she'd
+never have been off it. If he didn't, and doesn't, care to be got at,
+finding him mayn't be as simple as it would be in Europe, where you can
+always resort to detectives if worst comes to worst."
+
+"Can't you here?" asked Stephen.
+
+"Well, there's the French police, of course, and the military in the
+south. But they don't care to interfere with the private affairs of
+Arabs, if no crime's been committed--and they wouldn't do anything in
+such a case, I should think, in the way of looking up Ben Halim, though
+they'd tell anything they might happen to know already, I
+suppose--unless they thought best to keep silence with foreigners."
+
+"There must be people in Algiers who'd remember seeing such a beautiful
+creature as Ben Halim's wife, even if her husband whisked her away nine
+years ago," Stephen argued.
+
+"I wonder?" murmured Caird, with an emphasis which struck his friend as
+odd.
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Stephen.
+
+"I mean, I wonder if any one in Algiers ever saw her at all? Ben Halim
+was in the French Army; but he was a Mussulman. Paris and Algiers are a
+long cry, one from the other--if you're an Arab."
+
+"Jove! You don't think----"
+
+"You've spotted it. That's what I do think."
+
+"That he shut her up?"
+
+"That he forced her to live the life of a Mussulman woman. Why, what
+else could you expect, when you come to look at it?"
+
+"But an American girl----"
+
+"A woman who marries gives herself to her husband's nation as well as to
+her husband, doesn't she--especially if he's an Arab? Only, thank God,
+it happens to very few European girls, except of the class that doesn't
+so much matter. Think of it. This Ben Halim, a Spahi officer, falls dead
+in love with a girl when he's on leave in Paris. He feels he must have
+her. He can get her only by marriage. They're as subtle as the devil,
+even the best of them, these Arabs. He'd have to promise the girl
+anything she wanted, or lose her. Naturally he wouldn't give it away
+that he meant to veil her and clap her into a harem the minute he got
+her home. If he'd even hinted anything of that sort she wouldn't have
+stirred a step. But for a Mussulman to let his wife walk the streets
+unveiled, like a Roumia, or some woman of easy virtue, would be a
+horrible disgrace to them both. His relations and friends would cut
+him, and hoot her at sight. The more he loved his wife, the less likely
+he'd be to keep a promise, made in a different world. It wouldn't be
+human nature--Arab human nature--to keep it. Besides, they have the
+jealousy of the tiger, these Eastern fellows. It's a madness."
+
+"Then perhaps no one ever knew, out here, that the man had brought home
+a foreign wife?"
+
+"Almost surely not. No European, that is. Arabs might know--through
+their women. There's nothing that passes which they can't find out. How
+they do it, who can tell? Their ways are as mysterious as everything
+else here, except the lives of us _hiverneurs_, who don't even try very
+hard to hide our own scandals when we have any. But no Arab could be
+persuaded or forced to betray another Arab to a European, unless for
+motives of revenge. For love or hate, they stand together. In virtues
+and vices they're absolutely different from Europeans. And if Ben Halim
+doesn't want anybody, not excepting his wife's sister, to get news of
+his wife, why, it may be difficult to get it, that's all I say. Going to
+Miss Ray's hotel, you could see something of that Arab street close by,
+on the fringe of the Kasbah--which is what they call, not the old fort
+alone, but the whole Arab town."
+
+"Yes. I saw the queer white houses, huddled together, that looked like
+blank walls only broken by a door, with here and there a barred window."
+
+"Well, what I mean is that it's almost impossible for any European to
+learn what goes on behind those blank walls and those little square
+holes, in respectable houses. But we'll hope for the best. And here we
+are at my place. I'm rather proud of it."
+
+They had come to the arched gateway of a white-walled garden. The sun
+had set fire to the gold of some sunken Arab lettering over the central
+arch, so that each broken line darted forth its separate flame. "Djenan
+el Djouad; House of the Nobleman," Nevill translated. "It was built for
+the great confidant of a particularly wicked old Dey of Algiers, in
+sixteen hundred and something, and the place had been allowed to fall
+into ruin when my uncle bought it, about twenty or thirty years ago.
+There was a romance in his life, I believe. He came to Algiers for his
+health, as a young man, meaning to stay only a few months, but fell in
+love with a face which he happened to catch a glimpse of, under a veil
+that disarranged itself--on purpose or by accident--in a carriage
+belonging to a rich Arab. Because of that face he remained in Algiers,
+bought this house, spent years in restoring it, exactly in Arab style,
+and making a beautiful garden out of his fifteen or sixteen acres.
+Whether he ever got to know the owner of the face, history doesn't
+state: my uncle was as secretive as he was romantic. But odd things have
+been said. I expect they're still said, behind my back. And they're
+borne out, I'm bound to confess, by the beauty of the decorations in
+that part of the house intended for the ladies. Whether it was ever
+occupied in Uncle James's day, nobody can tell; but Aunt Caroline, his
+sister, who has the best rooms there now, vows she's seen the ghost of a
+lovely being, all spangled gauze and jewels, with silver khal-khal, or
+anklets, that tinkle as she moves. I assure my aunt it must be a dream,
+come to punish her for indulging in two goes of her favourite sweet at
+dinner; but in my heart I shouldn't wonder if it's true. The whole lot
+of us, in our family, are romantic and superstitious. We can't help it
+and don't want to help it, though we suffer for our foolishness often
+enough, goodness knows."
+
+The scent of orange blossoms and acacias was poignantly sweet, as the
+car passed an Arab lodge, and wound slowly up an avenue cut through a
+grove of blossoming trees. The utmost pains had been taken in the laying
+out of the garden, but an effect of carelessness had been preserved. The
+place seemed a fairy tangle of white and purple lilacs, gold-dripping
+laburnums, acacias with festoons of pearl, roses looping from orange
+tree to mimosa, and a hundred gorgeous tropical flowers like painted
+birds and butterflies. In shadowed nooks under dark cypresses, glimmered
+arum lilies, sparkling with the diamond dew that sprayed from carved
+marble fountains, centuries old; and low seats of marble mosaiced with
+rare tiles stood under magnolia trees or arbours of wistaria. Giant
+cypresses, tall and dark as a band of Genii, marched in double line on
+either side the avenue as it straightened and turned towards the house.
+
+White in the distance where that black procession halted, glittered the
+old Arab palace, built in one long façade, and other façades smaller,
+less regular, looking like so many huge blocks of marble grouped
+together. Over one of these blocks fell a crimson torrent of
+bougainvillæa; another was veiled with white roses and purple clematis;
+a third was showered with the gold of some strange tropical creeper that
+Stephen did not know.
+
+On the roof of brown and dark-green tiles, the sunlight poured, making
+each tile lustrous as the scale of a serpent, and all along the edge
+grew tiny flowers and grasses, springing out of interstices to wave
+filmy threads of pink and gold.
+
+The principal façade was blank as a wall, save for a few small,
+mysterious windows, barred with _grilles_ of iron, green with age; but
+on the other façades were quaint recessed balconies, under projecting
+roofs supported with beams of cedar; and the door, presently opened by
+an Arab servant, was very old too, made of oak covered with an armour of
+greenish copper.
+
+Even when it had closed behind Stephen and Nevill, they were not yet in
+the house, but in a large court with a ceiling of carved and painted
+cedar-wood supported by marble pillars of extreme lightness and grace.
+In front, this court was open, looking on to an inner garden with a
+fountain more delicate of design than those Stephen had seen outside.
+The three walls of the court were patterned all over with ancient tiles
+rare as some faded Spanish brocade in a cathedral, and along their
+length ran low seats where in old days sat slaves awaiting orders from
+their master.
+
+Out from this court they walked through a kind of pillared cloister, and
+the façades of the house as they passed on, were beautiful in pure
+simplicity of line; so white, they seemed to turn the sun on them to
+moonlight; so jewelled with bands and plaques of lovely tiles, that they
+were like snowy shoulders of a woman hung with necklaces of precious
+stones.
+
+By the time they had left this cloistered garden and threaded their way
+indoors, Stephen had lost his bearings completely. He was convinced
+that, once in, he should never find the clue which would guide him out
+again as he had come. There was another garden court, much larger than
+the first, and this, Nevill said, had been the garden of the
+palace-women in days of old. It had a fountain whose black marble basin
+was fringed with papyrus, and filled with pink, blue, and white water
+lilies, from under whose flat dark pads glimmered the backs of darting
+goldfish. Three walls of this garden had low doorways with cunningly
+carved doors of cedar-wood, and small, iron-barred windows festooned
+with the biggest roses Stephen had ever seen; but the fourth side was
+formed by an immense loggia with a dais at the back, and an open-fronted
+room at either end. Walls and floor of this loggia were tiled, and
+barred windows on either side the dais looked far down over a world
+which seemed all sky, sea, and garden. One of the little open rooms was
+hung with Persian prayer-rugs which Stephen thought were like fading
+rainbows seen through a mist; and there were queer old tinselled
+pictures such as good Moslems love: Borak, the steed of the prophet,
+half winged woman, half horse; the Prophet's uncle engaged in mighty
+battle; the Prophet's favourite daughter, Fatma-Zora, daintily eating
+her sacred breakfast. The other room at the opposite end of the tiled
+loggia was fitted up, Moorish fashion, for the making of coffee; walls
+and ceiling carved, gilded, and painted in brilliant colours; the floor
+tiled with the charming "windmill" pattern; many shelves adorned with
+countless little coffee cups in silver standards; with copper and brass
+utensils of all imaginable kinds; and in a gilded recess was a curious
+apparatus for boiling water.
+
+Nevill Caird displayed his treasures and the beauties of his domain with
+an ingenuous pride, delighted at every word of appreciation, stopping
+Stephen here and there to point out something of which he was fond,
+explaining the value of certain old tiles from the point of view of an
+expert, and gladly lingering to answer every question. Some day, he
+said, he was going to write a book about tiles, a book which should have
+wonderful illustrations.
+
+"Do you really like it all?" he asked, as Stephen looked out from a
+barred window of the loggia, over the wide view.
+
+"I never even imagined anything so fantastically beautiful," Stephen
+returned warmly. "You ought to be happy, even if you could never go
+outside your own house and gardens. There's nothing to touch this on the
+Riviera. It's a palace of the 'Arabian Nights.'"
+
+"There was a palace in the 'Arabian Nights,' if you remember," said
+Nevill, "where everything was perfect except one thing. Its master was
+miserable because he couldn't get that thing."
+
+"The Roc's egg, of Aladdin's palace," Stephen recalled. "Do you lack a
+Roc's egg for yours?"
+
+"The equivalent," said Nevill. "The one thing which I want, and don't
+seem likely to get, though I haven't quite given up hope. It's a woman.
+And she doesn't want me--or my palace. I'll tell you about her some
+day--soon, perhaps. And maybe you'll see her. But never mind my troubles
+for the moment. I can put them out of my mind with comparative ease, in
+the pleasure of welcoming you. Now we'll go indoors. You haven't an idea
+what the house is like yet. By the way, I nearly forgot this chap."
+
+He put his hand into the pocket of his grey flannel coat, and pulled out
+a green frog, wrapped in a lettuce leaf which was inadequate as a
+garment, but a perfect match as to colour.
+
+"I bought him on the way down to meet you," Nevill explained. "Saw an
+Arab kid trying to sell him in the street, poor little beast. Thought it
+would be a friendly act to bring him here to join my happy family, which
+is large and varied. I don't remember anybody living in this fountain
+who's likely to eat him, or be eaten by him."
+
+Down went the frog on the wide rim of the marble fountain, and sat
+there, meditatively, with a dawning expression of contentment, so
+Stephen fancied, on his green face. He looked, Stephen thought, as if he
+were trying to forget a troubled past, and as if his new home with all
+its unexplored mysteries of reeds and lily pads were wondrously to his
+liking.
+
+"I wish you'd name that person after me," said Stephen. "You're being
+very good to both of us,--taking us out of Hades into Paradise."
+
+"Come along in," was Nevill Caird's only answer. But he walked into the
+house with his hand on Stephen's shoulder.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+Djenan El Djouad was a labyrinth. Stephen Knight abandoned all attempt
+at keeping a mental clue before he had reached the drawing-room. Nevill
+led him there by way of many tile-paved corridors, lit by hanging Arab
+lamps suspended from roofs of arabesqued cedar-wood. They went up or
+down marble steps, into quaint little alcoved rooms furnished with
+nothing but divans and low tables or dower chests crusted with Syrian
+mother-o'-pearl, on into rooms where brocade-hung walls were covered
+with Arab musical instruments of all kinds, or long-necked Moorish guns
+patterned with silver, ivory and coral. Here and there as they passed,
+were garden glimpses, between embroidered curtains, looking through
+windows always barred with greenish wrought iron, so old as to be rarely
+beautiful; and some small windows had no curtains, but were thickly
+frilled outside with the violent crimson of bougainvillæa, or fringed
+with tassels of wistaria, loop on loop of amethysts. High above these
+windows, which framed flowery pictures, were other windows, little and
+jewelled, mere plaques of filigree workmanship, fine as carved ivory or
+silver lace, and lined with coloured glass of delicate tints--gold,
+lilac, and pale rose.
+
+"Here's the drawing-room at last," said Nevill, "and here's my aunt."
+
+"If you can call it a drawing-room," objected a gently complaining
+voice. "A filled-in court, where ghosts of murdered slaves come and
+moan, while you have your tea. How do you do, Mr. Knight? I'm delighted
+you've taken pity on Nevill. He's never so happy as when he's showing a
+new friend the house--except when he's obtained an old tile, or a new
+monster of some sort, for his collection."
+
+"In me, he kills two birds with one stone," said Stephen, smiling, as he
+shook the hand of a tiny lady who looked rather like an elderly fairy
+disguised in a cap, that could have been born nowhere except north of
+the Tweed.
+
+She had delicate little features which had been made to fit a pretty
+child, and had never grown up. Her hair, of a reddish yellow, had faded
+to a yellowish white, which by a faint fillip of the imagination could
+be made to seem golden in some lights. Her eyes were large and round,
+and of a china-blue colour; her eyebrows so arched as to give her an
+expression of perpetual surprise, her forehead full, her cheekbones high
+and pink, her small, pursed mouth of the kind which prefers to hide a
+sense of humour, and then astonish people with it when they have ceased
+to believe in its existence. If her complexion had not been netted all
+over with a lacework of infinitesimal wrinkles, she would have looked
+like a little girl dressed up for an old lady. She had a ribbon of the
+MacGregor tartan on her cap, and an uncompromising cairngorm fastened
+her fichu of valuable point lace. A figure more out of place than hers
+in an ancient Arab palace of Algiers it would be impossible to conceive;
+yet it was a pleasant figure to see there, and Stephen knew that he was
+going to like Nevill's Aunt Caroline, Lady MacGregor.
+
+"I wish you looked more of a monster than you do," said she, "because
+you might frighten the ghosts. We're eaten up with them, the way some
+folk in old houses are with rats. Nearly all of them slaves, too, so
+there's no variety, except that some are female. I've given you the room
+with the prettiest ghosts, but if you're not the seventh son of a
+seventh son, you may not see or even hear them."
+
+"Does Nevill see or hear?" asked Stephen.
+
+"As much as Aunt Caroline does, if the truth were known," answered her
+nephew. "Only she couldn't be happy unless she had a grievance. Here she
+wanted to choose an original and suitable one, so she hit upon
+ghosts--the ghosts of slaves murdered by a cruel master."
+
+"Hit upon them, indeed!" she echoed indignantly, making her knitting
+needles click, a movement which displayed her pretty, miniature hands,
+half hidden in lace ruffles. "As if they hadn't gone through enough, in
+flesh and blood, poor creatures! Some of them may have been my
+countrymen, captured on the seas by those horrid pirates."
+
+"Who was the cruel master?" Stephen wanted to know, still smiling,
+because it was almost impossible not to smile at Lady MacGregor.
+
+"Not my brother James, I'm glad to say," she quickly replied. "It was
+about three hundred years before his time. And though he had some quite
+irritating tricks as a young man, murdering slaves wasn't one of them.
+To be sure, they tell strange tales of him here, as I make no doubt
+Nevill has already mentioned, because he's immoral enough to be proud of
+what he calls the romance. I mean the story of the beautiful Arab lady,
+whom James is supposed to have stolen from her rightful husband--that
+is, if an Arab can be rightful--and hidden in this house far many a
+year, till at last she died, after the search for her had long, long
+gone by."
+
+"You're as proud of the romance as I am, or you wouldn't be at such
+pains to repeat it to everybody, pretending to think I've already told
+it," said Nevill. "But I'm going to show Knight his quarters. Pretty or
+plain, there are no ghosts here that will hurt him. And then we'll have
+lunch, for which he's starving."
+
+Stephen's quarters consisted of a bedroom (furnished in Tunisian style,
+with an imposing four-poster of green and gold ornamented with a gilded,
+sacred cow under a crown) and a sitting room gay with colourful
+decorations imported from Morocco. These rooms opened upon a wide
+covered balcony screened by a carved wooden lattice and from the
+balcony Stephen could look over hills, near and far, dotted with white
+villas that lay like resting gulls on the green wave of verdure which
+cascaded down to join the blue waves of the sea. Up from that far
+blueness drifted on the wind a murmurous sound like Æolian harps,
+mingled with the tinkle of fairy mandolins in the fountain of the court
+below.
+
+At luncheon, in a dining-room that opened on to a white-walled garden
+where only lilies of all kinds grew, to Stephen's amazement two
+Highlanders in kilts stood behind his hostess's chair. They were young,
+exactly alike, and of precisely the same height, six foot two at least.
+"No, you are not dreaming them, Mr. Knight," announced Lady MacGregor,
+evidently delighted with the admiring surprise in the look he bestowed
+upon these images. "And you're quite right. They _are_ twins. I may as
+well break it to you now, as I had to do to Nevill when he invited me to
+come to Algiers and straighten out his housekeeping accounts: they play
+Ruth to my Naomi. Whither I go, they go also, even to the door of the
+bathroom, where they carry my towels, for I have no other maid than
+they."
+
+Stephen could not help glancing at the two giants, expecting to see some
+involuntary quiver of eye or nostril answer electrically to this frank
+revelation of their office; but their countenances (impossible to think
+of as mere faces) remained expressionless as if carved in stone. Lady
+MacGregor took nothing from Mohammed and the other Kabyle servant who
+waited on Nevill and Stephen. Everything for her was handed to one of
+the Highlanders, who gravely passed on the dish to their mistress. If
+she refused a _plat_ favoured by them, instead of carrying it away, the
+giants in kilts silently but firmly pressed it upon her acceptance,
+until in self-defence she seized some of the undesired food, and ate it
+under their watchful eyes.
+
+During the meal a sudden thunderstorm boiled up out of the sea: the sky
+became a vast brazen bowl, and a strange, coppery twilight bleached the
+lilies in the white garden to a supernatural pallor. The room, with its
+embroidered Moorish hangings, darkened to a rich gloom; but Mohammed
+touched a button on the wall, and all the quaint old Arab lamps that
+stood in corners, or hung suspended from the cedar roof, flashed out
+cunningly concealed electric lights. At the same moment, there began a
+great howling outside the door. Mohammed sprang to open it, and in
+poured a wave of animals. Stephen hastily counted five dogs; a collie, a
+white deerhound, a Dandy Dinmont, and a mother and child of unknown
+race, which he afterwards learned was Kabyle, a breed beloved of
+mountain men and desert tent-dwellers. In front of the dogs bounded a
+small African monkey, who leaped to the back of Nevill's chair, and
+behind them toddled with awkward grace a baby panther, a mere ball of
+yellow silk.
+
+"They don't like the thunder, poor dears," Nevill apologised. "That's
+why they howled, for they're wonderfully polite people really. They
+always come at the end of lunch. Aunt Caroline won't invite them to
+dinner, because then she sometimes wears fluffy things about which she
+has a foolish vanity. The collie is Angus's. The deerhound is Hamish's.
+The dandy is hers. The two Kabyles are Mohammed's, and the flotsam and
+jetsam is mine. There's a great deal more of it out of doors, but this
+is all that gets into the dining-room except by accident. And I expect
+you think we are a very queer family."
+
+Stephen did think so, for never till now had he been a member of a
+household where each of the servants was allowed to possess any animals
+he chose, and flood the house with them. But the queerer he thought the
+family, the better he found himself liking it. He felt a boy let out of
+school after weeks of disgrace and punishment, and, strangely enough,
+this old Arab palace, in a city of North Africa seemed more like home to
+him than his London flat had seemed of late.
+
+When Lady MacGregor rose and said she must write the note she had
+promised Nevill to send Miss Ray, Stephen longed to kiss her. This form
+of worship not being permitted, he tried to open the dining-room door
+for her to go out, but Angus and Hamish glared upon him so
+superciliously that he retired in their favour.
+
+The luncheon hour, even when cloaked in the mysterious gloom of a
+thunderstorm, is no time for confidences; besides, it is not conducive
+to sustained conversation to find a cold nose in your palm, a baby claw
+up your sleeve, or a monkey hand, like a bit of leather, thrust down
+your collar or into your ear. But after dinner that night, when Lady
+MacGregor had trailed her maligned "fluffiness" away to the
+drawing-room, and Nevill and Stephen had strolled with their cigarettes
+out into the unearthly whiteness of the lily garden, Stephen felt that
+something was coming. He had known that Nevill had a story to tell, by
+and by, and though he knew also that he would be asked no questions in
+return, now or ever, it occurred to him that Nevill's offer of
+confidences was perhaps meant to open a door, if he chose to enter by
+it. He was not sure whether he would so choose or not, but the fact that
+he was not sure meant a change in him. A few days ago, even this
+morning, before meeting Nevill, he would have been certain that he had
+nothing intimate to tell Caird or any one else.
+
+They strolled along the paths among the lilies. Moon and sky and flowers
+and white-gravelled paths were all silver. Stephen thought of Victoria
+Ray, and wished she could see this garden. He thought, too, that if she
+would only dance here among the lilies in the moonlight, it would be a
+vision of exquisite loveliness.
+
+"For a moment white, then gone forever," he caught himself repeating
+again.
+
+It was odd how, whenever he saw anything very white and of dazzling
+purity, he thought of this dancing girl. He wondered what sort of woman
+it was whose image came to Nevill's mind, in the garden of lilies that
+smelt so heavenly sweet under the moon. He supposed there must always be
+some woman whose image was suggested to every man by all that was
+fairest in nature. Margot Lorenzi was the woman whose image he must keep
+in his mind, if he wanted to know any faint imitation of happiness in
+future. She would like this moonlit garden, and in one way it would suit
+her as a background. Yet she did not seem quite in the picture, despite
+her beauty. The perfume she loved would not blend with the perfume of
+the lilies.
+
+"Aunt Caroline's rather a dear, isn't she?" remarked Nevill, apropos of
+nothing.
+
+"She's a jewel," said Stephen.
+
+"Yet she isn't the immediate jewel of my soul. I'm hard hit, Stephen,
+and the girl won't have me. She's poorer than any church or other mouse
+I ever met, yet she turns up her little French nose at me and my palace,
+and all the cheese I should like to see her nibble--my cheese."
+
+"Her French nose?" echoed Stephen.
+
+"Yes. Her nose and the rest of her's French, especially her dimples. You
+never saw such dimples. Miss Ray's prettier than my girl, I suppose. But
+I think mine's beyond anything. Only she isn't and won't be mine that's
+the worst of it."
+
+"Where is she?" Stephen asked. "In Algiers?"
+
+"No such luck. But her sister is. I'll take you to see the sister
+to-morrow morning. She may be able to tell us something to help Miss
+Ray. She keeps a curiosity-shop, and is a connoisseur of Eastern
+antiquities, as well as a great character in Algiers, quite a sort of
+queen in her way--a quaint way. All the visiting Royalties of every
+nation drop in and spend hours in her place. She has a good many Arab
+acquaintances, too. Even rich chiefs come to sell, or buy things from
+her, and respect her immensely. But my girl--I like to call her that--is
+away off in the west, close to the border of Morocco, at Tlemcen. I
+wish you were interested in mosques, and I'd take you there. People who
+care for such things sometimes travel from London or Paris just to see
+the mosque of Sidi Bou-Medine and a certain Mirab. But I suppose you
+haven't any fad of that kind, eh?"
+
+"I feel it coming on," said Stephen.
+
+"Good chap! Do encourage the feeling. I'll lend you books, lots of
+books, on the subject. She's 'malema,' or mistress of an _école
+indigène_ for embroideries and carpets, at Tlemcen. Heaven knows how few
+francs a month she earns by the job which takes all her time and life,
+yet she thinks herself lucky to get it. And she won't marry me."
+
+"Surely she must love you, at least a little, if you care so much for
+her," Stephen tried to console his friend.
+
+"Oh, she does, a lot," replied Nevill with infinite satisfaction. "But,
+you see--well, you see, her family wasn't up to much from a social point
+of view--such rot! The mother came out from Paris to be a nursery
+governess, when she was quite young, but she was too pretty for that
+position. She had various but virtuous adventures, and married a
+non-com. in the Chasseurs d'Afrique, who chucked the army for her. The
+two kept a little hotel. Then the husband died, while the girls were
+children. The mother gave up the hotel and took in sewing. Everybody was
+interested in the family, they were so clever and exceptional, and
+people helped in the girls' education. When their mother became an
+invalid, the two contrived to keep her and themselves, though Jeanne was
+only eighteen then, and Josette, my girl, fifteen. She's been dead now
+for some years--the mother. Josette is nearly twenty-four. Do you see
+why she won't marry me? I'm hanged if I do."
+
+"I can see what her feeling is," Stephen said. "She must be a ripping
+girl."
+
+"I should say she is!--though as obstinate as the devil. Sometimes I
+could shake her and box her ears. I haven't seen her for months now.
+She wouldn't like me to go to Tlemcen--unless I had a friend with me,
+and a good excuse. I didn't know it could hurt so much to be in love,
+though I was in once before, and it hurt too, rather. But that was
+nothing. For the woman had no soul or mind, only her beauty, and an
+unscrupulous sort of ambition which made her want to marry me when my
+uncle left me his money. She'd refused to do anything more serious than
+flirt and reduce me to misery, until she thought I could give her what
+she wanted. I'd imagined myself horribly in love, until her sudden
+willingness to take me showed me once for all what she was. Even so, I
+couldn't cure the habit of love at first; but I had just sense enough to
+keep out of England, where she was, for fear I should lose my head and
+marry her. My cure was rather slow, but it was sure; and now I know that
+what I thought was love then wasn't love at all. The real thing's as
+different as--as--a modern Algerian tile is from an old Moorish one. I
+can't say anything stronger! That's why I cut England, to begin with,
+and after a while my interests were more identified with France.
+Sometimes I go to Paris in the summer--or to a little place in Dauphiny.
+But I haven't been back to England for eight years. Algeria holds all my
+heart. In Tlemcen is my girl. Here are my garden and my beasts. Now you
+have my history since Oxford days."
+
+"You know something of _my_ history through the papers," Stephen blurted
+out with a desperate defiance of his own reserve.
+
+"Not much of your real history, I think. Papers lie, and people
+misunderstand. Don't talk of yourself unless you really want to. But I
+say, look here, Stephen. That woman I thought I cared for--may I tell
+you what she was like? Somehow I want you to know. Don't think me a cad.
+I don't mean to be. But--may I tell?"
+
+"Of course. Why not?"
+
+"She was dark and awfully handsome, and though she wasn't an actress,
+she would have made a splendid one. She thought only of herself.
+I--there was a picture in a London paper lately which reminded me of
+her--the picture of a young lady you know--or think you know.
+They--those two--are of the same type. I don't believe either could make
+a man happy."
+
+Stephen laughed--a short, embarrassed laugh. "Oh, happy!" he echoed.
+"After twenty-five we learn not to expect happiness. But--thank you
+for--everything, and especially for inviting me here." He knew now why
+it had occurred to Nevill to ask him to Algiers. Nevill had seen
+Margot's picture. In silence they walked towards the open door of the
+dining-room. Somewhere not far away the Kabyle dogs were barking
+shrilly. In the distance rose and fell muffled notes of strange passion
+and fierceness, an Arab tom-tom beating like the heart of the conquered
+East, away in the old town.
+
+Stephen's short-lived gaiety was struck out of his soul.
+
+"For a moment white, then gone forever."
+
+He pushed the haunting words out of his mind. He did not want them to
+have any meaning. They had no meaning.
+
+It seemed to him that the perfume of the lilies was too heavy on the
+air.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+A white peacock, screaming in the garden under Stephen's balcony, waked
+him early, and dreamily his thoughts strayed towards the events planned
+for the day.
+
+They were to make a morning call on Mademoiselle Soubise in her
+curiosity-shop, and ask about Ben Halim, the husband of Saidee Ray.
+Victoria was coming to luncheon, for she had accepted Lady MacGregor's
+invitation. Her note had been brought in last night, while he and Nevill
+walked in the garden. Afterwards Lady MacGregor had shown it to them
+both. The girl wrote an interesting hand, full of individuality, and
+expressive of decision. Perhaps on her arrival they might have something
+to tell her.
+
+This hope shot Stephen out of bed, though it was only seven, and
+breakfast was not until nine. He had a cold bath in the private
+bathroom, which was one of Nevill's modern improvements in the old
+house, and by and by went for a walk, thinking to have the gardens to
+himself. But Nevill was there, cutting flowers and whistling tunefully.
+It was to him that the jewelled white peacock had screamed a greeting.
+
+"I like cutting the flowers myself," said he. "I don't think they care
+to have others touch them, any more than a cow likes to be milked by a
+stranger. Of course they feel the difference! Why, they know when I
+praise them, and preen themselves. They curl up when they're scolded, or
+not noticed, just as I do when people aren't nice to me. Every day I
+send off a box of my best roses to Tlemcen. _She_ allows me to do that."
+
+Lady MacGregor did not appear at breakfast, which was served on a
+marble loggia; and by half-past nine Stephen and Nevill were out in the
+wide, tree-shaded streets, where masses of bougainvillæa and clematis
+boiled over high garden-walls of old plaster, once white, now streaked
+with gold and rose, and green moss and lichen. After the thunderstorm of
+the day before, the white dust was laid, and the air was pure with a
+curious sparkling quality.
+
+They passed the museum in its garden, and turned a corner.
+
+"There's Mademoiselle Soubise's shop," said Nevill.
+
+It was a low white building, and had evidently been a private house at
+one time. The only change made had been in the shape and size of the
+windows on the ground-floor; and these were protected by green
+_persiennes_, fanned out like awnings, although the house was shaded by
+magnolia trees. There was no name over the open door, but the word
+"_Antiquités_" was painted in large black letters on the house-wall.
+
+Under the green blinds was a glitter of jewels displayed among brocades
+and a tangle of old lace, or on embossed silver trays; and walking in at
+the door, out of the shadowy dusk, a blaze of colour leaped to the eyes.
+Not a soul was there, unless some one hid and spied behind a carved and
+gilded Tunisian bed or a marqueterie screen from Bagdad. Yet there was a
+collection to tempt a thief, and apparently no precaution taken against
+invaders.
+
+Delicate rugs, soft as clouds and tinted like opals, were heaped in
+piles on the tiled floor; rugs from Ispahan, rugs from Mecca; old rugs
+from the sacred city of Kairouan, such as are made no more there or
+anywhere. The walls were hung with Tunisian silks and embroidered stuffs
+from the homes of Jewish families, where they had served as screens for
+talismanic words too sacred to be seen by common eyes; and there was
+drapery of ancient banners, Tyrian-dyed, whose gold or silver fringes
+had been stained with blood, in battle. From the ceiling were suspended
+antique lamps, and chandeliers of rare rock crystal, whose prisms gave
+out rose and violet sparks as they caught the light.
+
+On shelves and inlaid tables were beggars' bowls of strange dark woods,
+carried across deserts by wandering mendicants of centuries ago, the
+chains, which had hung from throats long since crumbled into dust,
+adorned with lucky rings and fetishes to preserve the wearer from evil
+spirits. There were other bowls, of crystal pure as full-blown bubbles,
+bowls which would ring at a tap like clear bells of silver. Some of
+these were guiltless of ornament, some were graven with gold flowers,
+but all seemed full of lights reflected from tilted, pearl-framed
+mirrors, and from the swinging prisms of chandeliers.
+
+Chafing-dishes of bronze at which vanished hands had been warmed, stood
+beside chased brazen ewers made to pour rose-water over henna-stained
+fingers, after Arab dinners, eaten without knives or forks. In the
+depths of half-open drawers glimmered precious stones, strangely cut
+pink diamonds, big square turquoises and emeralds, strings of creamy
+pearls, and hands of Fatma, a different jewel dangling from each
+finger-tip.
+
+The floor was encumbered, not only with rugs, but with heaps of
+priceless tiles, Persian and Moorish, of the best periods and patterns,
+taken from the walls of Arab palaces now destroyed; huge brass salvers;
+silver anklets, and chain armour, sabres captured from Crusaders, and
+old illuminated Korans. It was difficult to move without knocking
+something down, and one stepped delicately in narrow aisles, to avoid
+islands of piled, precious objects. Everywhere the eye was drawn to
+glittering points, or patches of splendid colour; so that at a glance
+the large, dusky room was like a temple decorated with mosaics. There
+was nothing that did not suggest the East, city or desert, or mountain
+village of the Kabyles; and the air was loaded with Eastern perfumes,
+ambergris and musk that blended with each other, and the scent of the
+black incense sticks brought by caravan from Tombouctou.
+
+"Why doesn't some one come in and steal?" asked Stephen, in surprise at
+seeing the place deserted.
+
+"Because there's hardly a thief in Algiers mean enough to steal from
+Jeanne Soubise, who gives half she has to the poor. And because, if
+there were one so mean, Haroun el Raschid would soon let her know what
+was going on," said Nevill. "His latest disguise is that of a parrot,
+but he may change it for something else at any moment."
+
+Then Stephen saw, suspended among the crystal chandeliers and antique
+lamps, a brass cage, shaped like a domed palace. In this cage, in a
+coral ring, sat a grey parrot who regarded the two young men with
+jewel-eyes that seemed to know all good and evil.
+
+"He yells if any stranger comes into the shop when his mistress is out,"
+Nevill explained. "I am an humble friend of His Majesty's, so he says
+nothing. I gave him to Mademoiselle Jeanne."
+
+Perhaps their voices had been heard. At all events, there was a light
+tapping of heels on unseen stairs, and from behind a red-curtained
+doorway appeared a tall young woman, dressed in black.
+
+She was robust as well as tall, and Stephen thought she looked rather
+like a handsome Spanish boy; yet she was feminine enough in her
+outlines. It was the frank and daring expression of her face and great
+black eyes which gave the look of boyishness. She had thick, straight
+eyebrows, a large mouth that was beautiful when she smiled, to show
+perfect teeth between the red lips that had a faint, shadowy line of
+down above them.
+
+"Ah, Monsieur Nevill Caird!" she exclaimed, in English, with a full
+voice, and a French accent that was pretty, though not Parisian. She
+smiled at Stephen, too, without waiting to be introduced. "Monsieur
+Caird is always kind in bringing his friends to me, and I am always glad
+to see them."
+
+"I've brought Mr. Knight, not to buy, but to ask a favour," said Nevill.
+
+"To buy, too," Stephen hastened to cut in. "I see things I can't live
+without. I must own them."
+
+"Well, don't set your heart on anything Mademoiselle Soubise won't sell.
+She bought everything with the idea of selling it, she admits, but now
+she's got them here, there are some things she can't make up her mind to
+part with at any price."
+
+"Oh, only a few tiles--and some Jewish embroideries--and bits of
+jewellery--and a rug or two or a piece of pottery--and maybe _one_ copy
+of the Koran, and a beggar's bowl," Jeanne Soubise excused herself,
+hastily adding more and more to her list of exceptions, as her eyes
+roved wistfully among her treasures. "Oh, and an amphora just dug up
+near Timgad, with Roman oil still inside. It's a beauty. Will you come
+down to the cellar to look at it?"
+
+Nevill thanked her, and reserved the pleasure for another time. Then he
+inquired what was the latest news from Mademoiselle Josette at Tlemcen;
+and when he heard that there was nothing new, he told the lady of the
+curiosity-shop what was the object of the early visit.
+
+"But of course I have heard of Ben Halim, and I have seen him, too," she
+said; "only it was long ago--maybe ten years. Yes, I could not have been
+seventeen. It is already long that he went away from Algiers, no one
+knows where. Now he is said to be dead. Have you not heard of him,
+Monsieur Nevill? You must have. He lived at Djenan el Hadj; close to the
+Jardin d'Essai. You know the place well. The new rich Americans, Madame
+Jewett and her daughter, have it now. There was a scandal about Ben
+Halim, and then he went away--a scandal that was mysterious, because
+every one talked about it, yet no one knew what had happened--never
+surely at least."
+
+"I told you Mademoiselle would be able to give you information!"
+exclaimed Nevill. "I felt sure the name was familiar, somehow, though I
+couldn't think how. One hears so many Arab names, and generally there's
+a 'Ben' or a 'Bou' something or other, if from the South."
+
+"Flan-ben-Flan," laughed Jeanne Soubise. "That means," she explained,
+turning to Stephen, "So and So, son of So and So. It is strange, a young
+lady came inquiring about Ben Halim only yesterday afternoon; such a
+pretty young lady. I was surprised, but she said they had told her in
+her hotel I knew everything that had ever happened in Algiers. A nice
+compliment to my age. I am not so old as that! But," she added, with a
+frank smile, "all the hotels and guides expect commissions when they
+send people to me. I suppose they thought this pretty girl fair game,
+and that once in my place she would buy. So she did. She bought a string
+of amber beads. She liked the gold light in them, and said it seemed as
+if she might see a vision of something or some one she wanted to find,
+if she gazed through the beads. Many a good Mussulman has said his
+prayers with them, if that could bring her luck."
+
+The two young men looked at one another.
+
+"Did she tell you her name?" Stephen asked.
+
+"But yes; she was Mees Ray, and named for the dead Queen Victoria of
+England, I suppose, though American. And she told me other things. Her
+sister, she said, married a Captain Ben Halim of the Spahis, and came
+with him to Algiers, nearly ten years ago. Now she is looking for the
+sister."
+
+"We've met Miss Ray," said Nevill. "It's on her business we've come. We
+didn't know she'd already been to you, but we might have guessed some
+one would send her. She didn't lose much time."
+
+"She wouldn't," said Stephen. "She isn't that kind."
+
+"I knew nothing of the sister," went on Mademoiselle Soubise. "I could
+hardly believe at first that Ben Halim had an American wife. Then I
+remembered how these Mohammedan men can hide their women, so no one
+ever knows. Probably no one ever did know, otherwise gossip would have
+leaked out. The man may have been jealous of her. You see, I have Arab
+acquaintances. I go to visit ladies in the harems sometimes, and I hear
+stories when anything exciting is talked of. You can't think how word
+flies from one harem to another--like a carrier-pigeon! This could never
+have been a matter of gossip--though it is true I was young at the
+time."
+
+"You think, then, he would have shut her up?" asked Nevill. "That's what
+I feared."
+
+"But of course he would have shut her up--with another wife, perhaps."
+
+"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Stephen. "The poor child has never thought of
+that possibility. She says he promised her sister he would never look at
+any other woman."
+
+"Ah, the promise of an Arab in love! Perhaps she did not know the
+Arabs--that sister. It is only the men of princely families who take but
+one wife. And he would not tell her if he had already looked at another
+woman. He would be sure, no matter how much in love a Christian girl
+might be, she would not marry a man who already had a wife."
+
+"We might find out that," suggested Stephen.
+
+"It would be difficult," said the Frenchwoman. "I can try, among Arabs I
+know, but though they like to chat with Europeans, they will not answer
+questions. They resent that we should ask them, though they are polite.
+As for you, if you ask men, French or Arab, you will learn nothing. The
+French would not know. The Arabs, if they did, would not tell. They must
+not talk of each other's wives, even among themselves, much less to
+outsiders. You can ask an Arab about anything else in the world, but not
+his wife. That is the last insult."
+
+"What a country!" Stephen ejaculated.
+
+"I don't know that it has many more faults than others," said Nevill,
+defending it, "only they're different."
+
+"But about the scandal that drove Ben Halim away?" Stephen ventured on.
+
+"Strange things were whispered at the time, I remember, because Ben
+Halim was a handsome man and well known. One looked twice at him in his
+uniform when he went by on a splendid horse. I believe he had been to
+Paris before the scandal. What he did afterwards no one can say. But I
+could not tell Mees Ray what I had heard of that scandal any more than I
+would tell a young girl that almost all Europeans who become harem women
+are converted to the religion of Islam, and that very likely the sister
+wasn't Ben Halim's first wife."
+
+"Can you tell us of the scandal, or--would you rather not talk of the
+subject?" Stephen hesitated.
+
+"Oh, I can tell you, for it would not hurt your feelings. People said
+Ben Halim flirted too much with his Colonel's beautiful French wife, who
+died soon afterwards, and her husband killed himself. Ben Halim had not
+been considered a good officer before. He was too fond of pleasure, and
+a mad gambler; so at last it was made known to him he had better leave
+the army of his own accord if he did not wish to go against his will; at
+least, that was the story."
+
+"Of course!" exclaimed Nevill. "It comes back to me now, though it all
+happened before I lived in Algiers. Ben Halim sold his house and
+everything in it to a Frenchman who went bankrupt soon after. It's
+passed through several hands since. I go occasionally to call on Mrs.
+Jewett and her daughter."
+
+"It is said they wish you would call oftener, Monsieur Caird."
+
+Nevill turned red. Stephen thought he could understand, and hid a smile.
+No doubt Nevill was a great "catch" in Algerian society. And he was in
+love with a teacher of Arab children far away in Tlemcen, a girl "poor
+as a church mouse," who wouldn't listen to him! It was a quaint world;
+as quaint in Africa as elsewhere.
+
+"What did you tell Miss Ray?" Nevill hurried to ask.
+
+"That Ben Halim had left Algiers nine years ago, and had never been
+heard of since. When I saw she did not love his memory, I told her
+people believed him to be dead; and this rumour might be true, as no
+news of him has ever come back. But she turned pale, and I was sorry I
+had been so frank. Yet what would you? Oh, and I thought of one more
+thing, when she had gone, which I might have mentioned. But perhaps
+there is nothing in it. All the rest of the day I was busy with many
+customers, so I was tired at night, otherwise I would have sent a note
+to her hotel. And this morning since six I have been hurrying to get off
+boxes and things ordered by some Americans for a ship which sails at
+noon. But you will tell the young lady when you see her, and that will
+be better than my writing, because sending a note would make it seem too
+important. She might build hopes, and it would be a pity if they did
+explode."
+
+Both men laughed a little at this ending of the Frenchwoman's sentence,
+but Stephen was more impatient than Nevill to know what was to come
+next. He grudged the pause, and made her go on.
+
+"It is only that I remember my sister telling me, when she was at home
+last year for a holiday, about a Kabyle servant girl who waits on her in
+Tlemcen. The girl is of a great intelligence, and my sister takes an
+interest in her. Josette teaches her many things, and they talk.
+Mouni--that is the Kabyle's name--tells of her home life to my sister.
+One thing she did was to serve a beautiful foreign lady in the house of
+a rich Arab. She was only a child then, not more than thirteen, for such
+girls grow up early; but she has always thought about that lady, who was
+good to her, and very sad. Mouni told Josette she had never seen any one
+so beautiful, and that her mistress had hair of a natural colour, redder
+than hair dyed with henna and powdered with gold dust. It was this
+describing of the hair which brought the story back to my head when Miss
+Ray had gone, because she has hair like that, and perhaps her sister had
+it too."
+
+"By Jove, we'll run over to Tlemcen in the car, and see that Kabyle
+girl," Nevill eagerly proposed, carefully looking at his friend, and not
+at Jeanne Soubise. But she raised her eyebrows, then drew them together,
+and her frank manner changed. With that shadow of a frown, and smileless
+eyes and lips, there was something rather formidable about the handsome
+young woman.
+
+"Mees Ray may like to manage all her own beesiness," she remarked. And
+it occurred to Stephen that it would be a propitious moment to choose
+such curios as he wished to buy. In a few moments Mademoiselle Soubise
+was her pleasant self again, indicating the best points of the things he
+admired, and giving him their history.
+
+"There's apparently a conspiracy of silence to keep us from finding out
+anything about Miss Ray's sister as Ben Halim's wife," he said to Nevill
+when they had left the curiosity-shop. "Also, what has become of Ben
+Halim."
+
+"You'll learn that there's always a conspiracy of silence in Africa,
+where Arabs are concerned," Nevill answered. There was a far-off, fatal
+look in his eyes as he spoke, those blue eyes which seemed at all times
+to see something that others could not see. And again the sense of an
+intangible, illusive, yet very real mystery of the East, which he had
+felt for a moment before landing, oppressed Stephen, as if he had
+inhaled too much smoke from the black incense of Tombouctou.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+Stephen and Nevill Caird were in the cypress avenue when Victoria Ray
+drove up in a ramshackle cab, guided by an Arab driver who squinted
+hideously. She wore a white frock which might have cost a sovereign, and
+had probably been made at home. Her wide brimmed hat was of cheap straw,
+wound with a scarf of thin white muslin; but her eyes looked out like
+blue stars from under its dove-coloured shadow, and a lily was tucked
+into her belt. To both young men she seemed very beautiful, and radiant
+as the spring morning.
+
+"You aren't superstitious, engaging a man with a squint," said Nevill.
+
+"Of course not," she laughed. "As if harm could come to me because the
+poor man's so homely! I engaged him because he was the worst looking,
+and nobody else seemed to want him."
+
+They escorted her indoors to Lady MacGregor, and Stephen wondered if she
+would be afraid of the elderly fairy with the face of a child and the
+manner of an autocrat. But she was not in the least shy; and indeed
+Stephen could hardly picture the girl as being self-conscious in any
+circumstances. Lady MacGregor took her in with one look; white hat, red
+hair, blue eyes, lily at belt, simple frock and all, and--somewhat to
+Stephen's surprise, because she was to him a new type of old
+lady--decided to be charmed with Miss Ray.
+
+Victoria's naïve admiration of the house and gardens delighted her host
+and hostess. She could not be too much astonished at its wonders to
+please them, and, both being thoroughbred, they liked her the better
+for saying frankly that she was unused to beautiful houses. "You can't
+think what this is like after school in Potterston and cheap
+boarding-houses in New York and London," she said, laughing when the
+others laughed.
+
+Stephen was longing to see her in the lily-garden, which, to his mind,
+might have been made for her; and after luncheon he asked Lady MacGregor
+if he and Nevill might show it to Miss Ray.
+
+The garden lay to the east, and as it was shadowed by the house in the
+afternoon, it would not be too hot.
+
+"Perhaps you won't mind taking her yourself," said the elderly fairy.
+"Just for a few wee minutes I want Nevill. He is to tell me about
+accepting or refusing some invitations. I'll send him to you soon."
+
+Stephen was ashamed of the gladness with which he could not help hearing
+this proposal. He had nothing to say to the girl which he might not say
+before Nevill, or even before Lady MacGregor, yet he had been feeling
+cheated because he could not be alone with Victoria, as on the boat.
+
+"Gather Miss Ray as many lilies as she can carry away," were Nevill's
+parting instructions. And it was exactly what Stephen had wished for. He
+wanted to give her something beautiful and appropriate, something he
+could give with his own hands. And he longed to see her holding masses
+of white lilies to her breast, as she walked all white in the white
+lily-garden. Now, too, he could tell her what Mademoiselle Soubise had
+said about the Kabyle girl, Mouni. He was sure Nevill wouldn't grudge
+his having that pleasure all to himself. Anyway he could not resist the
+temptation to snatch it.
+
+He began, as soon as they were alone together in the garden, by asking
+her what she had done, whether she had made progress; and it seemed that
+she retired from his questions with a vague suggestion of reserve she
+had not shown on the ship. It was not that she answered unwillingly, but
+he could not define the difference in her manner, although he felt that
+a difference existed.
+
+It was as if somebody might have been scolding her for a lack of
+reserve; yet when he inquired if she had met any one she knew, or made
+acquaintances, she said no to the first question, and named only
+Mademoiselle Soubise in reply to the second.
+
+That was Stephen's opportunity, and he began to tell of his call at the
+curiosity-shop. He expected Victoria to cry out with excitement when he
+came to Mouni's description of the beautiful lady with "henna-coloured,
+gold-powdered hair"; but though she flushed and her breath came and went
+quickly as he talked, somehow the girl did not appear to be enraptured
+with a new hope, as he had expected.
+
+"My friend Caird proposes that he and I should motor to Tlemcen, which
+it seems is near the Moroccan border, and interview Mouni," he said. "We
+may be able to make sure, when we question her, that it was your sister
+she served; and perhaps we can pick up some clue through what she lets
+drop, as to where Ben Halim took his wife when he left Algiers--though,
+of course, there are lots of other ways to find out, if this should
+prove a false clue."
+
+"You are both more than good," Victoria answered, "but I mustn't let you
+go so far for me. Perhaps, as you say, I shall be able to find out in
+other ways, from some one here in Algiers. It does sound as if it might
+be my sister the maid spoke of to Mademoiselle Soubise. How I should
+love to hear Mouni talk!--but you must wait, and see what happens,
+before you think of going on a journey for my sake."
+
+"If only there were some woman to take you, you might go with us," said
+Stephen, more eagerly than he was aware, and thinking wild thoughts
+about Lady MacGregor as a chaperon, or perhaps Mademoiselle Soubise--if
+only she could be persuaded to leave her beloved shop, and wouldn't draw
+those black brows of hers together as though tabooing a forbidden idea.
+
+"Let's wait--and see," Victoria repeated. And this patience, in the face
+of such hope, struck Stephen as being strange in her, unlike his
+conception of the brave, impulsive nature, ready for any adventure if
+only there were a faint flicker of light at the end. Then, as if she did
+not wish to talk longer of a possible visit to Tlemcen, Victoria said:
+"I've something to show you: a picture of my sister."
+
+The white dress was made without a collar, and was wrapped across her
+breast like a fichu which left the slender white stem of her throat
+uncovered. Now she drew out from under the muslin folds a thin gold
+chain, from which dangled a flat, open-faced locket. When she had
+unfastened a clasp, she handed the trinket to Stephen. "Saidee had the
+photograph made specially for me, just before she was married," the girl
+explained, "and I painted it myself. I couldn't trust any one else,
+because no one knew her colouring. Of course, she was a hundred times
+more beautiful than this, but it gives you some idea of her, as she
+looked when I saw her last."
+
+The face in the photograph was small, not much larger than Stephen's
+thumb-nail, but every feature was distinct, not unlike Victoria's,
+though more pronounced; and the nose, seen almost in profile, was
+perfect in its delicate straightness. The lips were fuller than
+Victoria's, and red as coral. The eyes were brown, with a suggestion of
+coquetry absent in the younger girl's, and the hair, parted in the
+middle and worn in a loose, wavy coil, appeared to be of a darker red,
+less golden, more auburn.
+
+"That's exactly Saidee's colouring," repeated Victoria. "Her lips were
+the reddest I ever saw, and I used to say diamonds had got caught behind
+her eyes. Do you wonder I worshipped her--that I just _couldn't_ let her
+go out of my life forever?"
+
+"No, I don't wonder. She's very lovely," Stephen agreed. The coquetry in
+the eyes was pathetic to him, knowing the beautiful Saidee's history.
+
+"She was eighteen then. She's twenty-eight now. Saidee twenty-eight! I
+can hardly realize it. But I'm sure she hasn't changed, unless to grow
+prettier. I used always to think she would." Victoria took back the
+portrait, and gazed at it. Stephen was sorry for the child. He thought
+it more than likely that Saidee had changed for the worse, physically
+and spiritually, even mentally, if Mademoiselle Soubise were right in
+her surmises. He was glad she had not said to Victoria what she had said
+to him, about Saidee having to live the life of other harem women.
+
+"I bought a string of amber beads at that curiosity-shop yesterday," the
+girl went on, "because there's a light in them like what used to be in
+Saidee's eyes. Every night, when I've said my prayers and am ready to go
+to sleep, I see her in that golden silence I told you about, looking
+towards the west--that is, towards me, too, you know; with the sun
+setting and streaming right into her eyes, making that jewelled kind of
+light gleam in them, which comes and goes in those amber beads. When I
+find her, I shall hold up the beads to her eyes in the sunlight and
+compare them."
+
+"What is the golden silence like?" asked Stephen. "Do you see more
+clearly, now that at last you've come to Africa?"
+
+"I couldn't see more clearly than I did before," the girl answered
+slowly, looking away from him, through the green lace of the trees that
+veiled the distance. "Yet it's just as mysterious as ever. I can't guess
+yet what it can be, unless it's in the desert. I just see Saidee,
+standing on a large, flat expanse which looks white. And she's dressed
+in white. All round her is a quivering golden haze, wave after wave of
+it, endless as the sea when you're on a ship. And there's silence--not
+one sound, except the beating which must be my own heart, or the blood
+that sings in my ears when I listen for a long time--the kind of singing
+you hear in a shell. That's all. And the level sun shining in her eyes,
+and on her hair."
+
+"It is a picture," said Stephen.
+
+"Wherever Say was, there would always be a picture," Victoria said with
+the unselfish, unashamed pride she had in her sister.
+
+"How I hope Saidee knows I'm near her," she went on, half to herself.
+"She'd know that I'd come to her as soon as I could--and she may have
+heard things about me that would tell her I was trying to make money
+enough for the journey and everything. If I hadn't hoped she _might_ see
+the magazines and papers, I could never have let my photograph be
+published. I should have hated that, if it hadn't been for the thought
+of the portraits coming to her eyes, with my name under them; 'Victoria
+Ray, who is dancing in such and such a place.' _She_ would know why I
+was doing it; dancing nearer and nearer to her."
+
+"You darling!" Stephen would have liked to say. But only as he might
+have spoken caressingly to a lovely child whose sweet soul had won him.
+She seemed younger than ever to-day, in the big, drooping hat, with the
+light behind her weaving a gold halo round her hair and the slim white
+figure, as she talked of Saidee in the golden silence. When she looked
+up at him, he thought that she was like a girl-saint, painted on a
+background of gold. He felt very tender over her, very much older than
+she, and it did not occur to him that he might fall in love with this
+young creature who had no thought for anything in life except the
+finding of her sister.
+
+A tiny streak of lily-pollen had made a little yellow stain on the white
+satin of her cheek, and under her blue eyes were a few faint freckles,
+golden as the lily-pollen. He had seen them come yesterday, on the ship,
+in a bright glare of sunlight, and they were not quite gone yet. He had
+a foolish wish to touch them with his finger, to see if they would rub
+off, and to brush away the lily-pollen, though it made her skin look
+pure as pearl.
+
+"You are an inspiration!" was all he said.
+
+"I? But how do you mean?" she asked.
+
+He hardly knew that he had spoken aloud; yet challenged, he tried to
+explain. "Inspiration to new life and faith in things," he answered
+almost at random. But hearing the words pronounced by his own voice,
+made him realize that they were true. This child, of whose existence he
+had not known a week ago, could give him--perhaps was already giving
+him--new faith and new interests. He felt thankful for her, somehow,
+though she did not belong to him, and never would--unless a gleam of
+sunshine can belong to one on whom it shines. And he would always
+associate her with the golden sunshine and the magic charm of Algeria.
+
+"I told you I'd given you half my star," she said, laughing and blushing
+a little.
+
+"Which star is it?" he wanted to know. "When I don't see you any more, I
+can look up and hitch my thought-wagon to Mars or Venus."
+
+"Oh, it's even grander than any planet you can see, with your real eyes.
+But you can look at the evening star if you like. It's so thrilling in
+the sunset sky, I sometimes call it my star."
+
+"All right," said Stephen, with his elder-brother air. "And when I look
+I'll think of you."
+
+"You can think of me as being with Saidee at last."
+
+"You have the strongest presentiment that you'll find her without
+difficulty."
+
+"When _I_ say 'presentiment,' I mean creating a thing I want, making a
+picture of it happening, so it _has_ to happen by and by, as God made
+pictures of this world, and all the worlds, and they came true."
+
+"By Jove, I wish I could go to school to you!" Stephen said this
+laughing; but he meant every word. She had just given him two new ideas.
+He wondered if he could do anything with them. Yet no; his life was cut
+out on a certain plan. It must now follow that plan.
+
+"If you should have any trouble--not that you _will_--but just 'if,'
+you know," he went on, "and if I could help you, I want you to remember
+this, wherever you are and whatever the trouble may be; there's nothing
+I wouldn't do for you--nothing. There's no distance I wouldn't travel."
+
+"Why, you're the kindest man I ever met!" Victoria exclaimed,
+gratefully. "And I think you must be one of the best."
+
+"Good heavens, what a character to live up to!" laughed Stephen.
+Nevertheless he suddenly lost his sense of exaltation, and felt sad and
+tired, thinking of life with Margot, and how difficult it would be not
+to degenerate in her society.
+
+"Yes. It's a good character. And I'll promise to let you know, if I'm in
+any trouble and need help. If I can't write, I'll _call_, as I said
+yesterday."
+
+"Good. I shall hear you over the wireless telephone." They both laughed;
+and Nevill Caird, coming out of the house was pleased that Stephen
+should be happy.
+
+It had occurred to him while helping his aunt with the invitations, that
+something of interest to Miss Ray might be learned at the Governor's
+house. He knew the Governor more or less, in a social way. Now he asked
+Victoria if she would like him to make inquiries about Ben Halim's past
+as a Spahi?
+
+"I've already been to the Governor," replied Victoria. "I got a letter
+to him from the American Consul, and had a little audience with him--is
+that what I ought to call it?--this morning. He was kind, but could tell
+me nothing I didn't know--any way, he would tell nothing more. He wasn't
+in Algiers when Saidee came. It was in the day of his predecessor."
+
+Nevill admired her promptness and energy, and said so. He shared
+Stephen's chivalrous wish to do something for the girl, so alone, so
+courageous, working against difficulties she had not begun to
+understand. He was sorry that he had had no hand in helping Victoria to
+see the most important Frenchman in Algiers, a man of generous sympathy
+for Arabs; but as he had been forestalled, he hastened to think of
+something else which he might do. He knew the house Ben Halim had owned
+in Algiers, the place which must have been her sister's home. The people
+who lived there now were acquaintances of his. Would she like to see
+Djenan el Hadj?
+
+The suggestion pleased her so much that Stephen found himself envying
+Nevill her gratitude. And it was arranged that Mrs. Jewett should be
+asked to appoint an hour for a visit next day.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+While Victoria was still in the lily-garden with her host and his
+friend, the cab which she had ordered to return came back to fetch her.
+It was early, and Lady MacGregor had expected her to stop for tea, as
+most people did stop, who visited Djenan el Djouad for the first time,
+because every one wished to see the house; and to see the house took
+hours. But the dancing-girl, appearing slightly embarrassed as she
+expressed her regrets, said that she must go; she had to keep an
+engagement. She did not explain what the engagement was, and as she
+betrayed constraint in speaking of it, both Stephen and Nevill guessed
+that she did not wish to explain. They took it for granted that it was
+something to do with her sister's affairs, something which she
+considered of importance; otherwise, as she had no friends in Algiers,
+and Lady MacGregor was putting herself out to be kind, the girl would
+have been pleased to spend an afternoon with those to whom she could
+talk freely. No questions could be asked, though, as Lady MacGregor
+remarked when Victoria had gone (after christening the baby panther), it
+did seem ridiculous that a child should be allowed to make its own plans
+and carry them out alone in a place like Algiers, without having any
+advice from its elders.
+
+"I've been, and expect to go on being, what you might call a perpetual
+chaperon," said she resignedly; "and chaperoning is so ingrained in my
+nature that I hate to see a baby running about unprotected, doing what
+it chooses, as if it were a married woman, not to say a widow. But I
+suppose it can't be stopped."
+
+"She's been on the stage," said Nevill reassuringly, Miss Ray having
+already broken this hard fact to the Scotch lady at luncheon.
+
+"I tell you it's a baby! Even John Knox would see that," sharply replied
+Aunt Caroline.
+
+There was nothing better to do with the rest of the afternoon, Nevill
+thought, than to take a spin in the motor, which they did, the chauffeur
+at the wheel, as Nevill confessed himself of too lazy a turn of mind to
+care for driving his own car. While Stephen waited outside, he called at
+Djenan el Hadj (an old Arab house at a little distance from the town,
+buried deep in a beautiful garden), but the ladies were out. Nevill
+wrote a note on his card, explaining that his aunt would like to bring a
+friend, whose relatives had once lived in the house; and this done, they
+had a swift run about the beautiful country in the neighbourhood of
+Algiers.
+
+It was dinner-time when they returned, and meanwhile an answer had come
+from Mrs. Jewett. She would be delighted to see any friend of Lady
+MacGregor's, and hoped Miss Ray might be brought to tea the following
+afternoon.
+
+"Shall we send a note to her hotel, or shall we stroll down after
+dinner?" asked Nevill.
+
+"Suppose we stroll down," Stephen decided, trying to appear indifferent,
+though he was ridiculously pleased at the idea of having a few
+unexpected words with Victoria.
+
+"Good. We might take a look at the Kasbah afterward," said Nevill.
+"Night's the time when it's most mysterious, and we shall be close to
+the old town when we leave Miss Ray's hotel."
+
+Dinner seemed long to Stephen. He could have spared several courses.
+Nevertheless, though they sat down at eight, it was only nine when they
+started out. Up on the hill of Mustapha Supérieur, all was peaceful
+under the moonlight; but below, in the streets of French shops and
+cafés, the light-hearted people of the South were ready to begin
+enjoying themselves after a day of work. Streams of electric light
+poured from restaurant windows, and good smells of French cooking
+filtered out, as doors opened and shut. The native cafés were crowded
+with dark men smoking chibouques, eating kous-kous, playing dominoes, or
+sipping absinthe and golden liqueurs which, fortunately not having been
+invented in the Prophet's time, had not been forbidden by him. Curio
+shops and bazaars for native jewellery and brasswork were still open,
+lit up with pink and yellow lamps. The brilliant uniforms of young
+Spahis and Zouaves made spots of vivid colour among the dark clothes of
+Europeans, tourists, or employés in commercial houses out for amusement.
+Sailors of different nations swung along arm in arm, laughing and ogling
+the handsome Jewesses and painted ladies from the Levant or Marseilles.
+American girls just arrived on big ships took care of their chaperons
+and gazed with interest at the passing show, especially at the
+magnificent Arabs who appeared to float rather than walk, looking
+neither to right nor left, their white burnouses blowing behind them.
+The girls stared eagerly, too, at the few veiled and swathed figures of
+native women who mingled with the crowd, padding timidly with bare feet
+thrust into slippers. The foreigners mistook them no doubt for Arab
+ladies, not knowing that ladies never walk; and were but little
+interested in the old, unveiled women with chocolate-coloured faces, who
+begged, or tried to sell picture-postcards. The arcaded streets were
+full of light and laughter, noise of voices, clatter of horses' hoofs,
+carriage-wheels, and tramcars, bells of bicycles and horns of motors.
+The scene was as gay as any Paris boulevard, and far more picturesque
+because of the older, Eastern civilization in the midst of, though never
+part of, an imported European life--the flitting white and brown
+figures, like thronging ghosts outnumbering the guests at a banquet.
+
+Stephen and Nevill Caird went up the Rue Bab-el-Oued, leading to the old
+town, and so came to the Hotel de la Kasbah, where Victoria Ray was
+staying. It looked more attractive at night, with its blaze of
+electricity that threw out the Oriental colouring of some crude
+decorations in the entrance-hall, yet the place appeared less than ever
+suited to Victoria.
+
+An Arab porter stood at the door, smoking a cigarette. His fingers were
+stained with henna, and he wore an embroidered jacket which showed
+grease-spots and untidy creases. It was with the calmest indifference he
+eyed the Englishmen, as Nevill inquired in French for Miss Ray.
+
+The question whether she were "at home" was conventionally put, for it
+seemed practically certain that she must be in the hotel. Where could
+she, who had no other friends than they, and no chaperon, go at night?
+It was with blank surprise, therefore, that he and Stephen heard the
+man's answer. Mademoiselle was out.
+
+"I don't believe it," Stephen muttered in English, to Nevill.
+
+The porter understood, and looked sulky. "I tell ze troot," he
+persisted. "Ze gentlemens no believe, zay ask some ozzer."
+
+They took him at his word, and walked past the Arab into the hotel. A
+few Frenchmen and Spaniards of inferior type were in the hall, and at
+the back, near a stairway made of the cheapest marble, was a window
+labelled "Bureau." Behind this window, in a cagelike room, sat the
+proprietor at a desk, adding up figures in a large book. He was very
+fat, and his chins went all the way round his neck in grooves, as if his
+thick throat might pull out like an accordion. There was something
+curiously exotic about him, as there is in persons of mixed races; an
+olive pallor of skin, an oiliness of black hair, and a jetty brightness
+of eye under heavy lids.
+
+This time it was Stephen who asked for Miss Ray; but he was given the
+same answer. She had gone out.
+
+"You are sure?"
+
+"Mais, oui, monsieur."
+
+"Has she been gone long?" Stephen persisted, feeling perplexed and
+irritated, as if something underhand were going on.
+
+"Of that I cannot tell," returned the hotel proprietor, still in
+guttural French. "She left word she would not be at the dinner."
+
+"Did she say when she would be back?"
+
+"No, monsieur. She did not say."
+
+"Perhaps the American Consul's family took pity on her, and invited her
+to dine with them," suggested Nevill.
+
+"Yes," Stephen said, relieved. "That's the most likely thing, and would
+explain her engagement this afternoon."
+
+"We might explore the Kasbah for an hour, and call again, to inquire."
+
+"Let us," returned Stephen. "I should like to know that she's got in all
+right."
+
+Five minutes later they had left the noisy Twentieth Century behind
+them, and plunged into the shadowy silence of a thousand years ago.
+
+The change could not have been more sudden and complete if, from a gaily
+lighted modern street, full of hum and bustle, they had fallen down an
+oubliette into a dark, deserted fairyland. Just outside was the imported
+life of Paris, but this old town was Turkish, Arab, Moorish, Jewish and
+Spanish; and in Algeria old things do not change.
+
+After all, the alley was not deserted, though it was soundless as a tomb
+save for a dull drumming somewhere behind thick walls. They were in a
+narrow tunnel, rather than a street, between houses that bent towards
+each other, their upper stories supported by beams. There was no
+electric light, scarcely any light at all save a strip of moonshine,
+fine as a line of silver inlaid in ebony, along the cobbled way which
+ascended in steps, and a faint glimmer of a lamp here and there in the
+distance, a lamp small and greenish as the pale spark of a glow-worm. As
+they went up, treading carefully, forms white as spirits came down the
+street in heelless babouches that made no more noise than the wings of a
+bat. These forms loomed vague in the shadow, then took shape as Arab
+men, whose eyes gleamed under turbans or out from hoods.
+
+Moving aside to let a cloaked figure go by, Stephen brushed against the
+blank wall of a house, which was cold, sweating dampness like an
+underground vault. No sun, except a streak at midday, could ever
+penetrate this tunnel-street.
+
+So they went on from one alley into another, as if lost in a catacomb,
+or the troubling mazes of a nightmare. Always the walls were blank, save
+for a deep-set, nail-studded door, or a small window like a square dark
+hole. Yet in reality, Nevill Caird was not lost. He knew his way very
+well in the Kasbah, which he never tired of exploring, though he had
+spent eight winters in Algiers. By and by he guided his friend into a
+street not so narrow as the others they had climbed, though it was
+rather like the bed of a mountain torrent, underfoot. Because the moon
+could pour down a silver flood it was not dark, but the lamps were so
+dull that the moonlight seemed to put them out.
+
+Here the beating was as loud as a frightened heart. The walls resounded
+with it, and sent out an echo. More than one nailed door stood open,
+revealing a long straight passage, with painted walls faintly lighted
+from above, and a curtain like a shadow, hiding the end. In these
+passages hung the smoky perfume of incense; and from over tile-topped
+walls came the fragrance of roses and lemon blossoms, half choked with
+the melancholy scent of things old, musty and decayed. Beautiful
+pillars, brought perhaps from ruined Carthage, were set deeply in the
+whitewashed walls, looking sad and lumpy now that centuries of
+chalk-coats had thickened their graceful contours. But to compensate for
+loss of shape, they were dazzling white, marvellous as columns of carved
+pearl in the moonlight, they and their surrounding walls seeming to send
+out an eerie, bleached light of their own which struck at the eye. The
+uneven path ran floods of moonlight; and from tiny windows in the
+leaning snow-palaces--windows like little golden frames--looked out the
+faces of women, as if painted on backgrounds of dull yellow,
+emerald-green, or rose-coloured light.
+
+They were unveiled women, jewelled like idols, white and pink as
+wax-dolls, their brows drawn in black lines with herkous, their eyes
+glittering between bluish lines of kohl, their lips poppy-red with the
+tint of mesouak, their heads bound in sequined nets of silvered gauze,
+and crowned with tiaras of gold coins. The windows were so small that
+the women were hidden below their shoulders, but their huge
+hoop-earrings flashed, and their many necklaces sent out sparks as they
+nodded, smiling, at the passers; and one who seemed young and beautiful
+as a wicked fairy, against a purple light, threw a spray of orange
+blossoms at Stephen's feet.
+
+Then, out of that street of muffled music, open doors, and sequined
+idols, the two men passed to another where, in small open-air cafés,
+bright with flaring torches or electric light squatting men smoked,
+listening to story-tellers; and where, further on, Moorish baths belched
+out steam mingled with smells of perfume and heated humanity. So, back
+again to black tunnels, where the blind walls heard secrets they would
+never tell. The houses had no eyes, and the street doors drew back into
+shadow.
+
+"Do you wonder now," Nevill asked, "that it's difficult to find out what
+goes on in an Arab's household?"
+
+"No," said Stephen. "I feel half stifled. It's wonderful, but somehow
+terrible. Let's get out of this 'Arabian Nights' dream, into light and
+air, or something will happen to us, some such things as befell the
+Seven Calendars. We must have been here an hour. It's time to inquire
+for Miss Ray again. She's sure to have come in by now."
+
+Back they walked into the Twentieth Century. Some of the lights in the
+hotel had been put out. There was nobody in the hall but the porter, who
+had smoked his last cigarette, and as no one had given him another, he
+was trying to sleep in a chair by the door.
+
+Mademoiselle might have come in. He did not know. Yes, he could ask, if
+there were any one to ask, but the woman who looked after the bedrooms
+had an evening out. There was only one _femme de chambre_, but what
+would you? The high season was over. As for the key of Mademoiselle,
+very few of the clients ever left their keys in the bureau when they
+promenaded themselves. It was too much trouble. But certainly, he could
+knock at the door of Mademoiselle, if the gentlemen insisted, though it
+was now on the way to eleven o'clock, and it would be a pity to wake the
+young lady if she were sleeping.
+
+"Knock softly. If she's awake, she'll hear you," Stephen directed. "If
+she's asleep, she won't."
+
+The porter went lazily upstairs, appearing again in a few minutes to
+announce that he had obeyed instructions and the lady had not answered.
+"But," he added, "one would say that an all little light came through
+the keyhole."
+
+"Brute, to look!" mumbled Stephen. There was, however, nothing more to
+be done. It was late, and they must take it for granted that Miss Ray
+had come home and gone to bed.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+That night Stephen dreamed troubled dreams about Victoria. All sorts of
+strange things were happening behind a locked door, he never quite knew
+what, though he seemed forever trying to find out. In the morning,
+before he was dressed, Mahommed brought a letter to his door; only one,
+on a small tray. It was the first letter he had received since leaving
+London--he, who had been used to sighing over the pile that heaped up
+with every new post, and must presently be answered.
+
+He recognized the handwriting at a glance, though he had seen it only
+once, in a note written to Lady MacGregor. The letter was from Victoria,
+and was addressed to "Mr. Stephen Knight," in American fashion--a
+fashion unattractive to English eyes. But because it was Victoria's way,
+it seemed to Stephen simple and unaffected, like herself. Besides, she
+was not aware that he had any kind of handle to his name.
+
+"Now I shall know where she was last night," he said to himself, and was
+about to tear open the envelope, when suddenly the thought that she had
+touched the paper made him tender in his usage of it. He found a
+paper-knife and with careful precision cut the envelope along the top.
+The slight delay whetted his eagerness to read what Victoria had to
+tell. She had probably heard of the visit which she had missed, and had
+written this letter before going to bed. It was a sweet thought of the
+girl's to be so prompt in explaining her absence, guessing that he must
+have suffered some anxiety.
+
+     "DEAR MR. KNIGHT,"
+
+he read, the blood slowly mounting to his face as his eyes travelled
+from line to line,
+
+     "I don't know what you will think of me when I have told you about
+     the thing I am going to do. But whatever you may think, don't think
+     me ungrateful. Indeed, indeed I am not that. I hate to go away
+     without seeing you again, yet I must; and I can't even tell you
+     why, or where I am going--that is the worst. But if you could know
+     why, I'm almost sure you would feel that I am doing the right
+     thing, and the only thing possible. Before all and above all with
+     me, must be my sister's good. Everything else has to be sacrificed
+     to that, even things that I value very, very much.
+
+     "Don't imagine though, from what I say, that I'm making a great
+     sacrifice, so far as any danger to myself is concerned. The
+     sacrifice is, to risk being thought unkind, ungrateful, by you, and
+     of losing your friendship. This is the _only_ danger I am running,
+     really; so don't fear for me, and please forgive me if you can.
+     Just at the moment I must seem (as well as ungracious) a little
+     mysterious, not because I want to be mysterious, but because it is
+     forced on me by circumstances. I hate it, and soon I hope I shall
+     be able to be as frank and open with you as I was at first, when I
+     saw how good you were about taking an interest in my sister Saidee.
+     I think, as far as I can see ahead, I may write to you in a
+     fortnight. Then, I shall have news to tell, the _best of news_, I
+     hope; and I won't need to keep anything back. By that time I may
+     tell you all that has happened, since bidding you and Mr. Caird
+     good-bye, at the door of his beautiful house, and all that will
+     have happened by the time I can begin the letter. How I wish it
+     were now!
+
+     "There's just one more word I want to say, that I really can say
+     without doing harm to anybody or to any plan. It's this. I did feel
+     so guilty when you talked about your motoring with Mr. Caird to
+     Tlemcen. It was splendid of you both to be willing to go, and you
+     must have thought me cold and half-hearted about it. But I couldn't
+     tell you what was in my mind, even then. I didn't know what was
+     before me; but there was already a thing which I had to keep from
+     you. It was only a small thing. But now it has grown to be a very
+     big one.
+
+     "Good-bye, my dear friend Mr. Knight. I like to call you my friend,
+     and I shall always remember how good you were to me, if, for any
+     reason, we should never see each other again. It is very likely we
+     may not meet, for I don't know how long you are going to stay in
+     Africa, or how long I shall stay, so it may be that you will go
+     back to England soon. I don't suppose I shall go there. When I can
+     leave this country it will be to sail for America with my
+     sister--_never without her_. But I shall write, as I said, in a
+     fortnight, if all is well--indeed, I shall write whatever happens.
+     I shall be able to give you an address, too, I hope very much,
+     because I should like to hear from you. And I shall pray that you
+     may always be happy.
+
+     "I meant this to be quite a short letter, but after all it is a
+     long one! Good-bye again, and give my best remembrances to Lady
+     MacGregor and Mr. Caird, if they are not disgusted with me for the
+     way I am behaving. Gratefully your friend,
+
+                                                         "VICTORIA RAY."
+
+There was no room for any anger against the girl in Stephen's heart. He
+was furious, but not with her. And he did not know with whom to be
+angry. There was some one--there must be some one--who had persuaded her
+to take this step in the dark, and this secret person deserved all his
+anger and more. To persuade a young girl to turn from the only friends
+she had who could protect her, was a crime. Stephen could imagine no
+good purpose to be served by mystery, and he could imagine many bad
+ones. The very thought of the best among them made him physically sick.
+There was a throat somewhere in the world which his fingers were
+tingling to choke; and he did not know where, or whose it was. It made
+his head ache with a rush of beating blood not to know. And realizing
+suddenly, with a shock like a blow in the face, the violence of his
+desire to punish some person unknown, he saw how intimate a place the
+girl had in his heart. The longing to protect her, to save her from harm
+or treachery, was so intense as to give pain. He felt as if a lasso had
+been thrown round his body, pressing his lungs, roping his arms to his
+sides, holding him helpless; and for a moment the sensation was so
+powerful that he was conscious of a severe effort, as if to break away
+from the spell of a hypnotist.
+
+It was only for a moment that he stood still, though a thousand thoughts
+ran through his head, as in a dream--as in the dreams of last night,
+which had seemed so interminable.
+
+The thing to do was to find out at once what had become of Victoria,
+whom she had seen, who had enticed her to leave the hotel. It would not
+take long to find out these things. At most she could not have been gone
+more than thirteen or fourteen hours.
+
+At first, in his impatience, he forgot Nevill. In two or three minutes
+he had finished dressing, and was ready to start out alone when the
+thought of his friend flashed into his mind. He knew that Nevill Caird,
+acquainted as he was with Algiers, would be able to suggest things that
+he might not think of unaided. It would be better that they two should
+set to work together, even though it might mean a delay of a few minutes
+in the beginning.
+
+He put Victoria's letter in his pocket, meaning to show it to Nevill as
+the quickest way of explaining what had happened and what he wanted to
+do; but before he had got to his friend's door, he knew that he could
+not bear to show the letter. There was nothing in it which Nevill might
+not see, nothing which Victoria might not have wished him to see.
+Nevertheless it was now _his_ letter, and he could not have it read by
+any one.
+
+He knocked at the door, but Nevill did not answer. Then Stephen guessed
+that his friend must be in the garden. One of the under-gardeners,
+working near the house, had seen the master, and told the guest where to
+go. Monsieur Caird was giving medicine to the white peacock, who was not
+well, and in the stable-yard Nevill was found, in the act of pouring
+something down the peacock's throat with a spoon.
+
+When he heard what Stephen had to say, he looked very grave.
+
+"I wish Miss Ray hadn't stopped at that hotel," he said.
+
+"Why?" Stephen asked sharply. "You don't think the people there----"
+
+"I don't know what to think. But I have a sort of idea the brutes knew
+something last night and wouldn't tell."
+
+"They'll have to tell!" exclaimed Stephen.
+
+Nevill did not answer.
+
+"I shall go down at once," Stephen went on.
+
+"Of course I'll go with you," said his friend.
+
+They had forgotten about breakfast. Stopping only to get their hats,
+they started for the town.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+"Don't begin by accusing the landlord of anything," Nevill advised, at
+the hotel door. "He's got too much Arab blood in him to stand that.
+You'd only make him tell you lies. We must seem to know things, and ask
+questions as if we expected him to confirm our knowledge. That may
+confuse him if he wants to lie. He won't be sure what ground to take."
+
+The Arab porter was not in his place, but the proprietor sat in his den
+behind the window. He was drinking a cup of thick, syrupy coffee, and
+soaking a rusk in it. Stephen thought this a disgusting sight, and could
+hardly bear to let his eyes rest on the thick rolls of fat that bulged
+over the man's low collar, all the way round his neck like a yellow
+ruff. Not trusting himself to speak just then, Stephen let Caird begin
+the conversation.
+
+The landlord bowed over his coffee and some letters he was reading, but
+did not trouble to do more than half rise from his chair and sink back
+again, solidly. These fine gentlemen would never be clients of his,
+would never be instrumental in sending any one to him. Why should he put
+himself out?
+
+"We've had a letter from Miss Ray this morning," Nevill announced, after
+a perfunctory exchange of "good days" in French.
+
+The two young men both looked steadily at the proprietor of the hotel,
+as Nevill said these words. The fat man did not show any sign of
+embarrassment, however, unless his expectant gaze became somewhat fixed,
+in an effort to prevent a blink. If this were so, the change was
+practically imperceptible. "She had left here before six o'clock last
+evening, hadn't she?"
+
+"I cannot tell you, Monsieur. It is as I answered yesterday. I do not
+know the time when she went out."
+
+"You must know what she said when she went."
+
+"On the contrary, Monsieur. The young lady did not speak with me
+herself. She sent a message."
+
+"And the message was that she was leaving your hotel?"
+
+"First of all, that she had the intention of dining out. With a lady."
+
+Stephen and Nevill looked at each other. With a lady? Could it be
+possible that Mademoiselle Soubise, interested in the story, had called
+and taken the girl away?
+
+"What then?" went on Caird. "She let you know eventually that she'd made
+up her mind to go altogether?"
+
+"The message was that she might come back in some days. But yes,
+Monsieur, she let me know that for the present she was leaving."
+
+"Yet you didn't tell us this when we called!" exclaimed Stephen. "You
+let us think she would be back later in the evening."
+
+"Pardon me, Monsieur, if you remember, you asked _when_ Mademoiselle
+would be back. I replied that I did not know. It was perfectly true. And
+desolated as I was to inconvenience you, I could not be as frank as my
+heart prompted. My regrettable reserve was the result of Mademoiselle's
+expressed wish. She did not desire to have it known that she was leaving
+the hotel, until she herself chose to inform her friends. As it seems
+you have had a letter, Monsieur, I can now speak freely. Yesterday
+evening I could not."
+
+He looked like the last man whose heart would naturally prompt him to
+frankness, but it seemed impossible to prove, at the moment, that he was
+lying. It was on the cards that Miss Ray might have requested silence as
+to her movements.
+
+Stephen bit his lip to keep back an angry reproach, nevertheless, and
+Caird reflected a moment before answering. Then he said slowly; "Look
+here: we are both friends of Miss Ray, the only ones she has in Algiers,
+except of course my aunt, Lady MacGregor, with whom she lunched
+yesterday. We are afraid she has been imprudently advised by some one,
+as she is young and inexperienced in travelling. Now, if you will find
+out from your servants, and also let us know from your own observation,
+exactly what she did yesterday, after returning from her visit to my
+aunt--what callers she had, if any; to whose house she went, and so
+on--we will make it worth your while. Lady MacGregor" (he made great
+play with his relative's name, as if he wished the landlord to
+understand that two young men were not the girl's only friends in
+Algiers) "is very anxious to see Miss Ray. To spare her anxiety, we
+offer a reward of a thousand francs for reliable information. But we
+must hear to-day, or to-morrow at latest."
+
+As he evolved this proposal, Nevill and Stephen kept their eyes upon the
+man's fat face. He looked politely interested, but not excited, though
+the offer of a thousand francs was large enough to rouse his cupidity,
+it would seem, if he saw his way to earning it.
+
+He shrugged his shoulders with a discouraged air when Nevill finished.
+
+"I can tell you now, Monsieur, all that I know of Mademoiselle's
+movements--all that anybody in the hotel knows, I think. No one came to
+see her, except yourselves. She was out all the morning of yesterday,
+and did not return here till sometime after the _déjeuner_. After that,
+she remained in her room until towards evening. It was the head-waiter
+who brought me the message of which I have told you, and requested the
+bill. At what hour the young lady actually went out, I do not know. The
+porter can probably tell you."
+
+"But her luggage," Stephen cut in quickly. "Where did it go? You can at
+least tell that?"
+
+"Mademoiselle's luggage is still in the hotel. She asked permission to
+store it, all but a dressing-bag of some sort, which, I believe she
+carried with her."
+
+"In a cab?"
+
+"That I do not know. It will be another question for the porter. But
+were I in the place of Monsieur and his friend, I should have no
+uneasiness about the young lady. She is certain to have found
+trustworthy acquaintances, for she appeared to be very sensible."
+
+"We shall be glad if you will let us have a short talk with several of
+your servants," said Nevill--"the _femme de chambre_ who took care of
+Miss Ray's room, and the waiter who served her, as well as the porter."
+
+"Certainly, Monsieur. They shall be brought here," the landlord
+assented. "I will help you by questioning them myself."
+
+"I think we'll do that without your help, thank you," replied Stephen
+drily.
+
+The fat man looked slightly less agreeable, but touched a bell in the
+wall by his desk. A boy answered and was sent to command Angéle and
+Ahmed to report at once. Also he was to summon the porter, whether that
+man had finished his breakfast or not. These orders given, Monsieur
+Constant looked at the two Englishmen as if to say, "You see! I put my
+whole staff at your disposition. Does not this prove my good faith? What
+would you have more?"
+
+Angéle was Algerian French, evidently of mixed parentage, like all those
+in the Hotel de la Kasbah who were not Arabs. She was middle-aged, with
+a weary, hatchet face, and eyes from which looked a crushed spirit. If
+Stephen and Nevill could have seen Madame Constant, they would hardly
+have wondered at that expression.
+
+Ahmed had negro blood in his veins, and tried to smooth out the
+frizziness of the thick black hair under his fez, with much pomatum,
+which smelled of cheap bergamot.
+
+These two, with the porter who soon appeared, brushing breadcrumbs from
+his jacket, stood in front of the bureau window, waiting to learn the
+purpose for which they had been torn from their various occupations. "It
+is these gentlemen who have something to ask you. They do not wish me to
+interfere," announced the master to his servants, with a gesture. He
+then turned ostentatiously to the sipping of his neglected coffee.
+
+Nevill undertook the cross-questionings, with occasional help from
+Stephen, but they learned no detail of importance. Angéle said that she
+had been out when the demoiselle Americaine had left the hotel; but that
+the luggage of Mademoiselle was still in her room. Ahmed had taken a
+message to Monsieur le Patron, about the bill, and had brought back
+Mademoiselle's change, when the note was paid. The porter had carried
+down a large dressing-bag, at what time he could not be sure, but it was
+long before dark. He had asked if Mademoiselle wished him to call a
+_voiture_, but she had said no. She was going out on foot, and would
+presently return in a carriage. This she did. The porter believed it was
+an ordinary cab in which Mademoiselle had driven back, but he had not
+thought much about it, being in a hurry as he took the bag. He was at
+least certain that Mademoiselle had been alone. She had received no
+callers while she was in the hotel, and had not been seen speaking to
+any one: but she had gone out a great deal. Why had he not mentioned in
+the evening that the young lady had driven away with luggage? For the
+sufficient reason that Mademoiselle had particularly requested him to
+say nothing of her movements, should any one come to inquire. It was for
+the same reason that he had been obliged to deceive Monsieur in the
+matter of knocking at her door. And as the porter made this answer, he
+looked far more impudent than he had looked last night, though he was
+smiling blandly.
+
+How much of this was lies and how much truth? Stephen wondered, when,
+having given up hope of learning more from landlord or servants, they
+left the hotel.
+
+Nevill had to confess that he was puzzled. "Their stories hold together
+well enough," he said, "but if they have anything to hide (mind, I don't
+say they have) they're the sort to get up their tale beforehand, so as
+to make it water-tight. We called last night, and that man Constant must
+have known we'd come again, whether we heard from Miss Ray or whether we
+didn't--still more, if we _didn't_. Easy as falling off a log to put the
+servants up to what he wanted them to say, and prepare them for
+questions, without giving them tips under our noses."
+
+"If they know anything that fat old swine doesn't want them to give
+away, we can bribe it out of them," said Stephen, savagely. "Surely
+these Arabs and half-breeds love money."
+
+"Yes, but there's something else they hold higher, most of them, I will
+say in their favour--loyalty to their own people. If this affair has to
+do with Arabs, like as not we might offer all we've got without inducing
+them to speak--except to tell plausible lies and send us farther along
+the wrong track. It's a point of pride with these brown faces. Their own
+above the Roumis, and I'm hanged if I can help respecting them for that,
+lies and all."
+
+"But why should they lie?" broke out Stephen. "What can it be to them?"
+
+"Nothing, in all probability," Nevill tried to soothe him. "The chances
+are, they've told us everything they know, in good faith, and that
+they're just as much in the dark about Miss Ray's movements as we
+are--without the clue we have, knowing as we do why she came to Algiers.
+It's mysterious enough anyhow, what's become of her; but it's more
+likely than not that she kept her own secret. You say she admitted in
+her letter having heard something which she didn't mention to us when
+she was at my house; so she must have got a clue, or what she thought
+was a clue, between the time when we took her from the boat to the Hotel
+de la Kasbah, and the time when she came to us for lunch."
+
+"It's simply hideous!" Stephen exclaimed. "The only way I can see now is
+to call in the police. They must find out where that cab came from and
+where it took Miss Ray. That's the important thing."
+
+"Yes, to get hold of the cabman is the principal thing," said Nevill,
+without any ring of confidence in his voice. "But till we learn the
+contrary, we may as well presume she's safe. As for the police, for her
+sake they must be a last resort."
+
+"Let's go at once and interview somebody. But there's one hope. She may
+have gone to Tlemcen to see that Kabyle maid of Mademoiselle Soubise,
+for herself. Perhaps that's why she didn't encourage us to motor there.
+She's jolly independent."
+
+Nevill's face brightened. "When we've done what we can in Algiers, we
+might run there ourselves in the car, just as I proposed before," he
+said eagerly. "If nothing came of it, we wouldn't be wasting time, you
+know. She warned you not to expect news for a fortnight, so there's no
+use hanging about here in hopes of a letter or telegram. We can go to
+Tlemcen and get back inside five days. What do you say?"
+
+What Stephen might have said was, that they could save the journey by
+telegraphing to Mademoiselle Soubise to ask whether Miss Ray had arrived
+in Tlemcen. But the brightness in Nevill's eyes and the hopefulness in
+his voice kept back the prosaic suggestion.
+
+"I say, by all means let's go to Tlemcen," he answered. "To-morrow,
+after we've found out what we can here about the cab, inquired at the
+railway stations and so on. Besides, we can at least apply to the police
+for information about Ben Halim. If we learn he's alive, and where he is
+living, it may be almost the same as knowing where Miss Ray has gone."
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+Nothing could be heard of Victoria at any place of departure for ships,
+nor at the railway stations. Stephen agreed with Nevill that it would
+not be fair to lay the matter in the hands of the police, lest in some
+way the girl's mysterious "plan" should be defeated. But he could not
+put out of his head an insistent idea that the Arab on board the
+_Charles Quex_ might stand for something in this underhand business.
+Stephen could not rest until he had found out the name of this man, and
+what had become of him after arriving at Algiers. As for the name,
+having appeared on the passenger list, it was easily obtained without
+expert help. The Arab was a certain Sidi Maïeddine ben el Hadj Messaoud;
+and when Jeanne Soubise was applied to for information concerning him,
+she was able to learn from her Arab friends that he was a young man of
+good family, the son of an Agha or desert chief, whose douar lay far
+south, in the neighbourhood of El-Aghouat. He was respected by the
+French authorities and esteemed by the Governor of Algiers. Known to be
+ambitious, he was anxious to stand well with the ruling power, and among
+the dissipated, sensuous young Arabs of his class and generation, he was
+looked upon as an example and a shining light. The only fault found in
+him by his own people was that he inclined to be too modern, too French
+in his political opinions; and his French friends found no fault with
+him at all.
+
+It seemed impossible that a person so highly placed would dare risk his
+future by kidnapping a European girl, and Jeanne Soubise advised Stephen
+to turn his suspicions in another direction. Still he would not be
+satisfied, until he had found and engaged a private detective, said to
+be clever, who had lately seceded from a Paris agency and set up for
+himself in Algiers. Through him, Stephen hoped to learn how Sidi
+Maïeddine ben el Hadj Messaoud had occupied himself after landing from
+the _Charles Quex_; but all he did learn was that the Arab, accompanied
+by his servant and no one else, had, after calling on the Governor, left
+Algiers immediately for El-Aghouat. At least, he had taken train for
+Bogharie, and was known to have affairs of importance to settle between
+his father the Agha, and the French authorities. Secret inquiries at the
+Hotel de la Kasbah elicited answers, unvaryingly the same. Sidi
+Maïeddine ben el Hadj Messaoud was not a patron of the house, and had
+never been seen there. No one answering at all to his description had
+stopped in, or even called at, the hotel.
+
+Of course, the value of such assurances was negatived by the fact that
+Arabs hold together against foreigners, and that if Si Maïeddine wished
+to be incognito among his own people, his wish would probably be
+respected, in spite of bribery. Besides, he was rich enough to offer
+bribes on his own part. Circumstantial evidence, however, being against
+the supposition that the man had followed Victoria after landing,
+Stephen abandoned it for the time, and urged the detective, Adolphe
+Roslin, to trace the cabman who had driven Miss Ray away from her hotel.
+Roslin was told nothing about Victoria's private interests, but she was
+accurately described to him, and he was instructed to begin his search
+by finding the squint-eyed cab-driver who had brought the girl to lunch
+at Djenan el Djouad.
+
+Only in the affair of Cassim ben Halim did Stephen and Nevill decide to
+act openly, Nevill using such influence as he had at the Governor's
+palace. They both hoped to learn something which in compassion or
+prudence had been kept from the girl; but they failed, as Victoria had
+failed. If a scandal had driven the Arab captain of Spahis from the
+army and from Algiers, the authorities were not ready to unearth it now
+in order to satisfy the curiosity, legitimate or illegitimate, of two
+Englishmen.
+
+Captain Cassim ben Halim el Cheik el Arab, had resigned from the army on
+account of ill-health, rather more than nine years ago, and having sold
+his house in Algiers had soon after left Algeria to travel abroad. He
+had never returned, and there was evidence that he had been burned to
+death in a great fire at Constantinople a year or two later. The few
+living relatives he had in Algeria believed him to be dead; and a house
+which Ben Halim had owned not far from Bou Saada, had passed into the
+hands of his uncle, Caïd of a desert-village in the district. As to Ben
+Halim's marriage with an American girl, nobody knew anything. The
+present Governor and his staff had come to Algiers after his supposed
+death; and if Nevill suspected a deliberate reticence behind certain
+answers to his questions, perhaps he was mistaken. Cassim ben Halim and
+his affairs could now be of little importance to French officials.
+
+It did not take Roslin an hour to produce the squinting cabman; but the
+old Arab was able to prove that he had been otherwise engaged than in
+driving Miss Ray on the evening when she left the Hotel de la Kasbah.
+His son had been ill, and the father had given up work in order to play
+nurse. A doctor corroborated this story, and nothing was to be gained in
+that direction.
+
+Then it was that Nevill almost timidly renewed his suggestion of a visit
+to Tlemcen. They could find out by telegraphing Josette, he admitted,
+whether or no Victoria Ray had arrived, but if she were not already in
+Tlemcen, she might come later, to see Mouni. And even if not, they might
+find out how to reach Saidee, by catechizing the Kabyle girl. Once they
+knew the way to Victoria's sister, it was next best to knowing the way
+to find Victoria herself. This last argument was not to be despised. It
+impressed Stephen, and he consented at once to "try their luck" at
+Tlemcen.
+
+Early in the morning of the second day after the coming of Victoria's
+letter, the two men started in Nevill's yellow car, the merry-eyed
+chauffeur charmed at the prospect of a journey worth doing. He was
+tired, he remarked to Stephen, "de tous ces petits voyages d'une
+demi-heure, comme les tristes promenades des enfants, sans une seule
+aventure."
+
+They had bidden good-bye to Lady MacGregor, and most of the family
+animals, overnight, and it was hardly eight o'clock when they left
+Djenan el Djouad, for the day's journey would be long. A magical light,
+like the light in a dream, gilded the hills of the Sahel; and beyond lay
+the vast plain of the Metidja, a golden bowl, heaped to its swelling rim
+of mountains with the fairest fruits of Algeria.
+
+The car rushed through a world of blossoms, fragrant open country full
+of flowers, and past towns that did their small utmost to bring France
+into the land which France had conquered. Boufarik, with its tall
+monument to a brave French soldier who fought against tremendous odds:
+Blidah, a walled and fortified mixture of garrison and orange-grove,
+with a market-place like a scene in the "Arabian Nights": Orleansville,
+modern and ostentatiously French, built upon ruins of vast antiquity,
+and hotter than all other towns in the dry cup of the Chelif Valley:
+Relizane, Perrégaux, and finally Oran (famed still for its old Spanish
+forts), which they reached by moonlight.
+
+Always there were fields embroidered round the edges with wild flowers
+of blue and gold, and rose. Always there were white, dusty roads, along
+which other motors sometimes raced, but oftener there were farm-carts,
+wagons pulled by strings of mules, and horses with horned harness like
+the harness in Provence or on the Spanish border. There were huge,
+two-storied diligences, too, drawn by six or eight black mules, crammed
+under their canvas roofs with white- or brown-robed Arabs, and going
+very fast.
+
+From Oran they might have gone on the same night, reaching the end of
+their journey after a few hours' spin, but Nevill explained that haste
+would be vain. They could not see Mademoiselle Soubise until past nine,
+so better sleep at Oran, start at dawn, and see something of the
+road,--a road more picturesque than any they had travelled.
+
+It was not for Stephen to offer objections, though he was in a mood
+which made him long to push on without stopping, even though there were
+no motive for haste. He was ashamed of the mood, however, and hardly
+understood what it meant, since he had come to Algeria in search of
+peace. When first he landed, and until the day of Victoria's letter, he
+had been enormously interested in the panorama of the East which passed
+before his eyes. He had eagerly noticed each detail of colour and
+strangeness, but now, though the London lethargy was gone, in its place
+had been born a disturbing restlessness which would not let him look
+impersonally at life as at a picture.
+
+Questioning himself as he lay awake in the Oran hotel, with windows open
+to the moonlight, Stephen was forced to admit that the picture was
+blurred because Victoria had gone out of it. Her figure had been in the
+foreground when first he had seen the moving panorama, and all the rest
+had been only a magical frame for her. The charm of her radiant youth,
+and the romance of the errand which had brought her knocking, when he
+knocked, at the door of the East, had turned the glamour into glory. Now
+she had vanished; and as her letter said, it might be that she would
+never come back. The centre of interest was transferred to the unknown
+place where she had gone, and Stephen began to see that his impatience
+to be moving was born of the wish not only to know that she was safe,
+but to see her again.
+
+He was angry with himself at this discovery, and almost he was angry
+with Victoria. If he had not her affairs to worry over, Africa would be
+giving him the rest cure he had expected. He would be calmly enjoying
+this run through beautiful country, instead of chafing to rush on to
+the end. Since, in all probability, he could do the girl no good, and
+certainly she could do him none, he half wished that one or the other
+had crossed from Marseilles to Algiers on a different ship. What he
+needed was peace, not any new and feverish personal interest in life.
+Yes, decidedly he wished that he had never known Victoria Ray.
+
+But the wish did not live long. Suddenly her face, her eyes, came before
+him in the night. He heard her say that she would give him "half her
+star," and his heart grew sick with longing.
+
+"I hope to Heaven I'm not going to love that girl," he said aloud to the
+darkness. If no other woman came into his life, he might be able to get
+through it well enough with Margot. He could hunt and shoot, and do
+other things that consoled men for lack of something better. But if--he
+knew he must not let there be an "if." He must go on thinking of
+Victoria Ray as a child, a charming little friend whom he wished to
+help. Any other thought of her would mean ruin.
+
+Before dawn they were called, and started as the sun showed over the
+horizon.
+
+So they ran into the western country, near to the Morocco border. Dull
+at first, save for its flooding flowers, soon the way wound among dark
+mountains, from whose helmeted heads trailed the long plumes of white
+cascades, and whose feet--like the stone feet of Egyptian kings in
+ruined temples--were bathed by lakes that glimmered in the depths of
+gorges.
+
+It was a land of legends and dreams round about Tlemcen, the "Key of the
+West," city of beautiful mosques. The mountains were honeycombed with
+onyx mines; and rising out of wide plains were crumbling brown
+fortresses, haunted by the ghosts of long-dead Arabs who had buried
+hoards of money in secret hiding-places, and died before they could
+unearth their treasure. Tombs of kings and princes, and koubbahs of
+renowned marabouts, Arab saints, gleamed white, or yellow as old gold,
+under the faded silver of ancient olive trees, in fields that ran red
+with blood of poppies. Minarets jewelled like peacocks' tails soared
+above the tops of blossoming chestnuts. On low trees or bushes, guarding
+the graves of saints, fluttered many-coloured rags, left there by
+faithful men and women who had prayed at the shrine for health or
+fortune; and for every foot of ground there was some wild tale of war or
+love, an echo from days so long ago that history had mingled
+inextricably with lore of fairies.
+
+Nevill was excited and talkative as they drove into the old town, once
+the light of western Algeria. They passed in by the gateway of Oran, and
+through streets that tried to be French, but contrived somehow to be
+Arab. Nevill told stories of the days when Tlemcen had queened it over
+the west, and coined her own money; of the marabouts after whom the most
+famous mosques were named: Sidi-el-Haloui, the confectioner-saint from
+Seville, who preached to the children and made them sweetmeats; of the
+lawyer-saint, Sidi Aboul Hassan from Arabia, and others. But he did not
+speak of Josette Soubise, until suddenly he touched Stephen's arm as
+they passed the high wall of a garden.
+
+"There, that's where _she_ teaches," he said; and it was not necessary
+to add a name.
+
+Stephen glanced at him quickly. Nevill looked very young. His eyes no
+longer seemed to gaze at far-away things which no one else could see.
+All his interests were centred near at hand.
+
+"Don't you mean to stop?" Stephen asked, surprised that the car went on.
+
+"No; school's begun. We'll have to wait till the noon interval, and even
+then we shan't be allowed indoors, for a good many of the girls are over
+twelve, the age for veiling--_hadjabah_, they call it--when they're shut
+up, and no man, except near relations, can see their faces. Several of
+the girls are already engaged. I believe there's one, not fourteen,
+who's been divorced twice, though she's still interested in dolls.
+Weird, isn't it? Josette will talk with us in the garden. But we'll
+have time now to take rooms at the hotel and wash off the dust. To eat
+something too, if you're hungry."
+
+But Stephen was no hungrier than Nevill, whose excitement, perhaps, was
+contagious.
+
+The hotel was in a wide _place_, so thickly planted with acacias and
+chestnut trees as to resemble a shabby park. An Arab servant showed them
+to adjoining rooms, plain but clean, and a half-breed girl brought tins
+of hot water and vases of syringas. As for roses, she said in hybrid
+French, no one troubled about them--there were too many in Tlemcen. Ah!
+but it was a land of plenty! The gentlemen would be happy, and wish to
+stay a long time. There was meat and good wine for almost nothing, and
+beggars need not ask twice for bread--fine, white bread, baked as the
+Moors baked, across the border.
+
+As they bathed and dressed more carefully than they had dressed for the
+early-morning start, strange sounds came up from the square below, which
+was full of people, laughing, quarrelling, playing games, striking
+bargains, singing songs. Arab bootblacks clamoured for custom at the
+hotel-door, pushing one another aside, fiercely. Little boys in
+embroidered green or crimson jackets sat on the hard, yellow earth,
+playing an intricate game like "jack stones," and disputed so violently
+that men and even women stopped to remonstrate, and separate them; now a
+grave, prosperous Jew dressed in red (Jewish mourning in the province of
+Oran); then an old Kabyle woman of the plains, in a short skirt of fiery
+orange scarcely hiding the thin sticks of legs that were stained with
+henna half-way up the calves, like painted stockings. Moors from across
+the frontier--fierce men with eagle faces and striped cloaks--grouped
+together, whispering and gesticulating, stared at with suspicion by the
+milder Arabs, who attributed all the crimes of Tlemcen to the wild men
+from over the border. Black giants from the Negro quarter kept together,
+somewhat humble, yet laughing and happy. Slender, coffee-coloured youths
+drove miniature cows from Morocco, or tiny black donkeys, heavily laden
+and raw with sores, colliding with well-dressed Turks, who had the air
+of merchants, and looked as if they could not forget that Tlemcen had
+long been theirs before the French dominion. Bored but handsome officers
+rode through the square on Arab horses graceful as deer, and did not
+even glance at passing women, closely veiled in long white haïcks.
+
+It was lively and amusing in the sunlight; but just as the two friends
+were ready to go out, the sky was swept with violet clouds. A storm
+threatened fiercely, but they started out despite its warning, turning
+deaf ears to the importunities of a Koulougli guide who wished to show
+them the mosques, "ver' cheap." He followed them, but they hurried on,
+pushing so sturdily through a flock of pink-headed sheep, which poured
+in a wave over the pavement, that they might have out-run the rain had
+they not been brought to a sudden standstill by a funeral procession.
+
+It was the strangest sight Stephen had seen yet, and he hardly noticed
+that, in a burst of sunlight, rain had begun to pelt down through the
+canopy of trees.
+
+The band of figures in brown burnouses marched quickly, with a sharp
+rustling of many slippered feet moving in unison, and golden spears of
+rain seemed to pierce the white turbans of the men who carried the bier.
+As they marched, fifty voices rose and fell wildly in a stirring chant,
+exciting and terrible as the beat-beat of a tom-tom, sometimes a shout
+of barbaric triumph, sometimes a mourning wail. Then, abruptly, a halt
+was made in the glittering rain, and the bearers were changed, because
+of the luck it brings Arab men to carry the corpse of a friend.
+
+Just in front of the two Englishmen the body rested for an instant,
+stretched out long and piteously flat, showing its thin shape through
+the mat of woven straw which wrapped it, only the head and feet being
+wound with linen. So, by and by, it would be laid, without a coffin, in
+its shallow grave in the Arab cemetery, out on the road to Sidi
+Bou-Medine.
+
+There were but a few seconds of delay. Then the new bearers lifted the
+bier by its long poles, and the procession moved swiftly, feverishly, on
+again, the wild chant trailing behind as it passed, like a torn
+war-banner. The thrill of the wailing crept through Stephen's veins, and
+roused an old, childish superstition which an Irish nurse had implanted
+in him when he was a little boy. According to Peggy Brian it was "a
+cruel bad omen" to meet a funeral, especially after coming into a new
+town. "Wait for a corpse," said she, "an' ye'll wait while yer luck goes
+by."
+
+"They're singing a song in praise of the dead man's good deeds, and of
+triumph for the joys he'll know in Paradise," explained Nevill. "It's
+only the women who weep and scratch their faces when those they love
+have died. The men rejoice, or try to. Soon, they are saying, this one
+who has gone will be in gardens fair as the gardens of Allah Himself,
+where sit beautiful houris, in robes woven of diamonds, sapphires, and
+rubies, each gem of which has an eye of its own that glitters through a
+vapour of smouldering ambergris, while fountains send up pearly spray in
+the shade of fragrant cedars."
+
+"No wonder the Mohammedan poor don't fear death, if they expect to
+exchange their hovels for such quarters," said Stephen. "I wish I
+understood Arabic."
+
+"It's a difficult language to keep in your mind, and I don't know it
+well," Nevill answered. "But Jeanne and Josette Soubise speak it like
+natives; and the other day when Miss Ray lunched with us, I thought her
+knowledge of Arabic wonderful for a person who'd picked it up from
+books."
+
+Stephen did not answer. He wished that Nevill had not brought the
+thought of Victoria into his mind at the moment when he was recalling
+his old nurse's silly superstition. Victoria laughed at superstitions,
+but he was not sure that he could laugh, in this barbaric land where it
+seemed that anything might happen.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+Nevill had not sent word to Josette Soubise that he was coming to see
+her. He wished to make the experiment of a surprise, although he
+insisted that Stephen should be with him. At the door in the high white
+wall of the school-garden, he asked an unveiled crone of a porteress to
+say merely that two gentlemen had called.
+
+"She'll suspect, I'm afraid," he muttered to Stephen as they waited,
+"even if her sister hasn't written that I thought of turning up. But she
+won't have time to invent a valid excuse, if she disapproves of the
+visit."
+
+In three or four minutes the old woman hobbled back, shuffling slippered
+feet along the tiled path between the gate and the low whitewashed
+house. Mademoiselle requested that ces Messieurs would give themselves
+the pain of walking into the garden. She would descend almost at once.
+
+They obeyed, Nevill stricken dumb by the thought of his coming
+happiness. Stephen would have liked to ask a question or two about the
+school, but he refrained, sure that if Nevill were forced into speech he
+would give random answers.
+
+This was being in love--the real thing! And Stephen dimly envied his
+friend, even though Caird seemed to have small hope of winning the girl.
+It was far better to love a woman you could never marry, than to be
+obliged to marry one you could never love.
+
+He imagined himself waiting to welcome Margot, beautiful Margot,
+returning from Canada to him. He would have to go to Liverpool, of
+course. She would be handsomer than ever, probably, and he could
+picture their meeting, seven or eight weeks from now. Would his face
+wear such an expression as Nevill's wore at this moment? He knew well
+that it would not.
+
+"She is coming!" said Nevill, under his breath.
+
+The door of the schoolhouse was opening, and Nevill moved forward as a
+tall and charming young woman appeared, like a picture in a dark frame.
+
+She was slender, with a tiny waist, though her bust was full, and her
+figure had the intensely feminine curves which artists have caused to be
+associated with women of the Latin races; her eyes were like those of
+her elder sister, but larger and more brilliant. So big and splendid
+they were that they made the smooth oval of her olive face seem small.
+Quantities of heavy black hair rippled away from a forehead which would
+have been square if the hair had not grown down in a point like a Marie
+Stuart cap. Her chin was pointed, with a deep cleft in the middle, and
+the dimples Nevill had praised flashed suddenly into being, as if a ray
+of sunshine had touched her pale cheeks.
+
+"Mon bon ami!" she exclaimed, holding out both hands in token of
+comradeship, and putting emphasis on her last word.
+
+"She's determined the poor chap shan't forget they're only friends,"
+thought Stephen, wishing that Caird had not insisted upon his presence
+at this first meeting. And in a moment he was being introduced to
+Mademoiselle Josette Soubise.
+
+"Did I surprise you?" asked Nevill, looking at her as if he could never
+tear his eyes away, though he spoke in an ordinary tone.
+
+"Ah, I know you want me to say 'yes'," she laughed. "I'd like to tell a
+white fib, to please you. But no, I am not quite surprised, for my
+sister wrote that you might come, and why. What a pity you had this long
+journey for nothing. My Kabyle maid, Mouni, has just gone to her home,
+far away in a little village near Michélet, in la Grande Kabylia. She is
+to be married to her cousin, the chief's son, whom she has always
+loved--but there were obstacles till now."
+
+"Obstacles can always be overcome," broke in Nevill.
+
+Josette would not understand any hidden meaning. "It is a great pity
+about Mouni," she went on. "Only four days ago she left. I gave her the
+price of the journey, for a wedding present. She is a good girl, and I
+shall miss her. But of course you can write to ask her questions. She
+reads a little French."
+
+"Perhaps we shall go ourselves," Nevill answered, glancing at Stephen's
+disappointed face. "For I know Miss Ray can't be here, or you would have
+said so."
+
+"No, she is not here," echoed Josette, looking astonished. "Jeanne wrote
+about the American young lady searching for her sister, but she did not
+say she might visit Tlemcen."
+
+"We hoped she would, that's all," explained Nevill. "She's left her
+hotel in Algiers in a mysterious way, not telling where she meant to go,
+although she assured us she'd be safe, and we needn't worry. However,
+naturally we do worry."
+
+"But of course. I see how it is." The dimples were gone, and the
+brightness of Josette's eyes was overcast. She looked at Nevill
+wistfully, and a flash of sympathetic understanding enlightened Stephen.
+No doubt she was generously solicitous for the fate of Victoria Ray, but
+there was something different from solicitude in her darkening eyes.
+
+"Good! she's jealous. She thinks Nevill's heart's been caught in the
+rebound," he told himself. But Nevill remained modestly unconscious.
+
+"Miss Ray may arrive yet," he suggested. "We'd better stop to-day,
+anyhow, on the chance; don't you think so, Stephen? and then, if there's
+no news of her when we get back to Algiers, go on to interview the bride
+in Grand Kabylia?"
+
+Stephen had not the heart to dispute the wisdom of this decision, though
+he was sure that, since Victoria was not in Tlemcen now, she would never
+come.
+
+"So you think we've made a long journey for nothing, Mademoiselle
+Josette?" said Nevill.
+
+"But yes. So it turns out."
+
+"Seeing an old friend doesn't count, then?"
+
+"Oh, well, that can seem but little--in comparison to what you hoped.
+Still, you can show Monsieur Knight the sights. He may not guess how
+beautiful they are. Have you told him there are things here as wonderful
+as in the Alhambra itself, things made by the Moors who were in
+Granada?"
+
+"I've told him about all I care most for in Tlemcen," returned Nevill,
+with that boyish demureness he affected sometimes. "But I'm not a
+competent cicerone. If you want Knight to do justice to the wonders of
+this place, you'll have to be our guide. We've got room for several
+large-sized chaperons in the car. Do come. Don't say you won't! I feel
+as if I couldn't stand it."
+
+His tone was so desperate that Josette laughed some of her brightness
+back again. "Then I suppose I mustn't refuse. And I should like
+going--after school hours. Madame de Vaux, who is the bride of a French
+officer, will join us, I think, for she and I are friends, and besides,
+she has had no chance to see things yet. She has been busy settling in
+her quarters--and I have helped her a little."
+
+"When can you start?" asked Nevill, enraptured at the prospect of a few
+happy hours snatched from fate.
+
+"Not till five."
+
+His face fell. "But that's cruel!"
+
+"It would be cruel to my children to desert them sooner. Don't forget I
+am malema--malema before all. And there will be time for seeing nearly
+everything. We can go to Sidi Bou-Medine, afterwards to the ruins of
+Mansourah by sunset. Meanwhile, show your friend the things near by,
+without me; the old town, with its different quarters for the Jews, the
+Arabs, and the Negroes. He will like the leather-workers and the bakers,
+and the weavers of haïcks. And you will not need me for the Grande
+Mosquée, or for the Mosquée of Aboul Hassan, where Monsieur Knight will
+see the most beautiful mihrab in all the world. When he has looked at
+that, he cannot be sorry he has come to Tlemcen; and if he has regrets,
+Sidi Bou-Medine will take them away."
+
+"Has Sidi Bou-Medine the power to cure all sorrows?" Stephen asked,
+smiling.
+
+"Indeed, yes. Why, Sidi Bou-Medine himself is one of the greatest
+marabouts. You have but to take a pinch of earth from his tomb, and make
+a wish upon it. Only one wish, but it is sure to be granted, whatever it
+may be, if you keep the packet of earth afterwards, and wear it near
+your heart."
+
+"What a shame you never told me that before. The time I've wasted!"
+exclaimed Nevill. "But I'll make up for it now. Thank Heaven I'm
+superstitious."
+
+They had forgotten Stephen, and laughing into each other's eyes, were
+perfectly happy for the moment. Stephen was glad, yet he felt vaguely
+resentful that they could forget the girl for whose sake the journey to
+Tlemcen had ostensibly been undertaken. They were ready to squander
+hours in a pretence of sightseeing, hours which might have been spent in
+getting back to Algiers and so hastening on the expedition to Grand
+Kabylia. How selfish people in love could be! And charming as Josette
+Soubise was, it seemed strange to Stephen that she should stand for
+perfection to a man who had seen Victoria Ray.
+
+Nevill was imploring Josette to lunch with them, chaperoned by Madame de
+Vaux, and Josette was firmly refusing. Then he begged that they might
+leave money as a gift for the malema's scholars, and this offer she
+accepted, only regretting that the young men could not be permitted to
+give the _cadeau_ with their own hands. "My girls are so pretty," she
+said, "and it is a picture to see them at their embroidery frames, or
+the carpet making, their fingers flying, their eyes always on the
+coloured designs, which are the same as their ancestresses used a
+century ago, before the industry declined. I love them all, the dear
+creatures, and they love me, though I am a Roumia and an unbeliever. I
+ought to be happy in their affection, helping them to success. And now I
+must run back to my flock, or the lambs will be getting into mischief.
+Au revoir--five o'clock. You will find me waiting with Madame de Vaux."
+
+At luncheon, in the bare, cool dining-room of the hotel, Nevill was like
+a man in a dream. He sat half smiling, not knowing what he ate, hardly
+conscious of the talk and laughter of the French officers at another
+table. Just at the last, however, he roused himself. "I can't help being
+happy. I see her so seldom. And I keep turning over in my mind what new
+arguments in favour of myself I can bring forward when I propose this
+afternoon--for of course I shall propose, if you and the bride will
+kindly give me the chance. I know she won't have me--but I always do
+propose, on the principle that much dropping may wear away a stone."
+
+"Suppose you break the habit just for once," ventured Stephen.
+
+Nevill looked anxious. "Why, do you think the case is hopeless?"
+
+"On the contrary. But--well, I can't help feeling it would do you more
+good to show an absorbing interest in Miss Ray's affairs, this time."
+
+"So I have an absorbing interest," Nevill protested, remorsefully. "I
+don't want you to suppose I mean to neglect them. I assure you----"
+
+Stephen laughed, though a little constrainedly. "Don't apologise, my
+dear fellow. Miss Ray's no more to me than to you, except that I
+happened to make her acquaintance a few days sooner."
+
+"I know," Nevill agreed, mildly. Then, after a pause, which he earnestly
+occupied in crumbling bread. "Only I'm head over ears in love with
+another woman, while you're free to think of her, or any other girl,
+every minute of the day."
+
+Stephen's face reddened. "I am not free," he said in a low voice.
+
+"I beg your pardon. I hoped you were. I still think--you ought to be."
+Nevill spoke quickly, and without giving Stephen time to reply, he
+hurried on; "Miss Ray may arrive here yet. Or she may have found out
+about Mouni in some other way, and have gone to see her in Grand
+Kabylia--who knows?"
+
+"If she were merely going there to inquire about her sister, why should
+she have to make a mystery of her movements?"
+
+"Well, it's on the cards that whatever she wanted to do, she didn't care
+to be bothered with our troublesome advice and offers of help. Our
+interest was, perhaps, too pressing."
+
+"Mademoiselle Soubise is of that opinion, anyhow--in regard to you,"
+remarked Stephen.
+
+"What--that angel _jealous_? It's too good to be true! But I'll relieve
+her mind of any such idea."
+
+"If you'll take one more tip from me, I'd leave her mind alone for the
+present."
+
+"Why, you flinty-hearted reprobate?"
+
+"Well, I'm no authority. But all's fair in love and war. And sometimes
+an outsider sees features of the game which the players don't see."
+
+"That's true, anyhow," Nevill agreed. "Let's _both_ remember that--eh?"
+and he got up from the table abruptly, as if to keep Stephen from
+answering, or asking what he meant.
+
+They had several empty hours, between the time of finishing luncheon,
+and five o'clock, when they were to meet Mademoiselle Soubise and her
+chaperon, so they took Josette's advice and went sightseeing.
+
+Preoccupied as he was, Stephen could not be indifferent to the
+excursion, for Tlemcen is the shrine of gems in Arab architecture, only
+equalled at Granada itself. Though he was so ignorant still of eastern
+lore, that he hardly knew the meaning of the word mihrab, the arched
+recess looking towards Mecca, in the Mosque of the lawyer-saint Aboul
+Hassan, held him captive for many moments with its beauty. Its
+ornamentation was like the spread tail of Nevill's white peacock, or the
+spokes of a silver wheel incrusted with an intricate pattern in jewels.
+Not a mosque in town, or outside the gates, did they leave unvisited,
+lest, as Nevill said, Josette Soubise should ask embarrassing questions;
+and the last hour of probation they gave to the old town. There, as they
+stopped to look in at the workshops of the weavers, and the bakers, or
+stared at the hands of Fatma-Zora painted in henna on the doors of Jews
+and True Believers, crowds of ragged boys and girls followed them,
+laughing and begging as gaily as if begging were a game. Only this band
+of children, and heavily jewelled girls of Morocco or Spain, with
+unveiled, ivory faces and eyes like suns, looked at the Englishmen, as
+Stephen and Nevill passed the isolated blue and green houses, in front
+of which the women sat in a bath of sunshine. Arabs and Jews walked by
+proudly, and did not seem to see that there were strangers in their
+midst.
+
+When at last it was time to go back to the hotel, and motor to the École
+Indigène, Josette was ready, plainly dressed in black. She introduced
+her friends to the bride, Madame de Vaux, a merry young woman, blonde by
+nature and art, who laughed always, like the children in the Arab town.
+She admired Knight far more than Caird, because she liked tall, dark
+men, her own husband being red and stout. Therefore, she would have been
+delighted to play the tactful chaperon, if Josette had not continually
+broken in upon her duet with Stephen, ordering them both to look at this
+or that.
+
+The country through which they drove after passing out of the gate in
+the modern French wall, might have been the south of England in
+midsummer, had it not been peopled by the dignified Arab figures which
+never lost their strangeness and novelty for Stephen. Here, in the west
+country, they glittered in finery like gorgeous birds: sky-blue jacket,
+scarlet fez and sash glowing behind a lacework of green branches netted
+with flowers, where a man hoed his fields or planted his garden.
+
+Hung with a tapestry of roses, immense brown walls lay crumbling--ruined
+gateways, and shattered traces of the triple fortifications which
+defended Tlemcen when the Almohades were in power. By a clear rill of
+water gushing along the roadside, a group of delicate broken arches
+marked the tomb of the "flying saint," Sidi Abou Ishad el Taïyer, an
+early Wright or Blériot who could swim through the air; and though in
+his grave a chest of gold was said to be buried, no one--not even the
+lawless men from over the border--had ever dared dig for the treasure.
+Close by, under the running water, a Moor had found a huge lump of
+silver which must have lain for no one could tell how many years,
+looking like a grey stone under a sheet of glass; nevertheless, the
+neighbouring tomb had still remained inviolate, for Sidi Abou Ishad el
+Taïyer was a much respected saint, even more loved than the marabout who
+sent rain for the gift of a sacrificed fowl, or he who cured sore eyes
+in answer to prayer. Only Sidi Bou-Medine himself was more important;
+and presently (because the distance was short, though the car had
+travelled slowly) they came to the footpath in the hills which must be
+ascended on foot, to reach the shrine of the powerful saint, friend of
+great Sidi Abd el Kader.
+
+Already they could see the minaret of the mosque, high above the mean
+village which clustered round it, rising as a flame rises against a
+windless sky, while beneath this shining Giralda lay half-ruined houses
+rejuvenated with whitewash or coats of vivid blue. They passed up a
+narrow street redeemed from sordidness by a domed koubbah or two; and
+from the roofed balconies of cafés maures, Arabs looked down on them
+with large, dreamy eyes like clouded stars. All the glory and pride of
+the village was concentrated in the tomb and beautiful mosque of the
+saint whose name falls sweet on the ear as the music of a summer storm,
+the tinkle and boom of rain and thunder coming together: Sidi
+Bou-Medine.
+
+Toddling girls with henna-dyed hair, and miniature brown men, like
+blowing flower-petals in scarlet, yellow, and blue, who had swarmed up
+the street after the Roumis, stopped at the portals of the mosque and
+the sacred tomb. But there was a humming in the air like the song of
+bees, which floated rhythmically out from the zaouïa, the school in the
+mosque where many boys squatted cross-legged before the aged Taleb who
+taught the Koran; bowing, swaying towards him, droning out the words of
+the Prophet, some half asleep, nodding against the onyx pillars.
+
+In the shadow of the mosque it was cool, though the crown of the
+minaret, gemmed with priceless tiles from Fez, blazed in the sun's rays
+as if it were on fire. Into this coolness the four strangers passed,
+involuntarily hushing their voices in the portico of decorated walls and
+hanging honeycombs of stucco whence, through great doors of ancient,
+greenish bronze (doors said to have arrived miraculously from across the
+sea), they found their way into a courtyard open to the sky, where a
+fountain waved silver plumes over a marble basin. Two or three dignified
+Arab men bathed their feet in preparation for the afternoon prayer, and
+tired travellers from a distance slept upon mats of woven straw, spread
+on tiles like a pavement of precious stones, or dozed in the little
+cells made for the students who came in the grand old days. The sons of
+Islam were reverent, yet happy and at home on the threshold of Allah's
+house, and Stephen began to understand, as Nevill and Josette already
+understood, something of the vast influence of the Mohammedan religion.
+Only Madame de Vaux remained flippant. In the car, she had laughed at
+the women muffled in their haïcks, saying that as the men of Tlemcen
+were so tyrannical about hiding female faces, it was strange they did
+not veil the hens and cows. In the shadowy mosque, with its five naves,
+she giggled at the yellow babouches out of which her little high-heeled
+shoes slipped, and threatened to recite a French verse under the
+delicate arch of the pale blue mihrab.
+
+But Stephen was impressed with the serene beauty of the Moslem temple,
+where, between labyrinths of glimmering pillars like young ash trees in
+moonlight, across vistas of rainbow-coloured rugs like flower-beds, the
+worshippers looked out at God's blue sky instead of peering through
+thick, stained-glass windows; where the music was the murmur of running
+water, instead of sounding organ-pipes; and where the winds of heaven
+bore away the odours of incense before they staled. He wondered whether
+a place of prayer like this--white-walled, severely simple despite the
+veil-like adornment of arabesques--did not more tend to religious
+contemplation than a cathedral of Italy or Spain, with its bloodstained
+Christs, its Virgins, and its saints. Did this Arab art perhaps more
+truly express the fervour of faith which needs no extraneous
+elaborations, because it has no doubts? But presently calling up a
+vision of the high, dim aisles, the strong yet soaring columns, all the
+mysterious purity of gothic cathedrals, he convinced himself that, after
+all, the old monkish architects had the real secret of mystic
+aspirations in the human heart.
+
+When Josette and Nevill led the way out of the mosque, Stephen was in
+the right mood for the tomb of that ineffable saint of Islam, Shaoib ibn
+Husain el Andalousi, Sidi Bou-Medine. He was almost ready to believe in
+the extraordinary virtue of the earth which had the honour of covering
+the marabout's remains. It annoyed him that Madame de Vaux should laugh
+at the lowness of the doorway under which they had to stoop, and that
+she should make fun of the suspended ostrich eggs, the tinselled
+pictures and mirrors, the glass lustres and ancient lanterns, the spilt
+candle-wax of many colours, or the old, old flags which covered the
+walls and the high structure of carved wood which was the saint's last
+resting-place.
+
+A grave Arab who approved their air of respect, gave a pinch of earth
+each to Stephen and Nevill, wrapped in paper, repeating Josette's
+assurance that their wishes would be granted. It would be necessary, he
+added, to reflect long before selecting the one desire of the soul
+which was to be put above all others. But Nevill had no hesitation. He
+wished instantly, and tucked the tiny parcel away in the pocket nearest
+his heart.
+
+"And you, Monsieur?" asked Madame de Vaux, smiling at Stephen. "It does
+not appear easy to choose. Ah, now you have decided! Will you tell me
+what you wished?"
+
+"I think I mustn't do that. Saints favour those who can keep secrets,"
+said Stephen, teasingly. Yet he made his wish in earnest, after turning
+over several in his mind. To ask for his own future happiness, in spite
+of obstacles which would prove the marabout's power, was the most
+intelligent thing to do; but somehow the desire clamouring loudest at
+the moment was for Victoria, and the rest might go ungranted.
+
+"I wish that I may find her safe and happy," he said over the pinch of
+earth before putting it into what Josette named his "poche du coeur."
+
+"As for me," remarked Madame de Vaux, "I will not derange any of their
+Moslem saints, thank you. I have more influential ones of my own, who
+might be annoyed. And it is stuffy in this tomb. I am sure it is full of
+microbes. Let us go and see the ruined palace of the Black Sultan who,
+Josette says, founded everything here that was worth founding. That
+there should be a Black Sultan sounds like a fairy tale. And I like
+fairy tales next to bon-bons and new hats."
+
+So they made their pilgrimage to the third treasure of the hill-village;
+and then away to where the crumbling walls of Mansourah, and that great
+tower, which is one of the noblest Moorish relics in all Algeria, rise
+out of a flowering plain.
+
+Cherry blossoms fell in scented snow over their heads as the car ran
+back to Tlemcen, and out once more, through the Moorish Porte de Fez,
+past the reservoir built by a king for an Arab beauty to sail her boats
+upon. Sunset was near, and the sky blazed red as if Mansourah burned
+with ten thousand torches.
+
+The way led through vast blue lakes which were fields of periwinkles,
+and along the road trotted pink-robed children, whose heads were wrapped
+in kerchiefs of royal purple. They led sheep with golden-gleaming
+fleece, and at the tombs of marabouts they paused to pray, among groups
+of kneeling figures in long white cloaks and turbans. All the atmosphere
+swam with changing colours, such as come and go in the heart of a
+fire-opal.
+
+Very beautiful must have been the city of Mansourah, named after
+murdered Sultan el Mansour, the Victorious, who built its vast
+fortifications, its mosques and vanished palaces, its caravanserais and
+baths, in the seven years when he was besieging Tlemcen. And still are
+its ruins beautiful, after more than five centuries of pillage and
+destruction. Josette Soubise loved the place, and often came to it when
+her day's work was done, therefore she was happy showing it to Nevill
+and--incidentally--to the others.
+
+The great brown wall pricked with holes like an enormous wasp's nest,
+the ruined watch-towers, and the soaring, honey-coloured minaret with
+its intricate carvings, its marble pillars, its tiles and inset enamels
+iridescent as a Brazilian beetle's wing, all gleamed with a splendour
+that was an enchantment, in the fire of sunset. The scent of aromatic
+herbs, such as Arabs love and use to cure their fevers, was bitter-sweet
+in the fall of the dew, and birds cried to each other from hidden nests
+among the ruins.
+
+"Mussulmans think that the spirits of their dead fly back to visit their
+own graves, or places they have loved, in the form of birds," said
+Josette, looking up at the minaret, large marguerites with orange
+centres embroidering her black dress, as she stood knee-deep in their
+waving gold. "I half believe that these birds among the lovely carvings
+of the tower are the priests who used to read the Koran in the mosque,
+and could not bear to leave it. The birds in the walls are the soldiers
+who defended the city."
+
+As she spoke there was a flight of wings, black against the rose and
+mauve of the sunset. "There!" she exclaimed. "Arabs would call that an
+omen! To see birds flying at sundown has a special meaning for them. If
+a man wanted something, he would know that he could get it only by going
+in the direction the birds take."
+
+"Which way are they flying?" asked Stephen.
+
+All four followed the flight of wings with their eyes.
+
+"They are going south-east," said Nevill.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+If Victoria Ray had accepted Nevill Caird's invitation to be Lady
+MacGregor's guest and his, at Djenan el Djouad, many things might have
+been different. But she had wished to be independent, and had chosen to
+go to the Hotel de la Kasbah.
+
+When she went down to dinner in the _salle à manger_, shortly after
+seven o'clock on the evening of her arrival, only two other tables were
+occupied, for it was late in the season, and tourists were leaving
+Algiers.
+
+No one who had been on board the _Charles Quex_ was there, and Victoria
+saw that she was the only woman in the room. At one table sat a happy
+party of Germans, apparently dressed from head to foot by Dr. Jaeger,
+and at another were two middle-aged men who had the appearance of
+commercial travellers. By and by an elderly Jew came in, and dinner had
+reached the stage of peppery mutton ragout, when the door opened again.
+Victoria's place was almost opposite, and involuntarily, she glanced up.
+The handsome Arab who had crossed from Marseilles on the boat saluted
+her with grave courtesy as he met her look, and passed on, casting down
+his eyes. He was shown to a table at some distance, the manner of the
+Arab waiter who conducted him being so impressive, that Victoria was
+sure the newcomer must be a person of importance.
+
+He was beautifully dressed, as before, and the Germans stared at him
+frankly, but he did not seem to be aware of their existence. Special
+dishes arrived for him, and evidently he had been expected.
+
+There was but one waiter to serve the meal, and not only did he somewhat
+neglect the other diners for the sake of the latest arrival, but the
+landlord appeared, and stood talking with the Arab while he ate, with an
+air of respect and consideration.
+
+The Germans, who had nearly finished their dinner when Victoria came in,
+now left the table, using their toothpicks and staring with the
+open-eyed interest of children at the picturesque figure near the door.
+The commercial travellers and the Jew followed. Victoria also was ready
+to go, when the landlord came to her table, bowing.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he said, in French, "I am charged with a message from an
+Arab gentleman of distinction, who honours my house by his presence.
+Sidi Maïeddine ben el Hadj Messaoud is the son of an Agha, and therefore
+he is a lord, and Mademoiselle need have no uneasiness that he would
+condescend to an indiscretion. He instructs me to present his respectful
+compliments to Mademoiselle, whom he saw on the ship which brought him
+home, after carrying through a mission in France. Seeing that
+Mademoiselle travelled alone, and intends perhaps to continue doing so,
+according to the custom of her courageous and intelligent countrywomen,
+Sidi Maïeddine wishes to say that, as a person who has influence in his
+own land, he would be pleased to serve Mademoiselle, if she would honour
+him by accepting his offer in the spirit in which it is made: that is,
+as the chivalrous service of a gentleman to a lady. He will not dream of
+addressing Mademoiselle, unless she graciously permits."
+
+As the landlord talked on, Victoria glanced across the room at the Arab,
+and though his eyes were bent upon his plate, he seemed to feel the
+girl's look, as if by a kind of telepathy, instantly meeting it with
+what seemed to her questioning eyes a sincere and disarming gaze.
+
+"Tell Sidi Maïeddine ben el Hadj Messaoud that I thank him," she
+answered, rewarded for her industry in keeping up French, which she
+spoke fluently, with the Parisian accent she had caught as a child in
+Paris. "It is possible that he can help me, and I should be glad to talk
+with him."
+
+"In that case Si Maïeddine would suggest that Mademoiselle grant him a
+short interview in the private sitting-room of my wife, Madame Constant,
+who will be honoured," the fat man replied promptly. "It would not be
+wise for Mademoiselle to be seen by strangers talking with the
+distinguished gentleman, whose acquaintance she is to make. This,
+largely for her own sake; but also for his, or rather, for the sake of
+certain diplomatic interests which he is appointed to carry out.
+Officially, he is supposed to have left Algiers to-day. And it is by his
+permission that I mention the matter to Mademoiselle."
+
+"I will do whatever you think best," said Victoria, who was too glad of
+the opportunity to worry about conventionalities. She was so young, and
+inexperienced in the ways of society, that a small transgression against
+social laws appeared of little importance to a girl situated as she was.
+
+"Would the time immediately after dinner suit Mademoiselle, for Si
+Maïeddine to pay his respects?"
+
+Victoria answered that she would be pleased to talk with Si Maïeddine as
+soon as convenient to him, and Monsieur Constant hurried away to prepare
+his wife. While he was absent the Arab did not again look at Victoria,
+and she understood that this reserve arose from delicacy. Her heart
+began to beat, and she felt that the way to her sister might be opening
+at last. The fact that she did feel this, made her tell herself that it
+must be true. Instinct was not given for nothing!
+
+She thought, too, of Stephen Knight. He would be glad to-morrow, when
+meeting her at luncheon in his friend's house, to hear good news.
+Already she had been to see Jeanne Soubise, in the curiosity-shop, and
+had bought a string of amber prayer-beads. She had got an introduction
+to the Governor from the American Consul, whom she had visited before
+unpacking, lest the consular office should be closed for the day; and
+she had obtained an appointment at the palace for the next morning; but
+all that was not much to tell Mr. Knight. It seemed to her that even in
+a few hours she ought to have accomplished more. Now, however, the key
+of the door which opened into the golden silence might be waiting for
+her hand.
+
+In three or four minutes the landlord came back, and begged to show her
+his wife's _petit salon_. This time as she passed the Arab she bowed,
+and gave him a grateful smile. He rose, and stood with his head slightly
+bent until she had gone out, remaining in the dining-room until the
+landlord returned to say that he was expected by Mademoiselle.
+
+"Remember," Si Maïeddine said in Arabic to the fat man, "everybody is to
+be discreet, now and later. I shall see that all are rewarded for
+obedience."
+
+"Thou art considerate, even of the humblest," replied the half-breed,
+using the word "thou," as all Arabs use it. "Thy presence is an honour
+for my house, and all in it is thine."
+
+Si Maïeddine--who had never been in the Hotel de la Kasbah before, and
+would not have considered it worthy of his patronage if he had not had
+an object in coming--allowed himself to be shown the door of Madame
+Constant's salon. On the threshold, the landlord retired, and the young
+man was hardly surprised to find, on entering, that Madame was not in
+the room.
+
+Victoria was there alone; but free from self-consciousness as she always
+was, she received Si Maïeddine without embarrassment. She saw no reason
+to distrust him, just because he was an Arab.
+
+Now, how glad she was that she had learned Arabic! She began to speak
+diffidently at first, stammering and halting a little, because, though
+she could read the language well after nine years of constant study,
+only once had she spoken with an Arab;--a man in New York from whom she
+had had a few lessons. Having learned what she could of the accent from
+phrase-books, her way had been to talk to herself aloud. But the flash
+of surprised delight which lit up the dark face told her that Si
+Maïeddine understood.
+
+"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "My best hope was that French might come
+easily to thy lips, as I have little English."
+
+"I have a sister married to one of thy countrymen," Victoria explained
+at once. "I do not know where she is living, and it is in finding out,
+that I need help. Even on the ship I wished to ask thee if thou hadst
+knowledge of her husband, but to speak then seemed impossible. It is a
+fortunate chance that thou shouldst have come to this hotel, for I think
+thou wilt do what thou canst for me." Then she went on and told him that
+her sister was the wife of Captain Cassim ben Halim, who had once lived
+in Algiers.
+
+Si Maïeddine who had dropped his eyes as she spoke of the fortunate
+chance which had brought him to the hotel, listened thoughtfully and
+with keen attention to her story, asking no questions, yet showing his
+interest so plainly that Victoria was encouraged to go on.
+
+"Didst thou ever hear the name of Cassim ben Halim?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, I have heard it," the Arab replied. "I have friends who knew him.
+And I myself have seen Cassim ben Halim."
+
+"Thou hast seen him!" Victoria cried, clasping her hands tightly
+together. She longed to press them over her heart, which was like a bird
+beating its wings against the bars of a cage.
+
+"Long ago. I am much younger than he."
+
+"Yes, I see that," Victoria answered. "But thou knewest him! That is
+something. And my sister. Didst thou ever hear of her?"
+
+"We of the Mussulman faith do not speak of the wives of our friends,
+even when our friends are absent. Yet--I have a relative in Algiers who
+might know something, a lady who is no longer young. I will go to her
+to-night, and all that is in her heart she will tell me. She has lived
+long in Algiers; and always when I come, I pay her my respects. But,
+there is a favour I would beg in return for any help I can give, and
+will give gladly. I am supposed to be already on my way south, to finish
+a diplomatic mission, and, for reasons connected with the French
+government, I have had to make it appear that I started to-day with my
+servant. There is also a reason, connected with Si Cassim, which makes
+it important that nothing I may do should be known to thy European
+friends. It is for his sake especially that I ask thy silence; and
+whatsoever might bring harm to him--if he be still upon the earth--would
+also harm thy sister. Wilt thou give me thy word, O White Rose of
+another land, that thou wilt keep thine own counsel?"
+
+"I give thee my word--and with it my trust," said the girl.
+
+"Then I swear that I will not fail thee. And though until I have seen my
+cousin I cannot speak positively, yet I think what I can do will be more
+than any other could. Wilt thou hold thyself free of engagements with
+thy European friends, until I bring news?"
+
+"I have promised to lunch to-morrow with people who have been kind, but
+rather than risk a delay in hearing from thee, I will send word that I
+am prevented from going."
+
+"Thou hast the right spirit, and I thank thee for thy good faith. But it
+may be well not to send that message. Thy friends might think it
+strange, and suspect thee of hiding something. It is better to give no
+cause for questionings. Go then, to their house, but say nothing of
+having met me, or of any new hope in thine heart. Yet let the hope
+remain, and be to thee like the young moon that riseth over the desert,
+to show the weary traveller a rill of sweet water in an oasis of date
+palms. And now I will bid thee farewell, with a night of dreams in which
+thy dearest desires shall be fulfilled before thine eyes. I go to my
+cousin, on thy business."
+
+"Good night, Sidi. Henceforth my hope is in thee." Victoria held out her
+hand, and Si Maïeddine clasped it, bowing with the courtesy of his race.
+He was nearer to her than he had been before, and she noticed a perfume
+which hung about his clothing, a perfume that seemed to her like the
+East, heavy and rich, suggestive of mystery and secret things. It
+brought to her mind what she had read about harems, and beautiful,
+languid women, yet it suited Si Maïeddine's personality, and somehow did
+not make him seem effeminate.
+
+"See," he said, in the poetic language which became him as his
+embroidered clothes and the haunting perfume became him; "see, how thine
+hand lies in mine like a pearl that has dropped into the hollow of an
+autumn leaf. But praise be to Allah, autumn and I are yet far apart. I
+am in my summer, as thou, lady, art in thine early spring. And I vow
+that thou shalt never regret confiding thy hand to my hand, thy trust to
+my loyalty."
+
+As he spoke, he released her fingers gently, and turning, went out of
+the room without another word or glance.
+
+When he had gone, Victoria stood still, looking at the door which Si
+Maïeddine had shut noiselessly.
+
+If she had not lived during all the years since Saidee's last letter, in
+the hope of some such moment as this, she would have felt that she had
+come into a world of romance, as she listened to the man of the East,
+speaking the language of the East. But she had read too many Arabic
+tales and poems to find his speech strange. At school, her studies of
+her sister's adopted tongue had been confined to dry lesson-books, but
+when she had been free to choose her own literature, in New York and
+London, she had read more widely. People whom she had told of her
+sister's marriage, and her own mission, had sent her several rare
+volumes,--among others a valuable old copy of the Koran, and she had
+devoured them all, delighting in the facility which grew with practice.
+Now, it seemed quite simple to be talking with Sidi Maïeddine ben el
+Hadj Messaoud as she had talked. It was no more romantic or strange
+than all of life was romantic and strange. Rather did she feel that at
+last she was face to face with reality.
+
+"He _does_ know something about Cassim," she said, half aloud, and
+searching her instinct, she still thought that she could trust him to
+keep faith with her. He was not playing. She believed that there was
+sincerity in his eyes.
+
+The next morning, when Victoria called at the Governor's palace, and
+heard that Captain Cassim ben Halim was supposed to have died in
+Constantinople, years ago, she was not cast down. "I know Si Maïeddine
+doesn't think he's dead," she told herself.
+
+There was a note for her at the hotel, and though the writer had
+addressed the envelope to "Mademoiselle Ray," in an educated French
+handwriting, the letter inside was written in beautiful Arab lettering,
+an intentionally flattering tribute to her accomplishment.
+
+Si Maïeddine informed her that his hope had been justified, and that in
+conversation with his cousin his own surmises had been confirmed. A
+certain plan was suggested, which he wished to propose to Mademoiselle
+Ray, but as it would need some discussion, there was not time to bring
+it forward before the hour when she must go out to keep her engagement.
+On her return, however, he begged that she would see him, in the salon
+of Madame Constant, where she would find him waiting. Meanwhile, he
+ventured to remind her that for the present, secrecy was even more
+necessary than he had at first supposed; he would be able to explain
+why, fully and satisfactorily, when they met in the afternoon.
+
+With this appointment to look forward to, it was natural that Victoria
+should excuse herself to Lady MacGregor earlier than most people cared
+to leave Djenan el Djouad. The girl was more excited than she had ever
+been in her life, and it was only by the greatest self-control that she
+kept--or believed that she kept--her manner as usual, while with Stephen
+in the white garden of lilies. She was happy, because she saw her feet
+already upon the path which would lead through the golden silence to her
+sister; but there was a drawback to her happiness--a fly in the amber,
+as in one of the prayer-beads she had bought of Jeanne Soubise: her
+secret had to be kept from the man of whom she thought as a very staunch
+friend. She felt guilty in talking with Stephen Knight, and accepting
+his sympathy as if she were hiding nothing from him; but she must be
+true to her promise, and Si Maïeddine had the right to exact it, though
+of course Mr. Knight might have been excepted, if only Si Maïeddine knew
+how loyal he was. But Si Maïeddine did not know, and she could not
+explain. It was consoling to think of the time when Stephen might be
+told everything; and she wished almost unconsciously that it was his
+help which she had to rely upon now.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+True to his word, Si Maïeddine was waiting in Madame Constant's hideous
+sitting-room, when Victoria returned to the hotel from Djenan el Djouad.
+
+To-day he had changed his grey bournous for a white one, and all his
+clothing was white, embroidered with silver.
+
+"It is written," he began in Arabic, as he rose to welcome the girl,
+"that the messenger who brings good tidings shall come in white. Now
+thou art prepared for happiness. Thou also hast chosen white; but even
+in black, thy presence would bring a blessing, O Rose of the West."
+
+The colour of the rose stained Victoria's cheeks, and Si Maïeddine's
+eyes were warm as he looked at her. When she had given him her hand, he
+kissed his own, after touching it. "Be not alarmed, or think that I take
+a liberty, for it is but a custom of my people, in showing respect to
+man or woman," he explained. "Thou hast not forgotten thy promise of
+silence?"
+
+"No, I spoke not a word of thee, nor of the hope thou gavest me last
+night," Victoria answered.
+
+"It is well," he said. "Then I will keep nothing back from thee."
+
+They sat down, Victoria on a repulsive sofa of scarlet plush, the Arab
+on a chair equally offensive in design and colour.
+
+"Into the life of thy brother-in-law, there came a great trouble," he
+said. "It befell after the days when he was known by thee and thy sister
+in Paris. Do not ask what it was, for it would grieve me to refuse a
+request of thine. Shouldst thou ever hear this thing, it will not be
+from my lips. But this I will say--though I have friends among the
+French, and am loyal to their salt which I have eaten, and I think their
+country great--France was cruel to Ben Halim. Were not Allah above all,
+his life might have been broken, but it was written that, after a time
+of humiliation, a chance to win honour and glory such as he had never
+known, should be put in his way. In order to take this blessing and use
+it for his own profit and that of others, it was necessary that Ben
+Halim--son of a warrior of the old fighting days, when nomads of high
+birth were as kings in the Sahara, himself lately a captain of the
+Spahis, admired by women, envied of men--it was necessary that he should
+die to the world."
+
+"Then he is not really dead!" cried Victoria.
+
+The face of Si Maïeddine changed, and wore that look which already the
+girl had remarked in Arab men she had passed among French crowds: a look
+as if a door had shut behind the bright, open eyes; as if the soul were
+suddenly closed.
+
+"Thy brother-in-law was living when last I heard of him," Maïeddine
+answered, slowly.
+
+"And my sister?"
+
+"My cousin told me last night that Lella Saïda was in good health some
+months ago when news came of her from a friend."
+
+"They call her Saïda!" murmured the girl, half sadly; for that Saidee
+should tolerate such a change of name, seemed to signify some subtle
+alteration in her spirit. But she knew that "Lella" meant "Madame" in
+Arab society.
+
+"It is my cousin who spoke of the lady by that name. As for me, it is
+impossible that I should know anything of her. Thou wishest above all
+things to see thy sister?"
+
+"Above all things. For more than nine years it has been the one great
+wish of my life to go to her."
+
+"It is a long journey. Thou wouldst have to go far--very far."
+
+"What would it matter, if it were to the end of the world?"
+
+"As well try to reach the place where she is, as though it were beyond
+where the world ends, unless thou wert guided by one who knew the way."
+
+Victoria looked the Arab full in the face. "I have always been sure that
+God would lead me there, one day, soon or late," she said.
+
+"Thy God is my God, and Mohammed is his Prophet, as thy Christ was also
+among his Prophets. It is as thou sayest; Allah wills that thou shouldst
+make this journey, for He has sent me into thy life at the moment of thy
+need. I can take thee to thy sister's house, if thou wilt trust thyself
+to me. Not alone--I would not ask that. My cousin will take care of
+thee. She has her own reason for going on this great journey, a reason
+which in its way is as strong as thine, for it concerns her life or
+death. She is a noble lady of my race, who should be a Princess of
+Touggourt, for her grandfather was Sultan before the French conquered
+those warlike men of the desert, far south where Touggourt lies. Lella
+M'Barka Bent Djellab hears the voice of the Angel Azraïl in her ears,
+yet her spirit is strong, and she believes it is written in the Book
+that she shall reach the end of her journey. This is the plan she and I
+have made; that thou leave the hotel to-day, towards evening, and drive
+(in a carriage which she will send)--to her house, where thou wilt spend
+the night. Early in the morning of to-morrow she can be ready to go,
+taking thee with her. I shall guard thee, and we shall have an escort
+which she and I will provide. Dost thou consent? Because if the idea
+pleases thee, there are many arrangements which must be made quickly.
+And I myself will take all trouble from thy shoulders in the matter of
+leaving the hotel. I am known and well thought of in Algiers and even
+the landlord here, as thou hast seen, has me in consideration, because
+my name is not strange to him. Thou needst not fear misconstruction of
+thine actions, by any one who is here."
+
+Si Maïeddine added these arguments, seeing perhaps that Victoria
+hesitated before answering his question.
+
+"Thou art generous, and I have no fear," she said at last, with a faint
+emphasis which he could read as he chose. "But, since thou hast my word
+to be silent, surely thou wilt tell me where lies the end of the journey
+we must take?"
+
+"Even so, I cannot tell thee," Si Maïeddine replied with decision which
+Victoria felt to be unalterable. "It is not for lack of trust in thee, O
+Rose, but for a reason which is not mine to explain. All I can do is to
+pledge my honour, and the honour of a princess, to conduct thee loyally
+to the house of thy sister's husband. If thou goest, it must be in the
+dress of an Arab lady, veiled from eyes which might spy upon thee; and
+so thou wilt be safe under the protection of my cousin."
+
+"My thanks to thee and to her--I will go," Victoria said, after a
+moment's pause.
+
+She was sure that Stephen Knight and his friend would prevent her from
+leaving Algiers with strangers, above all, in the company of Arabs, if
+they could know what was in her mind. But they were unjustly prejudiced,
+she thought. Her brother-in-law was of Arab blood, therefore she could
+not afford to have such prejudices, even if she were so inclined; and
+she must not hesitate before such a chance as Si Maïeddine offered.
+
+The great difficulty she had experienced in learning anything about Ben
+Halim made it easy for her to believe that she could reach her sister's
+husband only through people of his own race, who knew his secrets. She
+was ready to agree with Si Maïeddine that his God and her God had sent
+him at the right moment, and she would not let that moment pass her by.
+
+Others might say that she was wildly imprudent, that she was
+deliberately walking into danger; but she was not afraid. Always she
+trusted to her star, and now it had brought her to Algiers, she would
+not weaken in that trust. Common sense, in which one side of the girl's
+nature was not lacking, told her that this Arab might be deceiving her,
+that he might know no more of Ben Halim than she herself had told him
+yesterday; but she felt that he had spoken the truth, and feelings were
+more to her than common sense. She would go to the house which Si
+Maïeddine said was the house of his cousin, and if there she found
+reason to doubt him, she had faith that even then no evil would be
+allowed to touch her.
+
+At seven o'clock, Si Maïeddine said, Lella M'Barka would send a
+carriage. It would then be twilight, and as most people were in their
+homes by that hour, nobody would be likely to see her leave the hotel.
+The shutters of the carriage would be closed, according to the custom of
+Arab ladies, and on entering the vehicle Victoria would find a negress,
+a servant of Lella M'Barka Bent Djellab. This woman would dress her in a
+gandourah and a haïck, while they were on their way to the house of
+Victoria's hostess, and on stepping out she would have the appearance of
+a lady of Algiers. Thus all trace of her would be lost, as one Arab
+carriage was exactly like another.
+
+Meanwhile, there would be time to pack, and write a letter which
+Victoria was determined to write. To satisfy Si Maïeddine that she would
+not be indiscreet in any admission or allusion, she suggested
+translating for him every word she wrote into French or Arabic; but he
+refused this offer with dignity. She trusted him. He trusted her also.
+But he himself would post the letter at an hour too late for it to be
+delivered while she was still in Algiers.
+
+It was arranged that she should carry only hand-bags, as it would be too
+conspicuous to load and unload boxes. Her large luggage could be stored
+at the hotel until she returned or sent, and as Lella M'Barka intended
+to offer her an outfit suitable to a young Arab girl of noble birth, she
+need take from the hotel only her toilet things.
+
+So it was that Victoria wrote to Stephen Knight, and was ready for the
+second stage of what seemed the one great adventure to which her whole
+life had been leading up.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+Victoria did not wait in her room to be told that the carriage had come
+to take her away. It was better, Si Maïeddine had said, that only a few
+people should know the exact manner of her going. A few minutes before
+seven, therefore, she went down to the entrance-hall of the hotel, which
+was not yet lighted. Her appearance was a signal for the Arab porter,
+who was waiting, to run softly upstairs and return with her hand
+luggage.
+
+For some moments Victoria stood near the door, interesting herself in a
+map of Algeria which hung on the wall. A clock began to strike as her
+eyes wandered over the desert, and was on the last stroke of seven, when
+a carriage drove up. It was drawn by two handsome brown mules with
+leather and copper harness which matched the colour of their shining
+coats, and was driven by a heavy, smooth-faced Negro in a white turban
+and an embroidered cafetan of dark blue. The carriage windows were
+shuttered, and as the black coachman pulled up his mules, he looked
+neither to the right nor to the left. It was the hotel porter who opened
+the door, and as Victoria stepped in without delay, he thrust two
+hand-bags after her, snapping the door sharply.
+
+It was almost dark inside the carriage, but she could see a white
+figure, which in the dimness had neither face nor definite shape; and
+there was a perfume as of aromatic amulets grown warm on a human body.
+
+"Pardon, lady, I am Hsina, the servant of Lella M'Barka Bent Djellab,
+sent to wait upon thee," spoke a soft and guttural voice, in Arabic.
+"Blessings be upon thee!"
+
+"And upon thee blessings," Victoria responded in the Arab fashion which
+she had learned while many miles of land and sea lay between her and the
+country of Islam. "I was told to expect thee."
+
+"Eïhoua!" cried the woman, "The little pink rose has the gift of
+tongues!" As she grew accustomed to the twilight, Victoria made out a
+black face, and white teeth framed in a large smile. A pair of dark eyes
+glittered with delight as the Roumia answered in Arabic, although Arabic
+was not the language of the negress's own people. She chattered as she
+helped Victoria into a plain white gandourah. The white hat and hat-pins
+amused her, and when she had arranged the voluminous haïck in spite of
+the joltings of the carriage, she examined these European curiosities
+with interest. Whenever she moved, the warm perfume of amulets grew
+stronger, overpowering the faint mustiness of the cushions and
+upholstery.
+
+"Never have I held such things in my hands!" Hsina gurgled. "Yet often
+have I wished that I might touch them, when driving with my mistress and
+peeping at the passers by, and the strange finery of foreign women in
+the French bazaars."
+
+Victoria listened politely, answering if necessary; yet her interest was
+concentrated in peering through the slits in the wooden shutter of the
+nearest window. She did not know Algiers well enough to recognize
+landmarks; but after driving for what seemed like fifteen or twenty
+minutes through streets where lights began to turn the twilight blue,
+she caught a glint of the sea. Almost immediately the trotting mules
+stopped, and the negress Hsina, hiding Victoria's hat in the folds of
+her haïck, turned the handle of the door.
+
+Victoria looked out into azure dusk, and after the closeness of the
+shuttered carriage, thankfully drew in a breath of salt-laden air. One
+quick glance showed her a street near the sea, on a level not much above
+the gleaming water. There were high walls, evidently very old, hiding
+Arab mansions once important, and there were other ancient dwellings,
+which had been partly transformed for business or military uses by the
+French. The girl's hasty impression was of a melancholy neighbourhood
+which had been rich and stately long ago in old pirate days, perhaps.
+
+There was only time for a glance to right and left before a nailed door
+opened in the flatness of a whitewashed wall which was the front of an
+Arab house. No light shone out, but the opening of the door proved that
+some one had been listening for the sound of carriage wheels.
+
+"Descend, lady. I will follow with thy baggage," said Hsina.
+
+The girl obeyed, but she was suddenly conscious of a qualm as she had to
+turn from the blue twilight, to pass behind that half-open door into
+darkness, and the mystery of unknown things.
+
+Before she had time to put her foot to the ground the door was thrown
+wide open, and two stout Negroes dressed exactly alike in flowing white
+burnouses stepped out of the house to stand on either side the carriage
+door. Raising their arms as high as their heads they made two white
+walls of their long cloaks between which Victoria could pass, as if
+enclosed in a narrow aisle. Hsina came close upon her heels; and as they
+reached the threshold of the house the white-robed black servants
+dropped their arms, followed the two women, and shut the nailed door.
+Then, despite the dimness of the place, they bowed their heads turning
+aside as if humbly to make it evident that their unworthy eyes did not
+venture to rest upon the veiled form of their mistress's guest. As for
+Hsina, she, too, was veiled, though her age and ugliness would have
+permitted her face to be revealed without offence to Mussulman ideas of
+propriety. It was mere vanity on her part to preserve the mystery as
+dear to the heart of the Moslem woman as to the jealous prejudice of the
+man.
+
+A faint glittering of the walls told Victoria that the corridor she had
+entered was lined with tiles; and she could dimly see seats let in like
+low shelves along its length, on either side. It was but a short
+passage, with a turn into a second still shorter. At the end of this
+hung a dark curtain, which Hsina lifted for Victoria to pass on, round
+another turn into a wider hall, lit by an Arab lamp with glass panes
+framed in delicately carved copper. The chain which suspended it from
+cedar beams swayed slightly, causing the light to move from colour to
+colour of the old tiles, and to strike out gleams from the marble floor
+and ivory-like pillars set into the walls. The end of this corridor also
+was masked by a curtain of wool, dyed and woven by the hands of nomad
+tribes, tent-dwellers in the desert; and when Hsina had lifted it,
+Victoria saw a small square court with a fountain in the centre.
+
+It was not on a grand scale, like those in the palace owned by Nevill
+Caird; but the fountain was graceful and charming, ornamented with the
+carved, bursting pomegranates beloved by the Moors of Granada, and the
+marble columns which supported a projecting balcony were wreathed with
+red roses and honeysuckle.
+
+On each of the four sides of the quadrangle, paved with black and white
+marble, there were little windows, and large glass doors draped on the
+inside with curtains thin enough to show faint pink and golden lights.
+
+"O my mistress, Lella M'Barka, I have brought thy guest!" cried Hsina,
+in a loud, sing-song voice, as if she were chanting; whereupon one of
+the glass doors opened, letting out a rosy radiance, and a Bedouin
+woman-servant dressed in a striped foutah appeared on the threshold. She
+was old, with crinkled grey hair under a scarlet handkerchief, and a
+blue cross was tattooed between her eyes.
+
+"In the name of Lella M'Barka be thou welcome," she said. "My mistress
+has been suffering all day, and fears to rise, lest her strength fail
+for to-morrow's journey, or she would come forth to meet thee, O Flower
+of the West! As it is, she begs that thou wilt come to her. But first
+suffer me to remove thy haïck, that the eyes of Lella M'Barka may be
+refreshed by thy beauty."
+
+She would have unfastened the long drapery, but Hsina put down
+Victoria's luggage, and pushing away the two brown hands, tattooed with
+blue mittens, she herself unfastened the veil. "No, this is _my_ lady,
+and my work, Fafann," she objected.
+
+"But it is my duty to take her in," replied the Bedouin woman,
+jealously. "It is the wish of Lella M'Barka. Go thou and make ready the
+room of the guest."
+
+Hsina flounced away across the court, and Fafann held open both the door
+and the curtains. Victoria obeyed her gesture and went into the room
+beyond. It was long and narrow, with a ceiling of carved wood painted in
+colours which had once been violent, but were now faded. The walls were
+partly covered with hangings like the curtains that shaded the glass
+door; but, on one side, between gold-embroidered crimson draperies, were
+windows, and in the white stucco above, showed lace-like openings,
+patterned to represent peacocks, the tails jewelled with glass of
+different colours. On the opposite side opened doors of dark wood inlaid
+with mother-o'-pearl; and these stood ajar, revealing rows of shelves
+littered with little gilded bottles, or piled with beautiful brocades
+that were shot with gold in the pink light of an Arab lamp.
+
+There was little furniture; only a few low, round tables, or maidas,
+completely overlaid with the snow of mother-o'-pearl; two or three
+tabourets of the same material, and, at one end of the room a low divan,
+where something white and orange-yellow and purple lay half buried in
+cushions.
+
+Though the light was dim, Victoria could see as she went nearer a thin
+face the colour of pale amber, and a pair of immense dark eyes that
+glittered in deep hollows. A thin woman of more than middle age, with
+black hair, silver-streaked, moved slightly and held out an emaciated
+hand heavy with rings. Her head was tied round with a silk handkerchief
+or takrita of pansy purple; she wore seroual, full trousers of soft
+white silk, and under a gold-threaded orange-coloured jacket or rlila, a
+blouse of lilac gauze, covered with sequins and open at the neck. On the
+bony arm which she held out to Victoria hung many bracelets, golden
+serpents of Djebbel Amour, and pearls braided with gold wire and coral
+beads. Her great eyes, ringed with kohl, had a tortured look, and there
+were hollows under the high cheek-bones. If she had ever been handsome,
+all beauty of flesh had now been drained away by suffering; yet stricken
+as she was there remained an almost indefinable distinction, an air of
+supreme pride befitting a princess of the Sahara.
+
+Her scorching fingers pressed Victoria's hand, as she gazed up at the
+girl's face with hungry curiosity and interest such as the Spirit of
+Death might feel in looking at the Spirit of Life.
+
+"Thou art fresh and fair, O daughter, as a lily bud opening in the spray
+of a fountain, and radiant as sunrise shining on a desert lake," she
+said in a weary voice, slightly hoarse, yet with some flutelike notes.
+"My cousin spoke but truth of thee. Thou art worthy of a reward at the
+end of that long journey we shall take together, thou, and he, and I. I
+have never seen thy sister whom thou seekest, but I have friends, who
+knew her in other days. For her sake and thine own, kiss me on my
+cheeks, for with women of my race, it is the seal of friendship."
+
+Victoria bent and touched the faded face under each of the great burning
+eyes. The perfume of _ambre_, loved in the East, came up to her
+nostrils, and the invalid's breath was aflame.
+
+"Art thou strong enough for a journey, Lella M'Barka?" the girl asked.
+
+"Not in my own strength, but in that which Allah will give me, I shall
+be strong," the sick woman answered with controlled passion. "Ever
+since I knew that I could not hope to reach Mecca, and kiss the sacred
+black stone, or pray in the Mosque of the holy Lella Fatima, I have
+wished to visit a certain great marabout in the south. The pity of Allah
+for a daughter who is weak will permit the blessing of this marabout,
+who has inherited the inestimable gift of Baraka, to be the same to me,
+body and soul, as the pilgrimage to Mecca which is beyond the power of
+my flesh. Another must say for me the Fatakah there. I believe that I
+shall be healed, and have vowed to give a great feast if I return to
+Algiers, in celebration of the miracle. Had it not been for my cousin's
+wish that I should go with thee, I should not have felt that the hour
+had come when I might face the ordeal of such a journey to the far
+south. But the prayer of Si Maïeddine, who, after his father, is the
+last man left of his line, has kindled in my veins a fire which I
+thought had burnt out forever. Have no fear, daughter. I shall be ready
+to start at dawn to-morrow."
+
+"Does the marabout who has the gift of Baraka live near the place where
+I must go to find my sister?" Victoria inquired, rather timidly; for she
+did not know how far she might venture to question Si Maïeddine's
+cousin.
+
+Lella M'Barka looked at her suddenly and strangely. Then her face
+settled into a sphinx-like expression, as if she had been turned to
+stone. "I shall be thy companion to the end of thy journey," she
+answered in a dull, tired tone. "Wilt thou visit thy room now, or wilt
+thou remain with me until Fafann and Hsina bring thy evening meal? I
+hope that thou wilt sup here by my side: yet if it pains thee to take
+food near one in ill health, who does not eat, speak, and thou shalt be
+served in another place."
+
+Victoria hastened to protest that she would prefer to eat in the company
+of her hostess, which seemed to please Lella M'Barka. She began to ask
+the girl questions about herself, complimenting her upon her knowledge
+of Arabic; and Victoria answered, though only half her brain seemed to
+be listening. She was glad that she had trusted Si Maïeddine, and she
+felt safe in the house of his cousin; but now that she was removed from
+European influences, she could not see why the mystery concerning Ben
+Halim and the journey which would lead to his house, should be kept up.
+She had read enough books about Arab customs and superstitions to know
+that there are few saints believed to possess the gift of Baraka, the
+power given by Allah for the curing of all fleshly ills. Only the very
+greatest of the marabouts are supposed to have this power, receiving it
+direct from Allah, or inheriting it from a pious saint--father or more
+distant relative--who handed down the maraboutship. Therefore, if she
+had time and inclination, she could probably learn from any devout
+Mussulman the abiding places of all such famous saints as remained upon
+the earth. In that way, by setting her wits to work, she might guess the
+secret if Si Maïeddine still tried to make a mystery of their
+destination. But, somehow, she felt that it would not be fair to seek
+information which he did not want her to have. She must go on trusting
+him, and by and by he would tell her all she wanted to know.
+
+Lella M'Barka had invited her guest to sit on cushions beside the divan
+where she lay, and the interest in her feverish eyes, which seldom left
+Victoria's face, was so intense as to embarrass the girl.
+
+"Thou hast wondrous hair," she said, "and when it is unbound it must be
+a fountain of living gold. Is it some kind of henna grown in thy
+country, which dyes it that beautiful colour?"
+
+Victoria told her that Nature alone was the dyer.
+
+"Thou art not yet affianced; that is well," murmured the invalid. "Our
+young girls have their hair tinted with henna when they are betrothed,
+that they may be more fair in the eyes of their husbands. But thou
+couldst scarcely be lovelier than thou art; for thy skin is of pearl,
+though there is no paint upon it, and thy lips are pink as rose petals.
+Yet a little messouak to make them scarlet, like coral, and kohl to
+give thine eyes lustre would add to thy brilliancy. Also the hand of
+woman reddened with henna is as a brazier of rosy flame to kindle the
+heart of a lover. When thou seest thy sister, thou wilt surely find that
+she has made herself mistress of these arts, and many more."
+
+"Canst thou tell me nothing of her, Lella M'Barka?"
+
+"Nothing, save that I have a friend who has said she was fair. And it is
+not many moons since I heard that she was blessed with health."
+
+"Is she happy?" Victoria was tempted to persist.
+
+"She should be happy. She is a fortunate woman. Would I could tell thee
+more, but I live the life of a mole in these days, and have little
+knowledge. Thou wilt see her with thine own eyes before long, I have no
+doubt. And now comes food which my women have prepared for thee. In my
+house, all are people of the desert, and we keep the desert customs,
+since my husband has been gathered to his fathers--my husband, to whose
+house in Algiers I came as a bride from the Sahara. Such a meal as thou
+wilt eat to-night, mayst thou eat often with a blessing, in the country
+of the sun."
+
+Fafann, who had softly left the room when the guest had been introduced,
+now came back, with great tinkling of khal-khal, and mnaguach, the huge
+earrings which hung so low as to strike the silver beads twisted round
+her throat. She was smiling, and pleasantly excited at the presence of a
+visitor whose arrival broke the tiresome monotony of an invalid's
+household. When she had set one of the pearly maidas in front of
+Victoria's seat of cushions, she held back the curtains for Hsina to
+enter, carrying a copper tray. This the negress placed on the maida, and
+uncovered a china bowl balanced in a silver stand, like a giant coffee
+cup of Moorish fashion. It contained hot soup, called cheurba, in which
+Hsina had put so much fell-fell, the red pepper loved by Arabs, that
+Victoria's lips were burned. But it was good, and she would not wince
+though the tears stung her eyes as she drank, for Lella M'Barka and the
+two servants were watching her eagerly.
+
+Afterwards came a kouskous of chicken and farina, which she ate with a
+large spoon whose bowl was of tortoiseshell, the handle of ivory tipped
+with coral. Then, when the girl hoped there might be nothing more,
+appeared tadjine, a ragout of mutton with artichokes and peas, followed
+by a rich preserve of melon, and many elaborate cakes iced with pink and
+purple sugar, and powdered with little gold sequins that had to be
+picked off as the cake was eaten. At last, there was thick, sweet
+coffee, in a cup like a little egg-shell supported in filigree gold (for
+no Mussulman may touch lip to metal), and at the end Fafann poured
+rosewater over Victoria's fingers, wiping them on a napkin of fine
+damask.
+
+"Now thou hast eaten and drunk, thou must allow thyself to be dressed by
+my women in the garments of an Arab maiden of high birth, which I have
+ready for thee," said Lella M'Barka, brightening with the eagerness of a
+little child at the prospect of dressing a beautiful new doll. "Fafann
+shall bring everything here, and thou shalt be told how to robe thyself
+afterwards. I wish to see that all is right, for to-morrow morning thou
+must arise while it is still dark, that we may start with the first
+dawn."
+
+Fafann and Hsina had forgotten their jealousies in the delight of the
+new play. They moved about, laughing and chattering, and were not
+chidden for the noise they made. From shelves behind the inlaid doors in
+the wall, they took down exquisite boxes of mother-o'-pearl and red
+tortoiseshell. Also there were small bundles wrapped in gold brocade,
+and tied round with bright green cord. These were all laid on a
+dim-coloured Kairouan rug, at the side of the divan, and the two women
+squatted on the floor to open them, while their mistress leaned on her
+thin elbow among cushions, and skins of golden jackal from the Sahara.
+
+From one box came wide trousers of white silk, like Lella M'Barka's;
+from another, vests of satin and velvet of pale shades embroidered with
+gold or silver. A fat parcel contained delicately tinted stockings and
+high-heeled slippers of different sizes. A second bundle contained
+blouses of thin silk and gauze, and in a pearl box were pretty little
+chechias of sequined velvet, caps so small as to fit the head closely;
+and besides these, there were sashes and gandourahs, and haïcks white
+and fleecy, woven from the softest wool.
+
+When everything was well displayed, the Bedouin and the negress sprang
+up, lithe as leopards, and to Victoria's surprise began to undress her.
+
+"Please let me do it myself!" she protested, but they did not listen or
+understand, chattering her into silence, as if they had been lively
+though elderly monkeys. Giggling over the hooks and buttons which were
+comical to them, they turned and twisted her between their hands,
+fumbling at neck and waist with black fingers, and brown fingers
+tattooed blue, until she, too, began to laugh. She laughed herself into
+helplessness, and encouraged by her wild merriment, and Lella M'Barka's
+smiles and exclamations punctuated with fits of coughing, they set to
+work at pulling out hairpins, and the tortoise-shell combs that kept the
+Roumia's red gold waves in place. At last down tumbled the thick curly
+locks which Stephen Knight had thought so beautiful when they flowed
+round her shoulders in the Dance of the Shadow.
+
+The invalid made her kneel, just as she was in her petticoat, in order
+to pass long, ringed fingers through the soft masses, and lift them up
+for the pleasure of letting them fall. When the golden veil, as Lella
+M'Barka called it, had been praised and admired over and over again, the
+order was given to braid it in two long plaits, leaving the ends to curl
+as they would. Then, the game of dressing the doll could begin, but
+first the embroidered petticoat of batiste with blue ribbons at the top
+of its flounce, and the simple pretty little stays had to be examined
+with keen interest. Nothing like these things had ever been seen by
+mistress or servants, except in occasional peeps through shuttered
+carriage windows when passing French shops: for Lella M'Barka Bent
+Djellab, daughter of Princes of Touggourt, was what young Arabs call
+"vieux turban." She was old-fashioned in her ideas, would have no
+European furniture or decorations, and until to-night had never
+consented to know a Roumia, much less receive one into her house. She
+had felt that she was making a great concession in granting her cousin's
+request, but she had forgotten her sense of condescension in
+entertaining an unveiled girl, a Christian, now that she saw what the
+girl was like. She was too old and lonely to be jealous of Victoria's
+beauty; and as Si Maïeddine, her favourite cousin, deigned to admire
+this young foreigner, Lella M'Barka took an unselfish pride in each of
+the American girl's charms.
+
+When she was dressed to all outward appearances precisely like the
+daughter of a high-born Arab family, Fafann brought a mirror framed in
+mother-o'-pearl, and Victoria could not help admiring herself a little.
+She wished half unconsciously that Stephen Knight could see her, with
+hair looped in two great shining braids on either side her face, under
+the sequined chechia of sapphire velvet; and then she was ashamed of her
+own vanity.
+
+Having been dressed, she was obliged to prove, before the three women
+would be satisfied, that she understood how each garment ought to be
+arranged; and later she had to try on a new gandourah, with a white
+burnouse such as women wear, and the haïck she had worn in coming to the
+house. Hsina would help her in the morning, she was told, but it would
+be better that she should know how to do things properly for herself,
+since only Fafann would be with them on the journey, and she might
+sometimes be busy with Lella M'Barka when Victoria was dressing.
+
+The excitement of adorning the beautiful doll had tired the invalid. The
+dark lines under her eyes were very blue, and the flesh of her face
+seemed to hang loose, making her look piteously haggard. She offered but
+feeble objections when her guest proposed to say good night, and after a
+few more compliments and blessings, Victoria was able to slip away,
+escorted by the negress.
+
+The room where she was to sleep was on another side of the court from
+that of Lella M'Barka, but Hsina took great pains to assure her that
+there was nothing to fear. No one could come into this court; and
+she--Hsina--slept near by with Fafann. To clap the hands once would be
+to bring one of them instantly. And Hsina would wake her before dawn.
+
+Victoria's long, narrow sleeping room had the bed across one end, in
+Arab fashion. It was placed in an alcove and built into the wall, with
+pillars in front, of gilded wood, and yellow brocaded curtains of a
+curious, Oriental design. At the opposite end of the room stood a large
+cupboard, like a buffet, beautifully inlaid with mother-o'-pearl, and
+along the length of the room ran shelves neatly piled with
+bright-coloured bed-clothing, or ferrachiyas. Above these shelves texts
+from the Koran were exquisitely illuminated in red, blue and gold, like
+a frieze; and there were tinselled pictures of relatives of the Prophet,
+and of Mohammed's Angel-horse, Borak. The floor was covered with soft,
+dark-coloured rugs; and on a square of white linen was a huge copper
+basin full of water, with folded towels laid beside it.
+
+The bed was not uncomfortable, but Victoria could not sleep. She did not
+even wish to sleep. It was too wonderful to think that to-morrow she
+would be on her way to Saidee.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+
+Before morning light, Si Maïeddine was in his cousin's house. Hsina had
+not yet called Victoria, but Lella M'Barka was up and dressed, ready to
+receive Maïeddine in the room where she had entertained the Roumia girl
+last night. Being a near relation, Si Maïeddine was allowed to see Lella
+M'Barka unveiled; and even in the pink and gold light of the hanging
+lamps, she was ghastly under her paint. The young man was struck with
+her martyred look, and pitied her; but stronger than his pity was the
+fear that she might fail him--if not to-day, before the journey's end.
+She would have to undergo a strain terrible for an invalid, and he could
+spare her much of this if he chose; but he would not choose, though he
+was fond of his cousin, and grateful in a way. To spare her would mean
+the risk of failure for him.
+
+Each called down salutations and peace upon the head of the other, and
+Lella M'Barka asked Maïeddine if he would drink coffee. He thanked her,
+but had already taken coffee. And she? All her strength would be needed.
+She must not neglect to sustain herself now that everything depended
+upon her health.
+
+"My health!" she echoed, with a sigh, and a gesture of something like
+despair. "O my cousin, if thou knewest how I suffer, how I dread what
+lies before me, thou wouldst in mercy change thy plans even now. Thou
+wouldst go the short way to the end of our journey. Think of the
+difference to me! A week or eight days of travel at most, instead of
+three weeks, or more if I falter by the way, and thou art forced to
+wait."
+
+Maïeddine's face hardened under her imploring eyes, but he answered with
+gentleness, "Thou knowest, my kind friend and cousin, that I would give
+my blood to save thee suffering, but it is more than my blood that thou
+askest now. It is my heart, for my heart is in this journey and what I
+hope from it, as I told thee yesterday. We discussed it all, thou and I,
+between us. Thou hast loved, and I made thee understand something of
+what I feel for this girl, whose beauty, as thou hast seen, is that of
+the houris in Paradise. Never have I found her like; and it may be I
+care more because of the obstacles which stand high as a wall between me
+and her. Because of the man who is her sister's husband, I must not fail
+in respect, or even seem to fail. I cannot take her and ride away, as I
+might with a maiden humbly placed, trusting to make her happy after she
+was mine. My winning must be done first, as is the way of the Roumis,
+and she will be hard to win. Already she feels that one of my race has
+stolen and hidden her sister; for this, in her heart, she fears and half
+distrusts all Arabs. A week would give me no time to capture her love,
+and when the journey is over it will be too late. Then, at best, I can
+see little of her, even if she be allowed to keep something of her
+European freedom. It is from this journey together--the long, long
+journey--that I hope everything. No pains shall be spared. No luxury
+shall she lack even on the hardest stretches of the way. She shall know
+that she owes all to my thought and care. In three weeks I can pull down
+that high wall between us. She will have learned to depend on me, to
+need me, to long for me when I am out of her sight, as the gazelle longs
+for a fountain of sweet water."
+
+"Poet and dreamer thou hast become, Maïeddine," said Lella M'Barka with
+a tired smile.
+
+"I have become a lover. That means both and more. My heart is set on
+success with this girl: and yesterday thou didst promise to help. In
+return, I offered thee a present that is like the gift of new life to a
+woman, the amulet my father's dead brother rubbed on the sacred Black
+Stone at Mecca, touched by the foot of the Prophet. I assured thee that
+at the end of our journey I would persuade the marabout to make the
+amulet as potent for good to thee as the Black Stone itself, against
+which thou canst never cool the fever in thy forehead. Then, when he has
+used his power, and thou hast pressed the amulet on thy brows, thou
+mayst read the destiny of men and women written between their eyes, as a
+sand-diviner reads fate in the sands. Thou wilt become in thine own
+right a marabouta, and be sure of Heaven when thou diest. This blessing
+the marabout will give, not for thy sake, but for mine, because I will
+do for him certain things which he has long desired, and so far I have
+never consented to undertake. Thou wilt gain greatly through keeping thy
+word to me. Believing in thy courage and good faith, I have made all
+arrangements for the journey. Not once last night did I close my eyes in
+sleep. There was not a moment to rest, for I had many telegrams to send,
+and letters to write, asking my friends along the different stages of
+the way, after we have left the train, to lend me relays of mules or
+horses. I have had to collect supplies, to think of and plan out details
+for which most men would have needed a week's preparation, yet I have
+completed all in twelve hours. I believe nothing has been forgotten,
+nothing neglected. And can it be that my prop will fail me at the last
+moment?"
+
+"No, I will not fail thee, unless soul and body part," Lella M'Barka
+answered. "I but hoped that thou mightest feel differently, that in
+pity--but I see I was wrong to ask. I will pray that the amulet, and the
+hope of the divine benediction of the baraka may support me to the end."
+
+"I, too, will pray, dear cousin. Be brave, and remember, the journey is
+to be taken, in easy stages. All the comforts I am preparing are for
+thee, as well as for this white rose whose beauty has stolen the heart
+out of my breast."
+
+"It is true. Thou art kind, or I would not love thee even as I should
+have loved a son, had one been given me," said the haggard woman,
+meekly. "Does _she_ know that there will be three weeks or more of
+travelling?"
+
+"No. I told her vaguely that she could hardly hope to see her sister in
+less than a fortnight. I feared that, at first hearing, the thought of
+such distances, separating her from what she has known of life, might
+cause her to hesitate. But she will be willing to sacrifice herself and
+travel less rapidly than she hoped, when she sees that thou art weak and
+ailing. She has a heart with room in it for the welfare of others."
+
+"Most women have. It is expected of us." Lella M'Barka sighed again,
+faintly. "But she is all that thou describedst to me, of beauty and
+sweetness. When she has been converted to the True Faith, as thy wife,
+nothing will be lacking to make her perfect."
+
+Hsina appeared at the door. "Thy guest, O Lella M'Barka, is having her
+coffee, and is eating bread with it," she announced. "In a few minutes
+she will be ready. Shall I fetch her down while the gracious lord
+honours the house with his presence, or----"
+
+"My guest is a Roumia, and it is not forbidden that she show her face to
+men," answered Hsina's mistress. "She will travel veiled, because, for
+reasons that do not concern thee, it is wiser. But she is free to appear
+before the Lord Maïeddine. Bring her; and remember this, when I am gone.
+If to a living soul outside this house thou speakest of the Roumia
+maiden, or even of my journey, worse things will happen to thee than
+tearing thy tongue out by the roots."
+
+"So thou saidst last night to me, and to all the others," the negress
+answered, like a sulky child. "As we are faithful, it is not necessary
+to say it again." Without waiting to be scolded for her impudence, as
+she knew she deserved, she went out, to return five minutes later with
+Victoria.
+
+Maïeddine's eyes lighted when he saw the girl in Arab dress. It seemed
+to him that she was far more beautiful, because, like all Arabs, he
+detested the severe cut of a European woman's gowns. He loved bright
+colours and voluptuous outlines.
+
+It was only beginning to be daylight when they left the house and went
+out to the carriage in which Victoria had been driven the night before.
+She and Lella M'Barka were both veiled, though there was no eye to see
+them. Hsina and Fafann took out several bundles, wrapped in dark red
+woollen haïcks, and the Negro servants carried two curious trunks of
+wood painted bright green, with coloured flowers and scrolls of gold
+upon them, and shining, flat covers of brass. In these was contained the
+luggage from the house; Maïeddine's had already gone to the railway
+station. He wore a plain, dark blue burnous, with the hood up, and his
+chin and mouth were covered by the lower folds of the small veil which
+fell from his turban, as if he were riding in the desert against a wind
+storm. It would have been impossible even for a friend to recognize him,
+and the two women in their white veils were like all native women of
+wealth and breeding in Algiers. Hsina was crying, and Fafann, who
+expected to go with her mistress, was insufferably important. Victoria
+felt that she was living in a fairy story, and the wearing of the veil
+excited and amused her. She was happy, and looked forward to the journey
+itself as well as to the journey's end.
+
+There were few people in the railway station, and Victoria saw no
+European travellers. Maïeddine had taken the tickets already, but he did
+not tell her the name of the place to which they were going by rail. She
+would have liked to ask, but as neither Si Maïeddine nor Lella M'Barka
+encouraged questions, she reminded herself that she could easily read
+the names of the stations as they passed.
+
+Soon the train came in, and Maïeddine put them into a first-class
+compartment, which was labelled "reserved," though all other Arabs were
+going second or third. Fafann arranged cushions and haïcks for Lella
+M'Barka; and at six o'clock a feeble, sulky-sounding trumpet blew,
+signalling the train to move out of the station.
+
+Victoria was not sleepy, though she had lain awake thinking excitedly
+all night; but Lella M'Barka bade her rest, as the day would be tiring.
+No one talked, and presently Fafann began to snore. The girl's eyes met
+Si Maïeddine's, and they smiled at each other. This made him seem to her
+more like an ordinary human being than he had seemed before.
+
+After a while, she dropped into a doze, and was surprised when she waked
+up, to find that it was nearly nine o'clock. Fafann had roused her by
+moving about, collecting bundles. Soon they would be "there." And as the
+train slowed down, Victoria saw that "there" was Bouira.
+
+This place was the destination of a number of Arab travellers, but the
+instant they were out of the train, these passengers appeared to melt
+away unobtrusively. Only one carriage was waiting, and that was for Si
+Maïeddine and his party.
+
+It was a very different carriage from Lella M'Barka's, in Algiers; a
+vehicle for the country, Victoria thought it not unlike old-fashioned
+chaises in which farmers' families sometimes drove to Potterston, to
+church. It had side and back curtains of canvas, which were fastened
+down, and an Arab driver stood by the heads of two strong black mules.
+
+"This carriage belongs to a friend of mine, a Caïd," Maïeddine explained
+to Victoria. "He has lent it to me, with his driver and mules, to use as
+long as I wish. But we shall have to change the mules often, before we
+begin at last to travel in a different way."
+
+"How quickly thou hast arranged everything," exclaimed the girl.
+
+This was a welcome sign of appreciation, and Maïeddine was pleased. "I
+sent the Caïd a telegram," he said. "And there were many more telegrams
+to other places, far ahead. That is one good thing which the French have
+brought to our country. The telegraph goes to the most remote places in
+the Sahara. By and by, thou wilt see the poles striding away over desert
+dunes."
+
+"By and by! Dost thou mean to-day?" asked Victoria.
+
+"No, it will be many days before thou seest the great dunes. But thou
+wilt see them in the end, and I think thou wilt love them as I do.
+Meanwhile, there will be other things of interest. I shall not let thee
+tire of the way, though it be long."
+
+He helped them into the carriage, the invalid first, then Victoria, and
+got in after them; Fafann, muffled in her veil, sitting on the seat
+beside the driver.
+
+"By this time Mr. Knight has my letter, and has read it," the girl said
+to herself. "Oh, I do hope he won't be disgusted, and think me
+ungrateful. How glad I shall be when the day comes for me to explain."
+
+As it happened, the letter was in Maïeddine's thoughts at the same
+moment. It occurred to him, too, that it would have been read by now. He
+knew to whom it had been written, for he had got a friend of his to
+bring him a list of passengers on board the _Charles Quex_ on her last
+trip from Marseilles to Algiers. Also, he had learned at whose house
+Stephen Knight was staying.
+
+Maïeddine would gladly have forgotten to post the letter, and could have
+done so without hurting his conscience. But he had thought it might be
+better for Knight to know that Miss Ray was starting on a journey, and
+that there was no hope of hearing from her for a fortnight. Victoria had
+been ready to show him the letter, therefore she had not written any
+forbidden details; and Knight would probably feel that she must be left
+to manage her own affairs in her own way. No doubt he would be curious,
+and ask questions at the Hotel de la Kasbah, but Maïeddine believed that
+he had made it impossible for Europeans to find out anything there, or
+elsewhere. He knew that men of Western countries could be interested in
+a girl without being actually in love with her; and though it was almost
+impossible to imagine a man, even a European, so cold as not to fall in
+love with Victoria at first sight, he hoped that Knight was blind enough
+not to appreciate her, or that his affections were otherwise engaged.
+After all, the two had been strangers when they came on the boat, or had
+met only once before, therefore the Englishman had no right to take
+steps unauthorized by the girl. Altogether, Maïeddine thought he had
+reason to be satisfied with the present, and to hope in the future.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+
+Stephen and Nevill Caird returned from Tlemcen to Algiers, hoping for
+news of Victoria, but there was none; and after two days they left for
+Grand Kabylia.
+
+The prophetic birds at Mansourah had flown in a south-easterly
+direction, but when Stephen and Nevill started in search of Josette's
+maid Mouni, they turned full east, their faces looking towards the dark
+heights of Kabylia. It was not Victoria they hoped to find there,
+however, or Saidee her sister, but only a hint as to their next move.
+Nevertheless, Nevill was superstitious about the birds, and said to
+Stephen when the car had run them out of Algiers, past Maison Carré,
+into open country: "Isn't it queer how the birds follow us? I never saw
+so many before. They're always with us. It's just as if they'd passed on
+word, the way chupatties are passed on in India, eh? Or maybe Josette
+has told her protegées to look after us."
+
+And Stephen smiled, for Nevill's superstitions were engaging, rather
+than repulsive; and his quaintnesses were endearing him more and more to
+the man who had just taken up the dropped thread of friendship after
+eight or nine years. What an odd fellow Nevill was! Stephen thought,
+indulgently. No wonder he was worshipped by his servants, and even his
+chauffeur. No wonder Lady MacGregor adored her nephew, though treating
+him as if he were a little boy!
+
+One of Nevill's idiosyncrasies, after arranging everything to fit a
+certain plan, was to rush off at the last minute and do something
+entirely different. Last night--the night before starting for Grand
+Kabylia--he had begged Stephen to be ready by eight, at which time the
+car was ordered. At nine--having sat up till three o'clock writing
+letters, and then having visited a lately imported gazelle in its
+quarters--Nevill was still in his bath. At length he arrived on the
+scene, beaming, with a sulky chameleon in his pocket, and flew about
+giving last directions, until he suddenly discovered that there was a
+violent hurry, whereupon he began to be boyishly peevish with the
+chauffeur for not getting off an hour ago. No sooner had the car
+started, however, than he fell into a serious mood, telling Stephen of
+many things which he had thought out in the night--things which might be
+helpful in finding Victoria. He had been lying awake, it seemed,
+brooding on this subject, and it had occurred to him that, if Mouni
+should prove a disappointment, they might later discover something
+really useful by going to the annual ball at the Governor's palace. This
+festivity had been put off, on account of illness in the chief
+official's family; but it would take place in a fortnight or so now. All
+the great Aghas and Caïds of the south would be there, and as Nevill
+knew many of them, he might be able to get definite information
+concerning Ben Halim. As for Saidee--to hear of Ben Halim was to hear of
+her. And then it was, in the midst of describing the ball, and the
+important men who would attend, that Nevill suddenly broke off to be
+superstitious about birds.
+
+It was true that the birds were everywhere! little greenish birds
+flitting among the trees; larger grey-brown birds flying low; fairy-like
+blue and yellow birds that circled round the car as it ran east towards
+the far, looming mountains of the Djurdjura; larks that spouted music
+like a fountain of jewels as they soared into the quivering blue; and
+great, stately storks, sitting in their nests on tall trees or tops of
+poles, silhouetted against the sky as they gazed indifferently down at
+the automobile.
+
+"Josette would tell us it's splendid luck to see storks on their
+nests," said Nevill. "Arabs think they bring good fortune to places.
+That's why people cut off the tops of the trees and make nests for them,
+so they can bless the neighbourhood and do good to the crops. Storks
+have no such menial work here as bringing babies. Arab babies have to
+come as best they can--sent into the world anyhow; for storks are men
+who didn't do their religious duties in the most approved style, so they
+have to revisit the world next time in the form of beneficent birds."
+
+But Nevill did not want to answer questions about storks and their
+habits. He had tired of them in a moment, and was passionately
+interested in mules. "There ought to be an epic written about the mules
+of North Africa!" he exclaimed. "I tell you, it's a great subject. Look
+at those poor brave chaps struggling to pull carts piled up with casks
+of beastly Algerian wine, through that sea of mud, which probably goes
+all the way through to China. Aren't they splendid? Wait till you've
+been in this country as long as I have, and you'll respect mules as I
+do, from army mules down to the lowest dregs of the mule kingdom. I
+don't ask you to love them--and neither do they. But how they work here
+in Africa--and never a groan! They go on till they drop. And I don't
+believe half of them ever get anything to eat. Some day I'm going to
+start a Rest Farm for tired mules. I shall pay well for them. A man I
+know did write a pæan of praise for mules. I believe I'll have it
+translated into Arabic, and handed about as a leaflet. These natives are
+good to their horses, because they believe they have souls, but they
+treat their mules like the dirt under their feet." And Nevill began
+quoting here and there a verse or a line he remembered of the "mule
+music," chanting in time to the throbbing of the motor.
+
+     "Key A minor, measure common,
+     One and two and three and four and--
+     Every hoof-beat half a second
+     Every hoof-beat linked with heart-beat,
+     Every heart-beat nearer bursting.
+     Andantino sostenuto:
+     In the downpour or the dryness,
+     Hottest summer, coldest winter;
+     Sick and sore and old and feeble,
+     Hourly, hourly; daily, daily,
+     From the sunrise to the setting;
+     From the setting to the sunrise
+     Scarce a break in all the circle
+     For the rough and scanty eating,
+     For the scant and muddy drinking,
+     For the fitful, fearful resting,
+     For the master haunted-sleeping.
+     Dreams in dark of God's far heaven
+     Tempo primo; tempo sempre."
+
+And so, through pools of wild flowers and the blood of poppies, their
+road led to wild mountain scenery, then into the embrace of the
+Djurdjura mountains themselves--evil, snow-splashed, sterile-seeming
+mountains, until the car had passed the fortified town of Tizi Ouzou, an
+overgrown village, whose name Stephen thought like a drunken term of
+endearment. It was market-day there, and the long street was so full of
+Kabyles dressed apparently in low-necked woollen bags, of soldiers in
+uniform, of bold-eyed, scantily-clad children, and of dyed sheep and
+goats, that the car had to pass at a walk. Nevill bought a good deal of
+Kabyle jewellery, necklaces and long earrings, or boxes enamelled in
+crude greens and reds, blues and yellows. Not that he had not already
+more than he knew what to do with; but he could not resist the handsome
+unveiled girls, the wretched old women, or pretty, half-naked children
+who offered the work of the neighbouring hill villages, or family
+heirlooms. Sometimes he saw eyes which made him think of Josette's; but
+then, all beautiful things that he saw reminded him of her. She was an
+obsession. But, for a wonder, he had taken Stephen's advice in Tlemcen
+and had not proposed again. He was still marvelling at his own strength
+of mind, and asking himself if, after all, he had been wise.
+
+After Tizi Ouzou the mountains were no longer sterile-seeming. The road
+coiled up and up snakily, between rows of leering cactus; and far below
+the densely wooded heights lay lovely plains through which a great river
+wandered. There was a homely smell of mint, and the country did not look
+to Stephen like the Africa he had imagined. All the hill-slopes were
+green with the bright green of fig trees and almonds, even at heights so
+great that the car wallowed among clouds. This steep road was the road
+to Fort National--the "thorn in the eye of Kabylia," which pierces so
+deeply that Kabylia may writhe, but revolt no more. Already it was
+almost as if the car had brought them into another world. The men who
+occasionally emerged from the woolly white blankets of the clouds, were
+men of a very different type from the mild Kabyles of the plains they
+had met trooping along towards Algiers in search of work.
+
+These were brave, upstanding men, worthy of their fathers who revolted
+against French rule and could not be conquered until that thorn, Fort
+National, was planted deeply in heart and eye. Some were fair, and even
+red-haired, which would have surprised Stephen if he had not heard from
+Nevill that in old days the Christian slaves used to escape from Algiers
+and seek refuge in Kabylia, where they were treated as free men, and no
+questions were asked.
+
+Without Fort National, it seemed to Stephen that this strange Berber
+people would never have been forced to yield; for looking down from
+mountain heights as the motor sped on, it was as if he looked into a
+vast and intricate maze of valleys, and on each curiously pointed peak
+clung a Kabyle village that seemed to be inlaid in the rock like
+separate bits of scarlet enamel. It was the low house-roofs which gave
+this effect, for unlike the Arabs, whom the ancient Berber lords of the
+soil regard with scorn, the Kabyles build their dwellings of stone,
+roofed with red tiles.
+
+This was a wild, tormented world, broken into a hundred sharp mountain
+ridges which seemed to cut the sky, because between the high peaks and
+the tangled skein of far-away villages surged foaming seas of cloud,
+which appeared to separate high, bright peaks from shadowed vales, by
+incredible distances. As far as the eye could travel with utmost
+straining, away to the dark, imposing background of the Djurdjura range,
+billowed ridges and ravines, ravines and ridges, each pointing pinnacle
+or razor-shelf adorned with its coral-red hamlet, like a group of
+poisonous fungi, or the barnacles on a ship's steep side. Such an
+extraordinary landscape Stephen had never imagined, or seen except on a
+Japanese fan; and it struck him that the scene actually did resemble
+quaint prints picturing half-real, half-imaginary scenes in old Japan.
+
+"What a country for war! What a country for defence!" he said to
+himself, as Nevill's yellow car sped along the levels of narrow ridges
+that gave, on either hand, vertical views far down to fertile valleys,
+rushed into clouds of weeping rain, or out into regions of sunlight and
+rainbows.
+
+It was three o'clock when they reached Michélet, but they had not
+stopped for luncheon, as both were in haste to find Mouni: and Mouni's
+village was just beyond Michélet. Since Fort National, they had been in
+the heart of Grand Kabylia; and Michélet was even more characteristic of
+this strange mountain country, so different from transplanted Arabia
+below.
+
+Not an Arab lived here, in the long, straggling town, built on the crest
+of a high ridge. Not a minaret tower pointed skyward. The Kabyle place
+of worship had a roof of little more height or importance than those
+that clustered round it. The men were in striped brown gandourahs of
+camel's hair; the lovely unveiled women were wrapped in woollen foutahs
+dyed red or yellow, blue or purple, and from their little ears heavy
+rings dangled. The blue tattoo marks on their brown cheeks and
+foreheads, which in forgotten times had been Christian crosses, gave
+great value to their enormous, kohl-encircled eyes; and their teeth
+were very white as they smiled boldly, yet proudly, at Stephen and
+Nevill.
+
+There was a flight of steps to mount from the car to the hotel, and as
+the two men climbed the stairs they turned to look, across a profound
+chasm, to the immense mass of the Djurdjura opposite Michélet's thin
+ledge. From their point of view, it was like the Jungfrau, as Stephen
+had seen it from Mürren, on one of his few trips to Switzerland.
+Somehow, those little conventional potterings of his seemed pitiable
+now, they had been so easy to do, so exactly what other people did.
+
+It was long past ordinary luncheon time, and hunger constrained the two
+men to eat before starting out to find the village where Mouni and her
+people lived. It was so small a hamlet, that Nevill, who knew Kabylia
+well, had never heard of it until Josette Soubise wrote the name for him
+on one of her own cards. The landlord of the hotel at Michélet gave
+rapid and fluent directions how to go, saying that the distance was two
+miles, but as the way was a steep mountain path, les messieurs must go
+on foot.
+
+Immediately after lunching they started, armed with a present for the
+bride; a watch encrusted with tiny brilliants, which, following
+Josette's advice, they had chosen as the one thing of all others
+calculated to win the Kabyle girl's heart. "It will be like a fairy
+dream to her to have a watch of her own," Josette had said. "Her friends
+will be dying of envy, and she will enjoy that. Oh, she will search her
+soul and tell you everything she knows, if you but give her a watch!"
+
+For a little way the friends walked along the wild and beautiful road,
+which from Michélet plunges down the mountains toward Bougie and the
+sea; but soon they came to the narrow, ill-defined footpath described by
+the landlord. It led straight up a steep shoulder of rock which at its
+highest part became a ledge; and when they had climbed to the top, at a
+distance they could see a cluster of red roofs apparently falling down a
+precipice, at the far end.
+
+Here and there were patches of snow, white as fallen lily-petals on the
+pansy-coloured earth. Looking down was like looking from a high wave
+upon a vast sea of other waves, each wave carrying on its apex a few
+bits of broken red mosaic, which were Kabyle roofs; and the pale sky was
+streaked with ragged violet clouds exactly like the sky and clouds
+painted on screens by Japanese artists.
+
+They met not a soul as they walked, but while the village was still far
+away and unreal, the bark of guns, fired quickly one after the other,
+jarred their ears, and the mountain wind brought a crying of raïtas,
+African clarionettes, and the dull, yet fierce beat of tom-toms.
+
+"Now I know why we've met no one," said Nevill. "The wedding feast's
+still on, and everybody who is anybody at Yacoua, is there. You know, if
+you're an Arab, or even a Kabyle, it takes you a week to be married
+properly, and you have high jinks every day: music and dancing and
+eating, and if you've money enough, above all you make the powder speak.
+Mouni's people are doing her well. What a good thing we've got the
+watch! Even with Josette's introduction we mightn't have been able to
+come near the bride, unless we had something to offer worth her having."
+
+The mountain village of Yacoua had no suburbs, no outlying houses. The
+one-story mud huts with their pointed red roofs, utterly unlike Arab
+dwellings, were huddled together, with only enough distance between for
+a man and a mule or a donkey to pass. The best stood in pairs, with a
+walled yard between; and as Stephen and Nevill searched anxiously for
+some one to point out the home of Mouni, from over a wall which seemed
+to be running down the mountain-side, came a white puff of smoke and a
+strident bang, then more, one after the other. Again the wailing of the
+raïta began, and there was no longer any need to ask the way.
+
+"That's where the party is--in that yard," said Nevill, beginning to be
+excited. "Now, what sort of reception will they give us? That's the next
+question."
+
+"Can't we tell, the first thing, that we've come from Algiers with a
+present for the bride?" suggested Stephen.
+
+"We can if they understand Arabic," Nevill answered. "But the Kabyle
+lingo's quite different--Berber, or something racy of the soil. I ought
+to have brought Mohammed to interpret."
+
+So steeply did the yard between the low houses run downhill, that,
+standing at the top of a worn path like a seam in some old garment, the
+two Europeans could look over the mud wall. Squalid as were the mud huts
+and the cattle-yard connecting them, the picture framed in the square
+enclosure blazed with colour. It was barbaric, and beautiful in its
+savagery.
+
+Squatting on the ground, with the last rank against the house wall, were
+several rows of women, all unveiled, their uncovered arms jewelled to
+the elbows, embracing their knees. The afternoon sunlight shone on their
+ceremonial finery, setting fire to the red, blue and green enamel of
+their necklaces, their huge hoop earrings and the jewelled silver chains
+pinned to their scarlet or yellow head-wrappings, struck out strange
+gleams from the flat, round brooches which fastened their gaily striped
+robes on their shoulders, and turned their great dark eyes into brown
+topazes. Twenty or thirty men, dressed in their best burnouses, draped
+over new gandourahs, their heads swathed in clean white muslin turbans,
+sat on the opposite side of the court, watching the "powder play"
+furnished by two tall, handsome boys, who handled with delicate grace
+and skill old-fashioned, long-muzzled guns inlaid with coral and silver,
+heirlooms perhaps, and of some value even to antiquaries.
+
+While the powder spoke, nobody had a thought for anything else. All eyes
+were upon the boys with the guns, only travelling upward in ecstasy to
+watch the puffs of smoke that belched out round and white as fat
+snowballs. Then, when the music burst forth again, and a splendidly
+handsome young Kabyle woman ran forward to begin the wild dance of the
+body and of the hands--dear to the mountain men as to the nomads of the
+desert--every one was at first absorbed in admiration of her movements.
+But suddenly a child (one of a dozen in a row in front of all the women)
+tired of the show, less amusing to him than the powder play, and looking
+up, saw the two Roumis on the hill behind the wall. He nudged his
+neighbour, and the neighbour, who happened to be a little girl, followed
+with her eyes the upward nod of his head. So the news went round that
+strangers had come uninvited to the wedding-feast, and men began to
+frown and women to whisper, while the dancer lost interest in her own
+tinklings and genuflections.
+
+It was time for the intruders to make it known that business of some
+sort, not idle curiosity, had brought them on the scene, and Nevill
+stepped forward, holding out the visiting card given him by Josette, and
+the crimson velvet case containing the watch which Stephen had bought in
+Algiers.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+
+An elderly man, with a reddish beard, got up from the row of men grouped
+behind the musicians, and muttered to one of the youths who had been
+making the powder speak. They argued for a moment, and then the boy,
+handing his gun to the elder man, walked with dignity to a closed gate,
+large enough to let in the goats and donkeys pertaining to the two
+houses. This gate he opened half-way, standing in the aperture and
+looking up sullenly as the Roumis came down the narrow, slippery track
+which led to it.
+
+"Cebah el-kheir, ia Sidi--Good day, sir," said Nevill, agreeably, in his
+best Arabic. "Ta' rafi el-a' riya?--Do you speak Arabic?"
+
+The young man bowed, not yet conciliated. "Ach men sebba jit lhena, ia
+Sidi?--Why have you come here, sir?" he asked suspiciously, in very
+guttural Arabic.
+
+Relieved to find that they would have no great difficulty in
+understanding each other, Nevill plunged into explanations, pointing to
+Josette's card. They had come recommended by the malema at Tlemcen. They
+brought good wishes and a present to the bride of the village, the
+virtuous and beautiful Mouni, from whom they would gladly receive
+information concerning a European lady. Was this the house of her
+father? Would they be permitted to speak with her, and give this little
+watch from Algiers?
+
+Nevill made his climax by opening the velvet case, and the brown eyes of
+the Kabyle boy flashed with uncontrollable admiration, though his face
+remained immobile. He answered that this was indeed the house of
+Mouni's father, and he himself was the brother of Mouni. This was the
+last day of her wedding-feast, and in an hour she would go to the home
+of her husband. The consent of the latter, as well as of her father,
+must be asked before strangers could hope to speak with her.
+Nevertheless, the Roumis were welcome to enter the yard and watch the
+entertainment while Mouni's brother consulted with those most concerned
+in this business.
+
+The boy stood aside, inviting them to pass through the gate, and the
+Englishmen availed themselves of his courtesy, waiting just inside until
+the red-bearded man came forward. He and his son consulted together, and
+then a dark young man in a white burnous was called to join the
+conclave. He was a handsome fellow, with a haughtily intelligent face,
+and an air of breeding superior to the others.
+
+"This is my sister's husband. He too speaks Arabic, but my father not so
+much." The boy introduced his brother-in-law. "Messaud-ben-Arzen is the
+son of our Caïd," (he spoke proudly). "Will you tell him and my father
+what your business is with Mouni?"
+
+Nevill broke into more explanations, and evidently they were
+satisfactory, for, while the dancing and the powder play were stopped,
+and the squatting ranks of guests stared silently, the two Roumis were
+conducted into the house.
+
+It was larger than most of the houses in the village, but apart from the
+stable of the animals through which the visitors passed, there was but
+one room, long and narrow, lighted by two small windows. The darkest
+corner was the bedroom, which had a platform of stone on which rugs were
+spread, and there was a lower mound of dried mud, roughly curtained off
+from the rest with two or three red and blue foutahs suspended on ropes
+made of twisted alfa, or dried grass. Toward the farther end, a hole in
+the floor was the family cooking-place, and behind it an elevation of
+beaten earth made a wide shelf for a long row of jars shaped like the
+Roman amphoræ of two thousand years ago. Pegs driven into one of the
+walls were hung with gandourahs and a foutah or two; and of furniture,
+worthy of that name in the eyes of Europeans, there was none.
+
+At the bedroom end of the room, several women were gathered round a
+central object of interest, and though the light was dim after the vivid
+sunshine outside, the visitors guessed that the object of interest was
+the bride. Decorously they paused near the door, while a great deal of
+arguing went on, in which the shriller voices of women mingled with the
+guttural tones of the men. Nevill could catch no word, for they were
+talking their own Kabyle tongue which had come down from their
+forefathers the Berbers, lords of the land long years before the Arabs
+drove them into the high mountains. But at last the group opened, and a
+young woman stepped out with half-shy eagerness. She was loaded with
+jewels, and her foutah was barbarically splendid in colour, but she was
+almost as fair as her father; a slim creature with grey eyes, and brown
+curly hair that showed under her orange foulard.
+
+Proud of her French, she began talking in that language, welcoming the
+guests, telling them how glad she was to see friends of her dear
+Mademoiselle Soubise. But soon she must be gone to her husband's house,
+and already the dark young bridegroom, son of the Caïd, was growing
+impatient. There was no time to be lost, if they were to learn anything
+of Ben Halim's wife.
+
+As a preface to what they wished to ask, Nevill made a presentation
+speech, placing the velvet watch-case in Mouni's hand, and she opened it
+with a kind of moan expressing intense rapture. Never had she seen
+anything so beautiful, and she would cheerfully have recalled every
+phase of her career from earliest babyhood, if by doing so she could
+have pleased the givers.
+
+"But yes," she answered to Nevill's first questions, "the beautiful lady
+whom I served was the wife of Sidi Cassim ben Halim. At first it was in
+Algiers that I lived with her, but soon we left, and went to the
+country, far, oh, very far away, going towards the south. The house was
+like a large farmhouse, and to me as a child--for I was but a child--it
+seemed fine and grand. Yet my lady was not pleased. She found it rough,
+and different from any place to which she was used. Poor, beautiful
+lady! She was not happy there. She cried a great deal, and each day I
+thought she grew paler than the day before."
+
+Mouni spoke in French, hesitating now and then for a word, or putting in
+two or three in Arabic, before she stopped to think, as she grew
+interested in her subject. Stephen understood almost all she said, and
+was too impatient to leave the catechizing to Nevill.
+
+"Whereabouts was this farmhouse?" he asked. "Can't you tell us how to
+find it?"
+
+Mouni searched her memory. "I was not yet thirteen," she said. "It is
+nine years since I left that place; and I travelled in a shut-up
+carriage, with a cousin, older than I, who had been already in the house
+of the lady when I came. She told her mistress of me, and I was sent
+for, because I was quick and lively in my ways, and white of face,
+almost as white as the beautiful lady herself. My work was to wait on
+the mistress, and help my cousin, who was her maid. Yamina--that was my
+cousin's name--could have told you more about the place in the country
+than I, for she was even then a woman. But she died a few months after
+we both left the beautiful lady. We left because the master thought my
+cousin carried a letter for her mistress, which he did not wish sent;
+and he gave orders that we should no longer live under his roof."
+
+"Surely you can remember where you went, and how you went, on leaving
+the farmhouse?" Stephen persisted.
+
+"Oh yes, we went back to Algiers. But it was a long distance, and took
+us many days, because we had only a little money, and Yamina would not
+spend it in buying tickets for the diligence, all the way. We walked
+many miles, and only took a diligence when I cried, and was too tired
+to move a step farther. At night we drove sometimes, I remember, and
+often we rested under the tents of nomads who were kind to us.
+
+"While I was with the lady, I never went outside the great courtyard. It
+is not strange that now, after all these years, I cannot tell you more
+clearly where the house was. But it was a great white house, on a hill,
+and round it was a high wall, with towers that overlooked the country
+beneath. And in those towers, which were on either side the big, wide
+gate, were little windows through which men could spy, or even shoot if
+they chose."
+
+"Did you never hear the name of any town that was near?" Stephen went
+on.
+
+"I do not think there was a town near; yet there was a village not far
+off to the south. I saw it from the hill-top, both as I went in at the
+gate with my cousin, and when, months later, I was sent away with her.
+We did not pass through it, because our road was to and from the north;
+and I do not even know the name of the village. But there was a cemetery
+outside it, where some of the master's ancestors and relations were
+buried. I heard my lady speak of it one day, when she cried because she
+feared to die and be laid there without ever again seeing her own
+country and her own people. Oh, and once I heard Yamina talk with
+another servant about an oasis called Bou-Saada. It was not near, yet I
+think it could be reached by diligence in a long day."
+
+"Good!" broke in Nevill. "There's our first real clue! Bou-Saada I know
+well. When people who come and visit me want a glimpse of the desert in
+a hurry, Bou-Saada is where I take them. One motors there from Algiers
+in seven or eight hours--through mountains at first, then on the fringe
+of the desert; but it's true, as Mouni says, going by diligence, and
+walking now and then, it would be a journey of days. Her description of
+the house on the hill, looking down over a village and cemetery, will be
+a big help. And Ben Halim's name is sure to be known in the country
+round, if he ever lived there."
+
+"He may have been gone for years," said Stephen. "And if there's a
+conspiracy of silence in Algiers, why not elsewhere?"
+
+"Well, at least we've got a clue, and will follow it up for all we know.
+By Jove, this is giving me a new interest in life!" And Nevill rubbed
+his hands in a boyish way he had. "Tell us what the beautiful lady was
+like," he went on to Mouni.
+
+"Her skin was like the snow on our mountain-tops when the sunrise paints
+the white with rose," answered Mouni. "Her hair was redder than the red
+of henna, and when it was unfastened it hung down below her waist. Her
+eyes were dark as a night without moon, and her teeth were little,
+little pearls. Yet for all her beauty she was not happy. She wasted the
+flower of her youth in sadness, and though the master was noble, and
+splendid as the sun to look upon, I think she had no love to give him,
+perhaps because he was grave and seldom smiled, or because she was a
+Roumia and could not suit herself to the ways of true believers."
+
+"Did she keep to her own religion?" asked Stephen.
+
+"That I cannot tell. I was too young to understand. She never talked of
+such things before me, but she kept to none of our customs, that I know.
+In the three months I served her, never did she leave the house, not
+even to visit the cemetery on a Friday, as perhaps the master would have
+allowed her to do, if she had wished."
+
+"Do you remember if she spoke of a sister?"
+
+"She had a photograph of a little girl, whose picture looked like
+herself. Once she told me it was her sister, but the next day the
+photograph was gone from its place, and I never saw it again. Yamina
+thought the master was jealous, because our lady looked at it a great
+deal."
+
+"Was there any other lady in that house," Nevill ventured, "or was yours
+the master's only wife?"
+
+"There was no other lady at that time," Mouni replied promptly.
+
+"So far, so good," said Nevill. "Well, Legs, I don't think there's any
+doubt we've got hold of the right end of the stick now. Mouni's
+beautiful lady and Miss Ray's sister Saidee are certainly one and the
+same. Ho for the white farmhouse on the hill!"
+
+"Must we go back to Algiers, or can we get to Bou-Saada from here?"
+Stephen asked.
+
+Nevill laughed. "You are in a hurry! Oh, we can get there from here all
+right. Would you like to start now?"
+
+Stephen's face reddened. "Why not, if we've found out all we can from
+this girl?" He tried to speak indifferently.
+
+Nevill laughed again. "Very well. There's nothing left then, except to
+say good-bye to the fair bride and her relations."
+
+He had expected to get back to Algiers that night, slipping away from
+the high passes of Grand Kabylia before dusk, and reaching home late, by
+lamplight. But now the plan was changed. They were not to see Algiers
+again until Stephen had made acquaintance with the desert. By setting
+off at once, they might arrive at Bou-Saada some time in the dark hours;
+and Nevill upset his old arrangements with good grace. Why should he
+mind? he asked, when Stephen apologized shame-facedly for his
+impatience. Bou-Saada was as good a place as any, except Tlemcen, and
+this adventure would give him an excuse for a letter, even two letters,
+to Josette Soubise. She would want to hear about Mouni's wedding, and
+the stately Kabyle home which they had visited. Besides she would be
+curious to know whether they found the white farmhouse on the hill, and
+if so, what they learned there of the beautiful lady and her mysterious
+fate. Oh yes, it would certainly mean two letters at least: one from
+Bou-Saada, one after the search for the farmhouse; and Nevill thought
+himself in luck, for he was not allowed to write often to Josette.
+
+After Michélet the road, a mere shelf projecting along a precipice,
+slants upward on its way to the Col de Tirouda, sharp as a knife aimed
+at the heart of the mountains. From far below clouds boil up as if the
+valleys smoked after a destroying fire, and through flying mists flush
+the ruddy earth, turning the white film to pinkish gauze. Crimson and
+purple stones shine like uncut jewels, and cascades of yellow gorse,
+under red-flowering trees, pour down over low-growing white flowers,
+which embroider the rose-coloured rocks.
+
+Then, suddenly, gone is the green Kabyle mountain-world, gone like a
+dream the tangle of ridges and chasms, the bright tapestry of fig trees
+and silver olives, dark karoubias (the wild locusts of John the Baptist)
+and climbing roses. Rough, coarse grass has eaten up the flowers, or
+winds sweeping down from the Col have killed them. Only a few stunted
+trees bend grotesquely to peer over the sheer sides of shadowed gorges
+as the road strains up and up, twisting like a scar left by a whip-lash,
+on the naked brown shoulders of a slave. So at last it flings a loop
+over the Col de Tirouda. Then, round a corner the wand of an invisible
+magician waves: darkness and winter cold become summer warmth and light.
+
+This light was the level golden glory of late afternoon when Stephen saw
+it from Nevill's car; and so green were the wide stretching meadows and
+shining rivers far below, that he seemed to be looking at them through
+an emerald, as Nero used to gaze at his gardens in Rome. Down the motor
+plunged towards the light, threading back and forth a network of
+zig-zags, until long before sunset they were in the warm lowlands,
+racing towards Bordj-bou Arreredj and Msila. Beyond Msila, they would
+follow the desert track which would bring them by and by to the oasis
+town of Bou-Saada.
+
+If Stephen had been a tourist, guide-book in hand, he would have
+delighted in the stony road among the mountains between Bordj-bou
+Arreredj and Msila; but it was the future, not the past, which held his
+thoughts to-day, and he had no more than a passing glance for ruined
+mosques and palaces. It was only after nightfall, far beyond the town of
+Msila, far beyond the vast plain of the Hodna, that his first dim
+glimpse of the desert thrilled him out of self-absorption.
+
+Even under the stars which crusted a moonless sky, the vast stretches of
+billowing sand glimmered faintly golden as a phosphorescent sea. And
+among the dimly gleaming waves of that endless waste the motor tossed,
+rocking on the rough track like a small boat in mid-ocean.
+
+Nowhere was there any sound except the throbbing of their machinery, and
+a fairy fiddling of unseen crickets, which seemed to make the silence
+more intense, under the great sparkling dome that hung over the gold.
+
+"Now I am in the place where she wished to be: the golden silence,"
+Stephen said to himself. And he found himself listening, as if for the
+call Victoria had promised to give if she needed him.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+
+On the top of a pale golden hill, partly sand, partly rock, rises a
+white wall with square, squat towers which look north and south, east
+and west. The wall and the towers together are like an ivory crown set
+on the hill's brow, and from a distance the effect is very barbaric,
+very impressive, for all the country round about is wild and desolate.
+Along the southern horizon the desert goes billowing in waves of gold,
+and rose, and violet, that fade into the fainter violet of the sky; and
+nearer there are the strange little mountains which guard the oasis of
+Bou-Saada, like a wall reared to hide a treasure from some dreaded
+enemy; and even the sand is heaped in fantastic shapes, resembling a
+troop of tawny beasts crouched to drink from deep pools of purple
+shadow. Northward, the crumpled waste rolls away like prairie land or
+ocean, faint green over yellow brown, as if grass seed had been
+sprinkled sparsely on a stormy sea and by some miracle had sprouted. And
+in brown wastes, bright emerald patches gleam, vivid and fierce as
+serpents' eyes, ringed round with silver. Far away to the east floats
+the mirage of a lake, calm as a blue lagoon. Westward, where desert
+merges into sky, are high tablelands, and flat-topped mountains with
+carved sides, desert architecture, such as might have suggested Egyptian
+temples and colossal sphinxes.
+
+Along the rough desert track beneath the hill, where bald stones break
+through sandy earth, camels come and go, passing from south to north,
+from north to south, marching slowly with rhythmic gait, as if to the
+sound of music which only they can hear, glancing from side to side with
+unutterable superciliousness, looking wistfully here and there at some
+miniature oasis thrown like a dark prayer-carpet on the yellow sand. Two
+or three in a band they go, led by desert men in blowing white, or again
+in a long train of twelve or twenty, their legs a moving lattice, their
+heart-shaped feet making a soft, swishing "pad-pad," on the hard road.
+
+The little windows of the squat, domed towers on the hill are like eyes
+that spy upon this road,--small, dark and secret eyes, very weary of
+seeing nothing better than camels since old days when there were
+razzias, and wars, something worth shutting stout gates upon.
+
+When, after three days of travelling, Victoria came southward along this
+road, and looked between the flapping carriage curtains at the white
+wall that crowned the dull gold hill, her heart beat fast, for the
+thought of the golden silence sprang to her mind. The gold did not burn
+with the fierce orange flames she had seen in her dreams--it was a
+bleached and faded gold, melancholy and almost sinister in colour; yet
+it would pass for gold; and a great silence brooded where prairie
+blended with desert. She asked no questions of Maïeddine, for that was a
+rule she had laid upon herself; but when the carriage turned out of the
+rough road it had followed so long, and the horses began to climb a
+stony track which wound up the yellow hill to the white towers, she
+could hardly breathe, for the throbbing in her breast. Always she had
+only had to shut her eyes to see Saidee, standing on a high white place,
+gazing westward through a haze of gold. What if this were the high white
+place? What if already Si Maïeddine was bringing her to Saidee?
+
+They had been only three days on the way so far, it was true, and she
+had been told that the journey would be very, very long. Still, Arabs
+were subtle, and Si Maïeddine might have wanted to test her courage.
+Looking back upon those long hours, now, towards evening of the third
+day, it seemed to Victoria that she had been travelling for a week in
+the swaying, curtained carriage, with the slow-trotting mules.
+
+Just at first, there had been some fine scenery to hold her interest;
+far-off mountains of grim shapes, dark as iron, and spotted with snow as
+a leper is spotted with scales. Then had come low hills, following the
+mountains (nameless to her, because Maïeddine had not cared to name
+them), and blue lakes of iris flowing over wide plains. But by and by
+the plains flattened to dullness; a hot wind ceaselessly flapped the
+canvas curtains, and Lella M'Barka sighed and moaned with the fatigue of
+constant motion. There was nothing but plain, endless plain, and
+Victoria had been glad, for her own sake as well as the invalid's, when
+night followed the first day. They had stopped on the outskirts of a
+large town, partly French, partly Arab, passing through and on to the
+house of a caïd who was a friend of Si Maïeddine's. It was a primitively
+simple house, even humble, it seemed to the girl, who had as yet no
+conception of the bareness and lack of comfort--according to Western
+ideas--of Arab country-houses. Nevertheless, when, after another tedious
+day, they rested under the roof of a village adel, an official below a
+caïd, the first house seemed luxurious in contrast. During this last,
+third day, Victoria had been eager and excited, because of the desert,
+through one gate of which they had entered. She felt that once in the
+desert she was so close to Saidee in spirit that they might almost hear
+the beating of each other's hearts, but she had not expected to be near
+her sister in body for many such days to come: and the wave of joy that
+surged over her soul as the horses turned up the golden hill towards the
+white towers, was suffocating in its force.
+
+The nearer they came, the less impressive seemed the building. After
+all, it was not the great Arab stronghold it had looked from far away,
+but a fortified farmhouse a century old, at most. Climbing the hill,
+too, Victoria saw that the golden colour was partly due to a monstrous
+swarm of ochre-hued locusts, large as young canary birds, which had
+settled, thick as yellow snow, over the ground. They were resting after
+a long flight, and there were millions and millions of them, covering
+the earth in every direction as far as the eye could reach. Only a few
+were on the wing, but as the carriage stopped before the closed gates,
+fat yellow bodies came blundering against the canvas curtains, or fell
+plumply against the blinkers over the mules' eyes.
+
+Si Maïeddine got down from the carriage, and shouted, with a peculiar
+call. There was no answering sound, but after a wait of two or three
+minutes the double gates of thick, greyish palm-wood were pulled open
+from inside, with a loud creak. For a moment the brown face of an old
+man, wrinkled as a monkey's, looked out between the gates, which he held
+ajar; then, with a guttural cry, he threw both as far back as he could,
+and rushing out, bent his white turban over Maïeddine's hand. He kissed
+the Sidi's shoulder, and a fold of his burnous, half kneeling, and
+chattering Arabic, only a word of which Victoria could catch here and
+there. As he chattered, other men came running out, some of them
+Negroes, all very dark, and they vied with one another in humble kissing
+of the master's person, at any spot convenient to their lips.
+
+Politely, though not too eagerly, he made the gracious return of seeming
+to kiss the back of his own hand, or his fingers, where they had been
+touched by the welcoming mouths, but in reality he kissed air. With a
+gesture, he stopped the salutations at last, and asked for the Caïd, to
+whom, he said, he had written, sending his letter by the diligence.
+
+Then there were passionate jabberings of regret. The Caïd, was away, had
+been away for days, fighting the locusts on his other farm, west of
+Aumale, where there was grain to save. But the letter had arrived, and
+had been sent after him, immediately, by a man on horseback. This
+evening he would certainly return to welcome his honoured guest. The
+word was "guest," not "guests," and Victoria understood that she and
+Lella M'Barka would not see the master of the house. So it had been at
+the other two houses: so in all probability it would be at every house
+along their way unless, as she still hoped, they had already come to the
+end of the journey.
+
+The wide open gates showed a large, bare courtyard, the farmhouse, which
+was built round it, being itself the wall. On the outside, no windows
+were visible except those in the towers, and a few tiny square apertures
+for ventilation, but the yard was overlooked by a number of small glass
+eyes, all curtained.
+
+As the carriage was driven in, large yellow dogs gathered round it,
+barking; but the men kicked them away, and busied themselves in chasing
+the animals off to a shed, their white-clad backs all religiously turned
+as Si Maïeddine helped the ladies to descend. Behind a closed window a
+curtain was shaking; and M'Barka had not yet touched her feet to the
+ground when a negress ran out of a door that opened in the same distant
+corner of the house. She was unveiled, like Lella M'Barka's servants in
+Algiers, and, with Fafann, she almost carried the tired invalid towards
+the open door. Victoria followed, quivering with suspense. What waited
+for her behind that door? Would she see Saidee, after all these years of
+separation?
+
+"I think I'm dying," moaned Lella M'Barka. "They will never take me away
+from this house alive. White Rose, where art thou? I need thy hand under
+my arm."
+
+Victoria tried to think only of M'Barka, and to wait with patience for
+the supreme moment--if it were to come. Even if she had wished it, she
+could not have asked questions now.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+
+It was midnight when Nevill's car ran into the beautiful oasis town,
+guarded by the most curious mountains of the Algerian desert, and they
+were at their strangest, cut out clear as the painted mountains of stage
+scenery, in the light of the great acetylene lamps. Stephen thought them
+like a vast, half-burned Moorish city of mosques and palaces, over which
+sand-storms had raged for centuries, leaving only traces here and there
+of a ruined tower, a domed roof, or an ornamental frieze.
+
+Of the palms he could see nothing, except the long, dark shape of the
+oasis among the pale sand-billows; but early next morning he and Nevill
+were up and out on the roof of the little French hotel, while sunrise
+banners marched across the sky. Stephen had not known that desert dunes
+could be bright peach-pink, or that a river flowing over white stones
+could look like melted rubies, or that a few laughing Arab girls,
+ankle-deep in limpid water, could glitter in morning light like jewelled
+houris in celestial gardens. But now that he knew, he would never forget
+his first desert picture.
+
+The two men stood on the roof among the bubbly domes for a long time,
+looking over the umber-coloured town and the flowing oasis which swept
+to Bou-Saada's brown feet like a tidal wave. It was not yet time to go
+and ask questions of the Caïd, whom Nevill knew.
+
+Stephen was advised not to drink coffee in the hotel before starting on
+their quest. "We shall have to swallow at least three cups each of _café
+maure_ at the Caïd's house, and perhaps a dash of tea flavoured with
+mint, on top of all, if we don't want to begin by hurting our host's
+feelings," Nevill said. So they fasted, and fed their minds by walking
+through Bou-Saada in its first morning glory. Already the old part of
+the town was alive, for Arabs love the day when it is young, even as
+they love a young girl for a bride.
+
+The Englishmen strolled into the cool, dark mosque, where heavy Eastern
+scents of musk and benzoin had lain all night like fugitives in
+sanctuary, and where the roof was held up by cypress poles instead of
+marble pillars, as in the grand mosques of big cities. By the time they
+were ready to leave, dawn had become daylight, and coming out of the
+brown dusk, the town seemed flooded with golden wine, wonderful,
+bubbling, unbelievable gold, with scarlet and purple and green figures
+floating in it, brilliant as rainbow fish.
+
+The Caïd lived near the old town, in an adobe house, with a garden which
+was a tangle of roses and pomegranate blossoms, under orange trees and
+palms. And there were narrow paths of hard sand, the colour of old gold,
+which rounded up to the centre, and had little runnels of water on
+either side. The sunshine dripped between the long fingers of the palm
+leaves, to trail in a lacy pattern along the yellow paths, and the sound
+of the running water was sweet.
+
+It was in this garden that the Caïd gave his guests the three cups of
+coffee each, followed by the mint-flavoured tea which Nevill had
+prophesied. And when they had admired a tame gazelle which nibbled cakes
+of almond and honey from their hands, the Caïd insisted on presenting it
+to his good friend, Monsieur Caird.
+
+Over the cups of _café maure_, they talked of Captain Cassim ben Halim,
+but their host could or would tell them nothing beyond the fact that Ben
+Halim had once lived for a little while not far from Bou-Saada. He had
+inherited from his father a country house, about fifty kilometres
+distant, but he had never stayed there until after retiring from the
+army, and selling his place in Algiers. Then he had spent a few months
+in the country. The Caïd had met him long ago in Algiers, but had not
+seen him since. Ben Halim had been ill, and had led a retired life in
+the country, receiving no one. Afterward he had gone away, out of
+Algeria. It was said that he had died abroad a little later. Of that,
+the Caïd was not certain; but in any case the house on the hill was now
+in the possession of the Caïd of Ain Dehdra, Sidi Elaïd ben Sliman, a
+distant cousin of Ben Halim, said to be his only living relative.
+
+Then their host went on to describe the house with the white wall, which
+looked down upon a cemetery and a village. His description was almost
+precisely what Mouni's had been, and there was no doubt that the place
+where she had lived with the beautiful lady was the place of which he
+spoke. But of the lady herself they could learn nothing. The Caïd had no
+information to give concerning Ben Halim's family.
+
+He pressed them to stay, and see all the beauties of the oasis. He would
+introduce them to the marabout at El Hamel, and in the evening they
+should see a special dance of the Ouled Naïls. But they made excuses
+that they must get on, and bade the Caïd good-bye after an hour's talk.
+As for the _gazelle approvoisée_, Nevill named her Josette, and hired an
+Arab to take her to Algiers by the diligence, with explicit instructions
+as to food and milk.
+
+Swarms of locusts flew into their faces, and fell into the car, or were
+burned to death in the radiator, as they sped along the road towards the
+white house on the golden hill. They started from Bou-Saada at ten
+o'clock, and though the road was far from good, and they were not always
+sure of the way, the noon heat was scarcely at its height when Stephen
+said: "There it is! That must be the hill and the white wall with the
+towers."
+
+"Yes, there's the cemetery too," answered Nevill. "We're seeing it on
+our left side, as we go, I hope that doesn't mean we're in for bad
+luck."
+
+"Rot!" said Stephen, promptly. Yet for all his scorn of Nevill's
+grotesque superstitions, he was not in a confident mood. He did not
+expect much good from this visit to Ben Halim's old country house. And
+the worst was, that here seemed their last chance of finding out what
+had become of Saidee Ray, if not of her sister.
+
+The sound of the motor made a brown face flash over the top of the tall
+gate, like a Jack popping out of his box.
+
+"La Sidi, el Caïd?" asked Nevill. "Is he at home?"
+
+The face pretended not to understand; and having taken in every detail
+of the strangers' appearance and belongings, including the motor-car, it
+disappeared.
+
+"What's going to happen now?" Stephen wanted to know.
+
+Nevill looked puzzled. "The creature isn't too polite. Probably it's
+afraid of Roumis, and has never been spoken to by one before. But I hope
+it will promptly scuttle indoors and fetch its master, or some one with
+brains and manners."
+
+Several minutes passed, and the yellow motor-car continued to advertise
+its presence outside the Caïd's gate by panting strenuously. The face
+did not show itself again; and there was no evidence of life behind the
+white wall, except the peculiarly ominous yelping of Kabyle dogs.
+
+"Let's pound on the gate, and show them we mean to get in," said
+Stephen, angry-eyed.
+
+But Nevill counselled waiting. "Never be in a hurry when you have to do
+with Arabs. It's patience that pays."
+
+"Here come two chaps on horseback," Stephen said, looking down at the
+desert track that trailed near the distant cluster of mud houses, which
+were like square blocks of gold in the fierce sunshine. "They seem to be
+staring up at the car. I wonder if they're on their way here!"
+
+"It may be the Caïd, riding home with a friend, or a servant," Nevill
+suggested. "If so, I'll bet my hat there are other eyes than ours
+watching for him, peering out through some spy-hole in one of the
+gate-towers."
+
+His guess was right. It was the Caïd coming home, and Maïeddine was with
+him; for Lella M'Barka had been obliged to rest for three days at the
+farmhouse on the hill, and the Caïd's guest had accompanied him before
+sunrise this morning to see a favourite white mehari, or racing camel,
+belonging to Sidi Elaïd ben Sliman, which was very ill, in care of a
+wise man of the village. Now the mehari was dead, and as Maïeddine
+seemed impatient to get back, they were riding home, in spite of the
+noon heat.
+
+Maïeddine had left the house reluctantly this morning. Not that he could
+often see Victoria, who was nursing M'Barka, and looking so wistful that
+he guessed she had half hoped to find her sister waiting behind the
+white wall on the golden hill.
+
+Though he could expect little of the girl's society, and there was
+little reason to fear that harm would come to her, or that she would
+steal away in his absence, still he had hated to ride out of the gate
+and leave her. If the Caïd had not made a point of his coming, he would
+gladly have stayed behind. Now, when he looked up and saw a yellow
+motor-car at the gate, he believed that his feeling had been a
+presentiment, a warning of evil, which he ought so have heeded.
+
+He and the Caïd were a long way off when he caught sight of the car, and
+heard its pantings, carried by the clear desert air. He could not be
+certain of its identity, but he prided himself upon his keen sight and
+hearing, and where they failed, instinct stepped in. He was sure that it
+was the car which had waited for Stephen Knight when the _Charles Quex_
+came in, the car of Nevill Caird, about whom he had made inquiries
+before leaving Algiers. Maïeddine knew, of course, that Victoria had
+been to the Djenan el Djouad, and he was intensely suspicious as well as
+jealous of Knight, because of the letter Victoria had written. He knew
+also that the two Englishmen had been asking questions at the Hotel de
+la Kasbah; and he was not surprised to see the yellow car in front of
+the Caïd's gates. Now that he saw it, he felt dully that he had always
+known it would follow him.
+
+If only he had been in the house, it would not have mattered. He would
+have been able to prevent Knight and Caird from seeing Victoria, or even
+from having the slightest suspicion that she was, or had been, there. It
+was the worst of luck that he should be outside the gates, for now he
+could not go back while the Englishmen were there. Knight would
+certainly recognize him, and guess everything that he did not know.
+
+Maïeddine thought very quickly. He dared not ride on, lest the men in
+the car should have a field-glass. The only thing was to let Ben Sliman
+go alone, so that, if eyes up there on the hill were watching, it might
+seem that the Caïd was parting from some friend who lived in the
+village. He would have to trust Elaïd's discretion and tact, as he knew
+already he might trust his loyalty. Only--the situation was desperate.
+Tact, and an instinct for the right word, the frank look, were worth
+even more than loyalty at this moment. And one never quite knew how far
+to trust another man's judgment. Besides, the mischief might have been
+done before Ben Sliman could arrive on the scene; and at the thought of
+what might happen, Maïeddine's heart seemed to turn in his breast. He
+had never known a sensation so painful to body and mind, and it was
+hideous to feel helpless, to know that he could do only harm, and not
+good, by riding up the hill. Nevertheless, he said to himself, if he
+should see Victoria come out to speak with these men, he would go. He
+would perhaps kill them, and the chauffeur too. Anything rather than
+give up the girl now; for the sharp stab of the thought that he might
+lose her, that Stephen Knight might have her, made him ten times more in
+love than he had been before. He wished that Allah might strike the men
+in the yellow car dead; although, ardent Mussulman as he was, he had no
+hope that such a glorious miracle would happen.
+
+"It is those men from Algiers of whom I told thee," he said to the Caïd.
+"I must stop below. They must not recognize me, or the dark one who was
+on the ship, will guess. Possibly he suspects already that I stand for
+something in this affair."
+
+"Who can have sent them to my house?" Ben Sliman wondered. The two drew
+in their horses and put on the manner of men about to bid each other
+good-bye.
+
+"I hope, I am almost sure, that they know nothing of _her_, or of me.
+Probably, when inquiring about Ben Halim, in order to hear of her
+sister, and so find out where she has gone, they learned only that Ben
+Halim once lived here. If thy servants are discreet, it may be that no
+harm will come from this visit."
+
+"They will be discreet. Have no fear," the Caïd assured him. Yet it was
+on his tongue to say; "the lady herself, when she hears the sound of the
+car, may do some unwise thing." But he did not finish the sentence. Even
+though the young girl--whom he had not seen--was a Roumia, obsessed with
+horrible, modern ideas, which at present it would be dangerous to try
+and correct, he could not discuss her with Maïeddine. If she showed
+herself to the men, it could not be helped. What was to be, would be.
+Mektûb!
+
+"Far be it from me to distrust my friend's servants," said Maïeddine;
+"but if in their zeal they go too far and give an impression of
+something to hide, it would be as bad as if they let drop a word too
+many."
+
+"I will ride on and break any such impression if it has been made," Ben
+Sliman consoled him. "Trust me. I will be as gracious to these Roumis as
+if they were true believers."
+
+"I do trust thee completely," answered the younger man. "While they are
+at thy gates, or within them, I must wait with patience. I cannot remain
+here in the open--yet I wish to be within sight, that I may see with my
+own eyes all that happens. What if I ride to one of the black tents, and
+ask for water to wash the mouth of my horse? If they have it not, it is
+no matter."
+
+"Thine is a good thought," said Ben Sliman, and rode on, putting his
+slim white Arab horse to a trot.
+
+To the left from the group of adobe houses, and at about the same
+distance from the rough track on which they had been riding, was a
+cluster of nomad tents, like giant bats with torpid wings spread out
+ink-black on the gold of the desert. A little farther off was another
+small encampment of a different tribe; and their tents were brown,
+striped with black and yellow. They looked like huge butterflies
+resting. But Maïeddine thought of no such similes. He was a child of the
+Sahara, and used to the tents and the tent-dwellers. His own father, the
+Agha, lived half the year in a great tent, when he was with his douar,
+and Maïeddine had been born under the roof of camel's hair. His own
+people and these people were not kin, and their lives lay far apart; yet
+a man of one nomad tribe understands all nomads, though he be a chief's
+son, and they as poor as their own ill-fed camels. His pride was his
+nomad blood, for all men of the Sahara, be they princes or
+camel-drivers, look with scorn upon the sedentary people, those of the
+great plain of the Tell, and fat eaters of ripe dates in the cities.
+
+The eight or ten black tents were gathered round one, a little higher, a
+little less ragged than the others--the tent of the Kebir, or headman;
+but it was humble enough. There would have been room and to spare for a
+dozen such under the _tente sultane_ of the Agha, at his douar south of
+El Aghouat.
+
+As Maïeddine rode up, a buzz of excitement rose in the hive. Some one
+ran to tell the Kebir that a great Sidi was arriving, and the headman
+came out from his tent, where he had been meditating or dozing after the
+chanting of the midday prayer--the prayer of noon.
+
+He was a thin, elderly man, with an eagle eye to awe his women-folk, and
+an old burnous of sheep's wool, which was of a deep cream colour because
+it had not been washed for many years. Yet he smelt good, with a smell
+that was like the desert, and there was no foul odour in the miniature
+douar, as in European dwellings of the very poor. There is never a smell
+of uncleanliness about Arabs, even those people who must perform most of
+the ablutions prescribed by their religion with sand instead of water.
+But the Saharian saying is that the desert purifies all things.
+
+The Kebir was polite though not servile to Maïeddine, and while the
+horse borrowed from the Caïd was having its face economically sprinkled
+with water from a brown goat-skin, black coffee was being hospitably
+prepared for the guest by the women of the household, unveiled of
+course, as are all women of the nomad tribes, except those of highest
+birth.
+
+Maïeddine did not want the coffee, but it would have been an insult to
+refuse, and he made laboured conversation with the Kebir, his eyes and
+thoughts fixed on the Caïd's gate and the yellow motor-car. He hardly
+saw the tents, beneath whose low-spread black wings eyes looked out at
+him, as the bright eyes of chickens look out from under the mother-hen's
+feathers. They were all much alike, though the Kebir's, as befitted his
+position, was the best, made of wide strips of black woollen material
+stitched together, spread tightly over stout poles, and pegged down into
+the hard sand. There was a partition dividing the tent in two, a
+partition made of one or two old haïcks, woven by hand, and if Maïeddine
+had been interested, he could have seen his host's bedding arranged for
+the day; a few coarse rugs and _frechias_ piled up carelessly, out of
+the way. There was a bale of camels' hair, ready for weaving, and on top
+of it a little boy was curled up asleep. From the tent-poles hung an
+animal's skin, drying, and a cradle of netted cords in which swung and
+slept a swaddled baby no bigger than a doll. It was a girl, therefore
+its eyes were blackened with kohl, and its eyebrows neatly sketched on
+with paint, as they had been since the unfortunate day of its birth,
+when the father grumbled because it was not a "child," but only a
+worthless female.
+
+The mother of the four weeks' old doll, a fine young woman tinkling with
+Arab silver, left her carpet-weaving to grind the coffee, while her
+withered mother-in-law brightened with brushwood the smouldering fire of
+camel-dung. The women worked silently, humbly, though they would have
+been chattering if the great Sidi stranger had not been there; but two
+or three little children in orange and scarlet rags played giggling
+among the rubbish outside the tent--a broken bassour-frame, or
+palanquin, waiting to be mended; date boxes, baskets, and wooden plates;
+old kous-kous bowls, bundles of alfa grass, chicken feathers, and an
+infant goat with its mother.
+
+The sound of children's shrill laughter, which passed unnoticed by the
+parents, who had it always in their ears, rasped Maïeddine's nerves, and
+he would have liked to strike or kick the babies into silence. Most
+Arabs worship children, even girls, and are invariably kind to them, but
+to-day Maïeddine hated anything that ran about disturbingly and made a
+noise.
+
+Now the Caïd had reached the gate, and was talking to the men in the
+motor-car. Would he send them away? No, the gate was being opened by a
+servant. Ben Sliman must have invited the Roumis in. Possibly it was a
+wise thing to do, yet how dangerous, how terribly dangerous, with
+Victoria perhaps peeping from one of the tiny windows at the women's
+corner of the house, which looked on the court! They could not see her
+there, but she could see them, and if she were tired of travelling and
+dancing attendance on a fidgety invalid--if she repented her promise to
+keep the secret of this journey?
+
+Maïeddine's experience of women inclined him to think that they always
+did forget their promises to a man the moment his back was turned.
+Victoria was different from the women of his race, or those he had met
+in Paris, yet she was, after all, a woman; and there was no truer saying
+than that you might more easily prophesy the direction of the wind than
+say what a woman was likely to do. The coffee which the Kebir handed him
+made him feel sick, as if he had had a touch of the sun. What was
+happening up there on the hill, behind the gates which stood half open?
+What would she do--his Rose of the West?
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+
+It was a relief to Stephen and Nevill to see one of the horsemen coming
+up the rough hill-track to the gate, and to think that they need no
+longer wait upon the fears or inhospitable whims of the Arab servants on
+the other side of the wall.
+
+As soon as the rider came near enough for his features to be sketched in
+clearly, Nevill remembered having noticed him at one or two of the
+Governor's balls, where all Arab dignitaries, even such lesser lights as
+caïds and adels show themselves. But they had never met. The man was not
+one of the southern chiefs whom Nevill Caird had entertained at his own
+house.
+
+Stephen thought that he had never seen a more personable man as the Caïd
+rode up to the car, saluting courteously though with no great warmth.
+
+His face was more tanned than very dark by nature, but it seemed brown
+in contrast to his light hazel eyes. His features were commanding, if
+not handsome, and he sat his horse well. Altogether he was a notable
+figure in his immensely tall white turban, wound with pale grey-brown
+camel's-hair rope, his grey cloth burnous, embroidered with gold, flung
+back over an inner white burnous, his high black boots, with wrinkled
+brown tops, and his wonderful Kairouan hat of light straw, embroidered
+with a leather appliqué of coloured flowers and silver leaves,
+steeple-crowned, and as big as a cart-wheel, hanging on his shoulders.
+
+He and Nevill politely wished the blessings of Allah and Mohammed his
+Prophet upon each other, and Nevill then explained the errand which had
+brought him and his friend to the Caïd's house.
+
+The Caïd's somewhat heavy though intelligent face did not easily show
+surprise. It changed not at all, though Stephen watched it closely.
+
+"Thou art welcome to hear all I can tell of my dead relation, Ben
+Halim," he said. "But I know little that everybody does not know."
+
+"It is certain, then, that Ben Halim is dead?" asked Nevill. "We had
+hoped that rumour lied."
+
+"He died on his way home after a pilgrimage to Mecca," gravely replied
+the Caïd.
+
+"Ah!" Nevill caught him up quickly. "We heard that it was in
+Constantinople."
+
+Ben Sliman's expression was slightly strained. He glanced from Nevill's
+boyish face to Stephen's dark, keen one, and perhaps fancied suspicion
+in both. If he had intended to let the Englishmen drive away in their
+motor-car without seeing the other side of his white wall, he now
+changed his mind. "If thou and thy friend care to honour this poor farm
+of mine by entering the gates, and drinking coffee with me," he said,
+"We will afterwards go down below the hill to the cemetery where my
+cousin's body lies buried. His tombstone will show that he was El Hadj,
+and that he had reached Mecca. When he was in Constantinople, he had
+just returned from there."
+
+Possibly, having given the invitation by way of proving that there was
+nothing to conceal, Ben Sliman hoped it would not be accepted; but he
+was disappointed. Before the Caïd had reached the top of the hill,
+Nevill had told his chauffeur to stop the motor, therefore the restless
+panting had long ago ceased, and when Ben Sliman looked doubtfully at
+the car, as if wondering how it was to be got in without doing damage to
+his wall, Nevill said that the automobile might stay where it was. Their
+visit would not be long.
+
+"But the longer the better," replied the Caïd. "When I have guests, it
+pains me to see them go."
+
+He shouted a word or two in Arabic, and instantly the gates were opened.
+The sketchily clad brown men inside had only been waiting for a signal.
+
+"I regret that I cannot ask my visitors into the house itself, as I have
+illness there," Ben Sliman announced; "but we have guest rooms here in
+the gate-towers. They are not what I could wish for such distinguished
+personages, but thou canst see, Sidi, thou and thy friend, that this is
+a simple farmhouse. We make no pretension to the luxury of towns, but we
+do what we can."
+
+As he spoke, the brown men were scuttling about, one unfastening the
+door of a little tower, which stuck as if it had not been opened for a
+long time, another darting into the house, which appeared silent and
+tenantless, a third and fourth running to a more distant part, and
+vanishing also through a dark doorway.
+
+The Caïd quickly ushered his guests into the tower room, but not so
+quickly that the eyes of a girl, looking through a screened window, did
+not see and recognize both. The servant who had gone ahead unbarred a
+pair of wooden shutters high up in the whitewashed walls of the tower,
+which was stiflingly close, with a musty, animal odour. As the opening
+of the shutters gave light, enormous black-beetles which seemed to
+Stephen as large as pigeon's eggs, crawled out from cracks between wall
+and floor, stumbling awkwardly about, and falling over each other. It
+was a disgusting sight, and did not increase the visitors' desire to
+accept the Caïd's hospitality for any length of time. It may be that he
+had thought of this. But even if he had, the servants were genuinely
+enthusiastic in their efforts to make the Roumis at home. The two who
+had run farthest returned soonest. They staggered under a load of large
+rugs wrapped in unbleached sheeting, and a great sack stuffed full of
+cushions which bulged out at the top. The sheeting they unfastened,
+and, taking no notice of the beetles, hurriedly spread on the rough
+floor several beautifully woven rugs of bright colours. Then, having
+laid four or five on top of one another, they clawed the cushions out of
+the sack, and placed them as if on a bed.
+
+Hardly had they finished, when the first servant who had disappeared
+came back, carrying over his arm a folding table, and dishes in his
+hands. The only furniture already in the tower consisted of two long,
+low wooden benches without backs; and as the servant from the house set
+up the folding table, he who had opened the windows placed the benches,
+one on either side. At the same moment, through the open door, a man
+could be seen running with a live lamb flung over his shoulder.
+
+"Good heavens, what is he going to do with that?" Stephen asked,
+stricken with a presentiment.
+
+"I'm afraid," Nevill answered quickly in English, "that it's going to be
+killed for our entertainment." His pink colour faded, and in Arabic he
+begged the Caïd to give orders that, if the lamb were for them, its life
+be spared, as they were under a vow never to touch meat. This was the
+first excuse he could think of; and when, to his joy, a message was sent
+after the slayer of innocence, he added that, very unfortunately, they
+had a pressing engagement which would tear them away from the Caïd's
+delightful house all too soon.
+
+Perhaps the Caïd's face expressed no oppressive regret, yet he said
+kindly that he hoped to keep his guests at least until next morning. In
+the cool of the day they would see the cemetery; they would return, and
+eat the evening meal. It would then be time to sleep. And with a gesture
+he indicated the rugs and cushions, under which the beetles were now
+buried like mountain-dwellers beneath an avalanche.
+
+Nevill, still pale, thanked his host earnestly, complimented the rugs,
+and assured the Caïd that, of course, they would be extraordinarily
+comfortable, but even such inducements did not make it possible for
+them to neglect their duty elsewhere.
+
+"In any case we shall now eat and drink together," said Ben Sliman,
+pointing to the table, and towards a servant now arriving from the house
+with a coffee-tray. The dishes had been set down on the bare board, and
+one contained the usual little almond cakes, the other, a conserve of
+some sort bathed in honey, where already many flies were revelling. The
+servant who had spread the table, quietly pulled the flies out by their
+wings, or killed them on the edge of the dish.
+
+Nevill, whiter than before, accepted cordially, and giving Stephen a
+glance of despair, which said: "Noblesse oblige," he thrust his fingers
+into the honey, where there were fewest flies, and took out a sweetmeat.
+Stephen did the same. All three ate, and drank sweet black _café maure_.
+Once the Caïd turned to glance at something outside the door, and his
+secretive, light grey eyes were troubled. As they ate and drank, they
+talked, Nevill tactfully catechizing, the Caïd answering with pleasant
+frankness. He did not inquire why they wished to have news of Ben Halim,
+who had once lived in the house for a short time, and had now long been
+dead. Perhaps he wished to give the Roumis a lesson in discretion; but
+as their friendliness increased over the dripping sweets, Nevill
+ventured to ask a crucial question. What had become of Ben Halim's
+American wife?
+
+Then, for the first time, the Caïd frowned, very slightly, but it was
+plain to see he thought a liberty had been taken which, as host, he was
+unable to resent.
+
+"I know nothing of my dead cousin's family," he said. "No doubt its
+members went with him, if not to Mecca, at least a part of the way, and
+if any such persons wished to return to Europe after his death, it is
+certain they would have been at liberty to do so. This house my cousin
+wished me to have, and I took possession of it in due time, finding it
+empty and in good order. If you search for any one, I should advise
+searching in France or, perhaps, in America. Unluckily, there I cannot
+help. But when it is cool, we will go to the cemetery. Let us go after
+the prayer, the prayer of _Moghreb_."
+
+But Nevill was reluctant. So was Stephen, when the proposal was
+explained. They wished to go while it was still hot, or not at all. It
+may be that even this eccentric proposal did not surprise or grieve the
+Caïd, though as a rule he was not fond of being out of doors in the
+glare of the sun.
+
+He agreed to the suggestion that the motor-car should take all three
+down the hill, but said that he would prefer to walk back.
+
+The "teuf-teuf" of the engine began once more outside the white gates;
+and for the second time Victoria flew to the window, pressing her face
+against the thick green moucharabia which excluded flies and prevented
+any one outside from seeing what went on within.
+
+"Calm thyself, O Rose," urged the feeble voice of Lella M'Barka. "Thou
+hast said these men are nothing to thee."
+
+"One is my friend," the girl pleaded, with a glance at the high couch of
+rugs on which M'Barka lay.
+
+"A young girl cannot have a man for a friend. He may be a lover or a
+husband, but never a friend. Thou knowest this in thy heart, O Rose, and
+thou hast sworn to me that never hast thou had a lover."
+
+Victoria did not care to argue. "I am sure he has come here to try and
+find me. He is anxious. That is very good of him--all the more, because
+we are nothing to each other. How can I let him go away without a word?
+It is too hard-hearted. I do think, if Si Maïeddine were here, he would
+say so too. He would let me see Mr. Knight and just tell him that I'm
+perfectly safe and on the way to my sister. That once she lived in this
+house, and I hoped to find her here, but----"
+
+"Maïeddine would not wish thee to tell the young man these things, or
+any other things, or show thyself to him at all," M'Barka persisted,
+lifting herself on the bed in growing excitement. "Dost thou not guess,
+he runs many dangers in guiding thee to the wife of a man who is as one
+dead? Dost thou wish to ruin him who risks his whole future to content
+thee?"
+
+"No, of course I would do nothing which could bring harm to Si
+Maïeddine," Victoria said, the eagerness dying out of her voice. "I have
+kept my word with him. I have let nobody know--nobody at all. But we
+could trust Mr. Knight and Mr. Caird. And to see them there, in the
+courtyard, and let them go--it is too much!"
+
+"Why shouldst thou consider me, whom thou hast known but a few days,
+when thou wouldst be hurrying on towards thy sister Saïda? Yet it will
+surely be my death if thou makest any sign to those men. My heart would
+cease to beat. It beats but weakly now."
+
+With a sigh, Victoria turned away from the moucharabia, and crossing the
+room to M'Barka, sat down on a rug by the side of her couch. "I do
+consider thee," she said. "If it were not for thee and Si Maïeddine, I
+might not be able to get to Saidee at all; so I must not mind being
+delayed a few days. It is worse for thee than for me, because thou art
+suffering."
+
+"When a true believer lies ill for more than three days, his sins are
+all forgiven him," M'Barka consoled herself. She put out a hot hand, and
+laid it on Victoria's head. "Thou art a good child. Thou hast given up
+thine own will to do what is right."
+
+"I'm not quite sure at this moment that I am doing what is right,"
+murmured Victoria. "But I can't make thee more ill than thou art, so I
+must let Mr. Knight go. And probably I shall never see him, never hear
+of him again. He will look for me, and then he will grow tired, and
+perhaps go home to England before I can write to let him know I am safe
+with Saidee." Her voice broke a little. She bent down her head, and
+there were tears in her eyes.
+
+She heard the creaking of the gate as it shut. The motor-car had gone
+panting away. For a moment it seemed as if her heart would break. Just
+one glimpse had she caught of Stephen's face, and it had looked to her
+more than ever like the face of a knight who would fight to the death
+for a good cause. She had not quite realized how noble a face it was, or
+how hard it would be to let it pass out of her life. He would always
+hate her if he guessed she had sat there, knowing he had come so far for
+her sake?--she was sure it was for her sake--and had made no sign. But
+he would not guess. And it was true, as Lella M'Barka said, he was
+nothing to her. Saidee was everything. And she was going to Saidee. She
+must think only of Saidee, and the day of their meeting.
+
+        *        *        *        *        *        *        *
+
+Stephen had never seen an Arab cemetery; and it seemed to him that this
+Mussulman burial-place, scattered over two low hills, in the midst of
+desert wastes, was beautiful and pathetic. The afternoon sunshine beat
+upon the koubbahs of marabouts, and the plastered graves or headstones
+of less important folk; but so pearly pale were they all that the golden
+quality of the light was blanched as if by some strange, white magic,
+and became like moonlight shining on a field of snow.
+
+There were no names on any of the tombs, even the grandest. Here and
+there on a woman's grave was a hand of Fatma, or a pair of the Prophet's
+slippers; and on those of a few men were turbans carved in marble, to
+tell that the dead had made pilgrimage to Mecca. All faces were turned
+towards the sacred city, as Mussulmans turn when they kneel to pray, in
+mosque or in desert; and the white slabs, narrow or broad, long or
+short, ornamental or plain, flat or roofed with fantastic maraboutic
+domes, were placed very close together. At one end of the cemetery, only
+bits of pottery marked the graves; yet each bit was a little different
+from the other, meaning as much to those who had placed them there as
+names and epitaphs in European burial grounds. On the snowy headstones
+and flat platforms, drops of rose-coloured wax from little candles, lay
+like tears of blood shed by the mourners, and there was a scattered
+spray of faded orange blossoms, brought by some loving hand from a
+far-away garden in an oasis.
+
+"Here lies my cousin, Cassim ben Halim," said the Caïd, pointing to a
+grave comparatively new, surmounted at the head with a carved turban.
+Nearer to it than any other tomb was that of a woman, beautified with
+the Prophet's slippers.
+
+"Is it possible that his wife lies beside him?" Stephen made Nevill ask.
+
+"It is a lady of his house. I can say no more. When his body was brought
+here, hers was brought also, in a coffin, which is permitted to the
+women of Islam, with the request that it should be placed near my
+cousin's tomb. This was done; and it is all I can tell, because it is
+all I know."
+
+The Arab looked the Englishman straight in the eyes as he answered; and
+Stephen felt that in this place, so simple, so peaceful, so near to
+nature's heart, it would be difficult for a man to lie to another, even
+though that man were a son of Islam, the other a "dog of a Christian."
+For the first time he began to believe that Cassim ben Halim had in
+truth died, and that Victoria Ray's sister was perhaps dead also. Her
+death alone could satisfactorily explain her long silence. And against
+the circumstantial evidence of this little grave, adorned with the
+slippers of the Prophet, there was only a girl's impression--Victoria's
+feeling that, if Saidee were dead, she "must have known."
+
+The two friends stood for a while by the white graves, where the
+sunshine lay like moonlight on snow; and then, because there was nothing
+more for them to do in that place, they thanked the Caïd, and made ready
+to go their way. Again he politely refused their offer to drive him up
+to his own gate, and bade them good-bye when they had got into the car.
+He stood and watched it go bumping away over the rough, desert road,
+pieces of which had been gnawed off by a late flood, as a cake is bitten
+round the edge by a greedy child.
+
+They had had enough of motor-cars for that day, up there on the hill!
+The Caïd was glad when the sound died. The machine was no more suited to
+his country, he thought, than were the men of Europe who tore about the
+world in it, trying to interfere in other people's business.
+
+"El hamdou-lillah! God be praised!" he whispered, as the yellow
+automobile vanished from sight and Maïeddine came out from the cluster
+of black tents in the yellow sand.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+
+Next day, Lella M'Barka was well enough to begin the march again. They
+started, in the same curtained carriage, at that moment before dawn
+while it is still dark, and a thin white cloth seems spread over the
+dead face of night. Then day came trembling along the horizon, and the
+shadows of horses and carriage grew long and grotesquely deformed. It
+was the time, M'Barka said, when Chitan the devil, and the evil Djenoun
+that possess people's minds and drive them insane, were most powerful;
+and she would hardly listen when Victoria answered that she did not
+believe in Djenoun.
+
+In a long day, they came to Bou-Saada, reaching the hidden oasis after
+nightfall, and staying in the house of the Caïd with whom Stephen and
+Nevill had talked of Ben Halim. Lella M'Barka was related to the Caïd's
+wife, and was so happy in meeting a cousin after years of separation,
+that the fever in her blood was cooled; and in the morning she was able
+to go on.
+
+Then came two days of driving to Djelfa, at first in a country strange
+enough to be Djinn-haunted, a country of gloomy mountains, and deep
+water-courses like badly healed wounds; passing through dry river-beds,
+and over broken roads with here and there a bordj where men brought
+water to the mules, in skins held together with ropes of straw. At last,
+after a night, not too comfortable, spent in a dismal bordj, they came
+to a wilderness which any fairytale-teller would have called the end of
+the world. The road had dwindled to a track across gloomy desert, all
+the more desolate, somehow, because of the dry asparto grass growing
+thinly among stones. Nothing seemed to live or move in this world,
+except a lizard that whisked its grey-green length across the road, a
+long-legged bird which hopped gloomily out of the way, or a few ragged
+black and white sheep with nobody to drive them. In the heat of the day
+nothing stirred, not even the air, though the distance shimmered and
+trembled with heat; but towards night jackals padded lithely from one
+rock shelter to another. The carriage drove through a vast plain, rimmed
+with far-away mountains, red as porphyry, but fading to purple at the
+horizon. Victoria felt that she would never come to the end of this
+plain, that it must finish only with eternity; and she wished in an
+occasional burst of impatience that she were travelling in Nevill
+Caird's motor-car. She could reach her sister in a third of the time!
+She told herself that these thoughts were ungrateful to Maïeddine, who
+was doing so much for her sake, and she kept up her spirits whether they
+dragged on tediously, or stopped by the way to eat, or to let M'Barka
+rest. She tried to control her restlessness, but feared that Maïeddine
+saw it, for he took pains to explain, more than once, how necessary was
+the detour they were making. Along this route he had friends who were
+glad to entertain them at night, and give them mules or horses, and
+besides, it was an advantage that the way should be unfrequented by
+Europeans. He cheered her by describing the interest of the journey
+when, by and by, she would ride a mehari, sitting in a bassour, made of
+branches heated and bent into shape like a great cage, lined and draped
+with soft haoulis of beautiful colours, and comfortably cushioned. It
+would not be long now before they should come to the douar of his father
+the Agha, beyond El Aghouat. She would have a wonderful experience
+there; and according to Maïeddine, all the rest of the journey would be
+an enchantment. Never for a moment would he let her tire. Oh, he would
+promise that she should be half sorry when the last day came! As for
+Lella M'Barka, the Rose of the West need not fear, for the bassour was
+easy as a cradle to a woman of the desert; and M'Barka, rightfully a
+princess of Touggourt, was desert-born and bred.
+
+Queer little patches of growing grain, or miniature orchards enlivened
+the dull plain round the ugly Saharian town of Djelfa, headquarters of
+the Ouled Naïls. The place looked unprepossessingly new and French, and
+obtrusively military; dismal, too, in the dusty sand which a wailing
+wind blew through the streets; but scarcely a Frenchman was to be seen,
+except the soldiers. Many Arabs worked with surprising briskness at the
+loading or unloading of great carts, men of the Ouled Naïls, with eyes
+more mysterious than the eyes of veiled women; tall fellows wearing high
+shoes of soft, pale brown leather made for walking long distances in
+heavy sand; and Maïeddine said that there was great traffic and commerce
+between Djelfa and the M'Zab country, where she and he and M'Barka would
+arrive presently, after passing his father's douar.
+
+Maïeddine was uneasy until they were out of Djelfa, for, though few
+Europeans travelled that way, and the road is hideous for motors, still
+it was not impossible that a certain yellow car had slipped in before
+them, to lie in wait. The Caïd's house, where they spent that night, was
+outside the town, and behind its closed doors and little windows there
+was no fear of intruders. It was good to be sure of shelter and security
+under a friend's roof; and so far, in spite of the adventure at Ben
+Sliman's, everything was going well enough. Only--Maïeddine was a little
+disappointed in Victoria's manner towards himself. She was sweet and
+friendly, and grateful for all he did, but she did not seem interested
+in him as a man. He felt that she was eager to get on, that she was
+counting the days, not because of any pleasure they might bring in his
+society, but to make them pass more quickly. Still, with the deep-rooted
+patience of the Arab, he went on hoping. His father, Agha of the
+Ouled-Serrin, reigned in the desert like a petty king. Maïeddine thought
+that the douar and the Agha's state must impress her; and the journey
+on from there would be a splendid experience, different indeed from this
+interminable jogging along, cramped up in a carriage, with M'Barka
+sighing, or leaning a heavy head on the girl's shoulder. Out in the
+open, Victoria in her bassour, he on the horse which he would take from
+his father's goum, travelling would be pure joy. And Maïeddine had been
+saving up many surprises for that time, things he meant to do for the
+girl, which must turn her heart towards him.
+
+Beyond Djelfa, on the low mountains that alone broke the monotony
+of the dismal plain, little watch-towers rose dark along the
+sky-line--watch-towers old as Roman days. Sometimes the travellers met a
+mounted man wearing a long, hooded cloak over his white burnous; a
+cavalier of the Bureau Arabe, or native policeman on his beat, under the
+authority of a civil organization more powerful in the Sahara than the
+army. These men, riding alone, saluted Si Maïeddine almost with
+reverence, and Lella M'Barka told Victoria, with pride, that her cousin
+was immensely respected by the French Government. He had done much for
+France in the far south, where his family influence was great, and he
+had adjusted difficulties between the desert men and their rulers. "He
+is more tolerant than I, to those through whom Allah has punished us for
+our sins," said the woman of the Sahara. "I was brought up in an older
+school; and though I may love one of the Roumis, as I have learned to
+love thee, oh White Rose, I cannot love whole Christian nations.
+Maïeddine is wiser than I, yet I would not change my opinions for his;
+unless, as I often think, he really----" she stopped suddenly, frowning
+at herself. "This dreariness is not _our_ desert," she explained eagerly
+to the girl, as the horses dragged the carriage over the sandy earth,
+through whose hard brown surface the harsh, colourless blades of _drinn_
+pricked like a few sparse hairs on the head of a shrivelled old man. "In
+the Sahara, there are four kinds of desert, because Allah put four
+angels in charge, giving each his own portion. The Angel of the Chebka
+was cold of nature, with no kindness in his heart, and was jealous of
+the others; so the Chebka is desolate, sown with sharp rocks which were
+upheaved from under the earth before man came, and its dark ravines are
+still haunted by evil spirits. The Angel of the Hameda was careless, and
+forgot to pray for cool valleys and good water, so the Hameda hardened
+into a great plateau of rock. The Angel of the Gaci was loved by a
+houri, who appeared to him and danced on the firm sand of his desert.
+Vanishing, she scattered many jewels, and fruits from the celestial
+gardens which turned into beautifully coloured stones as they fell, and
+there they have lain from that day to this. But best of all was the
+Angel of the Erg, our desert--desert of the shifting dunes, never twice
+the same, yet always more beautiful to-day than yesterday; treacherous
+to strangers, but kind as the bosom of a mother to her children. The
+first three angels were men, but the fourth and best is the angel woman
+who sows the heaven with stars, for lamps to light her own desert, and
+all the world beside, even the world of infidels."
+
+M'Barka and Maïeddine both talked a great deal of El Aghouat, which
+M'Barka called the desert pearl, next in beauty to her own wild
+Touggourt, and Maïeddine laughingly likened the oasis-town to Paris. "It
+is the Paris of our Sahara," he said, "and all the desert men, from
+Caïds to camel-drivers, look forward to its pleasures."
+
+He planned to let the girl see El Aghouat for the first time at sunset.
+That was to be one of his surprises. By nature he was dramatic; and the
+birth of the sun and the death of the sun are the great dramas of the
+desert. He wished to be the hero of such a drama for Victoria, with El
+Aghouat for his background; for there, he was leading her in at the gate
+of his own country.
+
+When they had passed the strange rock-shape known as the Chapeau de
+Gendarme, and the line of mountains which is like the great wall of
+China, Maïeddine defied the danger he had never quite ceased to fear
+during the five long days since the adventure on the other side of
+Bou-Saada. He ordered the carriage curtains to be rolled up as tightly
+as they would go, and Victoria saw a place so beautiful that it was like
+the secret garden of some Eastern king. It was as if they had driven
+abruptly over the edge of a vast bowl half filled with gold dust, and
+ringed round its rim with quivering rosy flames. Perhaps the king of the
+garden had a dragon whose business it was to keep the fire always alight
+to prevent robbers from coming to steal the gold dust; and so ardently
+had it been blazing there for centuries, that all the sky up to the
+zenith had caught fire, burning with so dazzling an intensity of violet
+that Victoria thought she could warm her hands in its reflection on the
+sand. In the azure crucible diamonds were melting, boiling up in a
+radiant spray, but suddenly the violet splendour was cooled, and after a
+vague quivering of rainbow tints, the celestial rose tree of the Sahara
+sunset climbed blossoming over the whole blue dome, east, west, north
+and south.
+
+In the bottom of the golden bowl, there was a river bed to cross, on a
+bridge of planks, but among the burning stones trickled a mere runnel of
+water, bright as spilt mercury. And Maïeddine chose the moment when the
+minarets of El Aghouat rose from a sea of palms, to point out the
+strange, pale hills crowned by old koubbahs of marabouts and the
+military hospital. He told the story of the Arab revolt of fifty odd
+years ago; and while he praised the gallantry of the French, Victoria
+saw in his eyes, heard in the thrill of his voice, that his admiration
+was for his own people. This made her thoughtful, for though it was
+natural enough to sympathize with the Arabs who had stood the siege and
+been reconquered after desperate fighting, until now his point of view
+had seemed to be the modern, progressive, French point of view. Quickly
+the question flashed through her mind--"Is he letting himself go,
+showing me his real self, because I'm in the desert with him, and he
+thinks I'll never go back among Europeans?"
+
+She shivered a little at the thought, but she put it away with the doubt
+of Maïeddine that came with it. Never had he given her the least cause
+to fear him, and she would go on trusting in his good faith, as she had
+trusted from the first.
+
+Still, there was that creeping chill, in contrast to the warm glory of
+the sunset, which seemed to shame it by giving a glimpse of the desert's
+heart, which was Maïeddine's heart. She hurried to say how beautiful was
+El Aghouat; and that night, in the house of the Caïd, (an uncle of
+Maïeddine's on his mother's side), as the women grouped round her,
+hospitable and admiring, she reproached herself again for her suspicion.
+The wife of the Caïd was dignified and gentle. There were daughters
+growing up, and though they knew nothing, or seemed to know nothing, of
+Saidee, they were sure that, if Maïeddine knew, all was well. Because
+they were his cousins they had seen and been seen by him, and the young
+girls poured out all the untaught romance of their little dim souls in
+praise of Maïeddine. Once they were on the point of saying something
+which their mother seemed to think indiscreet, and checked them quickly.
+Then they stopped, laughing; and their laughter, like the laughter of
+little children, was so contagious that Victoria laughed too.
+
+There was some dreadful European furniture of sprawling, "nouveau art"
+design in the guest-room which she and Lella M'Barka shared; and as
+Victoria lay awake on the hard bed, of which the girls were proud, she
+said to herself that she had not been half grateful enough to Si
+Maïeddine. For ten years she had tried to find Saidee, and until the
+other day she had been little nearer her heart's desire than when she
+was a child, hoping and longing in the school garret. Now Maïeddine had
+made the way easy--almost too easy, for the road to the golden silence
+had become so wonderful that she was tempted to forget her haste to
+reach the end.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+
+"There is my father's douar," said Si Maïeddine; and Victoria's eyes
+followed his pointing finger.
+
+Into a stony and desolate waste had billowed one golden wave of sand,
+and on the fringe of this wave, the girl saw a village of tents, black
+and brown, lying closely together, as a fleet of dark fishing-boats lie
+in the water. There were many little tents, very flat and low, crouched
+around one which even at a distance was conspicuous for its enormous
+size. It looked like a squatting giant among an army of pigmies; and the
+level light of late afternoon gave extraordinary value to its colours,
+which were brighter and newer than those of the lesser tents. As their
+swaying carriage brought the travellers nearer, Victoria could see deep
+red and brown stripes, separated by narrow bands of white. For
+background, there was a knot of trees; for they had come south of El
+Aghouat to the strange region of dayas, where the stony desolation is
+broken by little emerald hollows, running with water, like big round
+bowls stuck full of delicate greenery and blossoms.
+
+Suddenly, as Victoria looked, figures began running about, and almost
+before she had time to speak, ten or a dozen men in white, mounted on
+horses, came speeding across the desert.
+
+A stain of red showed in Maïeddine's cheeks, and his eyes lighted up.
+"They have been watching, expecting us," he said. "Now my father is
+sending men to bid us welcome."
+
+"Perhaps he is coming himself," said Victoria, for there was one figure
+riding in the centre which seemed to her more splendidly dignified than
+the others, though all were magnificent horsemen.
+
+"No. It would not be right that the Agha himself should come to meet his
+son," Maïeddine explained. "Besides he would be wearing a scarlet
+burnous, embroidered with gold. He does me enough honour in sending out
+the pick of his goum, which is among the finest of the Sahara."
+
+Victoria had picked up a great deal of desert lore by this time, and
+knew that the "pick of the goum" would mean the best horses in the
+Agha's stables, the crack riders among his trained men--fighting men,
+such as he would give to the Government, if Arab soldiers were needed.
+
+The dozen cavaliers swept over the desert, making the sand fly up under
+the horses' hoofs in a yellow spray; and nearing the carriage they
+spread themselves in a semi-circle, the man Victoria had mistaken for
+the Agha riding forward to speak to Maïeddine.
+
+"It is my brother-in-law, Abderrhaman ben Douadi," exclaimed Maïeddine,
+waving his hand.
+
+M'Barka pulled her veil closer, and because she did so, Victoria hid her
+face also, rather than shock the Arab woman's prejudices.
+
+At a word from his master, the driver stopped his mules so quickly as to
+bring them on their haunches, and Maïeddine sprang out. He and his
+brother-in-law, a stately dark man with a short black beard under an
+eagle nose, exchanged courtesies which seemed elaborate to Victoria's
+European ideas, and Si Abderrhaman did not glance at the half-lowered
+curtains behind which the women sat.
+
+The men talked for a few minutes; then Maïeddine got into the carriage
+again; and surrounded by the riders, it was driven rapidly towards the
+tents, rocking wildly in the sand, because now it had left the desert
+road and was making straight for the zmala.
+
+The Arab men on their Arab horses shouted as they rode, as if giving a
+signal; and from the tents, reddened now by the declining sun, came
+suddenly a strange crying in women's voices, shrill yet sweet; a sound
+that was half a chant, half an eerie yodeling, note after note of
+"you-you!--you-you!" Out from behind the zeribas, rough hedges of dead
+boughs and brambles which protected each low tent, burst a tidal wave of
+children, some gay as little bright butterflies in gorgeous dresses,
+others wrapped in brilliant rags. From under the tents women appeared,
+unveiled, and beautiful in the sunset light, with their heavy looped
+braids and their dangling, clanking silver jewellery. "You-you!
+you-you!" they cried, dark eyes gleaming, white teeth flashing. It was
+to be a festival for the douar, this fortunate evening of the son and
+heir's arrival, with a great lady of his house, and her friend, a Roumia
+girl. There was joy for everyone, for the Agha's relatives, and for each
+man, woman and child in the zmala, mighty ones, or humble members of the
+tribe, the Ouled-Serrin. There would be feasting, and after dark, to
+give pleasure to the Roumia, the men would make the powder speak. It was
+like a wedding; and best of all, an exciting rumour had gone round the
+douar, concerning the foreign girl and the Agha's son, Si Maïeddine.
+
+The romance in Victoria's nature was stirred by her reception; by the
+white-clad riders on their slender horses, and the wild "you-yous" of
+the women and little girls. Maïeddine saw her excitement and thrilled to
+it. This was his great hour. All that had gone before had been leading
+up to this day, and to the days to come, when they would be in the fiery
+heart of the desert together, lost to all her friends whom he hated with
+a jealous hatred. He helped M'Barka to descend from the carriage: then,
+as she was received at the tent door by the Agha himself, Maïeddine
+forgot his self-restraint, and swung the girl down, with tingling hands
+that clasped her waist, as if at last she belonged to him.
+
+Half fearful of what he had done, lest she should take alarm at his
+sudden change of manner, he studied her face anxiously as he set her
+feet to the ground. But there was no cause for uneasiness. So far from
+resenting the liberty he had taken after so many days of almost
+ostentatious respect, Victoria was not even thinking of him, and her
+indifference would have been a blow, if he had not been too greatly
+relieved to be hurt by it. She was looking at his father, the Agha, who
+seemed to her the embodiment of some biblical patriarch. All through her
+long desert journey, she had felt as if she had wandered into a dream of
+the Old Testament. There was nothing there more modern than "Bible
+days," as she said to herself, simply, except the French quarters in the
+few Arab towns through which they had passed.
+
+Not yet, however, had she seen any figure as venerable as the Agha's,
+and she thought at once of Abraham at his tent door. Just such a man as
+this Abraham must have been in his old age. She could even imagine him
+ready to sacrifice a son, if he believed it to be the will of Allah; and
+Maïeddine became of more importance in her eyes because of his
+relationship to this kingly patriarch of the Sahara.
+
+Having greeted his niece, Lella M'Barka, and passed her hospitably into
+the tent where women were dimly visible, the Agha turned to Maïeddine
+and Victoria.
+
+"The blessing of Allah be upon thee, O my son," he said, "and upon thee,
+little daughter. My son's messenger brought word of thy coming, and thou
+art welcome as a silver shower of rain after a long drought in the
+desert. Be thou as a child of my house, while thou art in my tent."
+
+As she gave him her hand, her veil fell away from her face, and he saw
+its beauty with the benevolent admiration of an old man whose blood has
+cooled. He was so tall that the erect, thin figure reminded Victoria of
+a lonely desert palm. The young girl was no stern critic, and was more
+inclined to see good than evil in every one she met; therefore to her
+the long snowy beard, the large dreamy eyes under brows like
+Maïeddine's, and the slow, benevolent smile of the Agha meant nobility
+of character. Her heart was warm for the splendid old man, and he was
+not unaware of the impression he had made. As he bowed her into the tent
+where his wife and sister and daughter were crowding round M'Barka, he
+said in a low voice to Maïeddine: "It is well, my son. Being a man, and
+young, thou couldst not have withstood her. When the time is ripe, she
+will become a daughter of Islam, because for love of thee, she will wish
+to fulfil thine heart's desire."
+
+"She does not yet know that she loves me," Maïeddine answered. "But when
+thou hast given me the white stallion El Biod, and I ride beside the
+girl in her bassour through the long days and the long distances, I
+shall teach her, in the way the Roumi men teach their women to love."
+
+"But if thou shouldst not teach her?"
+
+"My life is in it, and I shall teach her," said Maïeddine. "But if
+Chitan stands between, and I fail--which I will not do--why, even so, it
+will come to the same thing in the end, because----"
+
+"Thou wouldst say----"
+
+"It is well to know one's own meaning, and to speak of--date stones. Yet
+with one's father, one can open one's heart. He to whom I go has need of
+my services, and what he has for twelve months vainly asked me to do, I
+will promise to do, for the girl's sake, if I cannot win her without."
+
+"Take care! Thou enterest a dangerous path," said the old man.
+
+"Yet often I have thought of entering there, before I saw this girl's
+face."
+
+"There might be a great reward in this life, and in the life beyond. Yet
+once the first step is taken, it is irrevocable. In any case, commit me
+to nothing with him to whom thou goest. He is eaten up with zeal. He is
+a devouring fire--and all is fuel for that fire."
+
+"I will commit thee to nothing without thy full permission, O my
+father."
+
+"And for thyself, think twice before thou killest the sheep. Remember
+our desert saying. 'Who kills a sheep, kills a bee. Who kills a bee,
+kills a palm, and who kills a palm, kills seventy prophets.'"
+
+"I would give my sword to the prophets to aid them in killing those who
+are not prophets."
+
+"Thou art faithful. Yet let the rain of reason fall on thy head and on
+thine heart, before thou givest thy sword into the hand of him who waits
+thine answer."
+
+"Thine advice is of the value of many dates, even of the _deglet nour_,
+the jewel date, which only the rich can eat."
+
+The old man laid his hand, still strong and firm, on his son's shoulder,
+and together they went into the great tent, that part of it where the
+women were, for all were closely related to them, excepting the Roumia,
+who had been received as a daughter of the house.
+
+        *        *        *        *        *        *        *
+
+When it was evening, the douar feasted, in honour of the guests who had
+come to the _tente sultane_. The Agha had given orders that two sheep
+should be killed. One was for his own household; his relatives, his
+servants, many of whom lived under the one vast roof of red, and white,
+and brown. His daughter, and her husband who assisted him in many ways,
+and was his scribe, or secretary, had a tent of their own close by, next
+in size to the Agha's; but they were bidden to supper in the great tent
+that night, for the family reunion. And because there was a European
+girl present, the women ate with the men, which was not usual.
+
+The second sheep was for the humbler folk of the zmala, and they roasted
+it whole in an open space, over a fire of small, dry wood, and of dead
+palm branches brought on donkey back twenty miles across the desert,
+from the nearest oasis town, also under dominion of the Agha. He had a
+house and garden there; but he liked best to be in his douar, with only
+his tent roof between him and the sky. Also it made him popular with
+the tribe of which he was the head, to spend most of his time with them
+in the desert. And for some reasons of which he never spoke, the old man
+greatly valued this popularity, though he treasured also the respect of
+the French, who assured his position and revenues.
+
+The desert men had made a ring round the fire, far from the green
+_daya_, so that the blowing sparks might not reach the trees. They sat
+in a circle, on the sand, with a row of women on one side, who held the
+smallest children by their short skirts; and larger children, wild and
+dark, as the red light of the flames played over their faces, fed the
+fire with pale palm branches. There was no moon, but a fountain of
+sparks spouted towards the stars; and though it was night, the sky was
+blue with the fierce blue of steel. Some of the Agha's black Soudanese
+servants had made kous-kous of semolina with a little mutton and a great
+many red peppers. This they gave to the crowd, in huge wooden bowls; and
+the richer people boiled coffee which they drank themselves, and offered
+to those sitting nearest them.
+
+When everybody had eaten, the powder play began round the fire, and at
+each explosion the women shrilled out their "you-you, you-you!" But this
+was all for the entertainment of outsiders. Inside the Agha's tent, the
+family took their pleasure more quietly.
+
+Though a house of canvas, there were many divisions into rooms. The
+Agha's wife had hers, separated completely from her sister's, and there
+was space for guests, besides the Agha's own quarters, his reception
+room, his dining-room (invaded to-night by all his family) the kitchen,
+and sleeping place for a number of servants.
+
+There were many dishes besides the inevitable cheurba, or Arab soup, the
+kous-kous, the mechoui, lamb roasted over the fire. Victoria was almost
+sickened by the succession of sweet things, cakes and sugared preserves,
+made by the hands of the Agha's wife, Alonda, who in the Roumia's eyes
+was as like Sarah as the Agha was like Abraham. Yet everything was
+delicious; and after the meal, when the coffee came, lagmi the desert
+wine distilled from the heart of a palm tree, was pressed upon Victoria.
+All drank a little, for, said Lella Alonda, though strong drink was
+forbidden by the Prophet, the palms were dear to him, and besides, in
+the throats of good men and women, wine was turned to milk, as Sidi
+Aissa of the Christians turned water to wine at the marriage feast.
+
+When they had finished at last, a Soudanese woman poured rose-water over
+their hands, from a copper jug, and wiped them with a large damask
+napkin, embroidered by Aichouch, the pretty, somewhat coquettish married
+daughter of the house, Maïeddine's only sister. The rose-water had been
+distilled by Lella Fatma, the widowed sister of Alonda, who shared the
+hospitality of the Agha's roof, in village or douar. Every one
+questioned Victoria, and made much of her, even the Agha; but, though
+they asked her opinions of Africa, and talked of her journey across the
+sea, they did not speak of her past life or of her future. Not a word
+was said concerning her mission, or Ben Halim's wife, the sister for
+whom she searched.
+
+While they were still at supper, the black servants who had waited upon
+them went quietly away, but slightly raised the heavy red drapery which
+formed the partition between that room and another. They looped up the
+thick curtain only a little way, but there was a light on the other
+side, and Victoria, curious as to what would happen next, spied the
+servants' black legs moving about, watched a rough wooden bench placed
+on the blue and crimson rugs of Djebel Amour, and presently saw other
+black legs under a white burnous coil themselves upon the low seat.
+
+Then began strange music, the first sound of which made Victoria's heart
+leap. It was the first time she had heard the music of Africa, except a
+distant beating of tobols coming from a black tent across desert
+spaces, while she had lain at night in the house of Maïeddine's friends;
+or the faint, pure note of a henna-dyed flute in the hand of some boy
+keeper of goats--a note pure as the monotonous purling of water, heard
+in the dark.
+
+But this music was so close to her, that it was like the throbbing of
+her own heart. And it was no sweet, pure trickle of silver, but the cry
+of passion, passion as old and as burning as the desert sands outside
+the lighted tent. As she listened, struck into pulsing silence, she
+could see the colour of the music; a deep crimson, which flamed into
+scarlet as the tom-tom beat, or deepened to violent purple, wicked as
+belladonna flowers. The wailing of the raïta mingled with the heavy
+throbbing of the tom-tom, and filled the girl's heart with a vague
+foreboding, a yearning for something she had not known, and did not
+understand. Yet it seemed that she must have both known and understood
+long ago, before memory recorded anything--perhaps in some forgotten
+incarnation. For the music and what it said, monotonously yet fiercely,
+was old as the beginnings of the world, old and changeless as the
+patterns of the stars embroidered on the astrological scroll of the sky.
+The hoarse derbouka, and the languorous ghesbah joined in with the
+savage tobol and the strident raïta; and under all was the tired
+heart-beat of the bendir, dull yet resonant, and curiously exciting to
+the nerves.
+
+Victoria's head swam. She wondered if it were wholly the effect of the
+African music, or if the lagmi she had sipped was mounting to her brain.
+She grew painfully conscious of every physical sense, and it was hard to
+sit and listen. She longed to spring up and dance in time to the
+droning, and throbbing, and crying of the primitive instruments which
+the Negroes played behind the red curtain. She felt that she must dance,
+a new, strange dance the idea of which was growing in her mind, and
+becoming an obsession. She could see it as if she were looking at a
+picture; yet it was only her nerves and her blood that bade her dance.
+Her reason told her to sit still. Striving to control herself she shut
+her eyes, and would have shut her ears too, if she could. But the music
+was loud in them. It made her see desert rivers rising after floods, and
+water pounding against the walls of underground caverns. It made her
+hear the wild, fierce love-call of a desert bird to its mate.
+
+She could bear it no longer. She sprang up, her eyes shining, her cheeks
+red. "May I dance for you to that music, Lella Alonda?" she said to the
+Agha's wife. "I think I could. I long to try."
+
+Lella Alonda, who was old, and accustomed only to the dancing of the
+Almehs, which she thought shameful, was scandalized at the thought that
+the young girl would willingly dance before men. She was dumb, not
+knowing what answer to give, that need not offend a guest, but which
+might save the Roumia from indiscretion.
+
+The Agha, however, was enchanted. He was a man of the world still,
+though he was aged now, and he had been to Paris, as well as many times
+to Algiers. He knew that European ladies danced with men of their
+acquaintance, and he was curious to see what this beautiful child wished
+to do. He glanced at Maïeddine, and spoke to his wife: "Tell the little
+White Rose to dance; that it will give us pleasure."
+
+"Dance then, in thine own way, O daughter," Lella Alonda was forced to
+say; for it did not even occur to her that she might disobey her
+husband.
+
+Victoria smiled at them all; at M'Barka and Aichouch, and Aichouch's
+dignified husband, Si Abderrhaman: at Alonda and the Agha, and at
+Maïeddine, as, when a child, she would have smiled at her sister, when
+beginning a dance made up from one of Saidee's stories.
+
+She had told Stephen of an Eastern dance she knew, but this was
+something different, more thrilling and wonderful, which the wild music
+put into her heart. At first, she hardly knew what was the meaning she
+felt impelled to express by gesture and pose. The spirit of the desert
+sang to her, a song of love, a song old as the love-story of Eve; and
+though the secret of that song was partly hidden from her as yet, she
+must try to find it out for herself, and picture it to others, by
+dancing.
+
+Always before, when she danced, Victoria had called up the face of her
+sister, to keep before her eyes as an inspiration. But now, as she bent
+and swayed to catch the spirit's whispers, as wheat sways to the whisper
+of the wind, it was a man's face she saw. Stephen Knight seemed to stand
+in the tent, looking at her with a curiously wistful, longing look, over
+the heads of the Arab audience, who sat on their low divans and piled
+carpets.
+
+She thrilled to the look, and the desert spirit made her screen her face
+from it, with a sequined gauze scarf which she wore. For a few measures
+she danced behind the glittering veil, then with a sudden impulse which
+the music gave, she tossed it back, holding out her arms, and smiling up
+to Stephen's eyes, above the brown faces, with a sweet smile very
+mysterious to the watchers. Consciously she called to Stephen then, as
+she had promised she would call, if she should ever need him, for
+somehow she did need and want him;--not for his help in finding Saidee:
+she was satisfied with all that Maïeddine was doing--but for herself.
+The secret of the music which she had been trying to find out, was in
+his eyes, and learning it slowly, made her more beautiful, more womanly,
+than she had ever been before. As she danced on, the two long plaits of
+her red hair loosened and shook out into curls which played round her
+white figure like flames. Her hands fluttered on the air as they rose
+and fell like the little white wings of a dove; and she was dazzling as
+a brandished torch, in the ill-lit tent with its dark hangings.
+
+M'Barka had given her a necklace of black beads which the negresses had
+made of benzoin and rose leaves and spices, held in shape with pungent
+rezin. Worn on the warm flesh, the beads gave out a heady perfume, which
+was like the breath of the desert. It made the girl giddy, and it grew
+stronger and sweeter as she danced, seeming to mingle with the crying
+of the raïta and the sobbing of the ghesbah, so that she confused
+fragrance with music, music with fragrance.
+
+Maïeddine stared at her, like a man who dreams with his eyes open. If he
+had been alone, he could have watched her dance on for hours, and wished
+that she would never stop; but there were other men in the tent, and he
+had a maddening desire to snatch the girl in his arms, smothering her in
+his burnous, and rushing away with her into the desert.
+
+Her dancing astonished him. He did not know what to make of it, for she
+had told him nothing about herself, except what concerned her errand in
+Africa. Though he had been in Paris when she was there, he had been
+deeply absorbed in business vital to his career, and had not heard of
+Victoria Ray the dancer, or seen her name on the hoardings.
+
+Like his father, he knew that European women who danced were not as the
+African dancers, the Ouled Naïls and the girls of Djebel Amour. But an
+Arab may have learned to know many things with his mind which he cannot
+feel with his heart; and with his heart Maïeddine felt a wish to blind
+Abderrhaman, because his eyes had seen the intoxicating beauty of
+Victoria as she danced. He was ferociously angry, but not with the girl.
+Perhaps with himself, because he was powerless to hide her from others,
+and to order her life as he chose. Yet there was a kind of delicious
+pain in knowing himself at her mercy, as no Arab man could be at the
+mercy of an Arab woman.
+
+The sight of Victoria dancing, had shot new colours into his existence.
+He understood her less, and valued her more than before, a thousand
+times more, achingly, torturingly more. Since their first meeting on the
+boat, he had admired the American girl immensely. Her whiteness, the
+golden-red of her hair, the blueness of her eyes had meant perfection
+for him. He had wanted her because she was the most beautiful creature
+he had seen, because she was a Christian and difficult to win; also
+because the contrast between her childishness and brave independence
+was piquant. Apart from that contrast, he had not thought much about her
+nature. He had looked upon her simply as a beautiful girl, who could not
+be bought, but must be won. Now she had become a bewildering houri.
+Nothing which life could give him would make up for the loss of her.
+There was nothing he would not do to have her, or at least to put her
+beyond the reach of others.
+
+If necessary, he would even break his promise to the Agha.
+
+While she danced inside the great tent, outside in the open space round
+the fire, the dwellers in the little tents sat with their knees in their
+arms watching the dancing of two young Negroes from the Soudan. The
+blacks had torn their turbans from their shaven heads, and thrown aside
+their burnouses. Naked to their waists, with short, loose trousers, and
+sashes which other men seized, to swing the wearers round and round,
+their sweating skin had the gloss of ebony. It was a whirlwind of a
+dance, and an old wizard with a tom-tom, and a dark giant with metal
+castanets made music for the dancers, taking eccentric steps themselves
+as they played. The Soudanese fell into an ecstasy of giddiness, running
+about on their hands and feet like huge black tarantulas, or turning
+themselves into human wheels, to roll through the bed of the dying fire
+and out on the other side, sending up showers of sparks. All the while,
+they uttered a barking chant, in time to the wicked music, which seemed
+to shriek for war and bloodshed; and now and then they would dash after
+some toddling boy, catch him by the scalp-lock on his shaved head (left
+for the grasp of Azraïl the death-angel) and force him to join the
+dance.
+
+Mean-faced Kabyle dogs, guarding deserted tents, howled their hatred of
+the music, while far away, across desert spaces, jackals cried to one
+another. And the scintillating network of stars was dimmed by a thin
+veil of sand which the wind lifted and let fall, as Victoria lifted and
+let fall the spangled scarf that made her beauty more mysterious, more
+desirable, in the eyes of Maïeddine.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+
+"In the name of the All-Merciful and Pitiful! We seek refuge with the
+Lord of the Day, against the sinfulness of beings created by Him;
+against all evil, and against the night, lest they overcome us
+suddenly."
+
+It was the Prayer of the Dawn, El Fejûr; and Victoria heard it cried in
+the voices of the old men of the zmala, early in the morning, as she
+dressed to continue her journey.
+
+Every one was astir in the _tente sultane_, behind the different curtain
+partitions, and outside were the noises of the douar, waking to a new
+day. The girl could not wait for the coffee that Fafann would bring her,
+for she was eager to see the caravan that Si Maïeddine was assembling.
+As soon as she was ready she stole out into the dim dawn, more mystic in
+the desert than moon-rise or moon-setting. The air was crisp and
+tingling, and smelled of wild thyme, the herb that nomad women love, and
+wear crushed in their bosoms, or thrust up their nostrils. The camels
+had not come yet, for the men of the douar had not finished their
+prayer. In the wide open space where they had watched the dance last
+night, now they were praying, sons of Ishmael, a crowd of prostrate
+white figures, their faces against the sand.
+
+Victoria stood waiting by the big tent, but she had not much need for
+patience. Soon the desert prayer was over, and the zmala was buzzing
+with excitement, as it had buzzed when the travellers arrived.
+
+The Soudanese Negroes who had danced the wild dance appeared leading two
+white meharis, running camels, aristocrats of the camel world. On the
+back of each rose a cage-like bassour, draped with haoulis, striped
+rose-colour and purple. The desert beasts moved delicately, on legs
+longer and more slender than those of pack-camels, their necks swaying
+like the necks of swans who swim with the tide. Victoria thought them
+like magnificent, four-legged cousins of ostriches, and the
+superciliousness of their expressions amused her; the look they had of
+elderly ladies, dissatisfied with every one but themselves, and
+conscious of being supremely "well-connected." "A camel cannot see its
+own hump, but it can see those of others," she had heard M'Barka say.
+
+As Victoria stood alone in the dawn, laughing at the ghostly meharis,
+and looking with interest at the heavily laden pack-camel and the mule
+piled up with tents and mattresses, Maïeddine came riding round from
+behind the great tent, all in white, on a white stallion. Seeing the
+girl, he tested her courage, and made a bid for her admiration by
+reining El Biod in suddenly, making him stand erect on his hind feet,
+pawing the air and dancing. But Roumia as she was, and unaccustomed to
+such manoeuvres, she neither ran back nor screamed. She was not ashamed
+to show her admiration of man and horse, and Maïeddine did not know that
+her thoughts were more of El Biod the white, "drinker of air," the
+saddle of crimson velvet and tafilet leather embroidered in gold, and
+the bridle from Figuig, encrusted with silver, than of the rider.
+
+"This is the horse of whom I told thee," Maïeddine said, letting El Biod
+come down again on all four feet. "He was blessed as a foal by having
+the magical words 'Bissem Allah' whispered over him as he drew the first
+draught of his mother's milk. But thou wilt endow him with new gifts if
+thou touchest his forehead with thy hand. Wilt thou do that, for his
+sake, and for mine?"
+
+Victoria patted the flesh-coloured star on the stallion's white face,
+not knowing that, if a girl's fingers lie between the eyes of an Arab's
+horse, it is as much as to say that she is ready to ride with him to the
+world's end. But Maïeddine knew, and the thought warmed his blood. He
+was superstitious, like all Arabs, and he had wanted a sign of success.
+Now he had it. He longed to kiss the little fingers as they rested on El
+Biod's forehead, but he said to himself, "Patience; it will not be long
+before I kiss her lips."
+
+"El Biod is my citadel," he smiled to her. "Thou knowest we have the
+same word for horse and citadel in Arabic? And that is because a brave
+stallion is a warrior's citadel, built on the wind, a rampart between
+him and the enemy. And we think the angels gave a horse the same heart
+as a man, that he might be our friend as well as servant, and carry us
+on his back to Paradise. Whether that is true or not, to-day El Biod and
+I are already on the threshold of Paradise, because we are thy guides,
+thy guardians through the desert which we love."
+
+As he made this speech, Maïeddine watched the girl's face anxiously, to
+see whether she would resent the implication, but she only smiled in her
+frank way, knowing the Arab language to be largely the language of
+compliment; and he was encouraged. Perhaps he had been over-cautious
+with her, he thought; for, after all, he had no reason to believe that
+she cared for any man, and as he had a record of great successes with
+women, why be so timid with an unsophisticated girl? Each day, he told
+himself, he would take another and longer step forward; but for the
+moment he must be content. He began to talk about the meharis and the
+Negroes who would go with them and the beasts of burden.
+
+When it was time for Victoria and M'Barka to be helped into their
+bassourahs, Maïeddine would not let the Soudanese touch the meharis. It
+was he who made the animals kneel, pulling gently on the bridle attached
+to a ring in the left nostril of each; and both subsided gracefully in
+haughty silence instead of uttering the hideous gobbling which common
+camels make when they get down and get up, or when they are loaded or
+unloaded. These beasts, Guelbi and Mansour, had been bought from Moors,
+across the border where Oran and Morocco run together, and had been
+trained since babyhood by smugglers for smuggling purposes. "If a man
+would have a silent camel," said Maïeddine, "he must get him from
+smugglers. For the best of reasons their animals are taught never to
+make a noise."
+
+M'Barka was to have Fafann in the same bassour, but Victoria would have
+her rose and purple cage to herself. Maïeddine told her how, as the
+camel rose, she must first bow forward, then bend back; and, obeying
+carefully, she laughed like a child as the tall mehari straightened the
+knees of his forelegs, bearing his weight upon them as if on his feet,
+then got to his hind feet, while his "front knees," as she called them,
+were still on the ground, and last of all swung himself on to all four
+of his heart-shaped feet. Oh, how high in the air she felt when Guelbi
+was up, ready to start! She had had no idea that he was such a tall,
+moving tower, under the bassour.
+
+"What a sky-scraping camel!" she exclaimed. And then had to explain to
+Maïeddine what she meant; for though he knew Paris, for him America
+might as well have been on another planet.
+
+He rode beside Victoria's mehari, when good-byes had been said,
+blessings exchanged, and the little caravan had started. Looking out
+between the haoulis which protected her from sun and wind, the handsome
+Arab on his Arab horse seemed far below her, as Romeo must have seemed
+to Juliet on her balcony; and to him the fair face, framed with dazzling
+hair was like a guiding star.
+
+"Thou canst rest in thy bassour?" he asked. "The motion of thy beast
+gives thee no discomfort?"
+
+"No. Truly it is a cradle," she answered. "I had read that to ride on a
+camel was misery, but this is like being rocked on the bough of a tree
+when the wind blows."
+
+"To sit in a bassour is very different from riding on a saddle, or even
+on a mattress, as the poor Bedouin women sometimes ride, or the dancers
+journeying from one place to another. I would not let thee travel with
+me unless I had been able to offer thee all the luxuries which a sultana
+might command. With nothing less would I have been content, because to
+me thou art a queen."
+
+"At least thou hast given me a beautiful moving throne," laughed
+Victoria; "and because thou art taking me on it to my sister, I'm happy
+to-day as a queen."
+
+"Then, if thou art happy, I also am happy," he said. "And when an Arab
+is happy, his lips would sing the song that is in his heart. Wilt thou
+be angry or pleased if I sing thee a love-song of the desert?"
+
+"I cannot be angry, because the song will not really be for me,"
+Victoria answered with the simplicity which had often disarmed and
+disconcerted Maïeddine. "And I shall be pleased, because in the desert
+it is good to hear desert songs."
+
+This was not exactly the answer which he had wanted, but he made the
+best of it, telling himself that he had not much longer to wait.
+
+"Leaders of camels sing," he said, "to make the beasts' burdens weigh
+less heavily. But thy mehari has no burden. Thou in thy bassour art
+lighter on his back than a feather on the wing of a dove. My song is for
+my own heart, and for thine heart, if thou wilt have it, not for Guelbi,
+though the meaning of Guelbi is 'heart of mine.'"
+
+Then Maïeddine sang as he rode, his bridle lying loose, an old Arab
+song, wild and very sad, as all Arab music sounds, even when it is the
+cry of joy:
+
+     "Truly, though I were to die, it would be naught,
+     If I were near my love, for whom my bosom aches,
+     For whom my heart is beating.
+
+     "Yes, I am to die, but death is nothing
+     O ye who pass and see me dying,
+     For I have kissed the eyes, the mouth that I desired."
+
+"But that is a sad song," said Victoria, when Maïeddine ceased his
+tragic chant, after many verses.
+
+"Thou wouldst not say so, if thou hadst ever loved. Nothing is sad to a
+lover, except to lose his love, or not to have his love returned."
+
+"But an Arab girl has no chance to love," Victoria argued. "Her father
+gives her to a man when she is a child, and they have never even spoken
+to each other until after the wedding."
+
+"We of the younger generation do not like these child marriages,"
+Maïeddine apologized, eagerly. "And, in any case, an Arab man, unless he
+be useless as a mule without an eye, knows how to make a girl love him
+in spite of herself. We are not like the men of Europe, bound down by a
+thousand conventions. Besides, we sometimes fall in love with women not
+of our own race. These we teach to love us before marriage."
+
+Victoria laughed again, for she felt light-hearted in the beautiful
+morning. "Do Arab men always succeed as teachers?"
+
+"What is written is written," he answered slowly. "Yet it is written
+that a strong man carves his own fate. And for thyself, wouldst thou
+know what awaits thee in the future?"
+
+"I trust in God and my star."
+
+"Thou wouldst not, then, that the desert speak to thee with its tongue
+of sand out of the wisdom of all ages?"
+
+"What dost thou mean?"
+
+"I mean that my cousin, Lella M'Barka, can divine the future from the
+sand of the Sahara, which gave her life, and life to her ancestors for a
+thousand years before her. It is a gift. Wilt thou that she exercise it
+for thee to-night, when we camp?"
+
+"There is hardly any real sand in this part of the desert," said
+Victoria, seeking some excuse not to hear M'Barka's prophecies, yet not
+to hurt M'Barka's feelings, or Maïeddine's. "It is all far away, where
+we see the hills which look golden as ripe grain. And we cannot reach
+those hills by evening."
+
+"My cousin always carries the sand for her divining. Every night she
+reads in the sand what will happen to her on the morrow, just as the
+women of Europe tell their fate by the cards. It is sand from the dunes
+round Touggourt; and mingled with it is a little from Mecca, which was
+brought to her by a holy man, a marabout. It would give her pleasure to
+read the sand for thee."
+
+"Then I will ask her to do it," Victoria promised.
+
+As the day grew, its first brightness faded. A wind blew up from the
+south, and slowly darkened the sky with a strange lilac haze, which
+seemed tangible as thin silk gauze. Behind it the sun glimmered like a
+great silver plate, and the desert turned pale, as in moonlight.
+Although the ground was hard under the camels' feet, the wind carried
+with it from far-away spaces a fine powder of sand which at last forced
+Victoria to let down the haoulis, and Maïeddine and the two Negroes to
+cover their faces with the veils of their turbans, up to the eyes.
+
+"It will rain this afternoon," M'Barka prophesied from between her
+curtains.
+
+"No," Maïeddine contradicted her. "There has been rain this month, and
+thou knowest better than I do that beyond El Aghouat it rains but once
+in five years. Else, why do the men of the M'Zab country break their
+hearts to dig deep wells? There will be no rain. It is but a sand-storm
+we have to fear."
+
+"Yet I feel in the roots of my hair and behind my eyes that the rain is
+coming."
+
+Maïeddine shrugged his shoulders, for an Arab does not twice contradict
+a woman, unless she be his wife. But the lilac haze became a pall of
+crape, and the noon meal was hurried. Maïeddine saved some of the
+surprises he had brought for a more favourable time. Hardly had they
+started on again, when rain began to fall, spreading over the desert in
+a quivering silver net whose threads broke and were constantly mended
+again. Then the rough road (to which the little caravan did not keep)
+and all the many diverging tracks became wide silver ribbons, lacing
+the plain broken with green dayas. A few minutes more--incredibly few,
+it seemed to Victoria--and the dayas were deep lakes, where the water
+swirled and bubbled round the trunks of young pistachio trees. A torrent
+poured from the mourning sky, and there was a wild sound of marching
+water, which Victoria could hear, under the haoulis which sheltered her.
+No water came through them, for the arching form of the bassour was like
+the roof of a tent, and the rain poured down on either side. She peeped
+out, enjoying her own comfort, while pitying Maïeddine and the Negroes;
+but all three had covered their thin burnouses with immensely thick,
+white, hooded cloaks, woven of sheep's wool, and they had no air of
+depression. By and by they came to an oued, which should have been a
+dry, stony bed without a trickle of water; but half an hour's downpour
+had created a river, as if by black magic; and Victoria could guess the
+force at which it was rushing, by the stout resistance she felt Guelbi
+had to make, as he waded through.
+
+"A little more, and we could not have crossed," said Maïeddine, when
+they had mounted up safely on the other side of the oued.
+
+"Art thou not very wet and miserable?" the girl asked sympathetically.
+
+"I--miserable?" he echoed. "I--who am privileged to feast upon the
+deglet nour, in my desert?"
+
+Victoria did not understand his metaphor, for the deglet nour is the
+finest of all dates, translucent as amber, sweet as honey, and so dear
+that only rich men or great marabouts ever taste it. "The deglet nour?"
+she repeated, puzzled.
+
+"Dost thou not know the saying that the smile of a beautiful maiden is
+the deglet nour of Paradise, and nourishes a man's soul, so that he can
+bear any discomfort without being conscious that he suffers?"
+
+"I did not know that Arab men set women so high," said Victoria,
+surprised; for now the rain had stopped, suddenly as it began, and she
+could look out again from between the curtains. Soon they would dry in
+the hot sun.
+
+"Thou hast much to learn then, about Arab men," Maïeddine answered, "and
+fortunate is thy teacher. It is little to say that we would sacrifice
+our lives for the women we love, because for us life is not that great
+treasure it is to the Roumis, who cling to it desperately. We would do
+far more than give our lives for the beloved woman, we Arabs. We would
+give our heads, which is the greatest sacrifice a man of Islam could
+make."
+
+"But is not that the same thing as giving life?"
+
+"It is a thousandfold more. It is giving up the joy of eternity. For we
+are taught to believe that if a man's head is severed from his body, it
+alone goes to Paradise. His soul is maimed. It is but a bodiless head,
+and all celestial joys are for ever denied to it."
+
+"How horrible!" the girl exclaimed. "Dost thou really believe such a
+thing?"
+
+He feared that he had made a mistake, and that she would look upon him
+as an alien, a pagan, with whom she could have no sympathy. "If I am
+more modern in my ideas than my forefathers," he said tactfully, "I must
+not confess it to a Roumia, must I, oh Rose of the West?--for that would
+be disloyal to Islam. Yet if I did believe, still would I give my head
+for the love of the one woman, the star of my destiny, she whose sweet
+look deserves that the word 'aïn' should stand for bright fountain, and
+for the ineffable light in a virgin's eyes."
+
+"I did not know until to-day, Si Maïeddine, that thou wert a poet,"
+Victoria told him.
+
+"All true Arabs are poets. Our language--the literary, not the common
+Arabic--is the language of poets, as thou must have read in thy books.
+But I have now such inspiration as perhaps no man ever had; and thou
+wilt learn other things about me, while we journey together in the
+desert."
+
+As he said this he looked at her with a look which even her simplicity
+could not have mistaken if she had thought of it; but instantly the
+vision of Saidee came between her eyes and his. The current of her ideas
+was abruptly changed. "How many days now," she asked suddenly, "will the
+journey last?"
+
+His face fell. "Art thou tired already of this new way of travelling,
+that thou askest me a question thou hast not once asked since we
+started?"
+
+"Oh no, no," she reassured him. "I love it. I am not tired at all.
+But--I did not question thee at first because thou didst not desire me
+to know thy plans, while I was still within touch of Europeans. Thou
+didst not put this reason in such words, for thou wouldst not have let
+me feel I had not thy full trust. But it was natural thou shouldst not
+give it, when thou hadst so little acquaintance with me, and I did not
+complain. Now it is different. Even if I wished, I could neither speak
+nor write to any one I ever knew. Therefore I question thee."
+
+"Art thou impatient for the end?" he wanted to know, jealously.
+
+"Not impatient. I am happy. Yet I should like to count the days, and say
+each night, 'So many more times must the sun rise and set before I see
+my sister.'"
+
+"Many suns must rise and set," Maïeddine confessed doggedly.
+
+"But--when first thou planned the journey, thou saidst; 'In a fortnight
+thou canst send thy friends news, I hope.'"
+
+"If I had told thee then, that it must be longer, wouldst thou have come
+with me? I think not. For thou sayest I did not wholly trust thee. How
+much less didst thou trust me?"
+
+"Completely. Or I would not have put myself in thy charge."
+
+"Perhaps thou art convinced of that now, when thou knowest me and Lella
+M'Barka, and thou hast slept in the tent of my father, and in the houses
+of my friends. But I saw in thine eyes at that time a doubt thou didst
+not wish to let thyself feel, because through me alone was there a way
+to reach thy sister. I wished to bring thee to her, for thy sake, and
+for her sake, though I have never looked upon her face and never
+shall----"
+
+"Why dost thou say 'never shall'?" the girl broke in upon him suddenly.
+
+The blood mounted to his face. He had made a second mistake, and she was
+very quick to catch him up.
+
+"It was but a figure of speech," he corrected himself.
+
+"Thou dost not mean that she's shut up, and no man allowed to see her?"
+
+"I know nothing. Thou wilt find out all for thyself. But thou wert
+anxious to go to her, at no matter what cost, and I feared to dishearten
+thee, to break thy courage, while I was still a stranger, and could not
+justify myself in thine eyes. Now, wilt thou forgive me an evasion,
+which was to save thee anxiety, if I say frankly that, travel as we may,
+we cannot reach our journey's end for many days yet?"
+
+"I must forgive thee," said Victoria, with a sigh. "Yet I do not like
+evasions. They are unworthy."
+
+"I am sorry," Maïeddine returned, so humbly that he disarmed her. "It
+would be terrible to offend thee."
+
+"There can be no question of offence," she consoled him. "I am very,
+very grateful for all thou hast done for me. I often lie awake in the
+night, wondering how I can repay thee everything."
+
+"When we come to the end of the journey, I will tell thee of a thing
+thou canst do, for my happiness," Maïeddine said in a low voice, as if
+half to himself.
+
+"Wilt thou tell me now to what place we are going? I should like to
+know, and I should like to hear thee describe it."
+
+He did not speak for a moment. Then he said slowly; "It is a grief to
+deny thee anything, oh Rose, but the secret is not mine to tell, even to
+thee."
+
+"The secret!" she echoed. "Thou hast never called it a secret."
+
+"If I did not use that word, did I not give thee to understand the same
+thing?"
+
+"Thou meanest, the secret about Cassim, my sister's husband?"
+
+"Cassim ben Halim has ceased to live."
+
+Victoria gave a little cry. "Dead! But thou hast made me believe, in
+spite of the rumours, that he lived."
+
+"I cannot explain to thee," Maïeddine answered gloomily, as if hating to
+refuse her anything. "In the end, thou wilt know all, and why I had to
+be silent."
+
+"But my sister?" the girl pleaded. "There is no mystery about her? Thou
+hast concealed nothing which concerns Saidee?"
+
+"Thou hast my word that I will take thee to the place where she is. Thou
+gavest me thy trust. Give it me again."
+
+"I have not taken it away. It is thine," said Victoria.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+
+That night they spent in a caravanserai, because, after the brief deluge
+of rain, the ground was too damp for camping, when an invalid was of the
+party. When they reached the place after sunset, the low square of the
+building was a block of marble set in the dull gold of the desert,
+carved in dazzling white against a deep-blue evening sky. Like Ben
+Halim's house, it was roughly fortified, with many loopholes in the
+walls, for it had been built to serve the uses of less peaceful days
+than these. Within the strong gates, on one side were rooms for guests,
+each with its own door and window opening into the huge court. On
+another side of the square were the kitchens and dining-room, as well as
+living-place for the Arab landlord and his hidden family; and opposite
+was a roofed, open-fronted shelter for camels and other animals, the
+ground yellow with sand and spilt fodder. Water overflowed from a small
+well, making a pool in the courtyard, in which ducks and geese waddled,
+quacking, turkey-cocks fought in quiet corners, barked at impotently by
+Kabyle puppies. Tall, lean hounds or sloughis, kept to chase the desert
+gazelles, wandered near the kitchens, in the hope of bones, and camels
+gobbled dismally as their tired drivers forced them to their knees, or
+thrust handfuls of date stones down their throats. There were sheep,
+too, and goats; and even a cow, the "perpetual mother" loved and valued
+by Arabs.
+
+M'Barka refused to "read the sand" that night, when Maïeddine suggested
+it. The sand would yield up its secrets only under the stars, she said,
+and wished to wait until they should be in the tents.
+
+All night, outside Victoria's open but shuttered window, there was a
+stealthy stirring of animals in the dark, a gliding of ghostly ducks, a
+breathing of sheep and camels. And sometimes the wild braying of a
+donkey or the yelp of a dog tore the silence to pieces.
+
+The next day was hot; so that at noon, when they stopped to eat, the
+round blot of black shadow under one small tree was precious as a black
+pearl. And there were flies. Victoria could not understand how they
+lived in the desert, miles from any house, miles from the tents of
+nomads; where there was no vegetation, except an occasional scrubby
+tree, or a few of the desert gourds which the Arabs use to cure the bite
+of scorpions. But she had not seen the cages of bones, sometimes
+bleached like old ivory, sometimes of a dreadful red, which told of
+wayside tragedies. Always when they had come in sight of a skeleton,
+Maïeddine had found some excuse to make the girl look in another
+direction; for he wanted her to love the desert, not to feel horror of
+its relentlessness.
+
+Now for the first time he had full credit for his cleverness as an
+organizer. Never before had they been so remote from civilization. When
+travelling in the carriage, stopping each night at the house of some
+well-to-do caïd or adel, it had been comparatively easy to provide
+supplies; but to-day, when jellied chicken and cream-cheese, almond
+cakes and oranges appeared at luncheon, and some popular French mineral
+water (almost cool because the bottles had been wrapped in wet blanket)
+fizzed in the glasses, Victoria said that Si Maïeddine must have a tame
+djinn for a slave.
+
+"Wait till evening," he told her. "Then perhaps thou mayest see
+something to please thee." But he was delighted with her compliments,
+and made her drink water from the glass out of which he had drunk, that
+she might be sure of his good faith in all he had sworn to her
+yesterday. "They who drink water from the same cup have made an eternal
+pact together," he said. "I should not dare to be untrue, even if I
+would. And thou--I think that thou wilt be true to me."
+
+"Why, certainly I will," answered Victoria, with the pretty American
+accent which Stephen Knight had admired and smiled at the night he heard
+it first. "Thou art one of my very best friends."
+
+Maïeddine looked down into the glass and smiled, as if he were a
+crystal-gazer, and could see something under the bright surface, that no
+one else could see.
+
+Night folded down over the desert, hot and velvety, like the wings of a
+mother-bird covering her children; but before darkness fell, the tents
+glimmered under the stars. There were two only, a large one for the
+women, and one very small for Maïeddine. The Negroes would roll
+themselves in their burnouses, and lie beside the animals. But
+sleeping-time had not come yet; and it was the Soudanese who prepared
+the evening meal.
+
+One of them was a good cook, and for that reason Maïeddine had begged
+him from the Agha. He made desert bread, by mixing farina with salted
+water, and baking it on a flat tin supported by stones over a fire of
+dry twigs. When the thin loaf was crisply brown on top, the man took it
+off the fire, and covered it up, on the tin, because it was to be eaten
+hot.
+
+While Victoria waited for all to be got ready, she strolled a little
+away from the tents and the group of resting animals, having promised
+Maïeddine to avoid the tufts of alfa grass, for fear of vipers which
+sometimes lurked among them. He would have liked to go with her, but the
+unfailing tact of the Arab told him that she wished to be alone with her
+thoughts, and he could only hope that they might be of him.
+
+Here, it was no longer beautiful desert. They had passed the charming
+region of dayas, and were entering the grim world through which, long
+ago, the ever harried M'Zabites had fled to find a refuge beyond the
+reach of greedy pursuers. Nevertheless the enchantment of the Sahara, in
+all its phases, had taken hold of Victoria. She did not now feel that
+the desert was a place where a tired soul might find oblivion, though
+once she had imagined that it would be a land of forgetfulness. Arabs
+say, in talking idly to Europeans, that men forget their past in the
+desert, but she doubted if they really forgot, in these vast spaces
+where there was so much time to think. She herself began to feel that
+the illimitable skies, where flamed sunsets and sunrises whose miracles
+no eye saw, might teach her mysteries she had snatched at and lost, in
+dreams. The immensity of the desert sent her soul straining towards the
+immensity of the Beyond; and almost, in flashes elusive as the light on
+a bird's wing, she understood what eternity might mean. She felt that
+the last days of her childhood had been left behind, on the threshold of
+these mysterious spaces, this vastness into which she had plunged, as
+into an ocean. Yet she did not regret the loss, if it were a loss.
+Never, she thought, whatever might happen, would she wish not to have
+known this experience, not to have entered upon this great adventure,
+whose end Maïeddine still hid behind a veil of secrecy.
+
+It was true, as she had told him, that she was not impatient, though she
+would have liked to count the days like the beads of a rosary. She
+looked forward to each one, as to the discovery of a beautiful thing new
+to the world and to her; for though the spaces surrounding her were wide
+beyond thinking, they were not empty. As ships, great and small, sail
+the sea, so sailed the caravans of the nomad tribes in the desert which
+surges on unchecked to Egypt: nomads who come and go, north and south,
+east and west, under the burning sun and the throbbing stars, as Allah
+has written their comings and goings in His book: men in white,
+journeying with their women, their children, and their trains of beasts,
+singing as they pass, and at night under the black tents resting to the
+music of the tom-tom and raïta.
+
+Victoria's gaze waded through the shadows that flow over the desert at
+evening, deep and blue and transparent as water. She searched the
+distances for the lives that must be going on somewhere, perhaps not far
+away, though she would never meet them. They, and she, were floating
+spars in a great ocean; and it made the ocean more wonderful to know
+that the spars were there, each drifting according to its fate.
+
+The girl drew into her lungs the strong air of the desert, born of the
+winds which bring life or death to its children.
+
+The scent of the wild thyme, which she could never again disentangle
+from thoughts of the Sahara, was very sweet, even insistent. She knew
+that it was loved by nomad women; and she let pictures rise before her
+mind of gorgeous dark girls on camels, in plumed red bassourahs, going
+from one desert city to another, to dance--cities teeming with life,
+which she would never see among these spaces that seemed empty as the
+world before creation. She imagined the ghosts of these desert beauties
+crowding round her in the dusk, bringing their fragrance with them, the
+wild thyme they had loved in life, crushed in their bosoms; pathetic
+ghosts, who had not learned to rise beyond what they had once desired,
+therefore compelled to haunt the desert, the only world which they had
+known. In the wind that came sighing to her ears from the dark ravines
+of the terrible chebka, she seemed to hear battle-songs and groans of
+desert men who had fought and died ages ago, whose bones had crumbled
+under her feet, perhaps, and whose descendants had not changed one whit
+in religion, custom, or thought, or even in dress.
+
+Victoria was glad that Maïeddine had let her have these desert thoughts
+alone, for they made her feel at home in the strange world her fancy
+peopled; but the touch of the thyme-scented ghosts was cold. It was good
+to turn back at last towards the tents, and see how the camp-fire
+crimsoned the star-dusk.
+
+"Thou wert happy alone?" Maïeddine questioned her jealously.
+
+"I was not alone."
+
+He understood. "I know. The desert voices spoke to thee, of the desert
+mystery which they alone can tell; voices we can hear only by listening
+closely."
+
+"That was the thought in my mind. How odd thou shouldst put it into
+words."
+
+"Dost thou think it odd? But I am a man of the desert. I held back, for
+thee to go alone and hear the voices, knowing they would teach thee to
+understand me and my people. I knew, too, that the spirits would be
+kind, and say nothing to frighten thee. Besides, thou didst not go to
+them quite alone, for thine own white angel walked on thy right hand, as
+always."
+
+"Thou makest poetical speeches, Si Maïeddine."
+
+"It is no poetry to speak of thy white angel. We believe that each one
+of us has a white angel at his right hand, recording his good actions.
+But ordinary mortals have also their black angels, keeping to the left,
+writing down wicked thoughts and deeds. Hast thou not seen men spitting
+to the left, to show despite of their black angels? But because thy soul
+is never soiled by sinful thoughts, there was no need for a black angel,
+and whilst thou wert still a child, Allah discharged him of his
+mission."
+
+"And thou, Si Maïeddine, dost thou think, truly, that a black angel
+walks ever at thy left side?"
+
+"I fear so." Maïeddine glanced to the left, as if he could see a dark
+figure writing on a slate. Things concerning Victoria must have been
+written on that slate, plans he had made, of which neither his white
+angel nor hers would approve. But, he told himself, if they had to be
+carried out, she would be to blame, for driving him to extremes. "Whilst
+thou art near me," he said aloud, "my black angel lags behind, and if
+thou wert to be with me forever, I----"
+
+"Since that cannot be, thou must find a better way to keep him in the
+background," Victoria broke in lightly. But Si Maïeddine's compliments
+were oppressive. She wished it were not the Arab way to pay so many. He
+had been different at first; and feeling the change in him with a faint
+stirring of uneasiness, she hurried her steps to join M'Barka.
+
+The invalid reclined on a rug of golden jackal skins, and rested a thin
+elbow on cushions of dyed leather, braided in intricate strips by
+Touareg women. Victoria sat beside her, Maïeddine opposite, and Fafann
+waited upon them as they ate.
+
+After supper, while the Bedouin woman saw that everything was ready for
+her mistress and the Roumia, in their tent, M'Barka spread out her
+precious sand from Mecca and the dunes round her own Touggourt. She had
+it tied up in green silk, such as is used for the turbans of men who
+have visited Mecca, lined with a very old Arab brocade, purple and gold,
+like the banners that drape the tombs of marabouts. She opened the bag
+carefully, until it lay flat on the ground in front of her knees, the
+sand piled in the middle, as much perhaps as could have been heaped on a
+soup plate.
+
+For a moment she sat gazing at the sand, her lips moving. She looked wan
+as old ivory in the dying firelight, and in the hollows of her immense
+eyes seemed to dream the mysteries of all ages. "Take a handful of
+sand," she said to Victoria. "Hold it over thine heart. Now, wish with
+the whole force of thy soul."
+
+Victoria wished to find Saidee safe, and to be able to help her, if she
+needed help.
+
+"Put back the sand, sprinkling it over the rest."
+
+The girl, though not superstitious, could not help being interested,
+even fascinated. It seemed to her that the sand had a magical sparkle.
+
+M'Barka's eyes became introspective, as if she waited for a message, or
+saw a vision. She was as strange, as remote from modern womanhood as a
+Cassandra. Presently she started, and began trailing her brown fingers
+lightly over the sand, pressing them down suddenly now and then, until
+she had made three long, wavy lines, the lower ones rather like
+telegraphic dots and dashes.
+
+"Lay the forefinger of thy left hand on any figure in these lines," she
+commanded. "Now on another--yet again, for the third time. That is all
+thou hast to do. The rest is for me."
+
+She took from some hiding-place in her breast a little old note-book,
+bound in dark leather, glossy from constant use. With it came a perfume
+of sandalwood. Turning the yellow leaves of the book, covered with fine
+Arab lettering, she read in a murmuring, indistinct voice, that sounded
+to Victoria like one of those desert voices of which Maïeddine had
+spoken. Also she measured spaces between the figures the girl had
+touched, and counted monotonously.
+
+"Thy wish lies a long way from thee," she said at last. "A long way!
+Thou couldst never reach it of thyself--never, not till the end of the
+world. I see thee--alone, very helpless. Thou prayest. Allah sends thee
+a man--a strong man, whose brain and heart and arm are at thy service.
+Allah is great!"
+
+"Tell her what the man is like, cousin," Maïeddine prompted, eagerly.
+
+"He is dark, and young. He is not of thy country, oh Rose of the West,
+but trust him, rely upon him, or thou art undone. In thy future, just
+where thou hast ceased to look for them, I see troubles and
+disappointments, even dangers. That is the time, above all others, to
+let thyself be guided by the man Allah has sent to be thy prop. He has
+ready wit and courage. His love for thee is great. It grows and grows.
+He tells thee of it; and thou--thou seest between him and thee a
+barrier, high and fearful as a wall with sharp knives on top. For thine
+eyes it is impassable. Thine heart is sad; and thy words to him will
+pierce his soul with despair. But think again. Be true to thyself and to
+thy star. Speak another word, and throw down that high barrier, as the
+wall of Jericho was thrown down. Thou canst do it. All will depend on
+the decision of a moment--thy whole future, the future of the man, and
+of a woman whose face I cannot see."
+
+M'Barka smoothed away the tracings in the sand.
+
+"What--is there no more?" asked Maïeddine.
+
+"No, it is dark before my eyes now. The light has gone from the sand. I
+can still tell her a few little things, perhaps. Such things as the
+luckiest colours to wear, the best days to choose for journeys. But she
+is different from most girls. I do not think she would care for such
+hints."
+
+"All colours are lucky. All days are good," said Victoria. "I thank thee
+for what thou hast told me, Lella M'Barka."
+
+She did not wish to hear more. What she had heard was more than enough.
+Not that she really believed that M'Barka could see into the future; but
+because of the "dark man." Any fortune-teller might introduce a dark man
+into the picture of a fair girl's destiny; but the allusions were so
+marked that Victoria's vague unrestfulness became distress. She tried to
+encourage herself by thinking of Maïeddine's dignified attitude, from
+the beginning of their acquaintance until now. And even now, he had
+changed only a little. He was too complimentary, that was all; and the
+difference in his manner might arise from knowing her more intimately.
+Probably Lella M'Barka, like many elderly women of other and newer
+civilizations, was over-romantic; and the best thing was to prevent her
+from putting ridiculous ideas into Maïeddine's head. Such ideas would
+spoil the rest of the journey for both.
+
+"Remember all I have told thee, when the time comes," M'Barka warned
+her.
+
+"Yes--oh yes, I will remember."
+
+"Now it is my turn. Read the sand for me," said Maïeddine.
+
+M'Barka made as if she would wrap the sand in its bag. "I can tell thy
+future better another time. Not now. It would not be wise. Besides, I
+have done enough. I am tired."
+
+"Look but a little way along the future, then, and say what thou seest.
+I feel that it will bring good fortune to touch the sand where the hand
+of Ourïeda has touched it."
+
+Always now, he spoke of Victoria, or to her, as "Rose" (Ourïeda in
+Arabic); but as M'Barka gave her that name also, the girl could hardly
+object.
+
+"I tell thee, instead it may bring thee evil."
+
+"For good or evil, I will have the fortune now," Maïeddine insisted.
+
+"Be it upon thy head, oh cousin, not mine. Take thy handful of sand, and
+make thy wish."
+
+Maïeddine took it from the place Victoria had touched, and his wish was
+that, as the grains of sand mingled, so their destinies might mingle
+inseparably, his and hers.
+
+M'Barka traced the three rows of mystic signs, and read her notebook,
+mumbling. But suddenly she let it drop into her lap, covering the signs
+with both thin hands.
+
+"What ails thee?" Maïeddine asked, frowning.
+
+"I saw thee stand still and let an opportunity slip by."
+
+"I shall not do that."
+
+"The sand has said it. Shall I stop, or go on?"
+
+"Go on."
+
+"I see another chance to grasp thy wish. This time thou stretchest out
+thine hand. I see thee, in a great house--the house of one thou knowest,
+whose name I may not speak. Thou stretchest out thine hand. The chance
+is given thee----"
+
+"What then?"
+
+"Then--I cannot tell thee, what then. Thou must not ask. My eyes are
+clouded with sleep. Come Ourïeda, it is late. Let us go to our tent."
+
+"No," said Maïeddine. "Ourïeda may go, but not thou."
+
+Victoria rose quickly and lightly from among the jackal skins and
+Touareg cushions which Maïeddine had provided for her comfort. She bade
+him good night, and with all his old calm courtesy he kissed his hand
+after it had pressed hers. But there was a fire of anger or impatience
+in his eyes.
+
+Fafann was in the tent, waiting to put her mistress to bed, and to help
+the Roumia if necessary. The mattresses which had come rolled up on the
+brown mule's back, had been made into luxurious looking beds, covered
+with bright-coloured, Arab-woven blankets, beautiful embroidered sheets
+of linen, and cushions slipped into fine pillow-cases. Folding frames
+draped with new mosquito nettings had been arranged to protect the
+sleepers' hands and faces; and there was a folding table on which stood
+French gilt candlesticks and a glass basin and water-jug, ornamented
+with gilded flowers; just such a basin and jug as Victoria had seen in
+the curiosity-shop of Mademoiselle Soubise. There were folded towels,
+too, of silvery damask.
+
+"What wonderful things we have!" the girl exclaimed. "I don't see how we
+manage to carry them all. It is like a story of the 'Arabian Nights,'
+where one has but to rub a lamp, and a powerful djinn brings everything
+one wants."
+
+"The Lord Maïeddine is the powerful djinn who has brought all thou
+couldst possibly desire, without giving thee even the trouble to wish
+for things," said Fafann, showing her white teeth, and glancing sidelong
+at the Roumia. "These are not all. Many of these things thou hast seen
+already. Yet there are more." Eagerly she lifted from the ground, which
+was covered with rugs, a large green earthern jar. "It is full of
+rosewater to bathe thy face, for the water of the desert here is
+brackish, and harsh to the skin, because of saltpetre. The Sidi ordered
+enough rosewater to last till Ghardaia, in the M'Zab country. Then he
+will get thee more."
+
+"But it is for us both--for Lella M'Barka more than for me," protested
+Victoria.
+
+Fafann laughed. "My mistress no longer spends time in thinking of her
+skin. She prays much instead; and the Sidi has given her an amulet which
+touched the sacred Black Stone at Mecca. To her, that is worth all the
+rest; and it is worth this great journey, which she takes with so much
+pain. The rosewater, and the perfumes from Tunis, and the softening
+creams made in the tent of the Sidi's mother, are all offered to thee."
+
+"No, no," the girl persisted, "I am sure they are meant more for Lella
+M'Barka than for me. She is his cousin."
+
+"Hast thou never noticed the caravans, when they have passed us in the
+desert, how it is always the young and beautiful women who rest in the
+bassourahs, while the old ones trot after the camels?"
+
+"I have noticed that, and it is very cruel."
+
+"Why cruel, oh Roumia? They have had their day. And when a man has but
+one camel, he puts upon its back his treasure, the joy of his heart. A
+man must be a man, so say even the women. And the Sidi is a man, as well
+as a great lord. He is praised by all as a hunter, and for the
+straightness of his aim with a gun. He rides, thou seest, as if he were
+one with his horse, and as he gallops in the desert, so would he gallop
+to battle if need be, for he is brave as the Libyan lion, and strong as
+the heroes of old legends. Yet there is nothing too small for him to
+bend his mind upon, if it be for thy pleasure and comfort. Thou shouldst
+be proud, instead of denying that all the Sidi does is for thee. My
+mistress would tell thee so, and many women would be dying of envy,
+daughters of Aghas and even of Bach Aghas. But perhaps, as thou art a
+Roumia, thou hast different feelings."
+
+"Perhaps," answered Victoria humbly, for she was crushed by Fafann's
+fierce eloquence. And for a moment her heart was heavy; but she would
+not let herself feel a presentiment of trouble.
+
+"What harm can happen to me?" she asked. "I haven't been guided so far
+for nothing. Si Maïeddine is an Arab, and his ways aren't like the ways
+of men I've known, that's all. My sister's husband was his friend--a
+great friend, whom he loved. What he does is more for Cassim's sake
+than mine."
+
+Her cheeks were burning after the long day of sun, and because of her
+thoughts; yet she was not glad to bathe them with Si Maïeddine's
+fragrant offering of rosewater, some of which Fafann poured into the
+glass basin.
+
+Not far away Maïeddine was still sitting by the fire with M'Barka.
+
+"Tell me now," he said. "What didst thou see?"
+
+"Nothing clearly. Another time, cousin. Let me have my mind fresh. I am
+like a squeezed orange."
+
+"Yet I must know, or I shall not sleep. Thou art hiding something."
+
+"All was vague--confused. I saw as through a torn cloud. There was the
+great house. Thou wert there, a guest. Thou wert happy, thy desire
+granted, and then--by Allah, Maïeddine, I could not see what happened;
+but the voice of the sand was like a storm in my ears, and the knowledge
+came to me suddenly that thou must not wait too long for thy wish--the
+wish made with the sand against thine heart."
+
+"Thou couldst not see my wish. Thou art but a woman."
+
+"I saw, because I am a woman, and I have the gift. Thou knowest I have
+the gift. Do not wait too long, or thou mayest wait for ever."
+
+"What wouldst thou have me do?"
+
+"It is not for me to advise. As thou saidst, I am but a woman.
+Only--_act_! That is the message of the sand. And now, unless thou
+wouldst have my dead body finish the journey in the bassour, take me to
+my tent."
+
+Maïeddine took her to the tent. And he asked no more questions. But all
+night he thought of what M'Barka had said, and the message of the sand.
+It was a dangerous message, yet the counsel was after his own heart.
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+
+In the morning he was still brooding over the message; and as they
+travelled through the black desert on the way to Ghardaia and the hidden
+cities of the M'Zab, he fell into long silences. Then, abruptly, he
+would rouse himself to gaiety and animation, telling old legends or new
+tales, strange dramas of the desert, very seldom comedies; for there are
+few comedies in the Sahara, except for the children.
+
+Sometimes he was in danger of speaking out words which said themselves
+over and over in his head. "If I 'wait too long, I may wait for ever.'
+Then, by Allah, I will not wait." But he kept his tongue in control,
+though his brain was hot as if he wore no turban, under the blaze of the
+sun. "I will leave things as they are while we are in this black
+Gehenna," he determined. "What is written is written. Yet who has seen
+the book of the writing? And there is a curse on all this country, till
+the M'Zab is passed."
+
+After Bou-Saada, he had gradually forgotten, or almost forgotten, his
+fears. He had been happy in the consciousness of power that came to him
+from the desert, where he was at home, and Europeans were helpless
+strangers. But now, M'Barka's warnings had brought the fears back, like
+flapping ravens. He had planned the little play of the sand-divining,
+and at first it had pleased him. M'Barka's vision of the dark man who
+was not of Victoria's country could not have been better; and because he
+knew that his cousin believed in the sand, he was superstitiously
+impressed by her prophecy and advice. In the end, he had forced her to
+go on when she would have stopped, yet he was angry with her for
+putting doubts into his mind, doubts of his own wisdom and the way to
+succeed. With a girl of his own people, or indeed with any girl, if he
+had not loved too much, he would have had no doubts. But he did not know
+how it was best to treat Victoria. His love for her was so strong, that
+it was like fear, and in trying to understand her, he changed his mind a
+dozen times a day. He was not used to this uncertainty, and hated to
+think that he could be weak. Would she turn from him, if he broke the
+tacit compact of loyal friendship which had made her trust him as a
+guide? He could not tell; though an Arab girl would scorn him for
+keeping it. "Perhaps at heart all women are alike," he thought. "And if,
+now that I am warned, I should risk waiting, I would be no man." At
+last, the only question left in his mind was, "When?"
+
+For two days they journeyed through desolation, in a burnt-out world
+where nothing had colour except the sad violet sky which at evening
+flamed with terrible sunsets, cruelly beautiful as funeral pyres. The
+fierce glow set fire to the black rocks which pointed up like dragons'
+teeth, and turned them to glittering copper; polishing the dead white
+chalk of the chebka to the dull gleam of dirty silver. Far away there
+were always purple hills, behind which it seemed that hope and beauty
+might come to life again; but travelling from morning to night they
+never appeared any nearer. The evil magic of the black desert, which
+Maïeddine called accursed because of the M'Zabites, made the beautiful
+hills recede always, leaving only the ugly brown waves of hardened
+earth, which were disheartening to climb, painful to descend.
+
+At last, in the midst of black squalor, they came to an oasis like a
+bright jewel fallen in the trough of swine. It was Berryan, the first
+town of the M'Zabites, people older than the Arabs, and hated by them
+with a hatred more bitter than their loathing for Jews.
+
+Maïeddine would not pass through the town, since it could be avoided,
+because in his eyes the Beni-M'Zab were dogs, and in their eyes he,
+though heir to an agha, would be as carrion.
+
+Sons of ancient Phoenicians, merchants of Tyre and Carthage, there never
+had been, never would be, any lust for battle in the hearts of the
+M'Zabites. Their warfare had been waged by cunning, and through
+mercenaries. They had fled before Arab warriors, driven from place to
+place by brave, scornful enemies, and now, safely established in their
+seven holy cities, protected by vast distances and the barrier of the
+black desert, they revenged their wrongs with their wits, being rich,
+and great usurers. Though Mussulmans in these days, the schisms with
+which they desecrated the true religion were worse in the eyes of
+Maïeddine than the foolish faith of Christians, who, at least, were not
+backsliders. He would not even point out to Victoria the strange minaret
+of the Abadite mosque at Berryan, which tapered like a brown obelisk
+against the shimmering sky, for to him its very existence was a
+disgrace.
+
+"Do not speak of it; do not even look at it," he said to her, when she
+exclaimed at the great Cleopatra Needle. But she did look, having none
+of his prejudices, and he dared not bid her let down the curtains of her
+bassour, as he would if she had been a girl of his own blood.
+
+The extraordinary city, whose crowded, queerly-built houses were blocks
+of gold in the sunlight, seemed beautiful to Victoria, coming in sight
+of it suddenly after days in the black desert. The other six cities,
+called holy by the Beni-M'Zab, were far away still. She knew this,
+because Maïeddine had told her they would not descend into the Wady
+M'Zab till next day. Berryan and Guerrara were on the upper plateau; and
+Victoria could hardly bear to pass by, for Berryan was by far the most
+Eastern-seeming place she had seen. She wondered if, should she ask him
+as a favour, Maïeddine would rest there that night, instead of camping
+somewhere farther on, in the hideous desert; for already it was late
+afternoon. But she would ask nothing of him now, for he was no longer
+quite the trusty friend she had persuaded herself to think him. One
+night, since the sand-divining, she had had a fearful dream concerning
+Maïeddine. Outside her tent she had heard a soft padding sound, and
+peeping from under the flap, she had seen a splendid, tawny tiger, who
+looked at her with brilliant topaz eyes which fascinated her so that she
+could not turn away. But she knew that the animal was Maïeddine; that
+each night he changed himself into a tiger; and that as a tiger he was
+more his real self than when by day he appeared as a man.
+
+They filed past Berryan; the meharis, the white stallion, the
+pack-camel, and the mule, in slow procession, along a rough road which
+wound close to the green oasis. And from among the palm trees men and
+women and little children, gorgeous as great tropical birds, in their
+robes of scarlet, ochre-yellow, and emerald, peered at the little
+caravan with cynical curiosity. Victoria looked back longingly, for she
+knew that the way from Berryan to the Wady M'Zab would be grim and
+toilsome under the burning sun. Hill after hill, they mounted and
+descended; hills stony yet sandy, always the same dull colour, and so
+shapeless as to daze the brain with their monotony. But towards evening,
+when the animals had climbed to the crest of a hill like a dingy wave,
+suddenly a white obelisk shot up, pale and stiff as a dead man's finger.
+Tops of tall palms were like the dark plumes on the heads of ten
+thousand dancing women of the Sahara, and as a steep descent began,
+there glittered the five hidden cities, like a strange fairyland lost in
+the desert. The whole Wady M'Zab lay under the eyes of the travellers,
+as if they looked down over the rim of an immense cup. Here, some who
+were left of the sons of Tyre and Carthage dwelt safe and snug,
+crouching in the protection of the valley they had found and reclaimed
+from the abomination of desolation.
+
+It seemed to Victoria that she looked on one of the great sights of the
+world: the five cities, gleaming white, and glowing bronze, closely
+built on their five conical hills, which rose steeply from the flat
+bottom of the gold-lined cup--Ghardaia, Beni-Isguen, Bou-Noura, Melika,
+and El-Ateuf. The top of each hill was prolonged to a point by the
+tapering minaret of one of those Abadite mosques which the girl thought
+the most Eastern of all things imported from the East. The oasis which
+gave wealth to the M'Zabites surged round the towns like a green sea at
+ebb tide, sucked back from a strand of gold; and as the caravan wound
+down the wonderful road with which the Beni-M'Zab had traced the sheer
+side of their enchanted cup, the groaning of hundreds of well-chains
+came plaintively up on the wind.
+
+The well-stones had the obelisk shape of the minarets, in miniature; and
+Negroes--freed slaves of the rich M'Zabites--running back and forth in
+pairs, to draw the water, were mere struggling black ants, seen from the
+cup's rim. The houses of the five towns were like bleached skeletons,
+and the arches that spanned the dark, narrow streets were their ribs.
+
+Arrived at the bottom of the cup, it was necessary to pass through the
+longest and only modern street of Ghardaia, the capital of the M'Zab. A
+wind had sprung up, to lift the sand which sprinkled the hard-trodden
+ground with thick powder of gold dust, and whirl it westward against the
+fire of sunset, red as a blowing spray of blood. "It is a sign of
+trouble when the sand of the desert turns to blood," muttered Fafann to
+her mistress, quoting a Bedouin proverb.
+
+The men of the M'Zab do not willingly give lodging to strangers, least
+of all to Arabs; and at Beni-Isguen, holy city and scene of strange
+mysteries, no stranger may rest for the night. But Maïeddine, respected
+by the ruling power, as by his own people, had a friend or two at every
+Bureau Arabe and military station. A French officer stationed at
+Ghardaia had married a beautiful Arab girl of good family distantly
+related to the Agha of the Ouled-Serrin, and being at Algiers on
+official business, his wife away at her father's tent, he had promised
+to lend his house, a few miles out of the town, to Si Maïeddine. It was
+a long, low building of toub, the sun-dried sand-blocks of which most
+houses are made in the ksour, or Sahara villages, but it had been
+whitewashed, and named the Pearl.
+
+There they slept, in the cool shadow of the oasis, and early next
+morning went on.
+
+As soon as they had passed out of this hidden valley, where a whole race
+of men had gathered for refuge and wealth-building, Victoria felt,
+rather than saw, a change in Maïeddine. She hardly knew how to express
+it to herself, unless it was that he had become more Arab. His
+courtesies suggested less the modern polish learned from the French (in
+which he could excel when he chose) than the almost royal hospitality of
+some young Bey escorting a foreign princess through his dominions.
+Always "_très-mâle_," as Frenchwomen pronounced him admiringly, Si
+Maïeddine began to seem masculine in an untamed, tigerish way. He was
+restless, and would not always be contented to ride El Biod, beside the
+tall, white mehari, but would gallop far ahead, and then race back to
+rejoin the little caravan, rushing straight at the animals as if he must
+collide with them, then, at the last instant, when Victoria's heart
+bounded, reining in his horse, so that El Biod's forefeet--shod
+Arab-fashion--pawed the air, and the animal sat upon his haunches,
+muscles straining and rippling under the creamlike skin.
+
+Or, sometimes, Maïeddine would spring from the white stallion's back,
+letting El Biod go free, while his master marched beside Guelbi, with
+that panther walk that the older races, untrammelled by the civilization
+of towns, have kept unspoiled.
+
+The Arab's eyes were more brilliant, never dreamy now, and he looked at
+Victoria often, with disconcerting steadiness, instead of lowering his
+eyelids as men of Islam, accustomed to the mystery of the veil,
+unconsciously do with European women whom they respect, though they do
+not understand.
+
+So they went on, travelling the immeasurable desert; and Victoria had
+not asked again, since Maïeddine's refusal, the name of the place to
+which they were bound. M'Barka seemed brighter, as if she looked
+forward to something, each day closer at hand; and her courage would
+have given Victoria confidence, even if the girl had been inclined to
+forebodings. They were going somewhere, Lella M'Barka knew where, and
+looked forward joyously to arriving. The girl fancied that their
+destination was the same, though at first she had not thought so. Words
+that M'Barka let drop inadvertently now and then, built up this
+impression in her mind.
+
+The "habitude du Sud," as Maïeddine called it, when occasionally they
+talked French together, was gradually taking hold of the girl. Sometimes
+she resented it, fearing that by this time it must have altogether
+enslaved Saidee, and dreading the insidious fascination for herself;
+sometimes she found pleasure and peace in it; but in every mood the
+influence was hard to throw off.
+
+"The desert has taken hold of thee," Maïeddine said one day, when he had
+watched her in silence for a while, and seen the rapt look in her eyes.
+"I knew the time would come, sooner or later. It has come now."
+
+"No," Victoria answered. "I do not belong to the desert."
+
+"If not to-day, then to-morrow," he finished, as if he had not heard.
+
+They were going on towards Ouargla. So much he had told her, though he
+had quickly added, "But we shall not stop there." He was waiting still,
+though they were out of the black desert and the accursed land of the
+renegades. He was not afraid of anything or anyone here, in this
+vastness, where a European did not pass once a year, and few Arabs, only
+the Spahis, carrying mails from one Bureau Arabe to another, or tired
+soldiers changing stations. The beautiful country of the golden dunes,
+with its horizon like a stormy sea, was the place of which he said in
+his thoughts, "It shall happen there."
+
+On the other side of Ghardaia, even when Victoria had ceased to be
+actually impatient for her meeting with Saidee, she had longed to know
+the number of days, that she might count them. But now she had drunk so
+deep of the colour and the silence that, in spite of herself, she was
+passing beyond that phase. What were a few days more, after so many
+years? She wondered how she could have longed to go flying across the
+desert in Nevill Caird's big motor-car; nevertheless, she never ceased
+to wish for Stephen Knight. Her thoughts of him and of the desert were
+inextricably and inexplicably mingled, more than ever since the night
+when she had danced in the Agha's tent, and Stephen's face had come
+before her eyes, as if in answer to her call. Constantly she called him
+now. When there was some fleeting, beautiful effect of light or shadow,
+she said, "How I wish he were here to see that!" She never named him in
+her mind. He was "he": that was name enough. Yet it did not occur to her
+that she was "in love" with Knight. She had never had time to think
+about falling in love. There had always been Saidee, and dancing; and to
+Victoria, the desire to make money enough to start out and find her
+sister, had taken the place which ideas of love and marriage fill in
+most girls' heads. Therefore she did not know what to make of her
+feeling for Stephen. But when a question floated into her brain, she
+answered it simply by explaining that he was different from any other
+man she had met; and that, though she had known him only a few days,
+from the first he had seemed more a friend than Si Maïeddine, or any one
+else whom she knew much better than Stephen.
+
+As they travelled, she had many thoughts which pleased her--thoughts
+which could have come to her nowhere else except in the desert, and
+often she talked to herself, because M'Barka could not understand her
+feelings, and she did not wish to make Maïeddine understand.
+
+"Burning, burning," was the adjective which she repeated oftenest, in an
+almost awestruck whisper, as her eyes travelled over immense spaces; for
+she thought that the desert might have dropped out of the sun. The
+colour of sand and sky was colour on fire, blazing. The whole Sahara
+throbbed with the unimaginable fire of creative cosmic force, deep,
+vital orange, needed by the primitive peoples of the earth who had not
+risen high enough yet to deserve or desire the finer vibrations.
+
+As she leaned out of the bassour, the heat of the sun pressed on her
+lightly veiled head, like the golden lid of a golden box. She could feel
+it as an actual weight; and invisible behind it a living power which
+could crush her in an instant, as the paw of a lion might crush a flower
+petal.
+
+Africa itself was this savage power, fierce as fire, ever smouldering,
+sometimes flaming with the revolt of Islam against other creeds; but the
+heart of the fire was the desert. Only the shady seguias in the oasis
+towns cooled it, like children's fingers on a madman's forehead; or the
+sound of a boy's flute in a river bed, playing the music of Pan,
+changeless, monotonous yet thrilling, as the music of earth and all
+Nature.
+
+There were tracts in the desert which colour-blind people might have
+hated; but Victoria grew to think the dreariest stretches beautiful; and
+even the occasional plagues of flies which irritated M'Barka beyond
+endurance, only made Victoria laugh.
+
+Sometimes came caravans, in this billowing immensity between the M'Zab
+and Ouargla--city of Solomon, whither the Queen of Sheba rode on her
+mehari: caravans blazing red and yellow, which swept like slow lines of
+flame across the desert, going east towards the sunrise, or west where
+the sunset spreads over the sky like a purple fan opening, or the tail
+of a celestial peacock.
+
+What Victoria had once imagined the desert to be of vast emptiness, and
+what she found it to be of teeming life, was like the difference between
+a gold-bright autumn leaf seen by the naked eye, and the same leaf
+swarming under a powerful microscope.
+
+The girl never tired of following with her eyes the vague tracks of
+caravans that she could see dimly sketched upon the sand, vanishing in
+the distance, like lines traced on the water by a ship. She would be
+gazing at an empty horizon when suddenly from over the waves of the
+dunes would appear a dark fleet; a procession of laden camels like a
+flotilla of boats in a desolate sea.
+
+They were very effective, as they approached across the desert, these
+silent, solemn beasts, but Victoria pitied them, because they were made
+to work till they fell, and left to die in the shifting sand, when no
+longer useful to their unloving masters.
+
+"My poor dears, this is only one phase," she would say to them as they
+plodded past, their feet splashing softly down on the sand like big wet
+sponges, leaving heart-shaped marks behind, which looked like violets as
+the hollows filled up with shadow. "Wait till your next chance on earth.
+I'm sure it will make up for everything."
+
+But Maïeddine told her there was no need to be sorry for the sufferings
+of camels, since all were deserved. Once, he said, they had been men--a
+haughty tribe who believed themselves better than the rest of the world.
+They broke off from the true religion, and lest their schism spread,
+Allah turned the renegades into camels. He compelled them to bear the
+weight of their sins in the shape of humps, and also to carry on their
+backs the goods of the Faithful, whose beliefs they had trampled under
+foot. While keeping their stubbornness of spirit they must kneel to
+receive their loads, and rise at the word of command. Remembering their
+past, they never failed to protest with roarings, against these
+indignities, nor did their faces ever lose the old look of sullen pride.
+But, in common with the once human storks, they had one consolation.
+Their sins expiated, they would reincarnate as men; and some other
+rebellious tribe would take their place as camels.
+
+Five days' journeying from Ghardaia brought the travellers to a desert
+world full of movement and interest. There were many caravans going
+northward. Pretty girls smiled at them from swaying red bassourahs,
+sitting among pots and pans, and bundles of finery. Little children in
+nests of scarlet rags, on loaded camels, clasped squawking cocks and
+hens, tied by the leg. Splendid Negroes with bare throats like columns
+of black marble sang strange, chanting songs as they strode along.
+White-clad Arabs whose green turbans told that they had been to Mecca,
+walked beside their young wives' camels. Withered crones in yellow
+smocks trudged after the procession, driving donkeys weighed down with
+sheepskins full of oil. Baby camels with waggling, tufted humps followed
+their mothers. Slim grey sloughis and Kabyle dogs quarrelled with each
+other, among flocks of black and white goats; and at night, the sky
+pulsed with the fires of desert encampments, rosy as northern lights.
+
+Just before the walled city of Ouargla, Victoria saw her first mirage,
+clear as a dream between waking and sleeping. It was a salt lake, in
+which Guelbi and the other animals appeared to wade knee-deep in azure
+waves, though there was no water; and the vast, distant oasis hovered so
+close that the girl almost believed she had only to stretch out her hand
+and touch the trunks of the crowding palm trees.
+
+M'Barka was tired, and they rested for two days in the strange Ghuâra
+town, the "City of Roses," founded (according to legend), by Solomon,
+King of Jerusalem, and built for him by djenoum and angels in a single
+night. They lived as usual in the house of the Caïd, whose beautiful
+twin daughters told Victoria many things about the customs of the Ghuâra
+people, descendants of the ancient Garamantes. How much happier and
+freer they were than Arab girls, how much purer though gayer was the
+life at Ouargla, Queen of the Oases, than at any other less enlightened
+desert city; how marvellous was the moulet-el-rass, the dance cure for
+headache and diseases of the brain; how wonderful were the women
+soothsayers; and what a splendid thing it was to see the bridal
+processions passing through the streets, on the one day of the year when
+there is marrying and giving in marriage in Ouargla.
+
+The name of the prettier twin was Zorah, and she had black curls which
+fell straight down over her brilliant eyes, under a scarlet head-dress.
+"Dost thou love Si Maïeddine?" she asked the Roumia, with a kind of
+innocent boldness.
+
+"As a friend who has been very kind," Victoria answered.
+
+"Not as a lover, oh Roumia?" Zorah, like all girls of Ouargla, was proud
+of her knowledge of Arabic.
+
+"No. Not as a lover."
+
+"Is there then one of thine own people whom thou lovest as a lover, Rose
+of the West?"
+
+"I have no lover, little white moon."
+
+"Si Maïeddine will be thy lover, whether thou desirest him or not."
+
+"Thou mistakest, oh Zorah."
+
+"I do not mistake. If thou dost not yet know I am right, thou wilt know
+before many days. When thou findest out all that is in his heart for
+thee, remember our talk to-day, in the court of oranges."
+
+"I will tell thee thou wert wrong in this same court of oranges when I
+pass this way again without Si Maïeddine."
+
+The Ghuâra girl shook her head, until her curls seemed to ring like
+bells of jet. "Something whispers to my spirit that thou wilt never
+again pass this way, oh Roumia; that never again will we talk together
+in this court of oranges."
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+
+If it had not been for Zorah and her twin sister Khadijah, Maïeddine
+would have said to himself at Ouargla, "Now my hour has come." But
+though his eyes saw not even the shadow of a woman in the Caïd's house,
+his ears heard the laughter of young girls, in which Victoria's voice
+mingled; and besides, he knew, as Arabs contrive to know everything
+which concerns others, that his host had daughters. He was well aware of
+the freemasonry existing among the wearers of veils, the dwellers behind
+shut doors; and though Victoria was only a Roumia, the Caïd's daughters
+would joyfully scheme to help her against a man, if she asked their
+help.
+
+So he put the hour-hand of his patience a little ahead; and Victoria and
+he were outwardly on the same terms as before when they left Ouargla,
+and passed on to the region of the low dunes, shaped like the tents of
+nomads buried under sand, the region of beautiful jewelled stones of all
+colours, and the region of the chotts, the desert lakes, like sad,
+wide-open eyes in a dead face.
+
+As they drew near to the Zaouïa of Temacin, and the great oasis city of
+Touggourt, the dunes increased in size, surging along the horizon in
+turbulent golden billows. M'Barka knew that she was close to her old
+home, the ancient stronghold of her royal ancestors, those sultans who
+had owned no master under Allah; for though it was many years since she
+had come this way, she remembered every land-mark which would have meant
+nothing to a stranger. She was excited, and longed to point out historic
+spots to Victoria, of whom she had grown fond; but Maïeddine had
+forbidden her to speak. He had something to say to the girl before
+telling her that they were approaching another city of the desert.
+Therefore M'Barka kept her thoughts to herself, not chatting even with
+Fafann; for though she loved Victoria, she loved Maïeddine better. She
+had forgiven him for bringing her the long way round, sacrificing her to
+his wish for the girl's society, because the journey was four-fifths
+finished, and instead of being worse, her health was better. Besides,
+whatever Maïeddine wanted was for the Roumia's good, or would be
+eventually.
+
+When they were only a short march from Touggourt, and could have reached
+there by dark, Maïeddine nevertheless ordered an early halt. The tents
+were set up by the Negroes among the dunes, where not even the tall
+spire of Temacin's mosque was visible. And he led the little caravan
+somewhat out of the track, where no camels were likely to pass within
+sight, to a place where there were no groups of black tents in the
+yellow sand, and where the desert, in all its beauty, appeared lonelier
+than it was in reality.
+
+By early twilight the camp was made, and the Soudanese were preparing
+dinner. Never once in all the Sahara journey had there been a sunset of
+such magical loveliness, it seemed to Maïeddine, and he took it as a
+good omen.
+
+"If thou wilt walk a little way with me, Ourïeda," he said, "I will show
+thee something thou hast never seen yet. When my cousin is rested, and
+it is time for supper, I will bring thee back."
+
+Together they mounted and descended the dunes, until they could no
+longer see the camp or the friendly smoke of the fire, which rose
+straight up, a scarf of black gauze, against a sky of green and lilac
+shot with crimson and gold. It was not the first time that Victoria had
+strolled away from the tents at sunset with Maïeddine, and she could not
+refuse, yet this evening she would gladly have stayed with Lella
+M'Barka.
+
+The sand was curiously crisp under their feet as they walked, and the
+crystallized surface crackled as if they were stepping on thin, dry
+toast. By and by they stood still on the summit of a dune, and Maïeddine
+took from the hood of his burnous a pair of field-glasses of the most
+modern make.
+
+"Look round thee," he said. "I have had these with me since our start,
+but I saved them for to-day, to give thee a surprise."
+
+Victoria adjusted the glasses, which were very powerful, and cried out
+at what she saw. The turmoil of the dunes became a battle of giants.
+Sand waves as high as the sky rushed suddenly towards her, towering far
+above her head, as if she were a fly in the midst of a stormy ocean. The
+monstrous yellow shapes came closing in from all sides, threatening to
+engulf her. She felt like a butterfly in a cage of angry lions.
+
+"It is terrible!" she exclaimed, letting the glasses fall from her eyes.
+The cageful of lions sat down, calmed, but now that the butterfly had
+seen them roused, never could they look the same again.
+
+The effect upon the girl was exactly what Maïeddine had wanted. For once
+Victoria acted as he expected her to do in given circumstances. "She is
+only a woman after all," he thought.
+
+"If thou wert alone in this sea of gold, abandoned, to find thine own
+way, with no guide but the stars, then indeed thou mightst say 'it is
+terrible,'" he answered. "For these waves roll between thee and the
+north, whence thou hast come, and still higher between thee and the
+desired end of thy journey. So high are they, that to go up and down is
+like climbing and descending mountains, one after another, all day, day
+after day. And beyond, where thou must soon go if thou art to find thy
+sister, there are no tracks such as those we have followed thus far. In
+these shifting sands, not only men and camels, but great caravans, and
+even whole armies have been lost and swallowed up for ever. For
+gravestones, they have only the dunes, and no man will know where they
+lie till the world is rolled up as a scroll in the hand of Allah."
+
+Victoria grew pale.
+
+"Always before thou hast tried to make me love the desert," she said,
+slowly. "If there were anything ugly to see, thou hast bidden me turn my
+head the other way, or if I saw something dreadful thou wouldst at once
+begin to chant a song of happiness, to make me forget. Why dost thou
+wish to frighten me now?"
+
+"It is not that I mean to give thee pain, Ourïeda." Maïeddine's voice
+changed to a tone that was gentle and pleading. "It is only that I would
+have thee see how powerless thou wouldst be alone among the dunes, where
+for days thou mightst wander, meeting no man. Or if thou hadst any
+encounter, it might be with a Touareg, masked in blue, with a long knife
+at his belt, and in his breast a heart colder than steel."
+
+"I see well enough that I would be powerless alone," Victoria repeated.
+"Dost thou need to tell me that?"
+
+"It may be not," said Maïeddine. "But there is a thing I need to tell
+thee. My need is very sore. Because I have kept back the words I have
+burned to speak, my soul is on fire, oh Rose! I love thee. I die for
+thee. I must have thee for mine!"
+
+He snatched both her hands in his, and crushed them against his lips.
+Then, carried away by the flower-like touch of her flesh, he let her
+hands go, and caught her to his heart, folding her in his burnous as if
+he would hide her even from the eye of the sun in the west. But she
+threw herself back, and pushed him away, with her palms pressed against
+his breast. She could feel under her hands a great pounding as of a
+hammer that would beat down a yielding wall.
+
+"Thou art no true Arab!" she cried at him.
+
+The words struck Maïeddine in a vulnerable place; perhaps the only one.
+
+He had expected her to exclaim, to protest, to struggle, and to beg
+that he would let her go. But what she said was a sharp, unlooked for
+stab. Above all things except his manhood, he prided himself on being a
+true Arab. Involuntarily he loosened his clasp of her waist, and she
+seized the chance to wrench herself free, panting a little, her eyes
+dilated. But as she twisted herself out of his arms, he caught her by
+the wrist. He did not grasp it tightly enough to hurt, yet the grip of
+his slim brown hand was like a bracelet of iron. She knew that she could
+not escape from it by measuring her strength against his, or even by
+surprising him with some quick movement; for she had surprised him once,
+and he would be on guard not to let it happen again. Now she did not
+even try to struggle, but stood still, looking up at him steadily. Yet
+her heart also was like a hammer that beat against a wall; and she
+thought of the endless dunes in whose turmoil she was swallowed up. If
+Stephen Knight were here--but he was far away; and Maïeddine, whom she
+had trusted, was a man who served another God than hers. His thoughts of
+women were not as Stephen's thoughts.
+
+"Think of thy white angel," she said. "He stands between thee and me."
+
+"Nay, he gives thee to me," Maïeddine answered. "I mean no harm to thee,
+but only good, as long as we both shall live. My white angel wills that
+thou shalt be my wife. Thou shalt not say I am no true Arab. I am true
+to Allah and my own manhood when I tell thee I can wait no longer."
+
+"But thou art not true to me when thou wouldst force me against my will
+to be thy wife. We have drunk from the same cup. Thou art pledged to
+loyalty."
+
+"Is it disloyal to love?"
+
+"Thy love is not true love, or thou wouldst think of me before thyself."
+
+"I think of thee before all the world. Thou art my world. I had meant to
+wait till thou wert in thy sister's arms; but since the night when I saw
+thee dance, my love grew as a fire grows that feeds upon rezin. If I
+offend thee, thou alone art to blame. Thou wert too beautiful that
+night. I have been mad since then. And now thou must give me thy word
+that thou wilt marry me according to the law of Islam. Afterwards, when
+we can find a priest of thine own religion, we will stand before him."
+
+"Let my hand go, Si Maïeddine, if thou wishest me to talk further with
+thee," Victoria said.
+
+He smiled at her and obeyed; for he knew that she could not escape from
+him, therefore he would humour her a little. In a few more moments he
+meant to have her in his arms again.
+
+His smile gave the girl no hope. She thought of Zorah and the court of
+the oranges.
+
+"What wilt thou do if I say I will not be thy wife?" she asked, in a
+quiet voice; but there was a fluttering in her throat.
+
+A spark lit in his eyes. The moon was rising now, as the sun set, and
+the two lights, silver and rose, touched his face, giving it an unreal
+look, as if he were a statue of bronze which had "come alive," Victoria
+thought, just as she had "come alive" in her statue-dance. He had never
+been so handsome, but his dark splendour was dreadful to her, for he did
+not seem like a human man whose heart could be moved to mercy.
+
+For an instant he gave her no answer, but his eyes did not leave hers.
+"Since thou askest me that question, I would make thee change thy 'no'
+into 'yes.' But do not force me to be harsh with thee, oh core of my
+heart, oh soul of my soul! I tell thee fate has spoken. The sand has
+spoken--sand gathered from among these dunes. It is for that reason in
+part that I brought thee here."
+
+"The sand-divining!" Victoria exclaimed. "Lella M'Barka told thee----"
+
+"She told me not to wait. And her counsel was the counsel of my own
+heart. Look, oh Rose, where the moon glitters on the sand--the sand that
+twined thy life with mine. See how the crystals shape themselves like
+little hands of Fatma; and they point from thee to me, from me to thee.
+The desert has brought us together. The desert gives us to one another.
+The desert will never let us part."
+
+Victoria's eyes followed his pointing gesture. The sand-crystals
+sparkled in the sunset and moonrise, like myriads of earthbound
+fireflies. Their bright facets seemed to twinkle at her with cold, fairy
+eyes, waiting to see what she would do, and she did not know. She did
+not know at all what she would do.
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+
+"Dost thou wish me to hate thee, Si Maïeddine?" she asked.
+
+"I do not fear thy hate. When thou belongest to me, I will know how to
+turn it into love."
+
+"Perhaps if I were a girl of thine own people thou wouldst know, but I
+see now that thy soul and my soul are far apart. If thou art so wicked,
+so treacherous, they will never be nearer together."
+
+"The Koran does not teach us to believe that the souls of women are as
+ours."
+
+"I have read. And if there were no other reason than that, it would be
+enough to put a high wall between me and a man of thy race."
+
+For the first time Maïeddine felt anger against the girl. But it did not
+make him love or want her the less.
+
+"Thy sister did not feel that," he said, almost menacingly.
+
+"Then the more do I feel it. Is it wise to use her as an argument?"
+
+"I need no argument," he answered, sullenly. "I have told thee what is
+in my mind. Give me thy love, and thou canst bend me as thou wilt.
+Refuse it, and I will break thee. No! do not try to run from me. In an
+instant I should have thee in my arms. Even if thou couldst reach
+M'Barka, of what use to grasp her dress and cry to her for help against
+me? She would not give it. My will is law to her, as it must be to thee
+if thou wilt not learn wisdom, and how to hold me by a thread of silk, a
+thread of thy silky hair. No one would listen to thee. Not Fafann, not
+the men of the Soudan. It is as if we two were alone in the desert.
+Dost thou understand?"
+
+"Thou hast made me understand. I will not try to run. Thou hast the
+power to take me, since thou hast forgotten thy bond of honour, and thou
+art stronger than I. Yet will I not live to be thy wife, Si Maïeddine.
+Wouldst thou hold a dead girl in thine arms?"
+
+"I would hold thee dead or living. Thou wouldst be living at first; and
+a moment with thine heart beating against mine would be worth a
+lifetime--perhaps worth eternity."
+
+"Wouldst thou take me if--if I love another man?"
+
+He caught her by the shoulders, and his hands were hard as steel.
+"Darest thou to tell me that thou lovest a man?"
+
+"Yes, I dare," she said. "Kill me if thou wilt. Since I have no earthly
+help against thee, kill my body, and let God take my spirit where thou
+canst never come. I love another man."
+
+"Tell me his name, that I may find him."
+
+"I will not. Nothing thou canst do will make me tell thee."
+
+"It is that man who was with thee on the boat."
+
+"I said I would not tell thee."
+
+He shook her between his hands, so that the looped-up braids of her hair
+fell down, as they had fallen when she danced, and the ends loosened
+into curls. She looked like a pale child, and suddenly a great
+tenderness for her melted his heart. He had never known that feeling
+before, and it was very strange to him; for when he had loved, it had
+been with passion, not with tenderness.
+
+"Little white star," he said, "thou art but a babe, and I will not
+believe that any man has ever touched thy mouth with his lips. Am I
+right?"
+
+"Yes, because he does not love me. It is I who love him, that is all,"
+she answered naïvely. "I only knew how I really felt when thou saidst
+thou wouldst make me love thee, for I was so sure that never, never
+couldst thou do that. And I shall love the other man all my life, even
+though I do not see him again."
+
+"Thou shalt never see him again. For a moment, oh Rose, I hated thee,
+and I saw thy face through a mist red as thy blood and his, which I
+wished to shed. But thou art so young--so white--so beautiful. Thou hast
+come so far with me, and thou hast been so sweet. There is a strange
+pity for thee in my breast, such as I have never known for any living
+thing. I think it must be that thou hast magic in thine eyes. It is as
+if thy soul looked out at me through two blue windows, and I could fall
+down and worship, Allah forgive me! I knew no man had kissed thee. And
+the man thou sayest thou lovest is but a man in a dream. This is my
+hour. I must not let my chance slip by, M'Barka told me. Yet promise me
+but one thing and I will hold thee sacred--I swear on the head of my
+father."
+
+"What is the one thing?"
+
+"That if thy sister Lella Saïda puts thine hand in mine, thou wilt be my
+wife."
+
+The girl's face brightened, and the great golden dunes, silvering now in
+moonlight, looked no longer like terrible waves ready to overwhelm her.
+She was sure of Saidee, as she was sure of herself.
+
+"That I will promise thee," she said.
+
+He looked at her thoughtfully. "Thou hast great confidence in thy
+sister."
+
+"Perfect confidence."
+
+"And I----" he did not finish his sentence. "I am glad I did not wait
+longer," he went on instead. "Thou knowest now that I love thee, that
+thou hast by thy side a man and not a statue. And I have not let my
+chance slip by, because I have gained thy promise."
+
+"If Saidee puts my hand in thine."
+
+"It is the same thing."
+
+"Thou dost not know my sister."
+
+"But I know----" Again he broke off abruptly. There were things it were
+better not to say, even in the presence of one who would never be able
+to tell of an indiscretion. "It is a truce between us?" he asked.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Forget, then, that I frightened thee."
+
+"Thou didst not frighten me. I did not know what to do, and I thought I
+might have to die without seeing Saidee. Yet I was not afraid, I
+think--I hope--I was not afraid."
+
+"Thou wilt not have to die without seeing thy sister. Now, more than
+before, I shall be in haste to put thee in her charge. But thou wilt die
+without seeing again the face of that man whose name, which thou wouldst
+not speak, shall be as smoke blown before the wind. Never shalt thou see
+him on earth, and if he and I meet I will kill him."
+
+Victoria shut her eyes, and pressed her hands over them. She felt very
+desolate, alone with Maïeddine among the dunes. She would not dare to
+call Stephen now, lest he should hear and come. Nevertheless she could
+not be wholly unhappy, for it was wonderful to have learned what love
+was. She loved Stephen Knight.
+
+"Thou wilt let me go back to M'Barka?" she said to Maïeddine.
+
+"I will take thee back," he amended. "Because I have thy promise."
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+
+On a flat white roof, which bubbled up here and there in rounded domes,
+a woman stood looking out over interminable waves of yellow sand, a vast
+golden silence which had no end on her side of the horizon, east, west,
+north, or south.
+
+No veil hid her face, but folds of thin woollen stuff beautifully woven,
+and dyed blue, almost as dark as indigo, fell from her head nearly to
+her feet, over a loose robe of orange-red, cut low in the neck, with
+sleeves hiding the elbows. She looked towards the west, shading her eyes
+with her hand: and the sun near its setting streamed over her face and
+hair, chiselling her features in marble, brightening her auburn hair to
+fiery gold, giving her brown eyes the yellow tints of a topaz, or of the
+amber beads which hung in a long chain, as far down as her knees.
+
+From the white roof many things could be seen besides the immense
+monotonous dunes along whose ridges orange fire seemed to play
+unceasingly against the sky.
+
+There was the roof of the Zaouïa mosque, with its low, white domes
+grouped round the minaret, as somewhere below the youngest boys of the
+school grouped round the taleb, or teacher. On the roof of the mosque
+bassourah frames were in the making, splendid bassourahs, which, when
+finished, would be the property of the great marabout, greatest of all
+living marabouts, lord of the Zaouïa, lord of the desert and its people,
+as far as the eye could reach, and farther.
+
+There were other roofs, too, bubbling among the labyrinth of square open
+courts and long, tunnel-like, covered and uncovered corridors which
+formed the immense, rambling Zaouïa, or sacred school of Oued Tolga.
+Things happened on these roofs which would have interested a stranger,
+for there was spinning of sheep's wool, making of men's burnouses,
+fashioning of robes for women, and embroidering of saddles; but the
+woman who looked towards the west with the sun in her eyes was tired of
+the life on sun-baked roofs and in shadowed courts.
+
+The scent of orange blossoms in her own little high-walled garden came
+up to her; yet she had forgotten that it was sweet, for she had never
+loved it. The hum of the students' voices, faintly heard through the
+open-work of wrought-iron windows, rasped her nerves, for she had heard
+it too often; and she knew that the mysterious lessons, the lessons
+which puzzled her, and constantly aroused her curiosity, were never
+repeated aloud by the classes, as were these everlasting chapters of the
+Koran.
+
+Men sleeping on benches in the court of the mosque, under arches in the
+wall, waked and drank water out of bulging goatskins, hanging from huge
+hooks. Pilgrims washed their feet in the black marble basin of the
+trickling fountain, for soon it would be time for moghreb, the prayer of
+the evening.
+
+Far away, eighteen miles distant across the sands, she could see the
+twenty thousand domes of Oued Tolga, the desert city which had taken its
+name from the older Zaouïa, and the oued or river which ran between the
+sacred edifice on its golden hill, and the ugly toub-built village,
+raised above danger of floods on a foundation of palm trunks.
+
+Far away the domes of the desert city shimmered like white fire in the
+strange light that hovers over the Sahara before the hour of sunset.
+Behind those distant, dazzling bubbles of unearthly whiteness, the
+valley-like oases of the southern desert, El Souf, dimpled the yellow
+dunes here and there with basins of dark green. Near by, a little to the
+left of the Zaouïa hill, such an oasis lay, and the woman on the white
+roof could look across a short stretch of sand, down into its green
+depths. She could watch the marabout's men repairing the sloping
+sand-walls with palm trunks, which kept them from caving in, and saved
+the precious date-palms from being engulfed in a yellow tide. It was the
+marabout's own private oasis, and brought him in a large income every
+year. But everything was the marabout's. The woman on the roof was sick
+to death of his riches, his honours, his importance, for she was the
+marabout's wife; and in these days she loved him as little as she loved
+the orange garden he had given her, and all the things that were hers
+because she was his.
+
+It was very still in the Zaouïa of Oued Tolga. The only sound was the
+droning of the boys' voices, which came faintly from behind iron
+window-gratings below, and that monotonous murmur emphasized the
+silence, as the humming of bees in a hive makes the stillness of a
+garden in summer more heavy and hot.
+
+No noises came from the courts of the women's quarters, or those of the
+marabout's guests, and attendants, and servants; not a voice was raised
+in that more distant part of the Zaouïa where the students lived, and
+where the poor were lodged and fed for charity's sake. No doubt the
+village, across the narrow river in its wide bed, was buzzing with life
+at this time of day; but seldom any sound there was loud enough to break
+the slumberous silence of the great Zaouïa. And the singing of the men
+in the near oasis who fought the sand, the groaning of the well-cords
+woven of palm fibre which raised the buckets of hollowed palm-trunks,
+was as monotonous as the recitation of the Koran. The woman had heard it
+so often that she had long ago ceased to hear it at all.
+
+She looked westward, across the river to the ugly village with the dried
+palm-leaves on its roofs, and far away to the white-domed city, the
+dimpling oases and the mountainous dunes that towered against a flaming
+sky; then eastward, towards the two vast desert lakes, or chotts, one of
+blue water, the other of saltpetre, which looked bluer than water, and
+had pale edges that met the sand like snow on gold. Above the lake of
+water suddenly appeared a soaring line of white, spreading and mounting
+higher, then turning from white to vivid rose. It was the flamingoes
+rising and flying over the chott, the one daily phenomenon of the desert
+which the woman on the roof still loved to watch. But her love for the
+rosy line against the blue was not entirely because of its beauty,
+though it was startlingly beautiful. It meant something for which she
+waited each evening with a passionate beating of her heart under the
+orange-coloured robe and the chain of amber beads. It meant sunset and
+the coming of a message. But the doves on the green tiled minaret of the
+Zaouïa mosque had not begun yet to dip and wheel. They would not stir
+from their repose until the muezzin climbed the steps to call the hour
+of evening prayer, and until they flew against the sunset the message
+could not come.
+
+She must wait yet awhile. There was nothing to do till the time of hope
+for the message. There was never anything else that she cared to do
+through the long days from sunrise to sunset, unless the message gave
+her an incentive when it came.
+
+In the river-bed, the women and young girls had not finished their
+washing, which was to them not so much labour as pleasure, since it gave
+them their opportunity for an outing and a gossip. In the bed of shining
+sand lay coloured stones like jewels, and the women knelt on them,
+beating wet bundles of scarlet and puce with palm branches. The watcher
+on the roof knew that they were laughing and chattering together though
+she could not hear them. She wondered dimly how many years it was since
+she had laughed, and said to herself that probably she would never laugh
+again, although she was still young, only twenty-eight. But that was
+almost old for a woman of the East. Those girls over there, wading
+knee-deep in the bright water to fill their goatskins and curious white
+clay jugs, would think her old. But they hardly knew of her existence.
+She had married the great marabout, therefore she was a marabouta, or
+woman saint, merely because she was fortunate enough to be his wife, and
+too highly placed for them to think of as an earthly woman like
+themselves. What could it matter whether such a radiantly happy being
+were young or old? And she smiled a little as she imagined those poor
+creatures picturing her happiness. She passed near them sometimes going
+to the Moorish baths, but the long blue drapery covered her face then,
+and she was guarded by veiled negresses and eunuchs. They looked her way
+reverently, but had never seen her face, perhaps did not know who she
+was, though no doubt they had all heard and gossipped about the romantic
+history of the new wife, the beautiful Ouled Naïl, to whom the marabout
+had condescended because of her far-famed, her marvellous, almost
+incredible loveliness, which made her a consort worthy of a saint.
+
+The river was a mirror this evening, reflecting the sunset of crimson
+and gold, and the young crescent moon fought for and devoured, then
+vomited forth again by strange black cloud-monsters. The old brown
+palm-trunks, on which the village was built, were repeated in the still
+water, and seemed to go down and down, as if their roots might reach to
+the other side of the world.
+
+Over the crumbling doorways of the miserable houses bleached skulls and
+bones of animals were nailed for luck. The red light of the setting sun
+stained them as if with blood, and they were more than ever disgusting
+to the watcher on the white roof. They were the symbols of superstitions
+the most Eastern and barbaric, ideas which she hated, as she was
+beginning to hate all Eastern things and people.
+
+The streak of rose which meant a flock of flying flamingoes had faded
+out of the sky. The birds seemed to have vanished into the sunset, and
+hardly had they gone when the loud crystalline voice of the muezzin
+began calling the faithful to prayer. Work stopped for the day. The men
+and youths of the Zaouïa climbed the worn stairs to the roof of the
+mosque, where, in their white turbans and burnouses, they prostrated
+themselves before Allah, going down on their faces as one man. The doves
+of the minaret--called Imams, because they never leave the mosque or
+cease to prostrate themselves, flying head downwards--began to wheel and
+cry plaintively. The moment when the message might come was here at
+last.
+
+The white roof had a wall, which was low in places, in others very high,
+so high that no one standing behind it could be seen. This screen of
+whitewashed toub was arranged to hide persons on the roof from those on
+the roof of the mosque; but window-like openings had been made in it,
+filled in with mashrabeyah work of lace-like pattern; an art brought to
+Africa long ago by the Moors, after perfecting it in Granada. And this
+roof was not the only one thus screened and latticed. There was another,
+where watchers could also look down into the court of the fountain, at
+the carved doors taken from the Romans, and up to the roof of the mosque
+with all its little domes. From behind those other lace-like windows in
+the roof-wall, sparkled such eyes as only Ouled Naïl girls can have; but
+the first watcher hated to think of those eyes and their wonderful
+fringe of black lashes. It was an insult to her that they should
+beautify this house, and she ignored their existence, though she had
+heard her negresses whispering about them.
+
+While the faithful prayed, a few of the wheeling doves flew across from
+the mosque to the roof where the woman waited for a message. At her feet
+lay a small covered basket, from which she took a handful of grain. The
+dove Imams forgot their saintly manners in an unseemly scramble as the
+white hand scattered the seeds, and while they disputed with one
+another, complaining mournfully, another bird, flying straight to the
+roof from a distance, suddenly joined them. It was white, with feet like
+tiny branches of coral, whereas the doves from the mosque were grey, or
+burnished purple.
+
+The woman had been pale, but when the bird fluttered down to rest on the
+open basket of grain, colour rushed to her face, as if she had been
+struck on each cheek with a rose. None of the doves of the mosque were
+tame enough to sit on the basket, which was close to her feet, though
+they sidled round it wistfully; but the white bird let her stroke its
+back with her fingers as it daintily pecked the yellow grains.
+
+Very cautiously she untied a silk thread fastened to a feather under the
+bird's wing. As she did so it fluttered both wings as if stretching them
+in relief, and a tiny folded paper attached to the cord fell into the
+basket. Instantly the woman laid her hand over it. Then she looked
+quickly, without moving her head, towards the square opening at a corner
+of the roof where the stairway came up. No one was there. Nobody could
+see her from the roof of the mosque, and her roof was higher than any of
+the others, except that which covered the private rooms of the marabout.
+But the marabout was away, and no one ever came out on his roof when he
+was absent.
+
+She opened the folded bit of white paper, which was little more than two
+inches square, and was covered on one side with writing almost
+microscopically small. The other side was blank, but the woman had no
+doubt that the letter was for her. As she read, the carrier-pigeon went
+on pecking at the seeds in the basket, and the doves of the mosque
+watched it enviously.
+
+The writing was in French, and no name was at the beginning or the end.
+
+"Be brave, my beautiful one, and dare to do as your heart prompts.
+Remember, I worship you. Ever since that wonderful day when the wind
+blew aside your veil for an instant at the door of the Moorish bath, the
+whole world has been changed for me. I would die a thousand deaths if
+need be for the joy of rescuing you from your prison. Yet I do not wish
+to die. I wish to live, to take you far away and make you so happy that
+you will forget the wretchedness and failure of the past. A new life
+will begin for both of us, if you will only trust me, and forget the
+scruples of which you write--false scruples, believe me. As he had a
+wife living when he married you, and has taken another since, surely
+you cannot consider that you are bound by the law of God or man? Let me
+save you from the dragon, as fairy princesses were saved in days of old.
+If I might speak with you, tell you all the arguments that constantly
+suggest themselves to my mind, you could not refuse. I have thought of
+more than one way, but dare not put my ideas on paper, lest some unlucky
+chance befall our little messenger. Soon I shall have perfected the
+cypher. Then there will not be the same danger. Perhaps to-morrow night
+I shall be able to send it. But meanwhile, for the sake of my love, give
+me a little hope. If you will try to arrange a meeting, to be settled
+definitely when the cypher is ready, twist three of those glorious
+threads of gold which you have for hair round the cord when you send the
+messenger back."
+
+All the rosy colour had died away from the woman's face by the time she
+had finished reading the letter. She folded it again into a tiny square
+even smaller than before, and put it into one of the three or four
+little engraved silver boxes, made to hold texts from the Koran, which
+hung from her long amber necklace. Her eyes were very wide open, but she
+seemed to see nothing except some thought printed on her brain like a
+picture.
+
+On the mosque roof a hundred men of the desert knelt praying in the
+sunset, their faces turned towards Mecca. Down in the fountain-court,
+the marabout's lazy tame lion rose from sleep and stretched himself,
+yawning as the clear voice of the muezzin chanted from the minaret the
+prayer of evening, "Allah Akbar, Allah il Allah, Mohammed r'soul Allah."
+
+The woman did not know that she heard the prayer, for as her eyes saw a
+picture, so did her ears listen to a voice which she had heard only
+once, but desired beyond all things to hear again. To her it was the
+voice of a saviour-knight; the face she saw was glorious with the
+strength of manhood, and the light of love. Only to think of the voice
+and face made her feel that she was coming to life again, after lying
+dead and forgotten in a tomb for many years of silence.
+
+Yes, she was alive now, for he had waked her from a sleep like death;
+but she was still in the tomb, and it seemed impossible to escape from
+it, even with the help of a saviour-knight. If she said "yes" to what he
+asked, as she was trying to make herself believe she had a moral and
+legal right to do, they would be found out and killed, that was all.
+
+She was not brave. The lassitude which is a kind of spurious resignation
+poisons courage, or quenches it as water quenches fire. Although she
+hated her life, if it could be called life, had no pleasure in it, and
+had almost forgotten how to hope, still she was afraid of being
+violently struck down.
+
+Not long ago a woman in the village had tried to leave her husband with
+a man she loved. The husband found out, and having shot the man before
+her eyes, stabbed her with many wounds, one for each traitorous kiss,
+according to the custom of the desert; not one knife-thrust deep enough
+to kill; but by and by she had died from the shock of horror, and loss
+of blood. Nobody blamed the husband. He had done the thing which was
+right and just. And stories like this came often to the ears of the
+woman on the roof through her negresses, or from the attendants at the
+Moorish bath.
+
+The man she loved would not be shot like the wretched Bedouin, who was
+of no importance except to her for whom his life was given; but
+something would happen. He would be taken ill with a strange disease, of
+which he would die after dreadful suffering; or at best his career would
+be ruined; for the greatest of all marabouts was a man of immense
+influence. Because of his religious vow to wear a mask always like a
+Touareg, none of the ruling race had ever seen the marabout's features,
+yet his power was known far and wide--in Morocco; all along the caravan
+route to Tombouctou; in the capital of the Touaregs; in Algiers; and
+even in Paris itself.
+
+She reminded herself of these things, and at one moment her heart was
+like ice in her breast; but at the next, it was like a ball of fire; and
+pulling out three long bright hairs from her head, she twisted them
+round the cord which the carrier-pigeon had brought. Before tying it
+under his wing again, she scattered more yellow seeds for the dove
+Imams, because she did not want them to fly away until she was ready to
+let her messenger go. Thus there was the less danger that the
+carrier-pigeon would be noticed. Only Noura, her negress, knew of him.
+Noura had smuggled him into the Zaouïa, and she herself had trained him
+by giving him food that he liked, though his home was at Oued Tolga, the
+town.
+
+The birds from the mosque had waited for their second supply, for the
+same programme had been carried out many times before, and they had
+learned to expect it.
+
+When they finished scrambling for the grain which the white pigeon could
+afford to scorn, they fluttered back to the minaret, following a leader.
+But the carrier flew away straight and far, his little body vanishing at
+last as if swallowed up in the gold of the sunset. For he went west,
+towards the white domes of Oued Tolga.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+
+Still the woman stood looking after the bird, but the sun had dropped
+behind the dunes, and she no longer needed to shade her eyes with her
+hand. There was nothing more to expect till sunset to-morrow, when
+something might or might not happen. If no message came, then there
+would be only dullness and stagnation until the day when the Moorish
+bath was sacredly kept for the great ladies of the marabout's household.
+There were but two of these, yet they never went to the bath together,
+nor had they ever met or spoken to one another. They were escorted to
+the bath by their attendants at different hours of the same day; and
+later their female servants were allowed to go, for no one but the women
+of the saintly house might use the baths that day.
+
+The woman on the white roof in the midst of the golden silence gazed
+towards the west, though she looked for no event of interest; and her
+eyes fixed themselves mechanically upon a little caravan which moved
+along the yellow sand like a procession of black insects. She was so
+accustomed to search the desert since the days, long ago, when she had
+actually hoped for friends to come and take her away, that she could
+differentiate objects at greater distances than one less trained to
+observation. Hardly thinking of the caravan, she made out, nevertheless,
+that it consisted of two camels, carrying bassourahs, a horse and Arab
+rider, a brown pack camel, and a loaded mule, driven by two men who
+walked.
+
+They had evidently come from Oued Tolga, or at least from that
+direction, therefore it was probable that their destination was the
+Zaouïa; otherwise, as it was already late, they would have stopped in
+the city all night. Of course, it was possible that they were on their
+way to the village, but it was a poor place, inhabited by very poor
+people, many of them freed Negroes, who worked in the oases and lived
+mostly upon dates. No caravans ever went out from there, because no man,
+even the richest, owned more than one camel or donkey; and nobody came
+to stay, unless some son of the miserable hamlet, who had made a little
+money elsewhere, and returned to see his relatives. But on the other
+hand, numerous caravans arrived at the Zaouïa of Oued Tolga, and
+hundreds of pilgrims from all parts of Islam were entertained as the
+marabout's guests, or as recipients of charity.
+
+Dimly, as she detached her mind from the message she had sent, the woman
+began to wonder about this caravan, because of the bassourahs, which
+meant that there were women among the travellers. There were
+comparatively few women pilgrims to the Zaouïa, except invalids from the
+town of Oued Tolga, or some Sahara encampment, who crawled on foot, or
+rode decrepit donkeys, hoping to be cured of ailments by the magic power
+of the marabout, the power of the Baraka. The woman who watched had
+learned by this time not to expect European tourists. She had lived for
+eight years in the Zaouïa, and not once had she seen from her roof a
+European, except a French government-official or two, and a few--a very
+few--French officers. Never had any European women come. Tourists were
+usually satisfied with Touggourt, three or four days nearer
+civilisation. Women did not care to undertake an immense and fatiguing
+journey among the most formidable dunes of the desert, where there was
+nothing but ascending and descending, day after day; where camels
+sometimes broke their legs in the deep sand, winding along the fallen
+side of a mountainous dune, and where a horse often had to sit on his
+haunches, and slide with his rider down a sand precipice.
+
+She herself had experienced all these difficulties, so long ago now
+that she had half forgotten how she had hated them, and the fate to
+which they were leading her. But she did not blame other women for not
+coming to Oued Tolga.
+
+Occasionally some caïd or agha of the far south would bring his wife who
+was ill or childless to be blessed by the marabout; and in old days they
+had been introduced to the marabouta, but it was years now since she had
+been asked, or even allowed, to entertain strangers. She thought,
+without any active interest, as she looked at the nodding bassourahs,
+growing larger and larger, that a chief was coming with his women, and
+that he would be disappointed to learn that the marabout was away from
+home. It was rather odd that the stranger had not been told in the city,
+for every one knew that the great man had gone a fortnight ago to the
+province of Oran. Several days must pass before he could return, even
+if, for any reason, he came sooner than he was expected. But it did not
+matter much to her, if there were to be visitors who would have the pain
+of waiting. There was plenty of accommodation for guests, and there were
+many servants whose special duty it was to care for strangers. She would
+not see the women in the bassourahs, nor hear of them unless some gossip
+reached her through the talk of the negresses.
+
+Still, as there was nothing else which she wished to do, she continued
+to watch the caravan.
+
+By and by it passed out of sight, behind the rising ground on which the
+village huddled, with its crowding brown house-walls that narrowed
+towards the roofs. The woman almost forgot it, until it appeared again,
+to the left of the village, where palm logs had been laid in the river
+bed, making a kind of rough bridge, only covered when the river was in
+flood. It was certain now that the travellers were coming to the Zaouïa.
+
+The flame of the sunset had died, though clouds purple as pansies
+flowered in the west. The gold of the dunes paled to silver, and the
+desert grew sad, as if it mourned for a day that would never live again.
+Far away, near Oued Tolga, where the white domes of the city and the
+green domes of the oasis palms all blended together in shadow, fires
+sprang up in the camps of nomads, like signals of danger.
+
+The woman on the roof shivered. The chill of the coming night cooled her
+excitement. She was afraid of the future, and the sadness which had
+fallen upon the desert was cold in her heart. The caravan was not far
+from the gate of the Zaouïa, but she was tired of watching it. She
+turned and went down the narrow stairs that led to her rooms, and to the
+little garden where the fragrance of orange blossoms was too sweet.
+
+
+
+
+XXXV
+
+
+The caravan stopped in front of the Zaouïa gate. There were great iron
+doors in a high wall of toub, which was not much darker in colour than
+the deep gold of the desert sand; and because it was after sunset the
+doors were closed.
+
+One of the Negroes knocked, and called out something inarticulate and
+guttural in a loud voice.
+
+Almost at once the gate opened, and a shadowy figure hovered inside. A
+name was announced, which was instantly shouted to a person unseen, and
+a great chattering began in the dusk. Men ran out, and one or two kissed
+the hand of the rider on the white horse. They explained volubly that
+the lord was away, but the newcomer checked them as soon as he could,
+saying that he had heard the news in the city. He had with him ladies,
+one a relative of his own, another who was connected with the great lord
+himself, and they must be entertained as the lord would wish, were he
+not absent.
+
+The gates, or doors, of iron were thrown wide open, and the little
+procession entered a huge open court. On one side was accommodation for
+many animals, as in a caravanserai, with a narrow roof sheltering thirty
+or forty stalls; and here the two white meharis were made to kneel, that
+the women might descend from their bassourahs. There were three, all
+veiled, but the arms of one were bare and very brown. She moved stiffly,
+as if cramped by sitting for a long time in one position; nevertheless,
+she supported her companion, whose bassour she had shared. The two
+Soudanese Negroes remained in this court with their animals, which the
+servants of the Zaouïa, began helping them to unload; but the master of
+the expedition, with the two ladies of his party and Fafann, was now
+obliged to walk. Several men of the Zaouïa acted as their guides,
+gesticulating with great respect, but lowering their eyelids, and
+appearing not to see the women.
+
+They passed through another court, very large, though not so immense as
+the first, for no animals were kept there. Instead of stalls for camels
+and horses, there were roughly built rooms for pilgrims of the poorer
+class, with little, roofless, open-sided kitchens, where they could cook
+their own food. Beyond was the third court, with lodging for more
+important persons, and then the travellers were led through a labyrinth
+of corridors, some roofed with palm branches, others open to the air,
+and still more covered in with the toub blocks of which the walls were
+built. Along the sides were crumbling benches of stucco, on which old
+men lay rolled up in their burnouses; or here and there a door of
+rotting palm wood hung half open, giving a glimpse into a small, dim
+court, duskily red with the fire of cooking in an open-air kitchen. From
+behind these doors came faint sounds of chanting, and spicy smells of
+burning wood and boiling peppers. It was like passing through a
+subterranean village; and little dark children, squatting in doorways,
+or flattening their bodies against palm trunks which supported palm
+roofs, or flitting ahead of the strangers, in the thick, musky scented
+twilight, were like shadowy gnomes.
+
+By and by, as the newcomers penetrated farther into the mysterious
+labyrinth of the vast Zaouïa, the corridors and courts became less
+ruined in appearance. The walls were whitewashed; the palm-wood doors
+were roughly carved and painted in bright colours, which could be seen
+by the flicker of lamps set high in little niches. Each tunnel-like
+passage had a carved archway at the end, and at last they entered one
+which was closed in with beautiful doors of wrought iron.
+
+Through the rich network they could see into a court where everything
+glimmered white in moonlight. They had come to the court of the mosque,
+which had on one side an entrance to the private house of the marabout,
+the great Sidi El Hadj Mohammed ben Abd-el-Kader.
+
+        *        *        *        *        *        *        *
+
+"Lella Saïda, oh light of the young moon, if it please thee, thou hast
+two guests come from very far off," announced an old negress to the
+woman who had been looking out over the golden silence of the desert.
+
+It was an hour since she had come down from the roof, and having eaten a
+little bread, with soup, she lay on a divan writing in a small book.
+Several tall copper lamps with open-work copper shades, jewelled and
+fringed with coloured glass, gave a soft and beautiful light to the
+room. It had pure white walls, round which, close to the ceiling, ran a
+frieze of Arab lettering, red, and black, and gold. The doors and
+window-blinds and little cupboards were of cedar, so thickly inlaid with
+mother-o'-pearl, that only dark lines of the wood defined the white
+patterning of leaves and flowers.
+
+The woman had thrown off the blue drapery that had covered her head, and
+her auburn hair glittered in the light of the lamp by which she wrote.
+She looked up, vexed.
+
+"Thou knowest, Noura, that for years I have received no guests," she
+said, in a dialect of the Soudan, in which most Saharian mistresses of
+Negro servants learn to talk. "I can see no one. The master would not
+permit me to do so, even if I wished it, which I do not."
+
+"Pardon, loveliest lady. But this is another matter. A friend of our
+lord brings these visitors to thee. One is kin of his. She seeks to be
+healed of a malady, by the power of the Baraka. But the other is a
+Roumia."
+
+The wife of the great marabout shut the book in which she had been
+writing, and her mind travelled quickly to the sender of the
+carrier-pigeon. A European woman, the first who had ever come to the
+Zaouïa in eight years! It must be that she had a message from him.
+Somehow he had contrived this visit. She dared ask no more questions.
+
+"I will see these ladies," she said. "Let them come to me here."
+
+"Already the old one is resting in the guest-house," answered the
+negress. "She has her own servant, and she asks to see thee no earlier
+than to-morrow, when she has rested, and is able to pay thee her
+respects. It is the other, the young Roumia, who begs to speak with thee
+to-night."
+
+The wife of the marabout was more certain than ever that her visitor
+must come from the sender of the pigeon. She was glad of an excuse to
+talk with his messenger alone, without waiting.
+
+"Go fetch her," she directed. "And when thou hast brought her to the
+door I shall no longer need thee, Noura."
+
+Her heart was beating fast. She dreaded some final decision, or the need
+to make a decision, yet she knew that she would be bitterly disappointed
+if, after all, the European woman were not what she thought. She shut up
+the diary in which she wrote each night, and opening one of the wall
+cupboards near her divan, she put it away on a shelf, where there were
+many other small volumes, a dozen perhaps. They contained the history of
+her life during the last nine years, since unhappiness had isolated her,
+and made it necessary to her peace of mind, almost to her sanity, to
+have a confidant. She closed the inlaid doors of the cupboard, and
+locked them with a key which hung from a ribbon inside her dress.
+
+Such a precaution was hardly needed, since the writing was all in
+English, and she had recorded the events of the last few weeks
+cautiously and cryptically. Not a soul in the marabout's house could
+read English, except the marabout himself; and it was seldom he honoured
+her with a visit. Nevertheless, it had become a habit to lock up the
+books, and she found a secretive pleasure in it.
+
+She had only time to slip the ribbon back into her breast, and sit down
+stiffly on the divan, when the door was opened again by Noura.
+
+"O Lella Saïda, I have brought the Roumia," the negress announced.
+
+A slim figure in Arab dress came into the room, unfastening a white veil
+with fingers that trembled with impatience. The door shut softly. Noura
+had obeyed instructions.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+
+For ten years Victoria had been waiting for this moment, dreaming of it
+at night, picturing it by day. Now it had come.
+
+There was Saidee standing before her, found at last. Saidee, well and
+safe, and lovely as ever, hardly changed in feature, and yet--there was
+something strange about her, something which stopped the joyous beating
+of the girl's heart. It was almost as if she had died and come to
+Heaven, to find that Heaven was not Heaven at all, but a cold place of
+fear.
+
+She was shocked at the impression, blaming herself. Surely Saidee did
+not know her yet, that was all; or the surprise was too great. She
+wished she had sent word by the negress. Though that would have seemed
+banal, it would have been better than to see the blank look on Saidee's
+face, a look which froze her into a marble statue. But it was too late
+now. The only thing left was to make the best of a bad beginning.
+
+"Oh, darling!" Victoria cried. "Have I frightened you? Dearest--my
+beautiful one, it's your little sister. All these years I've been
+waiting--waiting to find a way. You knew I would come some day, didn't
+you?"
+
+Tears poured down her face. She tried to believe they were tears of joy,
+such as she had often thought to shed at sight of Saidee. She had been
+sure that she could not keep them back, and that she would not try. They
+should have been sweet as summer rain, but they burned her eyes and her
+cheeks as they fell. Saidee was silent. The girl held out her arms,
+running a step or two, then, faltering, she let her arms fall. They felt
+heavy and stiff, as if they had been turned to wood. Saidee did not
+move. There was an expression of dismay, even of fear on her face.
+
+"You don't know me!" Victoria said chokingly. "I've grown up, and I must
+seem like a different person--but I'm just the same, truly. I've loved
+you so, always. You'll get used to seeing me changed. You--you don't
+think I'm somebody else pretending to be Victoria, do you? I can tell
+you all the things we used to do and say. I haven't forgotten one. Oh,
+Saidee, dearest, I've come such a long way to find you. Do be glad to
+see me--do!"
+
+Her voice broke. She put out her hands pleadingly--the childish hands
+that had seemed pathetically pretty to Stephen Knight.
+
+A look of intense concentration darkened Saidee's eyes. She appeared to
+question herself, to ask her intelligence what was best to do. Then the
+tense lines of her face softened. She forced herself to smile, and
+leaning towards Victoria, clasped the slim white figure in her arms,
+holding it tightly, in silence. But over the girl's shoulder, her eyes
+still seemed to search an answer to their question.
+
+When she had had time to control her voice and expression, she spoke,
+releasing her sister, taking the wistful face between her hands, and
+gazing at it earnestly. Then she kissed lips and cheeks.
+
+"Victoria!" she murmured. "Victoria! I'm not dreaming you?"
+
+"No, no, darling," the girl answered, more hopefully. "No wonder you're
+dazed. This--finding you, I mean--has been the object of my life, ever
+since your letters stopped coming, and I began to feel I'd lost you.
+That's why I can't realize your being struck dumb with the surprise of
+it. Somehow, I've always felt you'd be expecting me. Weren't you? Didn't
+you know I'd come when I could?"
+
+Saidee shook her head, looking with extraordinary, almost feverish,
+interest at the younger girl, taking in every detail of feature and
+complexion, all the exquisite outlines of extreme youth, which she had
+lost.
+
+"No," she said slowly. "I thought I was dead to the world. I didn't
+think it would be possible for anyone to find me, even you."
+
+"But--you are glad--now I'm here?" Victoria faltered.
+
+"Of course," Saidee answered unhesitatingly. "I'm
+delighted--enchanted--for my own sake. If I'm frightened, if you think
+me strange--_farouche_--it's because I'm so surprised, and because--can
+you believe it?--this is the first time I've spoken English with any
+human being for nine years--perhaps more. I almost forget--it seems a
+century. I talk to myself--so as not to forget. And every night I write
+down what has happened, or rather what I've thought, because things
+hardly ever do happen here. The words don't come easily. They sound so
+odd in my own ears. And then--there's another reason why I'm afraid.
+It's on your account. I'd better tell you. It wouldn't be fair not to
+tell. I--how are you going to get away again?"
+
+She almost whispered the last words, and spoke them as if she were
+ashamed. But she watched the girl's face anxiously.
+
+Victoria slipped a protecting arm round her waist. "We are going away
+together, dearest," she said. "Unless you're too happy and contented.
+But, my Saidee--you don't look contented."
+
+Saidee flushed faintly. "You mean--I look old--haggard?"
+
+"No--no!" the girl protested. "Not that. You've hardly changed at all,
+except--oh, I hardly know how to put it in words. It's your expression.
+You look sad--tired of the things around you."
+
+"I am tired of the things around me," Saidee said. "Often I've felt like
+a dead body in a grave with no hope of even a resurrection. What were
+those lines of Christina Rossetti's I used to say over to myself at
+first, while it still seemed worth while to revolt? Some one was buried,
+had been buried for years, yet could think and feel, and cry out against
+the doom of lying 'under this marble stone, forgotten, alone.' Doesn't
+it sound agonizing--desperate? It just suited me. But now--now----"
+
+"Are things better? Are you happier?" Victoria clasped her sister
+passionately.
+
+"No. Only I'm past caring so much. If you've come here, Babe, to take me
+away, it's no use. I may as well tell you now. This is prison. And you
+must escape, yourself, before the gaoler comes back, or it will be a
+life-sentence for you, too."
+
+It warmed Victoria's heart that her sister should call her "Babe"--the
+old pet name which brought the past back so vividly, that her eyes
+filled again with tears.
+
+"You shall not be kept in prison!" she exclaimed. "It's
+monstrous--horrible! I was afraid it would be like this. That's why I
+had to wait and make plenty of money. Dearest, I'm rich. Everything's
+for you. You taught me to dance, and it's by dancing I've earned such a
+lot--almost a fortune. So you see, it's yours. I've got enough to bribe
+Cassim to let you go, if he likes money, and isn't kind to you. Because,
+if he isn't kind, it must be a sign he doesn't love you, really."
+
+Saidee laughed, a very bitter laugh. "He does like money. And he doesn't
+like me at all--any more."
+
+"Then--" Victoria's face brightened--"then he will take the ten thousand
+dollars I've brought, and he'll let you go away with me."
+
+"Ten thousand dollars!" Saidee laughed again. "Do you know who
+Cassim--as you call him--is?"
+
+The girl looked puzzled. "Who he is?"
+
+"I see you don't know. The secret's been kept from you, somehow, by his
+friend who brought you here. You'll tell me how you came; but first I'll
+answer your question. The Cassim ben Halim you knew, has been dead for
+eight years."
+
+"They told me so in Algiers. But--do you mean--have you married again?"
+
+"I said the Cassim ben Halim you knew, is dead. The Cassim _I_ knew, and
+know now, is alive--and one of the most important men in Africa, though
+we live like this, buried among the desert dunes, out of the world--or
+what you'd think the world."
+
+"My world is where you are," Victoria said.
+
+"Dear little Babe! Mine is a terrible world. You must get out of it as
+soon as you can, or you'll never get out at all."
+
+"Never till I take you with me."
+
+"Don't say that! I must send you away. I _must_--no matter how hard it
+may be to part from you," Saidee insisted. "You don't know what you're
+talking about. How should you? I suppose you must have heard
+_something_. You must anyhow suspect there's a secret?"
+
+"Yes, Si Maïeddine told me that. He said, when I talked of my sister,
+and how I was trying to find her, that he'd once known Cassim. I had to
+agree not to ask questions,--and he would never say for certain whether
+Cassim was dead or not, but he promised sacredly to bring me to the
+place where my sister lived. His cousin Lella M'Barka Bent Djellab was
+with us,--very ill and suffering, but brave. We started from Algiers,
+and he made a mystery even of the way we came, though I found out the
+names of some places we passed, like El Aghouat and Ghardaia----"
+
+Saidee's eyes widened with a sudden flash. "What, you came here by El
+Aghouat and Ghardaia?"
+
+"Yes. Isn't that the best way?"
+
+"The best, if the longest is the best. I don't know much about North
+Africa geographically. They've taken care I shouldn't know! But I--I've
+lately found out from--a person who's made the journey, that one can get
+here from Algiers in a week or eight days. Seventeen hours by train to
+Biskra: Biskra to Touggourt two long days in a diligence, or carriage
+with plenty of horses; Touggourt to Oued Tolga on camel or horse, or
+mule, in three or four days going up and down among the great dunes. You
+must have been weeks travelling."
+
+"We have. I----"
+
+"How very queer! What could Si Maïeddine's reason have been? Rich Arabs
+love going by train whenever they can. Men who come from far off to see
+the marabout always do as much of the journey as possible by rail. I
+hear things about all important pilgrims. Then why did Si Maïeddine
+bring you by El Aghouat and Ghardaia--especially when his cousin's an
+invalid? It couldn't have been just because he didn't want you to be
+seen, because, as you're dressed like an Arab girl no one could guess he
+was travelling with a European."
+
+"His father lives near El Aghouat," Victoria reminded her sister. And
+Maïeddine had used this fact as one excuse, when he admitted that they
+might have taken a shorter road. But in her heart the girl had guessed
+why the longest way had been chosen. She did not wish to hide from
+Saidee things which concerned herself, yet Maïeddine's love was his
+secret, not hers, therefore she had not meant to tell of it, and she was
+angry with herself for blushing. She blushed more and more deeply, and
+Saidee understood.
+
+"I see! He's in love with you. That's why he brought you here. How
+_clever_ of him! How like an Arab!"
+
+For a moment Saidee was silent, thinking intently. It could not be
+possible, Victoria told herself, that the idea pleased her sister. Yet
+for an instant the white face lighted up, as if Saidee were relieved of
+heavy anxiety.
+
+She drew Victoria closer, with an arm round her waist. "Tell me about
+it," she said. "How you met him, and everything."
+
+The girl knew she would have to tell, since her sister had guessed, but
+there were many other things which it seemed more important to say and
+hear first. She longed to hear all, all about Saidee's existence, ever
+since the letters had stopped; why they had stopped; and whether the
+reason had anything to do with the mystery about Cassim. Saidee seemed
+willing to wait, apparently, for details of Victoria's life, since she
+wanted to begin with the time only a few weeks ago, when Maïeddine had
+come into it. But the girl would not believe that this meant
+indifference. They must begin somewhere. Why should not Saidee be
+curious to hear the end part first, and go back gradually? Saidee's
+silence had been a torturing mystery for years, whereas about her, her
+simple past, there was no mystery to clear up.
+
+"Yes," she agreed. "But you promised to tell me about yourself
+and--and----"
+
+"I know. Oh, you shall hear the whole story. It will seem like a romance
+to you, I suppose, because you haven't had to live it, day by day, year
+by year. It's sordid reality to me--oh, _how_ sordid!--most of it. But
+this about Maïeddine changes everything. I must hear what's
+happened--quickly--because I shall have to make a plan. It's very
+important--dreadfully important. I'll explain, when you've told me more.
+But there's time to order something for you to eat and drink, first, if
+you're tired and hungry. You must be both, poor child--poor, pretty
+child! You _are_ pretty--lovely. No wonder Maïeddine--but what will you
+have. Which among our horrid Eastern foods do you hate least?"
+
+"I don't hate any of them. But don't make me eat or drink now, please,
+dearest. I couldn't. By and by. We rested and lunched this side of the
+city. I don't feel as if I should ever be hungry again. I'm so----"
+Victoria stopped. She could not say: "I am so happy," though she ought
+to have been able to say that. What was she, then, if not happy? "I'm so
+excited," she finished.
+
+Saidee stroked the girl's hand, softly. On hers she wore no ring, not
+even a wedding ring, though Cassim had put one on her finger, European
+fashion, when she was a bride. Victoria remembered it very well, among
+the other rings he had given during the short engagement. Now all were
+gone. But on the third finger of the left hand was the unmistakable mark
+a ring leaves if worn for many years. The thought passed through
+Victoria's mind that it could not be long since Saidee had ceased to
+wear her wedding ring.
+
+"I don't want to be cruel, or frighten you, my poor Babe," she said,
+"but--you've walked into a trap in coming here, and I've got to try and
+save you. Thank heaven my husband's away, but we've no time to lose.
+Tell me quickly about Maïeddine. I've heard a good deal of him, from
+Cassim, in old days; but tell me all that concerns him and you. Don't
+skip anything, or I can't judge."
+
+Saidee's manner was feverishly emphatic, but she did not look at
+Victoria. She watched her own hand moving back and forth, restlessly,
+from the girl's finger-tips, up the slender, bare wrist, and down again.
+
+Victoria told how she had seen Maïeddine on the boat, coming to Algiers;
+how he had appeared later at the hotel, and offered to help her,
+hinting, rather than saying, that he had been a friend of Cassim's, and
+knew where to find Cassim's wife. Then she went on to the story of the
+journey through the desert, praising Maïeddine, and hesitating only when
+she came to the evening of his confession and threat. But Saidee
+questioned her, and she answered.
+
+"It came out all right, you see," she finished at last. "I knew it must,
+even in those few minutes when I couldn't help feeling a little afraid,
+because I seemed to be in his power. But of course I wasn't really.
+God's power was over his, and he felt it. Things always _do_ come out
+right, if you just _know_ they will."
+
+Saidee shivered a little, though her hand on Victoria's was hot. "I wish
+I could think like that," she half whispered. "If I could, I----"
+
+"What, dearest?"
+
+"I should be brave, that's all. I've lost my spirit--lost faith, too--as
+I've lost everything else. I used to be quite a good sort of girl; but
+what can you expect after ten years shut up in a Mussulman harem? It's
+something in my favour that they never succeeded in 'converting' me, as
+they almost always do with a European woman when they've shut her
+up--just by tiring her out. But they only made me sullen and stupid. I
+don't believe in anything now. You talk about 'God's power.' He's never
+helped me. I should think 'things came right' more because Maïeddine
+felt you couldn't get away from him, then and later, and because he
+didn't want to offend the marabout, than because God troubled to
+interfere. Besides, things _haven't_ come right. If it weren't for
+Maïeddine, I might smuggle you away somehow, before the marabout
+arrives. But now, Maïeddine will be watching us like a lynx--or like an
+Arab. It's the same thing where women are concerned."
+
+"Why should the marabout care what I do?" asked Victoria. "He's nothing
+to us, is he?--except that I suppose Cassim must have some high position
+in his Zaouïa."
+
+"A high position! I forgot, you couldn't know--since Maïeddine hid
+everything from you. An Arab man never trusts a woman to keep a secret,
+no matter how much in love he may be. He was evidently afraid you'd tell
+some one the great secret on the way. But now you're here, he won't care
+what you find out, because he knows perfectly well that you can never
+get away."
+
+Victoria started, and turned fully round to stare at her sister with
+wide, bright eyes. "I can and I will get away!" she exclaimed. "With
+you. Never without you, of course. That's why I came, as I said. To take
+you away if you are unhappy. Not all the marabouts in Islam can keep
+you, dearest, because they have no right over you--and this is the
+twentieth century, not hundreds of years ago, in the dark ages."
+
+"Hundreds of years in the future, it will still be the dark ages in
+Islam. And this marabout thinks he _has_ a right over me."
+
+"But if you know he hasn't?"
+
+"I'm beginning to know it--beginning to feel it, anyhow. To feel that
+legally and morally I'm free. But law and morals can't break down
+walls."
+
+"I believe they can. And if Cassim----"
+
+"My poor child, when Cassim ben Halim died--at a very convenient time
+for himself--Sidi El Hadj Mohammed ben Abd-el-Kadr appeared to claim
+this maraboutship, left vacant by the third marabout in the line, an
+old, old man whose death happened a few weeks before Cassim's. This
+present marabout was his next of kin--or so everybody believes. And
+that's the way saintships pass on in Islam, just as titles and estates
+do in other countries. Now do you begin to understand the mystery?"
+
+"Not quite. I----"
+
+"You heard in Algiers that Cassim had died in Constantinople?"
+
+"Yes. The Governor himself said so."
+
+"The Governor believes so. Every one believes--except a wretched
+hump-backed idiot in Morocco, who sold his inheritance to save himself
+trouble, because he didn't want to leave his home, or bother to be a
+marabout. Perhaps he's dead by this time, in one way or another. I
+shouldn't be surprised. If he is, Maïeddine and Maïeddine's father, and
+a few other powerful friends of Cassim's, are the only ones left who
+know the truth, even a part of it. And the great Sidi El Hadj Mohammed
+himself."
+
+"Oh, Saidee--Cassim is the marabout!"
+
+"Sh! Now you know the secret that's kept me a prisoner in his house
+long, long after he'd tired of me, and would have got rid of me if he'd
+dared--and if he hadn't been afraid in his cruel, jealous way, that I
+might find a little happiness in my own country. And worse still, it's
+the secret that will keep you a prisoner, too, unless you make up your
+mind to do the one thing which can possibly help you."
+
+"What thing?" Victoria could not believe that the answer which darted
+into her mind was the one Saidee really meant to give.
+
+Saidee's lips opened, but with the girl's eyes gazing straight into
+hers, it was harder to speak than she had thought. Out of them looked a
+highly sensitive yet brave spirit, so true, so loving and loyal, that
+disloyalty to it was a crime--even though another love demanded it.
+
+"I--I hate to tell you," she stammered. "Only, what can I do? If
+Maïeddine hadn't loved you--but if he hadn't, you wouldn't be here. And
+being here, we--we must just face the facts. The man who calls himself
+my husband--I can't think of him as being that any more--is like a king
+in this country. He has even more power than most kings have nowadays.
+He'll give you to Maïeddine when he comes home, if Maïeddine asks him,
+as of course he will. Maïeddine wouldn't have given you up, there in the
+desert, if he hadn't been sure he could bribe the marabout to do exactly
+what he wanted."
+
+"But why can't I bribe him?" Victoria persisted, hopefully. "If he's
+truly tired of you, my money----"
+
+"He'd laugh at you for offering it, and say you might keep it for a
+_dot_. He's too rich to be tempted with money, unless it was far more
+than you or I have ever seen. From his oasis alone he has an income of
+thousands and thousands of dollars; and presents--large ones and small
+ones--come to him from all over North Africa--from France, even. All the
+Faithful in the desert, for hundreds of miles around, give him their
+first and best dates of the year, their first-born camels, their first
+foals, and lambs, and mules, in return for his blessing on their palms
+and flocks. He has wonderful rugs, and gold plate, and jewels, more than
+he knows what to do with, though he's very charitable. He's obliged to
+be, to keep up his reputation and the reputation of the Zaouïa.
+Everything depends on that--all his ambitions, which he thinks I hardly
+know. But I do know. And that's why I know that Maïeddine will be able
+to bribe him. Not with money: with something Cassim wants and values far
+more than money. You wouldn't understand what I mean unless I explained
+a good many things, and it's hardly the time for explaining more now.
+You must just take what I say for granted, until I can tell you
+everything by and by. But there are enormous interests mixed up with the
+marabout's ambitions--things which concern all Africa. Is it likely
+he'll let you and me go free to tell secrets that would ruin him and his
+hopes for ever?"
+
+"We wouldn't tell."
+
+"Didn't I say that an Arab never trusts a woman? He'd kill us sooner
+than let us go. And you've learned nothing about Arab men if you think
+Maïeddine will give you up and see you walk out of his life after all
+the trouble he's taken to get you tangled up in it. That's why we've got
+to look facts in the face. You meant to help me, dear, but you can't.
+You can only make me miserable, because you've spoiled your happiness
+for my sake. Poor little Babe, you've wandered far, far out of the zone
+of happiness, and you can never get back. All you can do is to make the
+best of a bad bargain."
+
+"I asked you to explain that, but you haven't yet."
+
+"You must--promise Maïeddine what he asks, before Cassim comes back from
+South Oran."
+
+This was the thing Victoria had feared, but could not believe Saidee
+would propose. She shrank a little, and Saidee saw it. "Don't
+misunderstand," the elder woman pleaded in the soft voice which
+pronounced English almost like a foreign language. "I tell you, we can't
+choose what we _want_ to do, you and I. If you wait for Cassim to be
+here, it will come to the same thing, but it will be fifty times worse,
+because then you'll have the humiliation of being forced to do what you
+might seem to do now of your own free will."
+
+"I can't be forced to marry Maïeddine. Nothing could make me do it. He
+knows that already, unless----"
+
+"Unless what? Why do you look horrified?"
+
+"There's one thing I forgot to tell you about our talk in the desert. I
+promised him I would say 'yes' in case something happened--something I
+thought then couldn't happen."
+
+"But you find now it could?"
+
+"Oh, no--no, I don't believe it could."
+
+"You'd better tell me what it is."
+
+"That you--I said, I would promise to marry him if _you wished_ it. He
+asked me to promise that, and I did, at once."
+
+A slow colour crept over Saidee's face, up to her forehead. "You trusted
+me," she murmured.
+
+"And I do now--with all my heart. Only you've lived here, out of the
+world, alone and sad for so long, that you're afraid of things I'm not
+afraid of."
+
+"I'm afraid because I know what cause there is for fear. But you're
+right. My life has made me a coward. I can't help it."
+
+"Yes, you can--I've come to help you help it."
+
+"How little you understand! They'll use you against me, me against you.
+If you knew I were being tortured, and you could save me by marrying
+Maïeddine, what would you do?"
+
+Victoria's hand trembled in her sister's, which closed on it nervously.
+"I would marry him that very minute, of course. But such things don't
+happen."
+
+"They do. That's exactly what will happen, unless you tell Maïeddine
+you've made up your mind to say 'yes'. You can explain that it's by my
+advice. He'll understand. But he'll respect you, and won't be furious at
+your resistance, and want to revenge himself on you in future, as he
+will if you wait to be forced into consenting."
+
+Victoria sprang up and walked away, covering her face with her hands.
+Her sister watched her as if fascinated, and felt sick as she saw how
+the girl shuddered. It was like watching a trapped bird bleeding to
+death. But she too was in the trap, she reminded herself. Really, there
+was no way out, except through Maïeddine. She said this over and over in
+her mind. There was no other way out. It was not that she was cruel or
+selfish. She was thinking of her sister's good. There was no doubt of
+that, she told herself: no doubt whatever.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+
+Victoria felt as if all her blood were beating in her brain. She could
+not think, and dimly she was glad that Saidee did not speak again. She
+could not have borne more of those hatefully specious arguments.
+
+For a moment she stood still, pressing her hands over her eyes, and
+against her temples. Then, without turning, she walked almost blindly to
+a window that opened upon Saidee's garden. The little court was a silver
+cube of moonlight, so bright that everything white looked alive with a
+strange, spiritual intelligence. The scent of the orange blossoms was
+lusciously sweet. She shrank back, remembering the orange-court at the
+Caïd's house in Ouargla. It was there that Zorah had prophesied: "Never
+wilt thou come this way again."
+
+"I'm tired, after all," the girl said dully, turning to Saidee, but
+leaning against the window frame. "I didn't realize it before. The
+perfume--won't let me think."
+
+"You look dreadfully white!" exclaimed Saidee. "Are you going to faint?
+Lie down here on this divan. I'll send for something."
+
+"No, no. Don't send. And I won't faint. But I want to think. Can I go
+out into the air--not where the orange blossoms are?"
+
+"I'll take you on to the roof," Saidee said. "It's my favourite
+place--looking over the desert."
+
+She put her arm round Victoria, leading her to the stairway, and so to
+the roof.
+
+"Are you better?" she asked, miserably. "What can I do for you?"
+
+"Let's not speak for a little while, please. I can think now. Soon I
+shall be well. Don't be anxious about me, darling."
+
+Very gently she slipped away from Saidee's arm that clasped her waist;
+and the softness of the young voice, which had been sharp with pain,
+touched the elder woman. She knew that the girl was thinking more of
+her, Saidee, than of herself.
+
+Victoria leaned on the white parapet, and looked down over the desert,
+where the sand rippled in silvery lines and waves, like water in
+moonlight.
+
+"The golden silence!" she thought.
+
+It was silver now, not golden; but she knew that this was the place of
+her dream. On a white roof like this, she had seen Saidee stand with
+eyes shaded from the sun in the west; waiting for her, calling for her,
+or so she had believed. Poor Saidee! Poor, beautiful Saidee; changed in
+soul, though so little changed in face! Could it be that she had never
+called in spirit to her sister?
+
+Victoria bowed her head, and tears fell from her eyes upon her cold bare
+arms, crossed on the white wall.
+
+Saidee did not want her. Saidee was sorry that she had come. Her coming
+had only made things worse.
+
+"I wish--" the girl was on the point of saying to herself--"I wish I'd
+never been born." But before the words shaped themselves fully in her
+mind--terrible words, because she had felt the beauty and sacred meaning
+of life--the desert spoke to her.
+
+"Saidee does want you," the spirit of the wind and the glimmering sands
+seemed to say. "If she had not wanted you, do you think you would have
+been shown this picture, with your sister in it, the picture which
+brought you half across the world? She called once, long ago, and you
+heard the call. You were allowed to hear it. Are you so weak as to
+believe, just because you're hurt and suffering, that such messages
+between hearts mean nothing? Saidee may not know that she wants you, but
+she does, and needs you more than ever before. This is your hour of
+temptation. You thought everything was going to be wonderfully easy,
+almost too easy, and instead, it is difficult, that's all. But be brave
+for Saidee and yourself, now and in days to come, for you are here only
+just in time."
+
+The pure, strong wind blowing over the dunes was a tonic to Victoria's
+soul, and she breathed it eagerly. Catching at the robe of faith, she
+held the spirit fast, and it stayed with her.
+
+Suddenly she felt at peace, sure as a child that she would be taught
+what to do next. There was her star, floating in the blue lake of the
+sky, like a water lily, where millions of lesser lilies blossomed.
+
+"Dear star," she whispered, "thank you for coming. I needed you just
+then."
+
+"Are you better?" asked Saidee in a choked voice.
+
+Victoria turned away from sky and desert to the drooping figure of the
+woman, standing in a pool of shadow, dark as fear and treachery.
+
+"Yes, dearest one, I am well again, and I won't have to worry you any
+more." The girl gently wound two protecting arms round her sister.
+
+"What have you decided to do?"
+
+Victoria could feel Saidee's heart beating against her own.
+
+"I've decided to pray about deciding, and then to decide. Whatever's
+best for you, I will do, I promise."
+
+"And for yourself. Don't forget that I'm thinking of you. Don't believe
+it's _all_ cowardice."
+
+"I don't believe anything but good of my Saidee."
+
+"I envy you, because you think you've got Someone to pray to. I've
+nothing. I'm--alone in the dark."
+
+Victoria made her look up at the moon which flooded the night with a sea
+of radiance. "There is no dark," she said. "We're together--in the
+light."
+
+"How hopeful you are!" Saidee murmured. "I've left hope so far behind,
+I've almost forgotten what it's like."
+
+"Maybe it's always been hovering just over your shoulder, only you
+forgot to turn and see. It can't be gone, because I feel sure that truth
+and knowledge and hope are all one."
+
+"I wonder if you'll still feel so when you've married a man of another
+race--as I have?"
+
+Victoria did not answer. She had to conquer the little cold thrill of
+superstitious fear which crept through her veins, as Saidee's words
+reminded her of M'Barka's sand-divining. She had to find courage again
+from "her star," before she could speak.
+
+"Forgive me, Babe!" said Saidee, stricken by the look in the lifted
+eyes. "I wish I needn't remind you of anything horrid to-night--your
+first night with me after all these years. But we have so little time.
+What else can I do?"
+
+"I shall know by to-morrow what we are to do," Victoria said cheerfully.
+"Because I shall take counsel of the night."
+
+"You're a very odd girl," the woman reflected aloud. "When you were a
+tiny thing, you used to have the weirdest thoughts, and do the quaintest
+things. I was sure you'd grow up to be absolutely different from any
+other human being. And so you have, I think. Only an extraordinary sort
+of girl could ever have made her way without help from Potterston,
+Indiana, to Oued Tolga in North Africa."
+
+"I _had_ help--every minute. Saidee--did you think of me sometimes, when
+you were standing here on this roof?"
+
+"Yes, of course I thought of you often--only not so often lately as at
+first, because for a long time now I've been numb. I haven't thought
+much or cared much about anything, or--or any one except----"
+
+"Except----"
+
+"Except--except myself, I'm afraid." Saidee's face was turned away from
+Victoria's. She looked toward Oued Tolga, the city, whither the
+carrier-pigeon had flown.
+
+"I wondered," she went on hastily, "what had become of you, and if you
+were happy, and whether by this time you'd nearly forgotten me. You were
+such a baby child when I left you!"
+
+"I won't believe you really wondered if I could forget. You, and
+thoughts of you, have made my whole life. I was just living for the time
+when I could earn money enough to search for you--and preparing for it,
+of course, so as to be ready when it came."
+
+Saidee still looked toward Oued Tolga, where the white domes shimmered,
+far away in the moonlight, like a mirage. Was love a mirage, too?--the
+love that called for her over there, the love whose voice made the
+strings of her heart vibrate, though she had thought them broken and
+silent for ever. Victoria's arms round her felt strong and warm, yet
+they were a barrier. She was afraid of the barrier, and afraid of the
+girl's passionate loyalty. She did not deserve it, she knew, and she
+would be more at ease--she could not say happier, because there was no
+such word as happiness for her--without it. Somehow she could not bear
+to talk of Victoria's struggle to come to her rescue. The thought of all
+the girl had done made her feel unable to live up to it, or be grateful.
+She did not want to be called upon to live up to any standard. She
+wanted--if she wanted anything--simply to go on blindly, as fate led.
+But she felt that near her fate hovered, like the carrier-pigeon; and
+some terrible force within herself, which frightened her, seemed ready
+to push away or destroy anything that might come between her and that
+fate. She knew that she ought to question Victoria about the past years
+of their separation, one side of her nature was eager to hear the story.
+But the other side, which had gained strength lately, forced her to
+dwell upon less intimate things.
+
+"I suppose Mrs. Ray managed to keep most of poor father's money?" she
+said.
+
+"Mrs. Ray died when I was fourteen, and after that Mr. Potter lost
+everything in speculation," the girl answered.
+
+"Everything of yours, too?"
+
+"Yes. But it didn't matter, except for the delay. My dancing--_your_
+dancing really, dearest, because if it hadn't been for you I shouldn't
+have put my heart into it so--earned me all I needed."
+
+"I said you were extraordinary! But how queer it seems to hear those
+names again. Mrs. Ray. Mr. Potter. They're like names in a dream. How
+wretched I used to think myself, with Mrs. Ray in Paris, when she was so
+jealous and cross! But a thousand times since, I've wished myself back
+in those days. I was happy, really. I was free. Life was all before me."
+
+"Dearest! But surely you weren't miserable from the very first,
+with--with Cassim?"
+
+"No-o. I suppose I wasn't. I was in love with him. It seemed very
+interesting to be the wife of such a man. Even when I found that he
+meant to make me lead the life of an Arab woman, shut up and veiled, I
+liked him too well to mind much. He put it in such a romantic way,
+telling me how he worshipped me, how mad with jealousy he was even to
+think of other men seeing my face, and falling in love with it. He
+thought every one must fall in love! All girls like men to be
+jealous--till they find out how sordid jealousy can be. And I was so
+young--a child. I felt as if I were living in a wonderful Eastern poem.
+Cassim used to give me the most gorgeous presents, and our house in
+Algiers was beautiful. My garden was a dream--and how he made love to me
+in it! Besides, I was allowed to go out, veiled. It was rather fun being
+veiled--in those days, I thought so. It made me feel mysterious, as if
+life were a masquerade ball. And the Arab women Cassim let me know--a
+very few, wives and sisters of his friends--envied me immensely. I loved
+that--I was so silly. And they flattered me, asking about my life in
+Europe. I was like a fairy princess among them, until--one day--a woman
+told me a thing about Cassim. She told me because she was spiteful and
+wanted to make me miserable, of course, for I found out afterwards she'd
+been expressly forbidden to speak, on account of my 'prejudices'--they'd
+all been forbidden. I wouldn't believe at first,--but it was true--the
+others couldn't deny it. And to prove what she said, the woman took me
+to see the boy, who was with his grandmother--an aunt of Maïeddine's,
+dead now."
+
+"The boy?"
+
+"Oh, I forgot. I haven't explained. The thing she told was, that Cassim
+had a wife living when he married me."
+
+"Saidee!--how horrible! How horrible!"
+
+"Yes, it was horrible. It broke my heart." Saidee was tingling with
+excitement now. Her stiff, miserable restraint was gone in the feverish
+satisfaction of speaking out those things which for years had corroded
+her mind, like verdigris. She had never been able to talk to anyone in
+this way, and her only relief had been in putting her thoughts on paper.
+Some of the books in her locked cupboard she had given to a friend, the
+writer of to-day's letter, because she had seen him only for a few
+minutes at a time, and had been able to say very little, on the one
+occasion when they had spoken a few words to each other. She had wanted
+him to know what a martyrdom her life had been. Involuntarily she talked
+to her sister, now, as she would have talked to him, and his face rose
+clearly before her eyes, more clearly almost than Victoria's, which her
+own shadow darkened, and screened from the light of the moon as they
+stood together, clasped in one another's arms.
+
+"Cassim thought it all right, of course," she went on. "A Mussulman may
+have four wives at a time if he likes--though men of his rank don't, as
+a rule, take more than one, because they must marry women of high birth,
+who hate rivals in their own house. But he was too clever to give me a
+hint of his real opinions in Paris. He knew I wouldn't have looked at
+him again, if he had--even if he hadn't told me about the wife herself.
+She had had this boy, and gone out of her mind afterwards, so she wasn't
+living with Cassim--that was the excuse he made when I taxed him with
+deceiving me. Her father and mother had taken her back. I don't know
+surely whether she's living or dead, but I believe she's dead, and her
+body buried beside the grave supposed to be Cassim's. Anyhow, the boy's
+living, and he's the one thing on earth Cassim loves better than
+himself."
+
+"When did you find out about--about all this?" Victoria asked, almost
+whispering.
+
+"Eight months after we were married I heard about his wife. I think
+Cassim was true to me, in his way, till that time. But we had an awful
+scene. I told him I'd never live with him again as his wife, and I never
+have. After that day, everything was different. No more happiness--not
+even an Arab woman's idea of happiness. Cassim began to hate me, but
+with the kind of hate that holds and won't let go. He wouldn't listen
+when I begged him to set me free. Instead, he wouldn't let me go out at
+all, or see anyone, or receive or send letters. He punished me by
+flirting outrageously with a pretty woman, the wife of a French officer.
+He took pains that I should hear everything, through my servants. But
+his cruelty was visited on his own head, for soon there came a dreadful
+scandal. The woman died suddenly of chloral poisoning, after a quarrel
+with her husband on Cassim's account, and it was thought she'd taken too
+much of the drug on purpose. The day after his wife's death, the officer
+shot himself. I think he was a colonel; and every one knew that Cassim
+was mixed up in the affair. He had to leave the army, and it seemed--he
+thought so himself--that his career was ruined. He sold his place in
+Algiers, and took me to a farm-house in the country where we lived for a
+while, and he was so lonely and miserable he would have been glad to
+make up, but how could I forgive him? He'd deceived me too horribly--and
+besides, in my own eyes I wasn't his wife. Surely our marriage wouldn't
+be considered legal in any country outside Islam, would it? Even you, a
+child like you, must see that?"
+
+"I suppose so," Victoria answered, sadly. "But----"
+
+"There's no 'but.' I thought so then. I think so a hundred times more
+now. My life's been a martyrdom. No one could blame me if--but I was
+telling you about what happened after Algiers. There was a kind of armed
+truce between us in the country, though we lived only like two
+acquaintances under the same roof. For months he had nobody else to talk
+to, so he used to talk with me--quite freely sometimes, about a plan
+some powerful Arabs, friends of his--Maïeddine and his father among
+others--were making for him. It sounded like a fairy story, and I used
+to think he must be going mad. But he wasn't. It was all true about the
+plot that was being worked. He knew I couldn't betray him, so it was a
+relief to his mind, in his nervous excitement, to confide in me."
+
+"Was it a plot against the French?"
+
+"Indirectly. That was one reason it appealed to Cassim. He'd been proud
+of his position in the army, and being turned out, or forced to go--much
+the same thing--made him hate France and everything French. He'd have
+given his life for revenge, I'm sure. Probably that's why his friends
+were so anxious to put him in a place of power, for they were men whose
+watchword was 'Islam for Islam.' Their hope was--and is--to turn France
+out of North Africa. You wouldn't believe how many there are who hope
+and band themselves together for that. These friends of Cassim's
+persuaded and bribed a wretched cripple--who was next of kin to the last
+marabout, and ought to have inherited--to let Cassim take his place.
+Secretly, of course. It was a very elaborate plot--it had to be. Three
+or four rich, important men were in it, and it would have meant ruin if
+they'd been found out.
+
+"Cassim would really have come next in succession if it hadn't been for
+the hunchback, who lived in Morocco, just over the border. If he had any
+conscience, I suppose that thought soothed it. He told me that the real
+heir--the cripple--had epileptic fits, and couldn't live long, anyhow.
+The way they worked their plan out was by Cassim's starting for a
+pilgrimage to Mecca. I had to go away with him, because he was afraid to
+leave me. I knew too much. And it was simpler to take me than to put me
+out of the way."
+
+"Saidee--he would never have murdered you?" Victoria whispered.
+
+"He would if necessary--I'm sure of it. But it was safer not. Besides,
+I'd often told him I wanted to die, so that was an incentive to keep me
+alive. I didn't go to Mecca. I left the farm-house with Cassim, and he
+took me to South Oran, where he is now. I had to stay in the care of a
+marabouta, a terrible old woman, a bigot and a tyrant, a cousin of
+Cassim's, on his mother's side, and a sister of the man who invented the
+whole plot. The idea was that Cassim should seem to be drowned in the
+Bosphorus, while staying at Constantinople with friends, after his
+pilgrimage to Mecca. But luckily for him there was a big fire in the
+hotel where he went to stop for the first night, so he just disappeared,
+and a lot of trouble was saved. He told me about the adventure, when he
+came to Oran. The next move was to Morocco. And from Morocco he
+travelled here, in place of the cripple, when the last marabout died,
+and the heir was called to his inheritance. That was nearly eight years
+ago."
+
+"And he's never been found out?"
+
+"No. And he never will be. He's far too clever. Outwardly he's hand in
+glove with the French. High officials and officers come here to consult
+with him, because he's known to have immense influence all over the
+South, and in the West, even in Morocco. He's masked, like a Touareg,
+and the French believe it's because of a vow he made in Mecca. No one
+but his most intimate friends, or his own people, have ever seen the
+face of Sidi Mohammed since he inherited the maraboutship, and came to
+Oued Tolga. He must hate wearing his mask, for he's as handsome as he
+ever was, and just as vain. But it's worth the sacrifice. Not only is he
+a great man, with everything--or nearly everything--he wants in the
+world, but he looks forward to a glorious revenge against the French,
+whose interests he pretends to serve."
+
+"How can he revenge himself? What power has he to do that?" the girl
+asked. She had a strange impression that Saidee had forgotten her, that
+all this talk of the past, and of the marabout, was for some one else of
+whom her sister was thinking.
+
+"He has tremendous power," Saidee answered, almost angrily, as if she
+resented the doubt. "All Islam is at his back. The French humour him,
+and let him do whatever he likes, no matter how eccentric his ways may
+be, because he's got them to believe he is trying to help the Government
+in the wildest part of Algeria, the province of Oran--and with the
+Touaregs in the farthest South; and that he promotes French interests in
+Morocco. Really, he's at the head of every religious secret society in
+North Africa, banded together to turn Christians out of Mussulman
+countries. The French have no idea how many such secret societies exist,
+and how rich and powerful they are. Their dear friend, the good, wise,
+polite marabout assures them that rumours of that sort are nonsense. But
+some day, when everything's ready--when Morocco and Oran and Algeria and
+Tunisia will obey the signal, all together, then they'll have a
+surprise--and Cassim ben Halim will be revenged."
+
+"It sounds like the weavings of a brain in a dream," Victoria said.
+
+"It will be a nightmare-dream, no matter how it ends;--maybe a nightmare
+of blood, and war, and massacre. Haven't you ever heard, or read, how
+the Mussulman people expect a saviour, the Moul Saa, as they call
+him--the Man of the Hour, who will preach a Holy War, and lead it
+himself, to victory?"
+
+"Yes, I've read that----"
+
+"Well, Cassim hopes to be the Moul Saa, and deliver Islam by the sword.
+I suppose you wonder how I know such secrets, or whether I do really
+know them at all. But I do. Some things Cassim told me himself, because
+he was bursting with vanity, and simply had to speak. Other things I've
+seen in writing--he would kill me if he found out. And still other
+things I've guessed. Why, the boys here in the Zaouïa are being brought
+up for the 'great work,' as they call it. Not all of them--but the most
+important ones among the older boys. They have separate classes.
+Something secret and mysterious is taught them. There are boys from
+Morocco and Oran, and sons of Touareg chiefs--all those who most hate
+Christians. No other zaouïa is like this. The place seethes with hidden
+treachery and sedition. Now you can see where Si Maïeddine's power over
+Cassim comes in. The Agha, his father, is one of the few who helped make
+Cassim what he is, but he's a cautious old man, the kind who wants to
+run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. Si Maïeddine's cautious too,
+Cassim has said. He approves the doctrines of the secret societies, but
+he's so ambitious that without a very strong incentive to turn against
+them, in act he'd be true to the French. Well, now he has the incentive.
+You."
+
+"I don't understand," said Victoria. Yet even as she spoke, she began to
+understand.
+
+"He'll offer to give himself, and to influence the Agha and the Agha's
+people--the Ouled-Sirren--if Cassim will grant his wish. And it's no use
+saying that Cassim can't force you to marry any man. You told me
+yourself, a little while ago, that if you saw harm coming to me----"
+
+"Oh don't--don't speak of that again, Saidee!" the girl cried, sharply.
+"I've told you--yes--that I'll do anything--anything on earth to save
+you pain, or more sorrow. But let's hope--let's pray."
+
+"There is no hope. I've forgotten how to pray," Saidee answered, "and
+God has forgotten me."
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+
+There was no place for a guest in that part of the marabout's house
+which had been allotted to Saidee. She had her bedroom and
+reception-room, her roof terrace, and her garden court. On the ground
+floor her negresses lived, and cooked for their mistress and themselves.
+She did not wish to have Victoria with her, night and day, and so she
+had quietly directed Noura to make up a bed in the room which would have
+been her boudoir, if she had lived in Europe. When the sisters came down
+from the roof, the bed was ready.
+
+In the old time Victoria had slept with her sister; and her greatest
+happiness as a child had been the "bed-talks," when Saidee had whispered
+her secret joys or troubles, and confided in the little girl as if she
+had been a "grown-up."
+
+Hardly a night had passed since their parting, that Victoria had not
+thought of those talks, and imagined herself again lying with her head
+on Saidee's arm, listening to stories of Saidee's life. She had taken it
+for granted that she would be put in her sister's room, and seeing the
+bed made up, and her luggage unpacked in the room adjoining, was a blow.
+She knew that Saidee must have given orders, or these arrangements would
+not have been made, and again she felt the dreadful sinking of the heart
+which had crushed her an hour ago. Saidee did not want her. Saidee was
+sorry she had come, and meant to keep her as far off as possible. But
+the girl encouraged herself once more. Saidee might think now that she
+would rather have been left alone. But she was mistaken. By and by she
+would find out the truth, and know that they needed each other.
+
+"I thought you'd be more comfortable here, than crowded in with me,"
+Saidee explained, blushing faintly.
+
+"Yes, thank you, dear," said Victoria quietly. She did not show her
+disappointment, and seemed to take the matter for granted, as if she had
+expected nothing else; but the talk on the roof had brought back
+something into Saidee's heart which she could not keep out, though she
+did not wish to admit it there. She was sorry for Victoria, sorry for
+herself, and more miserable than ever. Her nerves were rasped by an
+intolerable irritation as she looked at the girl, and felt that her
+thoughts were being read. She had a hideous feeling, almost an
+impression, that her face had been lifted off like a mask, and that the
+workings of her brain were open to her sister's eyes, like the exposed
+mechanism of a clock.
+
+"Noura has brought some food for you," she went on hastily. "You must
+eat a little, before you go to bed--to please me."
+
+"I will," Victoria assured her. "You mustn't worry about me at all."
+
+"You'll go to sleep, won't you?--or would you rather talk--while you're
+eating, perhaps?"
+
+The girl looked at the woman, and saw that her nerves were racked; that
+she wanted to go, but did not wish her sister to guess.
+
+"You've talked too much already," Victoria said. "The surprise of my
+coming gave you a shock. Now you must rest and get over it, so you can
+be strong for to-morrow. Then we'll make up our minds about everything."
+
+"There's only one way to make up our minds," Saidee insisted, dully.
+
+Victoria did not protest. She kissed her sister good-night, and gently
+refused help from Noura. Then Saidee went away, followed by the negress,
+who softly closed the door between the two rooms. Her mistress had not
+told her to do this, but when it was done, she did not say, "Open the
+door." Saidee was glad that it was shut, because she felt that she could
+think more freely. She could not bear the idea that her thoughts and
+life were open to the criticism of those young, blue eyes, which the
+years since childhood had not clouded. Nevertheless, when Noura had
+undressed her, and she was alone, she saw Victoria's eyes looking at her
+sweetly, sadly, with yearning, yet with no reproach. She saw them as
+clearly as she had seen a man's face, a few hours earlier; and now his
+was dim, as Victoria's face had been dim when his was clear.
+
+It was dark in the room, except for the moon-rays which streamed through
+the lacelike open-work of stucco, above the shuttered windows, making
+jewelled patterns on the wall--pink, green, and golden, according to the
+different colours of the glass. There was just enough light to reflect
+these patterns faintly in the mirrors set in the closed door, opposite
+which Saidee lay in bed; and to her imagination it was as if she could
+see through the door, into a lighted place beyond. She wondered if
+Victoria had gone to bed; if she were sleeping, or if she were crying
+softly--crying her heart out with bitter grief and disappointment she
+would never confess.
+
+Victoria had always been like that, even as a little girl. If Saidee did
+anything to hurt her, she made no moan. Sometimes Saidee had teased her
+on purpose, or tried to make her jealous, just for fun.
+
+As memories came crowding back, the woman buried her face in the pillow,
+striving with all her might to shut them out. What was the use of making
+herself wretched? Victoria ought to have come long, long ago, or not at
+all.
+
+But the blue eyes would look at her, even when her own were shut; and
+always there was the faint light in the mirror, which seemed to come
+through the door.
+
+At last Saidee could not longer lie still. She had to get up and open
+the door, to see what her sister was really doing. Very softly she
+turned the handle, for she hoped that by this time Victoria was asleep;
+but as she pulled the door noiselessly towards her, and peeped into the
+next room, she saw that one of the lamps was burning. Victoria had not
+yet gone to bed. She was kneeling beside it, saying her prayers, with
+her back towards the door.
+
+So absorbed was she in praying, and so little noise had Saidee made,
+that the girl heard nothing. She remained motionless on her knees, not
+knowing that Saidee was looking at her.
+
+A sharp pain shot through the woman's heart. How many times had she
+softly opened their bedroom door, coming home late after a dance, to
+find her little sister praying, a small, childish form in a long white
+nightgown, with quantities of curly red hair pouring over its shoulders!
+
+Sometimes Victoria had gone to sleep on her knees, and Saidee had waked
+her up with a kiss.
+
+Just as she had looked then, so she looked now, except that the form in
+the long, white nightgown was that of a young girl, not a child. But the
+thick waves of falling hair made it seem childish.
+
+"She is praying for me," Saidee thought; and dared not close the door
+tightly, lest Victoria should hear. By and by it could be done, when the
+light was out, and the girl dropped asleep.
+
+Meanwhile, she tiptoed back to her bed, and sat on the edge of it, to
+wait. At last the thread of light, fine as a red-gold hair, vanished
+from the door; but as it disappeared a line of moonlight was drawn in
+silver along the crack. Victoria must have left her windows wide open,
+or there would not have been light enough to paint this gleaming streak.
+
+Saidee sat on her bed for nearly half an hour, trying to concentrate her
+thoughts on the present and future, yet unable to keep them from flying
+back to the past, the long-ago past, which lately had seemed unreal, as
+if she had dreamed it; the past when she and Victoria had been all the
+world to each other.
+
+There was no sound in the next room, and when Saidee was weary of her
+strained position, she crossed the floor on tiptoe again, to shut the
+door. But she could not resist a temptation to peep in.
+
+It was as she had expected. Victoria had left the inlaid cedar-wood
+shutters wide open, and through the lattice of old wrought-iron,
+moonlight streamed. The room was bright with a silvery twilight, like a
+mysterious dawn; but because the bed-linen and the embroidered silk
+coverlet were white, the pale radiance focused round the girl, who lay
+asleep in a halo of moonbeams.
+
+"She looks like an angel," Saidee thought, and with a curious mingling
+of reluctance and eagerness, moved softly toward the bed, her little
+velvet slippers from Tunis making no sound on the thick rugs.
+
+Very well the older woman remembered an engaging trick of the child's, a
+way of sleeping with her cheek in her hand, and her hair spread out like
+a golden coverlet for the pillow. Just so she was lying now; and in the
+moonlight her face was a child's face, the face of the dear, little,
+loving child of ten years ago. Like this Victoria had lain when her
+sister crept into their bedroom in the Paris flat, the night before the
+wedding, and Saidee had waked her by crying on her eyelids. Cassim's
+unhappy wife recalled the clean, sweet, warm smell of the child's hair
+when she had buried her face in it that last night together. It had
+smelled like grape-leaves in the hot sun.
+
+"If you don't come back to me, I'll follow you all across the world,"
+the little girl had said. Now, she had kept her promise. Here she
+was--and the sister to whom she had come, after a thousand sacrifices,
+was wishing her back again at the other end of the world, was planning
+to get rid of her.
+
+Suddenly, it was as if the beating of Saidee's heart broke a tight band
+of ice which had compressed it. A fountain of tears sprang from her
+eyes. She fell on her knees beside the bed, crying bitterly.
+
+"Childie, childie, comfort me, forgive me!" she sobbed.
+
+Victoria woke instantly. She opened her eyes, and Saidee's wet face was
+close to hers. The girl said not a word, but wrapped her arms round her
+sister, drawing the bowed head on to her breast, and then she crooned
+lovingly over it, with little foolish mumblings, as she used to do in
+Paris when Mrs. Ray's unkindness had made Saidee cry.
+
+"Can you forgive me?" the woman faltered, between sobs.
+
+"Darling, as if there were anything to forgive!" The clasp of the girl's
+arms tightened. "Now we're truly together again. How I love you! How
+happy I am!"
+
+"Don't--I don't deserve it," Saidee stammered. "Poor little Babe! I was
+cruel to you. And you'd come so far."
+
+"You weren't cruel!" Victoria contradicted her, almost fiercely.
+
+"I was. I was jealous--jealous of you. You're so young and
+beautiful--just what I was ten years ago, only better and prettier.
+You're what I can never be again--what I'd give the next ten years to
+be. Everything's over with me. I'm old--old!"
+
+"You're not to say such things," cried Victoria, horrified. "You weren't
+jealous. You----"
+
+"I was. I am now. But I want to confess. You must let me confess, if
+you're to help me."
+
+"Dearest, tell me anything--everything you choose, but nothing you don't
+choose. And nothing you say can make me love you less--only more."
+
+"There's a great deal to tell," Saidee said, heavily "And I'm
+tired--sick at heart. But I can't rest now, till I've told you."
+
+"Wouldn't you come into bed?" pleaded Victoria humbly. "Then we could
+talk, the way we used to talk."
+
+Saidee staggered up from her knees, and the girl almost lifted her on to
+the bed. Then she covered her with the thyme-scented linen sheet, and
+the silk coverlet under which she herself lay. For a moment they were
+quite still, Saidee lying with her head on Victoria's arm. But at last
+she said, in a whisper, as if her lips were dry: "Did you know I was
+sorry you'd come?"
+
+"I knew you thought you were sorry," the girl answered. "Yet I hoped
+that you'd find out you weren't, really. I prayed for you to find
+out--soon."
+
+"Did you guess why I was sorry?"
+
+"Not--quite."
+
+"I told you I--that it was for your sake."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Didn't you believe it?"
+
+"I--felt there was something else, beside."
+
+"There was!" Saidee confessed. "You know now--at least you know part. I
+was jealous. I am still--but I'm ashamed of myself. I'm sick with shame.
+And I do love you!"
+
+"Of course--of course you do, darling."
+
+"But--there's somebody else I love. A man. And I couldn't bear to think
+he might see you, because you're so much younger and fresher than I."
+
+"You mean--Cassim?"
+
+"No. Not Cassim."
+
+Silence fell between the two. Victoria did not speak; and suddenly
+Saidee was angry with her for not speaking.
+
+"If you're shocked, I won't go on," she said. "You can't help me by
+preaching."
+
+"I'm not shocked," the girl protested. "Only sorry--so sorry. And even
+if I wanted to preach, I don't know how."
+
+"There's nothing to be shocked about," Saidee said, her tears dry, her
+voice hard as it had been at first. "I've seen him three times. I've
+talked with him just once. But we love each other. It's the first and
+only real love of my life. I was too young to know, when I met Cassim.
+That was a fascination. I was in love with romance. He carried me off my
+feet, in spite of myself."
+
+"Then, dearest Saidee, don't let yourself be carried off your feet a
+second time."
+
+"Why not?" Saidee asked, sharply. "What incentive have I to be true to
+Cassim?"
+
+"I'm not thinking about Cassim. I'm thinking of you. All one's world
+goes to pieces so, if one isn't true to oneself."
+
+"_He_ says I can't be true to myself if I stay here. He doesn't consider
+that I'm Cassim's wife. I _thought_ myself married, but was I, when he
+had a wife already? Would any lawyer, or even clergyman, say it was a
+legal marriage?"
+
+"Perhaps not," Victoria admitted. "But----"
+
+"Just wait, before you go on arguing," Saidee broke in hotly, "until
+I've told you something you haven't heard yet. Cassim has another wife
+now--a lawful wife, according to his views, and the views of his people.
+He's had her for a year. She's a girl of the Ouled Naïl tribe, brought
+up to be a dancer. But Cassim saw her at Touggourt, where he'd gone on
+one of his mysterious visits. He doesn't dream that I know the whole
+history of the affair, but I do, and have known, since a few days after
+the creature was brought here as his bride. She's as ignorant and silly
+as a kitten, and only a child in years. She told her 'love story' to one
+of her negresses, who told Noura--who repeated it to me. Perhaps I
+oughtn't to have listened, but why not?"
+
+Victoria did not answer. The clouds round Saidee and herself were dark,
+but she was trying to see the blue beyond, and find the way into it,
+with her sister.
+
+"She's barely sixteen now, and she's been here a year," Saidee went on.
+"She hadn't begun to dance yet, when Cassim saw her, and took her away
+from Touggourt. Being a great saint is very convenient. A marabout can
+do what he likes, you know. Mussulmans are forbidden to touch alcohol,
+but if a marabout drinks wine, it turns to milk in his throat. He can
+fly, if he wants to. He can even make French cannon useless, and
+withdraw the bullets from French guns, in case of war, if the spirit of
+Allah is with him. So by marrying a girl brought up for a dancer,
+daughter of generations of dancing women, he washes all disgrace from
+her blood, and makes her a female saint, worthy to live eternally. The
+beautiful Miluda's a marabouta, if you please, and when her baby is
+taken out by the negress who nurses it, silly, bigoted people kneel and
+kiss its clothing."
+
+"She has a baby!" murmured Victoria.
+
+"Yes, only a girl, but better than nothing--and she hopes to be more
+fortunate next time. She isn't jealous of me, because I've no children,
+not even a girl, and because for that reason Cassim could repudiate me
+if he chose. She little knows how desperately I wish he would. She
+believes--Noura says--that he keeps me here only because I have no
+people to go to, and he's too kind-hearted to turn me out alone in the
+world, when my youth's past. You see--she thinks me already old--at
+twenty-eight! Of course the real reason that Cassim shuts me up and
+won't let me go, is because he knows I could ruin not only him, but the
+hopes of his people. Miluda doesn't dream that I'm of so much importance
+in his eyes. The only thing she's jealous of is the boy, Mohammed, who's
+at school in the town of Oued Tolga, in charge of an uncle. Cassim
+guesses how Miluda hates the child, and I believe that's the reason he
+daren't have him here. He's afraid something might happen, although the
+excuse he makes is, that he wants his boy to learn French, and know
+something of French ways. That pleases the Government--and as for the
+Arabs, no doubt he tells them it's only a trick to keep French eyes shut
+to what's really going on, and to his secret plans. Now, do you still
+say I ought to consider myself married to Cassim, and refuse to take any
+happiness if I can get it?"
+
+"The thing is, what would make you happy?" Victoria said, as if thinking
+aloud.
+
+"Love, and life. All that women in Europe have, and take for granted,"
+Saidee answered passionately.
+
+"How could it come to you?" the girl asked.
+
+"I would go to it, and find it with the man who's ready to risk his life
+to save me from this hateful prison, and carry me far away. Now, I've
+told you everything, exactly as it stands. That's why I was sorry you
+came, just when I was almost ready to risk the step. I was sure you'd be
+horrified if you found out, and want to stop me. Besides, if he should
+see you--but I won't say that again. I know you wouldn't try to take him
+away from me, even if you tried to take me from him. I don't know why
+I've told you, instead of keeping the whole thing secret as I made up my
+mind to do at first. Nothing's changed. I can't save you from Maïeddine,
+but--there's one difference. I _would_ save you if I could. Just at
+first, I was so anxious for you to be out of the way of my
+happiness--the chance of it--that the only thing I longed for was that
+you should be gone."
+
+Victoria choked back a sob that rose in her throat, but Saidee felt,
+rather than heard it, as she lay with her burning head on the girl's
+arm.
+
+"I don't feel like that now," she said. "I peeped in and saw you
+praying--perhaps for me--and you looked just as you used, when you were
+a little girl. Then, when I came in, and you were asleep, I--I couldn't
+stand it. I broke down. I love you, dear little Babe. The ice is gone
+out of my heart. You've melted it. I'm a woman again; but just because
+I'm a woman, I won't give up my other love to please you or any one. I
+tell you that, honestly."
+
+Victoria made no reply for a moment, though Saidee waited defiantly,
+expecting a protest or an argument. Then, at last, the girl said: "Will
+you tell me something about this man?"
+
+Saidee was surprised to receive encouragement. It was a joy to speak of
+the subject that occupied all her thoughts, and wonderful to have a
+confidante.
+
+"He's a captain in the Chasseurs d'Afrique," she said. "But he's not
+with his regiment. He's an expert in making desert wells, and draining
+marshes. That's the business which has brought him to the far South,
+now. He's living at Oued Tolga--the town, I mean; not the Zaouïa. A well
+had to be sunk in the village, and he was superintending. I watched him
+from my roof, though it was too far off to see his face. I don't know
+exactly what made me do it--I suppose it was Fate, for Cassim says we
+all have our fate hung round our necks--but when I went to the Moorish
+bath, between here and the village, I let my veil blow away from my face
+as I passed close to him and his party of workers. No one else saw,
+except he. It was only for a second or two, but we looked straight into
+each other's eyes; and there was something in his that seemed to draw my
+soul out of me. It was as if, in that instant, I told him with a look
+the whole tragedy of my life. And his soul sprang to mine. There was
+never anything like it. You can't imagine what I felt, Babe."
+
+"Yes. I--think I can," Victoria whispered, but Saidee hardly heard, so
+deeply was she absorbed in the one sweet memory of many years.
+
+"It was in the morning," the elder woman went on, "but it was hot, and
+the sun was fierce as it beat down on the sand. He had been working, and
+his face was pale from the heat. It had a haggard look under brown
+sunburn. But when our eyes met, a flush like a girl's rushed up to his
+forehead. You never saw such a light in human eyes! They were
+illuminated as if a fire from his heart was lit behind them. I knew he
+had fallen in love with me--that something would happen: that my life
+would never be the same again.
+
+"The next time I went to the bath, he was there; and though I held my
+veil, he looked at me with the same wonderful look, as if he could see
+through it. I felt that he longed to speak, but of course he could not.
+It would have meant my ruin.
+
+"In the baths, there's an old woman named Bakta--an attendant. She
+always comes to me when I go there. She's a great character--knows
+everything that happens in every house, as if by magic; and loves to
+talk. But she can keep secrets. She is a match-maker for all the
+neighbourhood. When there's a young man of Oued Tolga, or of any village
+round about, who wants a wife, she lets him know which girl who comes
+to the baths is the youngest and most beautiful. Or if a wife is in love
+with some one, Bakta contrives to bring letters from him, and smuggle
+them to the young woman while she's at the Moorish bath. Well, that day
+she gave me a letter--a beautiful letter.
+
+"I didn't answer it; but next time I passed, I opened my veil and smiled
+to show that I thanked him. Because he had laid his life at my feet. If
+there was anything he could do for me, he would do it, without hope of
+reward, even if it meant death. Then Bakta gave me another letter. I
+couldn't resist answering, and so it's gone on, until I seem to know
+this man, Honoré Sabine, better than any one in the world; though we've
+only spoken together once."
+
+"How did you manage it?" Victoria asked the question mechanically, for
+she felt that Saidee expected it of her.
+
+"Bakta managed, and Noura helped. He came dressed like an Arab woman,
+and pretended to be old and lame, so that he could crouch down and use a
+stick as he walked, to disguise his height. Bakta waited--and we had no
+more than ten minutes to say everything. Ten hours wouldn't have been
+enough!--but we were in danger every instant, and he was afraid of what
+might happen to me, if we were spied upon. He begged me to go with him
+then, but I dared not. I couldn't decide. Now he writes to me, and he's
+making a cypher, so that if the letters should be intercepted, no one
+could read them. Then he hopes to arrange a way of escape if--if I say
+I'll do what he asks."
+
+"Which, of course, you won't," broke in Victoria. "You couldn't, even
+though it were only for his sake alone, if you really love him. You'd be
+too unhappy afterwards, knowing that you'd ruined his career in the
+army."
+
+"I'm more to him than a thousand careers!" Saidee flung herself away
+from the girl's arm. "I see now," she went on angrily, "what you were
+leading up to, when you pretended to sympathize. You were waiting for a
+chance to try and persuade me that I'm a selfish wretch. I may be
+selfish, but--it's as much for his happiness as mine. It's just as I
+thought it would be. You're puritanical. You'd rather see me die, or go
+mad in this prison, than have me do a thing that's unconventional,
+according to your schoolgirl ideas."
+
+"I came to take you out of prison," said Victoria.
+
+"And you fell into it yourself!" Saidee retorted quickly. "You broke the
+spring of the door, and it will be harder than ever to open. But"--her
+voice changed from reproach to persuasion--"Honoré might save us both.
+If only you wouldn't try to stop my going with him, you might go too.
+Then you wouldn't have to marry Maïeddine. There's a chance--just a
+chance. For heaven's sake do all you can to help, not to hinder. Don't
+you see, now that you're here, there are a hundred more reasons why I
+must say 'yes' to Captain Sabine?"
+
+"If I did see that, I'd want to die now, this minute," Victoria
+answered.
+
+"How cruel you are! How cruel a girl can be to a woman. You pretend that
+you came to help me, and the one only thing you can do, you refuse to
+do. You say you want to get me away. I tell you that you can't--and you
+can't get yourself away. Perhaps Honoré can do what you can't, but
+you'll try to prevent him."
+
+"If I _could_ get you away, would you give him up--until you were free
+to go to him without spoiling both your lives?"
+
+"What do you mean?" Saidee asked.
+
+"Please answer my question."
+
+Saidee thought for a moment. "Yes. I would do that. But what's the use
+of talking about it? You! A poor little mouse caught in a trap!"
+
+"A mouse once gnawed a net, and set free a whole lion," said Victoria.
+"Give me a chance to think, that's all I ask, except--except--that you
+love me meanwhile. Oh, darling, don't be angry, will you? I can't bear
+it, if you are."
+
+Saidee laid her head on the girl's arm once more, and they kissed each
+other.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+
+Maïeddine did not try to see Victoria, or send her any message.
+
+In spite of M'Barka's vision in the sand, and his own superstition, he
+was sure now that nothing could come between him and his wish. The girl
+was safe in the marabout's house, to which he had brought her, and it
+was impossible for her to get away without his help, even if she were
+willing to go, and leave the sister whom she had come so far to find.
+Maïeddine knew what he could offer the marabout, and knew that the
+marabout would willingly pay even a higher price than he meant to ask.
+
+He lived in the guest-house, and had news sometimes from his cousin
+Lella M'Barka in her distant quarters. She was tired, but not ill, and
+the two sisters were very kind to her.
+
+So three days passed, and the doves circled and moaned round the minaret
+of the Zaouïa mosque, and were fed at sunset on the white roof, by hands
+hidden from all eyes save eyes of birds.
+
+On the third day there was great excitement at Oued Tolga. The marabout,
+Sidi El Hadj Mohammed ben Abd el Kadr, came home, and was met on the way
+by many people from the town and the Zaouïa.
+
+His procession was watched by women on many roofs--with reverent
+interest by some; with joy by one woman who was his wife; with fear and
+despair by another, who had counted on his absence for a few days
+longer. And Victoria stood beside her sister, looking out over the
+golden silence towards the desert city of Oued Tolga, with a pair of
+modern field-glasses sent to her by Si Maïeddine.
+
+Maïeddine himself went out to meet the marabout, riding El Biod, and
+conscious of unseen eyes that must be upon him. He was a notable figure
+among the hundreds which poured out of town, and villages, and Zaouïa,
+in honour of the great man's return; the noblest of all the desert men
+in floating white burnouses, who rode or walked, with the sun turning
+their dark faces to bronze, their eyes to gleaming jewels. But even
+Maïeddine himself became insignificant as the procession from the Zaouïa
+was joined by that from the city,--the glittering line in the midst of
+which Sidi El Hadj Mohammed sat high on the back of a grey mehari.
+
+From very far off Victoria saw the meeting, looking through the glasses
+sent by Maïeddine, those which he had given her once before, bidding her
+see how the distant dunes leaped forward.
+
+Then as she watched, and the procession came nearer, rising and falling
+among the golden sand-billows, she could plainly make out the majestic
+form of the marabout. The sun blazed on the silver cross of his saddle,
+and the spear-heads of the banners which waved around him; but he was
+dressed with severe simplicity, in a mantle of green silk, with the
+green turban to which he had earned the right by visiting Mecca. The
+long white veil of many folds, which can be worn only by a descendant of
+the Prophet, flowed over the green cloak; and the face below the eyes
+was hidden completely by a mask of thin black woollen stuff, such as has
+been named "nun's veiling" in Europe. He was tall, and no longer
+slender, as Victoria remembered Cassim ben Halim to have been ten years
+ago; but all the more because of his increasing bulk, was his bearing
+majestic as he rode on the grey mehari, towering above the crowd. Even
+the Agha, Si Maïeddine's father, had less dignity than that of this
+great saint of the southern desert, returning like a king to his people,
+after carrying through a triumphant mission.
+
+"If only he had been a few days later!" Saidee thought.
+
+And Victoria felt an oppressive sense of the man's power, wrapping round
+her and her sister like a heavy cloak. But she looked above and beyond
+him, into the gold, and with all the strength of her spirit she sent out
+a call to Stephen Knight.
+
+"I love you. Come to me. Save my sister and me. God, send him to us. He
+said he would come, no matter how far. Now is the time. Let him come."
+
+The silence of the golden sea was broken by cries of welcome to the
+marabout, praises of Allah and the Prophet who had brought him safely
+back, shouts of men, and wailing "you-yous" of women, shrill voices of
+children, and neighing of horses.
+
+Up the side of the Zaouïa hill, lame beggars crawled out of the river
+bed, each hurrying to pass the others--hideous deformities, legless,
+noseless, humpbacked, twisted into strange shapes like brown pots
+rejected by the potter, groaning, whining, eager for the marabout's
+blessing, a supper, and a few coins. Those who could afford a copper or
+two were carried through the shallow water on the backs of half-naked,
+sweating Negroes from the village; but those who had nothing except
+their faith to support them, hobbled or crept over the stones, wetting
+their scanty rags; laughed at by black and brown children who feared to
+follow, because of the djinn who lived in a cave of evil yellow stones,
+guarding a hidden spring which gushed into the river.
+
+On Miluda's roof there was music, which could be heard from another
+roof, nearer the minaret where the doves wheeled and moaned; and perhaps
+the marabout himself could hear it, as he approached the Zaouïa; but
+though it called him with a song of love and welcome, he did not answer
+the call at once. First he took Maïeddine into his private reception
+room, where he received only the guests whom he most delighted to
+honour.
+
+There, though the ceiling and walls were decorated in Arab fashion, with
+the words, El Afia el Bakia, "eternal health," inscribed in lettering of
+gold and red, opposite the door, all the furniture was French, gilded,
+and covered with brocade of scarlet and gold. The curtains draped over
+the inlaid cedar-wood shutters of the windows were of the same brocade,
+and the beautiful old rugs from Turkey and Persia could not soften its
+crudeness. The larger reception room from which this opened had still
+more violent decorations, for there the scarlet mingled with vivid blue,
+and there were curiosities enough to stock a museum--presents sent to
+the marabout from friends and admirers all over the world. There were
+first editions of rare books, illuminated missals, dinner services of
+silver and gold, Dresden and Sèvres, and even Royal Worcester; splendid
+crystal cases of spoons and jewellery; watches old and new; weapons of
+many countries, and an astonishing array of clocks, all ticking, and
+pointing to different hours. But the inner room, which only the intimate
+friends of Sidi Mohammed ever saw, was littered with no such incongruous
+collection. On the walls were a few fine pictures by well-known French
+artists of the most modern school, mostly representing nude women; for
+though the Prophet forbade the fashioning of graven images, he made no
+mention of painting. There were comfortable divans, and little tables,
+on which were displayed boxes of cigars and cigarettes, and egg-shell
+coffee-cups in filigree gold standards.
+
+In this room, behind shut doors, Maïeddine told his errand, not
+forgetting to enumerate in detail the great things he could do for the
+Cause, if his wish were granted. He did not speak much of Victoria, or
+his love for her, but he knew that the marabout must reckon her beauty
+by the price he was prepared to pay; and he gave the saint little time
+to picture her fascinations. Nor did Sidi Mohammed talk of the girl, or
+of her relationship to one placed near him; and his face (which he
+unmasked with a sigh of relief when he and his friend were alone) did
+not change as he listened, or asked questions about the services
+Maïeddine would render the Cause. At first he seemed to doubt the
+possibility of keeping such promises, some of which depended upon the
+Agha; but Maïeddine's enthusiasm inspired him with increasing
+confidence. He spoke freely of the great work that was being done by the
+important societies of which he was the head; of what he had
+accomplished in Oran, and had still to accomplish; of the arms and
+ammunition smuggled into the Zaouïa and many other places, from France
+and Morocco, brought by the "silent camels" in rolls of carpets and
+boxes of dates. But, he added, this was only a beginning. Years must
+pass before all was ready, and many more men, working heart and soul,
+night and day, were needed. If Maïeddine could help, well and good. But
+would the Agha yield to his influence?
+
+"Not the Agha," Maïeddine answered, "but the Agha's people. They are my
+people, too, and they look to me as their future head. My father is old.
+There is nothing I cannot make the Ouled-Sirren do, nowhere I cannot bid
+them go, if I lead."
+
+"And wilt thou lead in the right way? If I give thee thy desire, wilt
+thou not forget, when it is already thine?" the marabout asked. "When a
+man wears a jewel on his finger, it does not always glitter so brightly
+as when he saw and coveted it first."
+
+"Not always. But in each man's life there is one jewel, supreme above
+others, to possess which he eats the heart, and which, when it is his,
+becomes the star of his life, to be worshipped forever. Once he has seen
+the jewel, the man knows that there is nothing more glorious for him
+this side heaven; that it is for him the All of joy, though to others,
+perhaps, it might not seem as bright. And there is nothing he would not
+do to have and to keep it."
+
+The marabout looked intently at Maïeddine, searching his mind to the
+depths; and the face of each man was lit by an inner flame, which gave
+nobility to his expression. Each was passionately sincere in his way,
+though the way of one was not the way of the other.
+
+In his love Maïeddine was true, according to the light his religion and
+the unchanging customs of his race had given him. He intended no wrong
+to Victoria, and as he was sure that his love was an honour for her, he
+saw no shame in taking her against what she mistakenly believed to be
+her wish. Her confession of love for another man had shocked him at
+first, but now he had come to feel that it had been but a stroke of
+diplomacy on her part, and he valued her more than ever for her
+subtlety. Though he realized dimly that with years his passion for her
+might cool, it burned so hotly now that the world was only a frame for
+the picture of her beauty. And he was sure that never in time to come
+could he forget the thrill of this great passion, or grudge the price he
+now offered and meant to pay.
+
+Cassim ben Halim had begun his crusade under the name and banner of the
+marabout, in the fierce hope of revenge against the power which broke
+him, and with an entirely selfish wish for personal aggrandizement. But
+as the years went on, he had converted himself to the fanaticism he
+professed. Sidi El Hadj Mohammed ben Abd el Kadr had created an ideal
+and was true to it. Still a selfish sensualist on one side of his
+nature, there was another side capable of high courage and
+self-sacrifice for the one cause which now seemed worth a sacrifice. To
+the triumph of Islam over usurpers he was ready to devote his life, or
+give his life; but having no mercy upon himself if it came to a question
+between self and the Cause, he had still less mercy upon others, with
+one exception; his son. Unconsciously, he put the little boy above all
+things, all aims, all people. But as for Saidee's sister, the child he
+remembered, who had been foolish enough and irritating enough to find
+her way to Oued Tolga, he felt towards her, in listening to the story of
+her coming, as an ardent student might feel towards a persistent midge
+which disturbed his studies. If the girl could be used as a pawn in his
+great game, she had a certain importance, otherwise none--except that
+her midge-like buzzings must not annoy him, or reach ears at a
+distance.
+
+Both men were naturally schemers, and loved scheming for its own sake,
+but never had either pitted his wits against the other with less
+intention of hiding his real mind. Each was in earnest, utterly sincere,
+therefore not ignoble; and the bargain was struck between the two with
+no deliberate villainy on either side. The marabout promised his wife's
+sister to Maïeddine with as little hesitation as a patriarch of Israel,
+three thousand years ago, would have promised a lamb for the sacrificial
+altar. He stipulated only that before the marriage Maïeddine should
+prove, not his willingness, but his ability to bring his father's people
+into the field.
+
+"Go to the douar," he said, "and talk with the chief men. Then bring
+back letters from them, or send if thou wilt, and the girl shall be thy
+wife. I shall indeed be gratified by the connection between thine
+illustrious family and mine."
+
+Maïeddine had expected this, though he had hoped that his eloquence
+might persuade the marabout to a more impulsive agreement. "I will do
+what thou askest," he answered, "though it means delay, and delay is
+hard to bear. When I passed through the douar, my father's chief caïds
+were on the point of leaving for Algiers, to do honour to the Governor
+by showing themselves at the yearly ball. They will have started before
+I can reach the douar again, by the fastest travelling, for as thou
+knowest, I should be some days on the way."
+
+"Go then to Algiers, and meet them. That is best, and will be quicker,
+since journeying alone, thou canst easily arrive at Touggourt in three
+days from here. In two more, by taking a carriage and relays of horses,
+thou canst be at Biskra; and after that, there remains but the seventeen
+hours of train travelling."
+
+"How well thou keepest track of all progress, though things were
+different when thou wast last in the north," Maïeddine said.
+
+"It is my business to know all that goes on in my own country, north,
+south, east, and west. When wilt thou start?"
+
+"To-night."
+
+"Thou art indeed in earnest! Thou wilt of course pay thine own respects
+to the Governor? I will send him a gift by thee, since there is no
+reason he should not know that we have met. The mission on which thou
+wert ostensibly travelling brought thee to the south."
+
+"I will take thy gift and messages with pleasure." Maïeddine said. "It
+was expected that I should return for the ball, and present myself in
+place of my father, who is too old now for such long journeys; but I
+intended to make my health an excuse for absence. I should have pleaded
+a touch of the sun, and a fever caught in the marshes while carrying out
+the mission. Indeed, it is true that I am subject to fever. However, I
+will go, since thou desirest. The ball, which was delayed, is now fixed
+for a week from to-morrow. I will show myself for some moments, and the
+rest of the night I can devote to a talk with the caïds. I know what the
+result will be. And a fortnight from to-morrow thou wilt see me here
+again with the letters."
+
+"I believe thou wilt not fail," the marabout answered. "And neither will
+I fail thee."
+
+
+
+
+XL
+
+
+On the night of the Governor's ball, it was four weeks to the day since
+Stephen Knight and Nevill Caird had inquired for Victoria Ray at the
+Hotel de la Kasbah, and found her gone.
+
+For rather more than a fortnight, they had searched for her quietly
+without applying to the police; but when at the end of that time, no
+letter had come, or news of any kind, the police were called into
+consultation. Several supposed clues had been followed, and had led to
+nothing; but Nevill persuaded Stephen to hope something from the ball.
+If any caïds of the south knew that Roumis had a secret reason for
+questioning them, they would pretend to know nothing, or give misleading
+answers; but if they were drawn on to describe their own part of the
+country, and the facilities for travelling through it, news of those who
+had lately passed that way might be inadvertently given.
+
+Stephen was no longer in doubt about his feelings for Victoria. He knew
+that he had loved her ever since the day when she came to Nevill's
+house, and they talked together in the lily garden. He knew that the one
+thing worth living for was to find her; but he expected no happiness
+from seeing her again, rather the contrary. Margot would soon be coming
+back to England from Canada, and he planned to meet her, and keep all
+his promises. Only, he must be sure first that Victoria Ray was safe. He
+had made up his mind by this time that, if necessary, Margot would have
+to wait for him. He would not leave Algeria until Victoria had been
+found. It did not matter whether this decision were right or wrong, he
+would stick to it. Then, he would atone by doing as well as he could by
+Margot. She should have no cause of complaint against him in the future,
+so far as his love for Victoria was concerned; but he did not mean to
+try and kill it. Love for such a girl was too sacred to kill, even
+though it meant unhappiness for him. Stephen meant to guard it always in
+his heart, like a lamp to light him over the dark places; and there
+would be many dark places he knew in a life lived with Margot.
+
+Through many anxious days he looked forward to the Governor's ball,
+pinning his faith to Nevill's predictions; but when the moment came, his
+excitement fell like the wind at sunset. It did not seem possible that,
+after weeks of suspense, he should have news now, or ever. He went with
+Nevill to the summer palace, feeling dull and depressed. But perhaps the
+depression was partly the effect of a letter from Margot Lorenzi in
+Canada, received that morning. She said that she was longing to see him,
+and "hurrying all she knew," to escape from her friends, and get back to
+"dear London, and her darling White Knight."
+
+"I'm an ass to expect anything from coming here," he thought, as he saw
+the entrance gates of the palace park blazing with green lights in a
+trellis of verdure. The drive and all the paths that wound through the
+park were bordered with tiny lamps, and Chinese lanterns hung from the
+trees. There was sure to be a crush, and it seemed absurd to hope that
+even Nevill's cajoleries could draw serious information from Arab guests
+in such a scene as this.
+
+The two young men went into the palace, passing through a big veranda
+where French officers were playing bridge, and on into a charming court,
+where Turkish coffee was being served. Up from this court a staircase
+led to the room where the Governor was receiving, and at each turn of
+the stairs stood a Spahi in full dress uniform, with a long white haïck.
+Nevill was going on ahead, meaning to introduce Stephen to the Governor
+before beginning his search for acquaintances among the Arab chiefs who
+grouped together over the coffee cups. But, turning to speak to Stephen,
+who had been close behind at starting, he found that somehow they had
+been swept apart. He stepped aside to wait for his friend, and let the
+crowd troop past him up the wide staircase. Among the first to go by was
+an extremely handsome Arab wearing a scarlet cloak heavy with gold
+embroidery, thrown over a velvet coat so thickly encrusted with gold
+that its pale-blue colour showed only here and there. He held his
+turbaned head proudly, and, glancing at Caird as he passed, seemed not
+to see him, but rather to see through him something more interesting
+beyond.
+
+Nevill still waited for his friend, but fully two minutes had gone
+before Stephen appeared. "Did you see that fellow in the red cloak?" he
+asked. "That was the Arab of the ship."
+
+"Si Maïeddine----"
+
+"Yes. Did you notice a queer brooch that held his cloak together? A
+wheel-like thing, set with jewels?"
+
+"No. He hadn't it on. His cloak was hanging open."
+
+"By Jove! You're sure?"
+
+"Certain. I saw the whole breast of his coat."
+
+"That settles it, then. He did recognize me. Hang it, I wish he hadn't."
+
+"I don't know what's in your mind exactly. But I suppose you'll tell
+me."
+
+"Rather. But no time now. We mustn't lose sight of him if we can help
+it. I wanted to follow him up, on the instant, but didn't dare, for I
+hoped he'd think I hadn't spotted him. He can't be sure, anyhow, for I
+had the presence of mind not to stare. Let's go up now. He was on his
+way to pay his respects to the Governor, I suppose. He can't have
+slipped away yet."
+
+"It would seem not," Nevill assented, thoughtfully.
+
+But a few minutes later, it seemed that he had. And Nevill was not
+surprised, for in the last nine years he had learned never to wonder at
+the quick-witted diplomacy of Arabs. Si Maïeddine had made short work
+of his compliments to the Governor, and had passed out of sight by the
+time that Stephen Knight and Nevill Caird escaped from the line of
+Europeans and gorgeous Arabs pressing towards their host. It was not
+certain, however, that he had left the palace. His haste to get on might
+be only a coincidence, Nevill pointed out. "Frenchified Arabs" like Si
+Maïeddine, he said, were passionately fond of dancing with European
+women, and very likely Maïeddine was anxious to secure a waltz with some
+Frenchwomen of his acquaintance.
+
+The two Englishmen went on as quickly as they could, without seeming to
+hurry, and looked for Maïeddine in the gaily decorated ball-room where a
+great number of Europeans and a few Arabs were dancing. Maïeddine would
+have been easy to find there, for his high-held head in its white turban
+must have towered above most other heads, even those of the tallest
+French officers; but he was not to be seen, and Nevill guided Stephen
+out of the ball-room into a great court decorated with palms and
+banners, and jewelled with hundreds of coloured lights that turned the
+fountain into a spouting rainbow.
+
+Pretty women sat talking with officers in uniforms, and watching the
+dancers as they strolled out arm in arm, to walk slowly round the
+flower-decked fountain. Behind the chatting Europeans stood many Arab
+chiefs of different degree, bach aghas, aghas, caïds and adels, looking
+on silently, or talking together in low voices; and compared with these
+stately, dark men in their magnificent costumes blazing with jewels and
+medals, the smartest French officers were reduced to insignificance.
+There were many handsome men, but Si Maïeddine was not among them.
+
+"We've been told that he's _persona grata_ here," Nevill reminded
+Stephen, "and there are lots of places where he may be in the palace,
+that we can't get to. He's perhaps hob-nobbing with some pal, having a
+private confab, and maybe he'll turn up at supper."
+
+"He doesn't look like a man to care about food, I will say that for
+him," answered Stephen. "He's taken the alarm, and sneaked off without
+giving me time to track him. I'll bet anything that's the fact. Hiding
+the brooch is a proof he saw me, I'm afraid. Smart of him! He thought my
+friend would be somewhere about, and he'd better get rid of damaging
+evidence."
+
+"You haven't explained the brooch, yet."
+
+"I forgot. It's one _she_ wore on the boat--and that day at your
+house--Miss Ray, I mean. She told me about it; said it had been a
+present from Ben Halim to her sister, who gave it to her."
+
+"Sure you couldn't mistake it? There's a strong family likeness in Arab
+jewellery."
+
+"I'm sure. And even if I hadn't been at first, I should be now, from
+that chap's whisking it off the instant he set eyes on me. His having it
+proves a lot. As she wore the thing at your house, he must have got it
+somehow after we saw her. Jove, Nevill, I'd like to choke him!"
+
+"If you did, he couldn't tell what he knows."
+
+"I'm going to find out somehow. Come along, no use wasting time here
+now, trying to get vague information out of Arab chiefs. We can learn
+more by seeing where this brute lives, than by catechizing a hundred
+caïds."
+
+"It's too late for him to get away from Algiers to-night by train,
+anyhow," said Nevill. "Nothing goes anywhere in particular. And look
+here, Legs, if he's really onto us, he won't have made himself scarce
+without leaving some pal he can trust, to see what we're up to."
+
+"There were two men close behind who might have been with him," Stephen
+remembered aloud.
+
+"Would you recognize them?"
+
+"I--think so. One of the two, anyhow. Very dark, hook-nosed, middle-aged
+chap, pitted with smallpox."
+
+"Then you may be sure he's chosen the less noticeable one. No good our
+trying to find Maïeddine himself, if he's left the palace; though I
+hope, by putting our heads and Roslin's together, that among the three
+of us we shall pick him up later. But if he's left somebody here to keep
+an eye on us, our best course is to keep an eye on that somebody.
+They'll have to communicate."
+
+"You're right," Stephen admitted. "I'm vague about the face, but I'll
+force myself to recognize it. That's the sort of thing Miss Ray would
+do. She's got some quaint theory about controlling your subconscious
+self. Now I'll take a leaf out of her book. By Jove--there's one of the
+men now. Don't look yet. He doesn't seem to notice us, but who knows?
+He's standing by the door, under a palm. Let's go back into the
+ball-room, and see if he follows."
+
+But to "see if he followed" was more easily said than done. The Arab, a
+melancholy and grizzled but dignified caïd of the south, contrived to
+lose himself in a crowd of returning dancers, and it was not until later
+that the friends saw him in the ball-room, talking to a French officer
+and having not at all the air of one who spied or followed. Whether he
+remained because they remained was hard to say, for the scene was
+amusing and many Arabs watched it; but he showed no sign of
+restlessness, and it began to seem laughable to Nevill that, if he
+waited for them, they would be forced to wait for him. Eventually they
+made a pretence of eating supper. The caïd was at the buffet with an
+Arab acquaintance. The Englishmen lingered so long, that in the end he
+walked away; yet they were at his beck and call. They must go after him,
+if he went before them, and it was irritating to see that, when he had
+taken respectful leave of his host, the sad-faced caïd proceeded quietly
+out of the palace as if he had nothing to conceal. Perhaps he had
+nothing or else, suspecting the game, he was forcing the hand of the
+enemy. Stephen and Nevill had to follow, if they would keep him in
+sight; and though they walked as far behind as possible, passing out of
+the brilliantly lighted park, they could not be sure that he did not
+guess they were after him.
+
+They had walked the short distance from Djenan el Djouad to the
+Governor's summer palace; and now, outside the gates, the caïd turned to
+the left, which was their way home also. This was lucky, because, if the
+man were on the alert, and knew where Nevill lived, he would have no
+reason to suppose they took this direction on his account.
+
+But he had not gone a quarter of a mile when he stopped, and rang at a
+gate in a high white wall.
+
+"Djenan el Taleb," mumbled Nevill. "Perhaps Si Maïeddine's visiting
+there--or else this old beggar is."
+
+"Is it an Arab's house?" Stephen wanted to know.
+
+"Was once--long ago as pirate days. Now a Frenchman owns it--Monsieur de
+Mora--friend of the Governor's. Always puts up several chiefs at the
+time of the ball."
+
+The gate opened to let the caïd in and was shut again.
+
+"Hurrah!--just thought of a plan," exclaimed Nevill. "I don't think De
+Mora can have got home yet from the palace. I saw him having supper.
+Suppose I dart back, flutter gracefully round him, babble 'tile talk' a
+bit--he's a tile expert after my own heart--then casually ask what Arabs
+he's got staying with him. If Maïeddine's in his house it can't be a
+secret--incidentally I may find out where the fellow comes from and
+where he's going."
+
+"Good!" said Stephen. "I'll hang about in the shadow of some tree and
+glue my eye to this gate. Is there any other way out?"
+
+"There is; but not one a visitor would be likely to take, especially if
+he didn't want to be seen. It opens into a street where a lot of people
+might be standing to peer into the palace grounds and hear the music.
+Now run along, Legs, and find a comfortable shadow. I'm off."
+
+He was gone three-quarters of an hour, but nothing happened meanwhile.
+Nobody went in at the gate, or came out, and the time dragged for
+Stephen. He thought of a hundred dangers that might be threatening
+Victoria, and it seemed that Caird would never come. But at last he saw
+the boyish figure, hurrying along under the light of a street-lamp.
+
+"Couldn't find De Mora at first--then had to work slowly up to the
+subject," Nevill panted. "But it's all right. Maïeddine _is_ stopping
+with him--leaves to-morrow or day after; supposed to have come from El
+Aghouat, and to be going back there. But that isn't to say either
+supposition's true."
+
+"We must find out where he's going--have him watched," said Stephen.
+
+"Yes. Only, the trouble is, if he's on to the game, it's just what he'll
+expect. But I've been thinking how we may be able to bluff--make him
+think it was his guilty conscience tricked him to imagine our interest
+in his movements. You know I'm giving a dinner to-morrow night to a few
+people?"
+
+"Yes. Lady MacGregor told me."
+
+"Well, a Mademoiselle Vizet, a niece of De Mora's, is coming, so that
+gave me a chance to mention the dinner to her uncle. Maïeddine can
+easily hear about it, if he chooses to inquire what's going on at my
+house. And I said something else to De Mora, for the benefit of the same
+gentleman. I hope you'll approve."
+
+"Sure to. What was it?"
+
+"That I was sorry my friend, Mr. Knight, had got news which would call
+him away from Algiers before the dinner. I said you'd be going on board
+the _Charles Quex_ to-morrow when she leaves for Marseilles."
+
+"But Maïeddine can find out----"
+
+"That's just what we want. He can find out that your ticket's taken, if
+we do take it. He can see you go on board if he likes to watch or send a
+spy. But he mustn't see you sneaking off again with the Arab porters who
+carry luggage. If you think anything of the plan, you'll have to stand
+the price of a berth, and let some luggage you can do without, go to
+Marseilles. I'll see you off, and stop on board till the last minute.
+You'll be in your cabin, putting on the clothes I wear sometimes when I
+want some fun in the old town--striped wool burnous, hood over your
+head, full white trousers--good 'props,' look a lot the worse for
+wear--white stockings like my Kabyle servants have; and you can rub a
+bit of brown grease-paint on your legs where the socks leave off. That's
+what I do. Scheme sounds complicated; but so is an Arab's brain. You've
+got to match it. What do you say?"
+
+"I say 'done!'" Stephen answered.
+
+"Thought you would. Some fellows'd think it too sensational; but you
+can't be too sensational with Arabs, if you want to beat 'em. This ought
+to put Maïeddine off the scent. If he's watching, and sees you--as he
+thinks--steam calmly out of Algiers harbour, and if he knows I'm
+entertaining people at my house, he won't see why he need go on
+bothering himself with extra precautions."
+
+"Right. But suppose he's off to-morrow morning--or even to-night."
+
+"Then we needn't bother about the boat business. For we shall know if he
+goes. Either you or I must now look up Roslin. Perhaps it had better be
+I, because I can run into Djenan el Djouad first, and send my man
+Saunders to watch De Mora's other gate, and make assurance doubly sure."
+
+"You're a brick, Wings," said Stephen.
+
+
+
+
+XLI
+
+
+Lady MacGregor had sat up in order to hear the news, and was delighted
+with Nevill's plan, especially the part which concerned Stephen, and his
+proposed adventure on the _Charles Quex_. Even to hear about it, made
+her feel young again, she said. Nothing ever happened to her or to
+Nevill when they were alone, and they ought to be thankful to Stephen
+for stirring them up. Not one of the three had more than two hours'
+sleep that night, but according to her nephew, Lady MacGregor looked
+sweet sixteen when she appeared at an unusually early hour next morning.
+"No breakfast in bed for me to-day, or for days to come," said she.
+"I'll have my hands full every instant getting through what I've got to
+do, I can tell you. Hamish and Angus are worried about my health, but I
+say to them they needn't grudge me a new interest in life. It's very
+good for me."
+
+"Why, what have you got to do?" ventured Nevill, who was ready to go
+with Stephen and buy a berth on board the _Charles Quex_ the moment the
+office opened.
+
+Lady MacGregor looked at him mysteriously. "Being men, I suppose neither
+of you _would_ guess," she replied. "But you shall both know after
+Stephen's adventure is over. I hope you'll like the idea. But if you
+don't I'm sorry to say it won't make any difference."
+
+The so-called "adventure" had less of excitement in it than had been in
+the planning. It was faithfully carried out according to Nevill's first
+suggestion, with a few added details, but Stephen felt incredibly
+foolish, rather like a Guy Fawkes mummer, or a masked and bedizened
+guest arriving by mistake the night after the ball. So far as he could
+see, no one was watching. All his trouble seemed to be for nothing, and
+he felt that he had made a fool of himself, even when it was over, and
+he had changed into civilized clothing, in a room in the old town, taken
+by Adolphe Roslin, the detective. It was arranged for Stephen to wait
+there, until Roslin could give him news of Si Maïeddine's movements,
+lest the Arab should be subtle enough to suspect a trick, after all.
+
+Toward evening the news came. Maïeddine had taken a ticket for Biskra,
+and a sleeping berth in the train which would leave at nine o'clock.
+Nevertheless, Roslin had a man watching Monsieur de Mora's house, in
+case the buying of the ticket were a "bluff," or Si Maïeddine should
+change his plans at the last minute.
+
+Nevill had come in, all excitement, having bought cheap "antique"
+jewellery in a shop downstairs, by way of an excuse to enter the house.
+He was with Stephen when Roslin arrived, and they consulted together as
+to what should be done next.
+
+"Roslin must buy me a ticket for Biskra, of course," said Stephen. "I'll
+hang about the station in an overcoat with my collar turned up and a cap
+over my eyes. If Maïeddine gets into the train I'll get in too, at a
+respectful distance of course, and keep an eye open to see what he does
+at each stop."
+
+"There's a change of trains, to-morrow morning," remarked Nevill.
+"There'll be your difficulty, because after you're out of one train you
+have to wait for the other. Easy to hide in Algiers station, and make a
+dash for the end of the train when you're sure of your man. But in a
+little open, road-side halting-place, in broad daylight, you'll have to
+be sharp if you don't want him to spot you. Naturally he'll keep his
+eyes as wide open, all along the line, as you will, even though he does
+think you're on the way to Marseilles."
+
+"If you're working up to a burnous and painted legs for me again, my
+dear chap, it's no good," Stephen returned with the calmness of
+desperation. "I've done with that sort of nonsense; but I won't trust
+myself out of the train till I see the Arab's back. Then I'll make a
+bolt for it and dodge him, till the new train's run along the platform
+and he's safely in it."
+
+"Monsieur has confidence in himself as a detective," smiled Roslin.
+
+Knight could have given a sarcastic answer, since the young man from
+Marseilles had not made much progress with the seemingly simple case put
+into his hands a month ago. But both he and Nevill had come to think
+that the case was not simple, and they were lenient with Roslin. "I hope
+I'm not conceited," Stephen defended himself, "but I do feel that I can
+at least keep my end up against this nigger, anyhow till the game's
+played out so far that he can't stop it."
+
+"And till I'm in it with you," Nevill finished. "By the way, that
+reminds me. Some one else intends to play the game with us, whether we
+like or not."
+
+"Who?" asked Stephen, surprised and half defiant.
+
+"My aunt. That's the mystery she was hinting at. You know how
+unnaturally quiet she was while we arranged that you should look after
+Maïeddine, on your own, till the dinner-party was over, anyhow, and I
+could get off, on a wire from you--wherever you might be?"
+
+"Yes. She seemed interested."
+
+"And busy. Her 'great work' was getting herself ready to follow you with
+me, in the car."
+
+"Magnificent!" said Stephen. "And like her. Hurrah for Lady MacGregor!"
+
+"I'm glad you take it that way. I wasn't sure you would, which might
+have made things awkward for me; because when my aunt wants to do a
+thing, you know by this time as well as I do, it's as good as done."
+
+"But it's splendid--if she can stand the racket. Of course her idea is,
+that if we find Miss Ray she oughtn't to come back alone with us,
+perhaps a long way, from some outlandish hole."
+
+"You've got it. That's her argument. Or rather, her mandate. And I
+believe she's quite able to stand the racket. Her state of mind is such,
+that if she looked sixteen in the morning, this afternoon she's gone
+back to fifteen."
+
+"Wonderful old lady! But she's so fragile--and has nervous
+headaches----"
+
+"She won't have any in my motor car."
+
+"But Hamish and Angus. Can she get on without them?"
+
+"She intends to have them follow her by train, with luggage. She says
+she has a 'feeling in her bones' that they'll come in handy, either for
+cooking or fighting. And by Jove, she may be right. She often is. If you
+go to Biskra and wire when you get there, I'll start at once--_we'll_
+start, I mean. And if Maïeddine goes on anywhere else, and you follow to
+keep him in sight, I'll probably catch you up with the car, because the
+railway line ends at Biskra, you know; and beyond, there are only horses
+or camels."
+
+"Can motors go farther?"
+
+"They can to Touggourt--with 'deeficulty,' as the noble twins would
+say."
+
+"Maïeddine may take a car."
+
+"Not likely. Though there's just a chance he might get some European
+friend with a motor to give him a lift. In that case, you'd be rather
+stuck."
+
+"Motor cars leave tracks," said Stephen.
+
+"Especially in the desert, where they are quite conspicuous," Nevill
+agreed. "My aunt will be enchanted with your opinion of her and her
+plan--but not surprised. She thinks you've twice my sense and knowledge
+of the world."
+
+Nevill usually enjoyed his own dinner-parties, for he was a born host,
+and knew that guests were happy in his house. That night, however, was
+an exception. He was absent-minded, and pulled his moustache, and saw
+beautiful things in the air over people's heads, so often that not only
+Lady MacGregor but Angus and Hamish glared at him threateningly. He then
+did his best to atone; nevertheless, for once he was delighted when
+every one had gone. At last he was able to read for the second time a
+letter from Roslin, sent in while dinner was in progress. There had been
+only time for a glance at it, by begging his friends' indulgence for an
+instant, while he bolted the news that Stephen had followed Maïeddine to
+Biskra. Now, Nevill and Lady MacGregor both hugely enjoyed the details
+given by Roslin from the report of an employé; how cleverly Monsieur had
+kept out of sight, though the Arab had walked up and down the platform,
+with two friends, looking about keenly. How, when Maïeddine was safely
+housed in his compartment, his companions looking up to his window for a
+last word, Monsieur Knight had whisked himself into a second-class
+compartment at the other end of the train.
+
+Next day, about four o'clock, a telegram was brought to Djenan el
+Djouad. It came from Biskra, and said: "Arrived here. Not spotted. He
+went house of French commandant with no attempt at concealment. Am
+waiting. Will wire again soon as have news. Perhaps better not start
+till you hear."
+
+An hour and a half later a second blue envelope was put into Nevill's
+hand.
+
+"He and an officer leave for Touggourt in private carriage three horses
+relays ordered. Have interviewed livery stable. They start at five will
+travel all night. I follow."
+
+"Probably some officer was going on military business, and Maïeddine's
+asked for a lift," Nevill said to Lady MacGregor. "Well, it's too late
+for us to get away now; but we'll be off as early as you like to-morrow
+morning."
+
+"If I weren't going, would you start to-day?" his aunt inquired.
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. But----"
+
+"Then please give orders for the car. I'm ready to leave at five
+minutes' notice, and I can go on as long as you can. I'm looking forward
+to the trip."
+
+"But I've often offered to take you to Biskra."
+
+"That's different. Now I've got an incentive."
+
+
+
+
+XLII
+
+
+Just as he came in sight of the great chott between Biskra and
+Touggourt, Stephen heard a sound which struck him strangely in the
+silence of the desert. It was the distant teuf-teuf of a powerful motor
+car, labouring heavily through deep sand.
+
+Stephen was travelling in a carriage, which he had hired in Biskra, and
+was keeping as close as he dared to the vehicle in front, shared by
+Maïeddine and a French officer. But he never let himself come within
+sight or sound of it. Now, as he began to hear the far-off panting of a
+motor, he saw nothing ahead but the vast saltpetre lake, which, viewed
+from the hill his three horses had just climbed, shimmered blue and
+silver, like a magic sea, reaching to the end of the world. There were
+white lines like long ruffles of foam on the edges of azure waves,
+struck still by enchantment while breaking on an unseen shore; and far
+off, along a mystic horizon, little islands floated on the gleaming
+flood. Stephen could hardly believe that there was no water, and that
+his horses could travel the blue depths without wetting their feet.
+
+It was just as he was thinking thus, and wondering if Victoria had
+passed this way, when the strange sound came to his ears, out of the
+distance. "Stop," he said in French to his Arab driver. "I think friends
+of mine will be in that car." He was right. A few minutes later Nevill
+and Lady MacGregor waved to him, as he stood on the top of a low
+sand-dune.
+
+Lady MacGregor was more fairylike than ever in a little motoring bonnet
+made for a young girl, but singularly becoming to her. They had had a
+glorious journey, she said. She supposed some people would consider
+that she had endured hardships, but they were not worth speaking of. She
+had been rather bumped about on the ghastly desert tracks since Biskra,
+but though she was not quite sure if all her bones were whole, she did
+not feel in the least tired; and even if she did, the memory of the
+Gorge of El Kantara would alone be enough to make up for it.
+
+"Anything new?" asked Nevill.
+
+"Nothing," Stephen answered, "except that the driver of the carriage
+ahead let drop at the last bordj that he'd been hired by the French
+officer, who was taking Maïeddine with him."
+
+"Just what we thought," Lady MacGregor broke in.
+
+"And the carriage will bring the Frenchman back, later. Maïeddine's
+going on. But I haven't found out where."
+
+"H'm! I was in hopes we were close to our journey's end at Touggourt,"
+said Nevill. "The car can't get farther, I'm afraid. The big dunes begin
+there."
+
+"Whatever Maïeddine does, we can follow his example. I mean, I can,"
+Stephen amended.
+
+"So can Nevill. I'm no spoil-sport," snapped the old lady, in her
+childlike voice. "I know what I can do and what I can't. I draw the line
+at camels! Angus and Hamish will take care of me, and I'll wait for you
+at Touggourt. I can amuse myself in the market-place, and looking at the
+Ouled Naïls, till you find Miss Ray, or----"
+
+"There won't be an 'or,' Lady MacGregor. We must find her. And we must
+bring her to you," said Stephen.
+
+He had slept in the carriage the night before, a little on the Biskra
+side of Chegga, because Maïeddine and the French officer had rested at
+Chegga. Nevill and Lady MacGregor had started from Biskra at five
+o'clock that morning, having arrived there the evening before. It was
+now ten, and they could make Touggourt that night. But they wished
+Maïeddine to reach there first, so they stopped by the chott, and
+lunched from a smartly fitted picnic-basket Lady MacGregor had brought.
+Stephen paid his Arab coachman, told him he might go back, and
+transferred a small suitcase--his only luggage--from the carriage to the
+car. They gave Maïeddine two hours' grace, and having started on, always
+slowed up whenever Nevill's field-glasses showed a slowly trotting
+vehicle on the far horizon. The road, which was hardly a road, far
+exceeded in roughness the desert track Stephen had wondered at on the
+way from Msila to Bou-Saada; but Lady MacGregor had the courage, he told
+her, of a Joan of Arc.
+
+They bumped steadily along, through the heat of the day, protected from
+the blazing sun by the raised hood, but they were thankful when, after
+the dinner-halt, darkness began to fall. Talking over ways and means,
+they decided not to drive into Touggourt, where an automobile would be a
+conspicuous object since few motors risked springs and tyres by coming
+so far into the desert. The chauffeur should be sent into the town while
+the passengers sat in the car a mile away.
+
+Eventually Paul was instructed to demand oil for his small lamps, by way
+of an excuse for having tramped into town. He was to find out what had
+become of the two men who must have arrived about an hour before, in a
+carriage.
+
+While the chauffeur was gone, Lady MacGregor played Patience and
+insisted on teaching Stephen and Nevill two new games. She said that it
+would be good discipline for their souls; and so perhaps it was. But
+Stephen never ceased calculating how long Paul ought to be away. Twenty
+minutes to walk a mile--or thirty minutes in desert sand; forty minutes
+to make inquiries; surely it needn't take longer! And thirty minutes
+back. But an hour and a half dragged on, before there was any sign of
+the absentee; then at last, Stephen's eye, roving wistfully from the
+cards, saw a moving spark at about the right height above the ground to
+be a cigarette.
+
+A few yards away from the car, the spark vanished decorously, and Paul
+was recognizable, in the light of the inside electric lamp, the only
+illumination they allowed themselves, lest the stranded car prove
+attractive to neighbouring nomads.
+
+The French officer was at the hotel for the night; the Arab was dining
+with him, but instead of resting, would go on with his horse and a Negro
+servant who, it seemed, had been waiting for several days, since their
+master had passed through Touggourt on the way to Algiers.
+
+"Then he didn't come from El Aghouat," said Nevill. "Where is he going?
+Did you find out that?"
+
+"Not for certain. But an Arab servant who talks French, says he believes
+they're bound for a place called Oued Tolga," Paul replied, delighted
+with the confidence reposed in him, and with the whole adventure.
+
+"That means three days in the dunes for us!" said Nevill. "Aunt
+Charlotte, you can practice Patience, in Touggourt."
+
+"I shall invent a new game, and call it Hope," returned Lady MacGregor.
+"Or if it's a good one, I'll name it Victoria Ray, which is better than
+Miss Millikens. It will just be done in time to teach that poor child
+when you bring her back to me."
+
+"Hope wouldn't be a bad name for the game we've all been playing, and
+have got to go on playing," mumbled Nevill. "We'll give Maïeddine just
+time to turn his back on Touggourt, before we show our noses there. Then
+you and I, Legs, will engage horses and a guide."
+
+"You deserve your name, Wings," said Stephen. And he wondered how
+Josette Soubise could hold out against Caird. He wondered also what she
+thought of this quest; for her sister Jeanne was in the secret. No doubt
+she had written Josette more fully than Nevill had, even if he had dared
+to write at all. And if, as long ago as the visit to Tlemcen, she had
+been slightly depressed by her friend's interest in another girl, she
+must by this time see the affair in a more serious light. Stephen was
+cruel enough to hope that she was unhappy. He had heard women say that
+no cure for a woman's obstinacy was as sure as jealousy.
+
+When they arrived at the hotel, and ordered all in the same breath, a
+room for a lady, two horses and a guide, only the first demand could be
+granted. It would be impossible, said the landlady and her son, to
+produce horses on the instant. There were some to be had, it was true,
+but they had come in after a hard day's work, and must have several
+hours' rest. The gentlemen might get off at dawn, if they wished, but
+not before.
+
+"After all, it doesn't much matter," Nevill said to Stephen. "Even an
+Arab must have some sleep. We'll have ours now, and catch up with
+Maïeddine while he's taking his. Don't worry. Suppose the worst--that he
+isn't really going to Oued Tolga. We shall get on his track, with an
+Arab guide to pilot us. There are several stopping places where we can
+inquire. He'll be seen passing them, even if he goes by."
+
+"But you say Arabs never betray each other to white men."
+
+"This won't be a question of betrayal. Watch and see how ingenuous, as
+well as ingenious, I'll be in all my inquiries."
+
+"I never heard of Oued Tolga," Stephen said, half to himself.
+
+"Don't confess that to an Arab. It would be like telling a Frenchman
+you'd never heard of Bordeaux. It's a desert city, bigger than
+Touggourt, I believe, and--by Jove, yes, there's a tremendously
+important Zaouïa of the same name. Great marabout hangs out there--kind
+of Mussulman pope of the desert. I hope to goodness----"
+
+"What?" Stephen asked, as Nevill broke off suddenly.
+
+"Oh, nothing to fash yourself about, as the twins would say. Only--it
+would be awkward if she's there. Harder to get her out. However--time to
+cross the stile when we come to it."
+
+But Stephen crossed a great many stiles with his mind before that
+darkest hour before the dawn, when he was called to get ready for the
+last stage of the journey.
+
+Lady MacGregor was up to see them off, and never had her cap been more
+elaborate, or her hair been dressed more daintily.
+
+"You'll wire me from the end of the world, won't you?" she asked
+briskly. "Paul and I (and Hamish and Angus if necessary) will be ready
+to rush you all three back to civilization the instant you arrive with
+Miss Ray. Give her my love. Tell her I've brought clothes for her. They
+mayn't be what she'd choose, but I dare say she won't be sorry to see
+them. And by the way, if there are telegrams--you know I told the
+servants to send them on from home--shall I wire them on to Oued Tolga?"
+
+"No. We're tramps, with no address," laughed Nevill. "Anything that
+comes can wait till we get back."
+
+Stephen could not have told why, for he was not thinking of Margot, but
+suddenly he was convinced that a telegram from her was on the way,
+fixing the exact date when she might be expected in England.
+
+
+
+
+XLIII
+
+
+Since the day when Victoria had called Stephen to her help, always she
+had expected him. She had great faith, for, in her favourite way, she
+had "made a picture of him," riding up and down among the dunes, with
+the "knightly" look on his face which had first drawn her thoughts to
+him. Always her pictures had materialized sooner or later, since she was
+a little girl, and had first begun painting them with her mind, on a
+golden background.
+
+She spent hours on the roof, with Saidee or alone, looking out over the
+desert, through the field-glasses which Maïeddine had sent to her. Very
+often Saidee would remain below, for Victoria's prayers were not her
+prayers, nor were Victoria's wishes her wishes. But invariably the older
+woman would come up to the roof just before sunset, to feed the doves
+that lived in the minaret.
+
+At first Victoria had not known that her sister had any special reason
+for liking to feed the doves, but she was an observant, though not a
+sophisticated girl; and when she had lived with Saidee for a few days,
+she saw birds of a different colour among the doves. It was to those
+birds, she could not help noticing, that Saidee devoted herself. The
+first that appeared, arrived suddenly, while Victoria looked in another
+direction. But when the girl saw one alight, she guessed it had come
+from a distance. It fluttered down heavily on the roof, as if tired, and
+Saidee hid it from Victoria by spreading out her skirt as she scattered
+its food.
+
+Then it was easy to understand how Saidee and Captain Sabine had
+managed to exchange letters; but she could not bear to let her sister
+know by word or even look that she suspected the secret. If Saidee
+wished to hide something from her she had a right to hide it. Only--it
+was very sad.
+
+For days neither of the sisters spoke of the pigeons, though they came
+often, and the girl could not tell what plans might be in the making,
+unknown to her. She feared that, if she had not come to Oued Tolga, by
+this time Saidee would have gone away, or tried to go away, with Captain
+Sabine; and though, since the night of her arrival, when Saidee had
+opened her heart, they had been on terms of closest affection, there was
+a dreadful doubt in Victoria's mind that the confidences were half
+repented. But when the girl had been rather more than a week in the
+Zaouïa, Saidee spoke out.
+
+"I suppose you've guessed why I come up on the roof at sunset," she
+said.
+
+"Yes," Victoria answered.
+
+"I thought so, by your face. Babe, if you'd accused me of anything, or
+reproached me, I'd have brazened it out with you. But you've never said
+a word, and your eyes--I don't know what they've been like, unless
+violets after rain. They made me feel a beast--a thousand times worse
+than I would if you'd put on an injured air. Last night I dreamed that
+you died of grief, and I buried you under the sand. But I was sorry, and
+tore all the sand away with my fingers till I found you again--and you
+were alive after all. It seemed like an allegory. I'm going to dig you
+up again, you little loving thing!"
+
+"That means you'll give me back your confidence, doesn't it?" Victoria
+asked, smiling in a way that would have bewitched a man who loved her.
+
+"Yes; and something else. I'm going to tell you a thing you'll like to
+hear. I've written to _him_ about you--our cypher's ready now--and said
+that you'd had the most curious effect on me. I'd tried to resist you,
+but I couldn't, not even to please him--or myself. I told him I'd
+promised to wait for you to help me; and though I didn't see what you
+could possibly do, still, your faith was contagious. I said that in
+spite of myself I felt some vague stirrings of hope now and then. There!
+does that please you?"
+
+"Oh Saidee, I _am_ so happy!" cried the girl, flinging both arms round
+her sister. "Then I did come at the right time, after all."
+
+"The right time to keep me from happiness in this world, perhaps. That's
+the way I feel about it sometimes. But I can't be sorry you're here,
+Babe, as I was at first. You're too sweet--too like the child who used
+to be my one comfort."
+
+"I could almost die of happiness, when you say that!" Victoria answered,
+with tears in her voice.
+
+"What a baby you are! I'm sure you haven't much more than I have, to be
+happy about. Cassim has promised Maïeddine that you shall marry him,
+whether you say 'yes' or 'no'. And it's horrible when an Arab girl won't
+consent to marry the man to whom her people have promised her. I know
+what they do. She----"
+
+"Don't tell me about it. I'd hate to hear!" Victoria broke in, and
+covered her ears with her hands. So Saidee said no more. But in black
+hours of the night, when the girl could not sleep, dreadful imaginings
+crept into her mind, and it was almost more than she could do to chase
+them away by making her "good pictures." "I won't be afraid--I won't, I
+won't!" she would repeat to herself. "I've called him, and my thoughts
+are stronger than the carrier pigeons. They fly faster and farther. They
+travel like the light, so they must have got to him long ago; and he
+_said_ he'd come, no matter when or where. By this time he is on the
+way."
+
+So she looked for Stephen, searching the desert; and at last, one
+afternoon long before sunset, she saw a man riding toward the Zaouïa
+from the direction of the city, far away. She could not see his face,
+but he seemed to be tall and slim; and his clothes were European.
+
+"Thank God!" she said to herself. For she did not doubt that it was
+Stephen Knight.
+
+Soon she would call Saidee; but she must have a little time to herself,
+for silent rejoicing, before she tried to explain. There was no great
+hurry. He was far off, still.
+
+She kept her eyes to Maïeddine's glasses, and felt it a strange thing
+that they should have come to her from him. It was almost as if he gave
+her to Stephen, against his will. She was so happy that she seemed to
+hear the world singing. "I knew--I knew, through it all!" she told
+herself, with a sob of joy in her throat. "It had to come right." And
+she thought that she could hear a voice saying: "It is love that has
+brought him. He loves you, as much as you love him."
+
+To her mind, especially in this mood, it was not extraordinary that each
+should love the other after so short an acquaintance. She was even ready
+to believe of herself that, unconsciously, she had fallen in love with
+Stephen the first time she met him on the Channel boat. He had
+interested her. She had remembered his face, and had been sorry to think
+that she would never see it again. On the ship, going out from
+Marseilles, she had been so glad when he came on deck that her heart had
+begun to beat quickly. She had scolded herself at the time, for being
+silly, and school-girlishly romantic; but now she realized that her soul
+had known its mate. It could scarcely be real love, she fancied, that
+was not born in the first moment, when spirit spoke to spirit. And her
+love could not have drawn a man hundreds of miles across the desert, if
+it had not met and clasped hands with his love for her.
+
+"Oh, how happy I am!" she thought. "And the glory of it is, that it's
+_not_ strange--only wonderful. The most wonderful thing that ever
+happened or could happen."
+
+Then she remembered the sand-divining, and how M'Barka had said that
+"her wish was far from her, but that Allah would send a strong man,
+young and dark, of another country than her own; a man whose brain, and
+heart, and arm would be at her service, and in whom she might trust."
+Victoria recalled these words, and did not try to bring back to her mind
+what remained of the prophecy.
+
+Almost, she had been foolish enough to be superstitious, and afraid of
+Maïeddine's influence upon her life, since that night; and of course she
+had known that it was of Maïeddine M'Barka had thought, whether she
+sincerely believed in her own predictions or no. Now, it pleased
+Victoria to feel that, not only had she been foolish, but stupid. She
+might have been happy in her childish superstition, instead of unhappy,
+because the description of the man applied to Stephen as well as to
+Maïeddine.
+
+For the moment, she did not ask herself how Stephen Knight was going to
+take her and Saidee away from Maïeddine and Cassim, for she was so sure
+he had not come across miles of desert in vain, that she took the rest
+for granted in her first joy. She was certain that Saidee's troubles and
+hers were over, and that by and by, like the prince and princess in the
+fairy stories, she and Stephen would be married and "live happily ever
+after." In these magic moments of rapture, while his face and figure
+grew more clear to her eyes, it seemed to the girl that love and
+happiness were one, and that all obstacles had fallen down in the path
+of her lover, like the walls of Jericho that crumbled at the blast of
+the trumpet.
+
+When she had looked through the glass until she could distinctly see
+Stephen, and an Arab who rode at a short distance behind him, she called
+her sister.
+
+Saidee came up to the roof, almost at once, for there was a thrill of
+excitement in Victoria's voice that roused her curiosity.
+
+She thought of Captain Sabine, and wondered if he were riding toward the
+Zaouïa. He had come, before his first encounter with her, to pay his
+respects to the marabout. That was long ago now, yet there might be a
+reason, connected with her, for a second visit. But the moment she saw
+Victoria's face, even before she took the glasses the girl held out, she
+guessed that, though there was news, it was not of Captain Sabine.
+
+"You might have been to heaven and back since I saw you; you're so
+radiant!" she said.
+
+"I have been to heaven. But I haven't come back. I'm there now,"
+Victoria answered. "Look--and tell me what you see."
+
+Saidee put the glasses to her eyes. "I see a man in European clothes,"
+she said. "I can see that he's young. I should think he's a gentleman,
+and good looking----"
+
+"Oh, he is!" broke in Victoria, childishly.
+
+"Do you know him?"
+
+"I've been praying and longing for him to find me, and save us. He's an
+Englishman. His name is Stephen Knight. He promised to come if I called,
+and I have. Oh, _how_ I've called, day and night, night and day!"
+
+"You never told me."
+
+"I waited. Somehow I--couldn't speak of him, even to you."
+
+"I've told _you_ everything."
+
+"But I had nothing to tell, really--nothing I could have put into words.
+And you might only have laughed if I'd said 'There's a man I know in
+Algiers who hasn't any idea where I am, but I think he'll come here, and
+take us both away.'"
+
+"Are you engaged to each other?" Saidee asked, curiously, even
+enviously.
+
+"Oh no! But--but----"
+
+"But what? Do you mean you will be--if you ever get away from this
+place?"
+
+"I hope so," the girl answered bravely, with a deep blush. "He has never
+asked me. We haven't known each other long--a very little while, only
+since the night I left London for Paris. Yet he's the first man I ever
+cared about, and I think of him all the time. Perhaps he thinks of me
+in the same way."
+
+"Of course he must, Babe, if he's really come to search for you," Saidee
+said, looking at her young sister affectionately.
+
+"Thank you a hundred times for saying that, dearest! I do _hope_ so!"
+Victoria exclaimed, hugging the elder woman impulsively, as she used
+when she was a little child.
+
+But Saidee's joy, caught from her sister's, died down suddenly, like a
+flame quenched with salt. "What good will it do you--or us--that he is
+coming?" she asked bitterly. "He can ask for the marabout, and perhaps
+see him. Any traveller can do that. But he will be no nearer to us, than
+if we were dead and in our graves. Does Maïeddine know about him?"
+
+"They saw each other on the ship, coming to Algiers--and again just as
+we landed."
+
+"But has Maïeddine any idea that you care about each other?"
+
+"I had to tell him one day in the desert (the day Si Maïeddine said he
+loved me, and I promised to consent if _you_ put my hand in his)
+that--that there was a man I loved. But I didn't say who. Perhaps he
+suspects, though I don't see why he should. I might have meant some one
+in America."
+
+"You may be pretty sure he suspects. People of the old, old races, like
+the Arabs, have the most wonderful intuitions. They seem to _know_
+things without being told. I suppose they've kept nearer nature than
+more civilized peoples."
+
+"If he does suspect, I can't help it."
+
+"No. Only it's still more sure that your Englishman won't be able to do
+us any good. Not that he could, anyhow."
+
+"But Si Maïeddine's been very ill since he came back, M'Barka says. Mr.
+Knight will ask for the marabout."
+
+"Maïeddine will hear of him. Not five Europeans in five years come to
+Oued Tolga. If only Maïeddine hadn't got back! This man may have been
+following him, from Algiers. It looks like it, as Maïeddine arrived
+only yesterday. Now, here's this Englishman! Could he have found out in
+any way, that you were acquainted with Maïeddine?"
+
+"I don't know, but he might have guessed," said Victoria. "I wonder----"
+
+"What? Have you thought of something?"
+
+"It's just an idea. You know, I told you that on the journey, when Si
+Maïeddine was being very kind to me--before I knew he cared--I made him
+a present of the African brooch you gave me in Paris. I hated to take so
+many favours of him, and give nothing in return; so I thought, as I was
+on my way to you and would soon see you, I might part with that brooch,
+which he admired. If Si Maïeddine wore it in Algiers, and Mr. Knight
+saw----"
+
+"Would he be likely to recognize it, do you think?"
+
+"He noticed it on the boat, and I told him you gave it to me."
+
+"If he would come all the way from Algiers on the strength of a brooch
+which might have been yours, and you _might_ have given to Maïeddine,
+then he's a man who knows what he wants, and deserves to get it," Saidee
+said. "If he _could_ help us! I should feel rewarded for telling Honoré
+I wouldn't go with him; because some day I may be free, and then perhaps
+I shall be glad I waited----"
+
+"You will be glad. Whatever happens, you'll be glad," Victoria insisted.
+
+"Maybe. But now--what are we to do? We can see him, and you can
+recognize him with the field-glass, but unless he has a glass too, he
+can't see who you are--he can't see at all, because by the time he rides
+near enough, the ground dips down so that even our heads will be hidden
+from him by the wall round the roof. And he'll be hidden from us, too.
+If he asks for you, he'll be answered only by stares of surprise. Cassim
+will pretend not to know what he's talking about. And presently he'll
+have to go away without finding out anything."
+
+"He'll come back," said Victoria, firmly. But her eyes were not as
+bright with the certainty of happiness as they had been.
+
+"What if he does? Or it may be that he'll try to come back, and an
+accident will happen to him. I hate to frighten you. But Arabs are
+jealous--and Maïeddine's a true Arab. He looks upon you almost as his
+wife now. In a week or two you will be, unless----"
+
+"Yes. Unless--_unless_!" echoed Victoria. "Don't lose hope, Saidee, for
+I shan't. Let's think of something to do. He's near enough now, maybe,
+to notice if we wave our handkerchiefs."
+
+"Many women on roofs in Africa wave to men who will never see their
+faces. He won't know who waves."
+
+"He will _feel_. Besides, he's searching for me. At this very minute,
+perhaps, he's thinking of the golden silence I talked about, and looking
+up to the white roofs."
+
+Instantly they began to wave their handkerchiefs of embroidered silk,
+such as Arab ladies use. But there came no answering signal. Evidently,
+if the rider were looking at a white roof, he had chosen one which was
+not theirs. And soon he would be descending the slope of the Zaouïa
+hill. After that they would lose sight of each other, more and more
+surely, the closer he came to the gates.
+
+"If only you had something to throw him!" Saidee sighed. "What a pity
+you gave the brooch to Maïeddine. He might have recognized that."
+
+"It isn't a pity if he traced me by it," said Victoria. "But wait. I'll
+think of something."
+
+"He's riding down the dip. In a minute it will be too late," Saidee
+warned her.
+
+The girl lifted over her head the long string of amber beads she had
+bought in the curiosity shop of Jeanne Soubise. Wrapping it in her
+handkerchief, she began to tie the silken ends together.
+
+Stephen was so close to the Zaouïa now that they could no longer see
+him.
+
+"Throw--throw! He'll be at the gates."
+
+Victoria threw the small but heavy parcel over the wall which hid the
+dwellers on the roof.
+
+Where it fell, they could not see, and no sound came up from the
+sand-dune far below. Some beggar or servant of the Zaouïa might have
+found and snatched the packet, for all that they could tell.
+
+For a time which seemed long, they waited, hoping that something would
+happen. They did not speak at all. Each heard her own heart beating, and
+imagined that she could hear the heart of the other.
+
+At last there were steps on the stairs which led from Saidee's rooms to
+the roof. Noura came up. "O twin stars, forgive me for darkening the
+brightness of thy sky," she said, "but I have here a letter, given to me
+to put into the hands of Lella Saïda."
+
+She held out a folded bit of paper, that had no envelope.
+
+Saidee, pale and large-eyed, took it in silence. She read, and then
+handed the paper to Victoria.
+
+A few lines were scrawled on it in English, in a very foreign
+handwriting. The language, known to none in this house except the
+marabout, Maïeddine, Saidee and Victoria, was as safe as a cypher,
+therefore no envelope had been needed.
+
+"Descend into thy garden immediately, and bring with thee thy sister,"
+the letter said. And it was signed "Thy husband, Mohammed."
+
+"What can it mean?" asked Victoria, giving back the paper to Saidee.
+
+"I don't know. But we shall soon see--for we must obey. If we didn't go
+down of our own accord, we'd soon be forced to go."
+
+"Perhaps Cassim will let me talk to Mr. Knight," said the girl.
+
+"He is more likely to throw you to his lion, in the court," Saidee
+answered, with a laugh.
+
+They went down into the garden, and remained there alone. Nothing
+happened except that, after a while, they heard a noise of pounding. It
+seemed to come from above, in Saidee's rooms.
+
+Listening intently, her eyes flashed, and a bright colour rushed to her
+cheeks.
+
+"Now I know why we were told to come into the garden!" she exclaimed,
+her voice quivering with anger. "They're nailing up the door of my room
+that leads to the roof!"
+
+"Saidee!" To Victoria the thing seemed too monstrous to believe.
+
+"Cassim threatened to do it once before--a long time ago--but he didn't.
+Now he has. That's his answer to your Mr. Knight."
+
+"Perhaps you're wrong. How could any one have got into your rooms
+without our seeing them pass through the garden?"
+
+"I've always thought there was a sliding door at the back of one of my
+wall cupboards. There generally is one leading into the harem rooms in
+old houses like this. Thank goodness I've hidden my diaries in a new
+place lately!"
+
+"Let's go up and make sure," whispered Victoria.
+
+Still the pounding went on.
+
+"They'll have locked us out."
+
+"We can try."
+
+Victoria went ahead, running quickly up the steep, narrow flight of
+steps that led to the upper rooms which she and Saidee shared. Saidee
+had been right. The door of the outer room was locked. Standing at the
+top of the stairs, the pounding sounded much louder than before.
+
+Saidee laughed faintly and bitterly.
+
+"They're determined to make a good job of it," she said.
+
+
+
+
+XLIV
+
+
+Stephen rode back with his Arab companion, to the desert city where
+Nevill waited. He had gone to the Zaouïa alone with the guide, because
+Nevill had thought it well, in case of emergencies, that he should be
+able to say: "I have a friend in Oued Tolga who knows where I am, and is
+expecting me." Now he was coming away, thwarted for the moment, but far
+from hopeless.
+
+It is a four hours' ride among the dunes, between the Zaouïa and the
+town, for the sand is heavy and the distance is about seventeen miles.
+The red wine of sunset was drained from the cups of the sand-hollows,
+and the shadows were cool when Stephen saw the minaret of the town
+mosque and the crown of an old watch-tower, pointing up like a thumb and
+finger of a buried hand. Soon after, he passed through the belt of black
+tents which at all seasons encircles Oued Tolga as a girdle encircles
+the waist of an Ouled Naïl, and so he rode into the strange city. The
+houses were crowded together, two with one wall between, like Siamese
+twins, and they had the pale yellow-brown colour of honeycomb, in the
+evening light. The roughness of the old, old bricks, made of baked sand,
+gave an effect of many little cells; so that the honeycomb effect was
+intensified; and the sand which flowed in small rippling waves round the
+city, and through streets narrow and broad, was of the same honey-yellow
+as the houses, except that it glittered with gypsum under the kindling
+stars. Among the bubbly domes, and low square towers, vague in the
+dimming light, bunches of palms in hidden gardens nodded over crumbling
+walls, like dark plumes on the crowns of the dancing-women.
+
+In the market-place was the little hotel, newly built; the only French
+thing in Oued Tolga, except the military barracks, the Bureau Arabe, and
+a gurgling artesian well which a French officer had lately completed.
+But before Stephen could reach the market-place and the hotel, he had to
+pass through the quarter of the dancing-girls.
+
+It was a narrow street, which had low houses on either side, with a
+balcony for every mean window. Dark women leaned their elbows on the
+palm-wood railings, and looked down, smoking cigarettes, and calling
+across to each other. Other girls sat in lighted doorways below, each
+with a candle guttering on a steep step of her bare staircase; and in
+the street walked silent men with black or brown faces, whose white
+burnouses flowed round their tall figures like blowing clouds. Among
+them were a few soldiers, whose uniforms glowed red in the twilight,
+like the cigarette ends pulsing between the painted lips of the Ouled
+Naïls. All that quarter reeked with the sweet, wicked smell of the East;
+and in the Moorish café at the far end, the dancing-music had begun to
+throb and whine, mingling cries of love and death, with the passion of
+both. But there was no dancing yet, for the audience was not large
+enough. The brilliant spiders crouched in their webs, awaiting more
+flies; for caravans were coming in across that desert sea which poured
+its yellow billows into the narrow street; and in the market-place,
+camel-drivers only just arrived were cooking their suppers. They would
+all come a little later into this quarter to drink many cups of coffee,
+and to spend their money on the dancers.
+
+As Stephen went by on horseback, the girls on the balconies and in the
+doorways looked at him steadily without smiling, but their eyes sparkled
+under their golden crowns, or scarlet headkerchiefs and glittering
+veils. Behind him and his guide, followed a procession of boys and old
+men, with donkeys loaded with dead palm-branches from the neighbouring
+oasis, and the dry fronds made a loud swishing sound; but the dancers
+paid no attention, and appeared to look through the old men and children
+as if they did not exist.
+
+In the market-place were the tired camels, kneeling down, looking
+gloomily at their masters busy cooking supper on the sand. Negro sellers
+of fruit and fly-embroidered lumps of meat, or brilliant-coloured
+pottery, and cheap, bright stuffs, were rolling up their wares for the
+night, in red and purple rags or tattered matting. Beggars lingered,
+hoping for a stray dried date, or a coin before crawling off to secret
+dens; and two deformed dwarfs in enormous turbans and blue coats,
+claimed power as marabouts, chanting their own praises and the praises
+of Allah, in high, cracked voices.
+
+As Stephen rode to the hotel, and stopped in front of the arcade which
+shaded the ground floor, Nevill and another man sprang up from chairs
+pushed back against the white house-wall.
+
+"By Jove, Legs, I'm glad to see you!" Nevill exclaimed, heartily, "What
+news?"
+
+"Nothing very great so far, I'm sorry to say. Much as we expected,"
+Stephen answered. And as he spoke, he glanced at the stranger, as if
+surprised that Nevill should speak out before him. The man wore the
+smart uniform of the Chasseurs d'Afrique. He was quite young, not over
+thirty-four, and had a keen, brave face, as Stephen could see by the
+crude light of a lamp that was fixed in the wall. But the large grey
+eyes, somewhat pale in contrast with deep sunburn, were the eyes of a
+poet rather than those of a born soldier.
+
+"I must introduce you and Captain Sabine to each other," Nevill went on,
+in French, as Stephen got off his horse and it was led away by the Arab.
+"He's staying at the hotel. He and I've been talking about the Zaouïa
+and--the marabout. The upshot of our conversation will astonish you. I
+feel sure, when you hear it, you will think we can talk freely about our
+business to Captain Sabine."
+
+Stephen said something polite and vague. He was interested, of course,
+but would have preferred to tell his adventure to Nevill alone.
+
+"Monsieur Caird and I made acquaintance, and have been chatting all the
+afternoon," volunteered Sabine. "To begin with, we find we have many
+friends in common, in Algiers. Also he knows relations of mine, who have
+spoken of me to him, so it is almost as if we had known each other
+longer. He tells me that you and he are searching for a young lady who
+has disappeared. That you have followed here a man who must know where
+she is; that in the city, you lost track of the man but heard he had
+gone on to the Zaouïa; that this made you hope the young lady was there
+with her sister, whose husband might perhaps have some position under
+the marabout."
+
+"I told him these things, because I thought, as Captain Sabine's been
+sinking an artesian well near the Zaouïa, he might have seen Miss Ray,
+if she were there. No such luck. He hasn't seen her; however, he's given
+me a piece of information which makes it just about as sure she _is_
+there, as if he had. You shall have it from him. But first let me ask
+you one question. Did you get any news of her?"
+
+"No. I heard nothing."
+
+"Does that mean you saw----"
+
+"No. I'll tell you later. But anyhow, I went into the Zaouïa, almost
+certain she was there, and that she'd seen me coming. That was a good
+start, because of course I'd had very little to go on. There was only a
+vague hope. I asked for the marabout, and they made me send a
+visiting-card--quaint in the desert. Then they kept me moving about a
+while, and insisted on showing me the mosque. At last they took me to a
+hideous reception room, with a lot of good and vile things in it, mixed
+up together. The marabout came in, wearing the black mask we'd heard
+about--a fellow with a splendid bearing, and fine eyes that looked at me
+very hard over the mask. They were never off my face. We complimented
+each other in French. Then I said I was looking for a Miss Ray, an
+American girl who had disappeared from Algiers, and had been traced to
+the Zaouïa, where I had reason to believe she was staying with a
+relative from her own country, a lady married to some member of his
+staff. I couldn't give him the best reason I had for being sure she
+_was_ there, as you'll see when I tell you what it was. But he said
+gravely that no European lady was married to any one in the Zaouïa; that
+no American or any other foreign person, male or female, was there. In
+the guest-house were one or two Arab ladies, he admitted, who had come
+to be cured of maladies by virtue of his power; but no one else. His
+denial showed me that he was in the plot to hide Miss Ray. That was one
+thing I wanted to know; so I saw that the best thing for her, would be
+for me to pretend to be satisfied. If it hadn't been for what happened
+before I got to the Zaouïa gates, I should almost have been taken in by
+him, perhaps, he had such an air of noble, impeccable sincerity. But
+just as I dipped down into a kind of hollow, on the Zaouïa side of the
+river, something was thrown from somewhere. Unluckily I couldn't be sure
+where. I'd been looking up at the roofs behind the walls, but I must
+have had my eyes on the wrong one, if this thing fell from a roof, as I
+believe it did. It was a little bundle, done up in a handkerchief, and I
+saw it only as it touched the ground, about a dozen yards in front. Then
+I hurried on, you may be sure, hoping it was meant for me, to grab the
+thing before any one else could appear and lay hands on it."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Luckily I'd outridden the guide. I made him think afterward that I'd
+jumped off my horse to pick up the whip, which I dropped for a blind, in
+case of spying eyes. Tied up in the silk handkerchief--an Arab-looking
+handkerchief--was a string of amber beads. Do you remember the beads
+Miss Ray bought of Miss Soubise, and wore to your house?"
+
+"I remember she had a handsome string of old prayer-beads."
+
+"Is this the one?" Stephen took the handkerchief and its contents from
+his pocket, and Nevill examined the large, round lumps of gleaming
+amber, which were somewhat irregular in shape. Captain Sabine looked on
+with interest.
+
+"I can't be sure," Nevill said reluctantly.
+
+"Well, I can," Stephen answered with confidence. "She showed it to me,
+in your garden. I remember a fly in the biggest bead, which was clear,
+with a brown spot, and a clouded bead on either side of it. I had the
+necklace in my hand. Besides, even if I weren't as certain as I am, who
+would throw a string of amber beads at my feet, if it weren't some one
+trying to attract my attention, in the only way possible? It was as much
+as to say, 'I know you've come looking for me. If you're told I'm not
+here, it's false.' I was a good long way from the gates; but much nearer
+to a lot of white roofs grouped behind the high wall of the Zaouïa, than
+I would have been in riding on, closer to the gates. Unfortunately there
+are high parapets to screen any one standing on the roofs. And anyhow,
+by the time the beads were thrown, I was too low down in the hollow to
+see even a waved hand or handkerchief. Still, with that necklace in my
+pocket, I knew pretty well what I was about, in talking with the
+marabout."
+
+"You thought you did," said Nevill. "But you'd have known a lot more if
+only you could have made Captain Sabine's acquaintance before you
+started."
+
+Stephen looked questioningly at the Frenchman.
+
+"Perhaps it would be better to speak in English," suggested Sabine. "I
+have not much, but I get on. And the kitchen windows are not far away.
+Our good landlord and his wife do not cook with their ears. I was
+telling your friend that the marabout himself has a European wife--who
+is said to be a great beauty. These things get out. I have heard that
+she has red hair and skin as white as cream. That is also the
+description which Mr. Caird gave me of the young lady seeking a sister.
+It makes one put two and two together, does it not?"
+
+"By Jove!" exclaimed Stephen. He and Nevill looked at each other, but
+Nevill raised his eyebrows slightly. He had not thought it best, at
+present, to give the mystery of Cassim ben Halim, as he now deciphered
+it, into a French officer's keeping. It was a secret in which France
+would be deeply, perhaps inconveniently, interested. A little later, the
+interference of the French might be welcome, but it would be just as
+well not to bring it in prematurely, or separately from their own
+personal interests. "I wish to heaven," Stephen went on, "I'd known this
+when I was talking to the fellow! And yet--I'm not sure it would have
+made much difference. We were deadly polite to each other, but I hinted
+in a veiled way that, if he were concealing any secret from me, the
+French authorities might have something to say to him. I was obsequious
+about the great power of Islam in general, and his in particular, but I
+suggested that France was the upper dog just now. Maybe his guilty
+conscience made him think I knew more than I did. I hope he expects to
+have the whole power of France down on him, as well as the United
+States, which I waved over his head, Miss Ray being an American. Of
+course I remembered your advice, Nevill, and was tactful--for her sake,
+for fear anything should be visited on her. I didn't say I thought he
+was hiding her in the Zaouïa. I put it as if I wanted his help in
+finding her. But naturally he expects me back again; and we must make
+our plans to storm the fortress and reduce it to subjection. There isn't
+an hour to waste, either, since this necklace, and Captain Sabine's
+knowledge, have proved to us that she's there. Too bad we didn't know it
+earlier, as we might have done something decisive in the beginning. But
+now we do know, with Captain Sabine's good will and introduction we may
+get the military element here to lend a hand in the negotiations. A
+European girl can't be shut up with impunity, I should think, even in
+this part of the world. And the marabout has every reason not to get in
+the bad books of the French."
+
+"He is in their very best books at present," said Sabine. "He is
+thought much of. The peace of the southern desert is largely in his
+hands. My country would not be easily persuaded to offend him. It might
+be said in his defence that he is not compelled to tell strangers if he
+has a European wife, and her sister arrives to pay her a visit. Arab
+ideas are peculiar; and we have to respect them."
+
+"I think my friend and I must talk the whole matter over," said Stephen,
+"and then, perhaps, we can make up our minds to a plan of action we
+couldn't have taken if it weren't for what you've told us--about the
+marabout and his European wife."
+
+"I am glad if I have helped," Sabine answered. "And"--rather
+wistfully--"I should like to help further."
+
+
+
+
+XLV
+
+
+"Oh Lella Saïda, there is a message, of which I hardly dare to speak,"
+whispered Noura to her mistress, when she brought supper for the two
+sisters, the night when the way to the roof had been closed up.
+
+"Tell me what it is, and do not be foolish," Saidee said sharply. Her
+nerves were keyed to the breaking point, and she had no patience left.
+It was almost a pleasure to visit her misery upon some one else. She
+hated everybody and everything, because all hope was gone now. The door
+to the roof was nailed shut; and she and Victoria were buried alive.
+
+"But one sends the message who must not be named; and it is not even for
+thee, lady. It is for the Little Rose, thy sister."
+
+"If thou dost not speak out instantly, I will strike thee!" Saidee
+exclaimed, on the verge of hysterical tears.
+
+"And if I speak, still thou wilt strike! Be this upon thine own head, my
+mistress. The Ouled Naïl has dared send her woman, saying that if the
+Little Rose will visit her house after supper, it will be for the good
+of all concerned, since she has a thing to tell of great importance. At
+first I would have refused even to take the message, but her woman,
+Hadda, is my cousin, and she feared to go back without some answer. The
+Ouled Naïl is a demon when in a temper, and she would thrust pins into
+Hadda's arms and thighs."
+
+Saidee blushed with anger, disgustful words tingling on her tongue; but
+she remained silent, her lips parted.
+
+"Of course I won't go," said Victoria, shocked. The very existence of
+Miluda was to her a dreadful mystery upon which she could not bear to
+let her mind dwell.
+
+"I'm not sure," Saidee murmured. "Let me think. This means something
+very curious, I can't think what. But I should like to know. It can't
+make things worse for us if you accept her invitation. It may make them
+better. Will you go and see what the creature wants?"
+
+"Oh, Saidee, how can I?"
+
+"Because I ask it," Saidee answered, the girl's opposition deciding her
+doubts. "She can't eat you."
+
+"It isn't that I'm afraid----"
+
+"I know! It's because of your loyalty to me. But if I send you, Babe,
+you needn't mind. It will be for my sake."
+
+"Hadda is waiting for an answer," Noura hinted.
+
+"My sister will go. Is the woman ready to take her?"
+
+"I will find out, lady."
+
+In a moment the negress came back. "Hadda will lead the Little Rose to
+her mistress. She is glad that it is to be now, and not later."
+
+"Be very careful what you say, and forget nothing that _she_ says," was
+Saidee's last advice. And it sounded very Eastern to Victoria.
+
+She hated her errand, but undertook it without further protest, since it
+was for Saidee's sake.
+
+Hadda was old and ugly. She and Noura had been born in the quarter of
+the freed Negroes, in the village across the river, and knew nothing of
+any world beyond; yet all the wiliness and wisdom of female things,
+since Eve--woman, cat and snake--glittered under their slanting eyelids.
+
+Victoria had not been out of her sister's rooms and garden, except to
+visit M'Barka in the women's guest-house, since the night when Maïeddine
+brought her to the Zaouïa; and when she had time to think of her bodily
+needs, she realized that she longed desperately for exercise. Physically
+it was a relief to walk even the short distance between Saidee's house
+and Miluda's; but her cheeks tingled with some emotion she could hardly
+understand when she saw that the Ouled Naïl's garden-court was larger
+and more beautiful than Saidee's.
+
+Miluda, however, was not waiting for her in the garden. The girl was
+escorted upstairs, perhaps to show her how much more important was the
+favourite wife of the marabout than a mere Roumia, an unmarried maiden.
+
+A meal had been cleared away, in a room larger and better furnished than
+Saidee's and on the floor stood a large copper incense-burner, a thin
+blue smoke filtering through the perforations, clouding the atmosphere
+and loading it with heavy perfume. Behind the mist Victoria saw a divan,
+spread with trailing folds of purple velvet, stamped with gold; and
+something lay curled up on a huge tiger-skin, flung over pillows.
+
+As the blue incense wreaths floated aside the curled thing on the tiger
+skin moved, and the light from a copper lamp like Saidee's, streamed
+through huge coloured lumps of glass, into a pair of brilliant eyes. A
+delicate brown hand, ringed on each finger, waved away the smoke of a
+cigarette it held, and Victoria saw a small face, which was like the
+face of a perfectly beautiful doll. Never had she imagined anything so
+utterly pagan; yet the creature was childlike, even innocent in its
+expression, as a baby tigress might be innocent.
+
+Having sat up, the little heathen goddess squatted in her shrine, only
+bestirring herself to show the Roumia how beautiful she was, and what
+wonderful jewellery she had. She thought, that without doubt, the girl
+would run back jealously to the sister (whom Miluda despised) to pour
+out floods of description. She herself had heard much of Lella Saïda,
+and supposed that unfortunate woman had as eagerly collected information
+about her; but it was especially piquant that further details of
+enviable magnificence should be carried back by the forlorn wife's
+sister.
+
+The Ouled Naïl tinkled at the slightest movement, even with the heaving
+of her bosom, as she breathed, making music with many necklaces, and
+long earrings that clinked against them. Dozens of old silver cases,
+tubes, and little jewelled boxes containing holy relics; hairs of
+Mohammed's beard; a bit of web spun by the sacred spider which saved his
+life; moles' feet blessed by marabouts, and texts from the Koran; all
+these hung over Miluda's breast, on chains of turquoise and amber beads.
+They rattled metallically, and her bracelets and anklets tinkled. Some
+luscious perfume hung about her, intoxicatingly sweet. A thick, braided
+clump of hair was looped on each side of the small face painted white as
+ivory, and her eyes, under lashes half an inch long, were bright and
+unhuman as those of an untamed gazelle.
+
+"Wilt thou sit down?" she asked, waving the hand with the cigarette
+towards a French chair, upholstered in red brocade. "The Sidi gave me
+that seat because I asked for it. He gives me all I ask for."
+
+"I will stand," answered Victoria.
+
+"Oh, it is true, then, thou speakest Arab! I had heard so. I have heard
+much of thee and of thy youth and beauty. I see that my women did not
+lie. But perhaps thou art not as young as I am, though I have been a
+wife for a year, and have borne a beautiful babe. I am not yet sixteen."
+
+Victoria did not answer, and the Ouled Naïl gazed at her unwinkingly, as
+a child gazes.
+
+"Thou hast travelled much, even more than the marabout himself, hast
+thou not?" she inquired, graciously. "I have heard that thou hast been
+to England. Are there many Arab villages there, and is it true that the
+King was deposed when the Sultan, the head of our faith, lost his
+throne?"
+
+"There are no Arab villages, and the King still reigns," said Victoria.
+"But I think thou didst not send for me to ask these questions?"
+
+"Thou art right. Yet there is no harm in asking them. I sent for thee,
+for three reasons. One is, that I wished to see thee, to know if indeed
+thou wert as beautiful as I; another is, that I had a thing to give
+thee, and before I tell thee my third reason, thou shalt have the gift."
+
+She fumbled in the tawny folds of the tiger-skin on which she lay, and
+presently held out a bracelet, made of flexible squares of gold, like
+scales, jewelled with different stones.
+
+"It is thy wedding present from me," she said. "I wish to give it,
+because it is not long since I myself was married, and because we are
+both young. Besides, Si Maïeddine is a good friend of the marabout. I
+have heard that he is brave and handsome, all that a young girl can most
+desire in a husband."
+
+"I am not going to marry Si Maïeddine," said Victoria. "I thank thee;
+but thou must keep thy gift for his bride when he finds one."
+
+"He has found her in thee. The marriage will be a week from to-morrow,
+if Allah wills, and he will take thee away to his home. The marabout
+himself has told me this, though he does not know that I have sent for
+thee, and that thou art with me now."
+
+"Allah does not will," said the girl.
+
+"Perhaps not, since thy bridegroom-to-be lies ill with marsh fever, so
+Hadda has told me. He came back from Algiers with the sickness heavy
+upon him, caught in the saltpetre marshes that stretch between Biskra
+and Touggourt. I know those marshes, for I was in Biskra with my mother
+when she danced there; but she was careful, and we did not lie at night
+in the dangerous regions where the great mosquitoes are. Men are never
+careful, though they do not like to be ill, and thy bridegroom is
+fretting. But he will be better in a few days if he takes the draughts
+which the marabout has blessed for him; and if the wedding is not in a
+week, it will be a few days later. It is in Allah's hands."
+
+"I tell thee, it will be never," Victoria persisted. "And I believe thou
+but sayest these things to torture me."
+
+"Dost thou not love Si Maïeddine?" Miluda asked innocently.
+
+"Not at all."
+
+"Then it must be that thou lovest some other man. Dost thou, Roumia?"
+
+"Thou hast no right to ask such questions."
+
+"Be not angry, Roumia, for we are coming now to the great reason why I
+sent for thee. It is to help thee. I wish to know whether there is a man
+of thine own people thou preferest to Si Maïeddine."
+
+"Why shouldst thou wish to help me? Thou hast never seen me till now."
+
+"I will speak the truth with thee," said Miluda, "because thy face
+pleases me, though I prefer my own. Thine is pure and good, like the
+face of the white angel that is ever at our right hand; and even if I
+should speak falsely, I think thou wouldst not be deceived. Before I saw
+thee, I did not care whether thou wert happy or sad. It was nothing to
+me; but I saw a way of getting thee and thy sister out of my husband's
+house, and for a long time I have wished thy sister gone. Not that I am
+jealous of her. I have not seen her face, but I know she is already old,
+and if she were not friendless in our land, the Sidi would have put her
+away at the time of my marriage to him, since long ago he has ceased to
+care whether she lives or dies. But his heart is great, and he has kept
+her under his roof for kindness' sake, though she has given him no
+child, and is no longer a wife to him. I alone fill his life."
+
+She paused, hoping perhaps that Victoria would answer; but the girl was
+silent, biting her lip, her eyes cast down. So Miluda talked on, more
+quietly.
+
+"There is a wise woman in the city, who brings me perfumes and silks
+which have come to Oued Tolga by caravan from Tunis. She has told me
+that thy sister has ill-wished me, and that I shall never have a boy--a
+real child--while Lella Saïda breathes the same air with me. That is the
+reason I want her to be gone. I will not help thee to go, unless thou
+takest her with thee."
+
+"I will never, never leave this place unless we go together," Victoria
+answered, deeply interested and excited now.
+
+"That is well. And if she loves thee also, she would not go alone; so my
+wish is to do what I can for both."
+
+"What canst thou do?" the girl asked.
+
+"I will tell thee. But first there is something to make clear. I was on
+my roof to-day, when a young Roumi rode up to the Zaouïa on the road
+from Oued Tolga. He looked towards the roofs, and I wondered. From mine,
+I cannot see much of thy sister's roof, but I watched, and I saw an arm
+outstretched, to throw a packet. Then I said to myself that he had come
+for thee. And later I was sure, because my women told me that while he
+talked with the marabout, the door which leads to thy sister's roof was
+nailed up hastily, by command of the master. Some order must have gone
+from him, unknown to the Roumi, while the two men were together. I could
+coax nothing of the story from the Sidi when he came to me, but he was
+vexed, and his brows drew together over eyes which for the first time
+did not seem to look at me with pleasure."
+
+"Thou hast guessed aright," Victoria admitted, thankful that Miluda's
+suspicions concerned her affairs only, and not Saidee's. "The man who
+came here was my friend. I care for him more than for any one in the
+world, except my sister; and if I cannot marry him, I will die rather
+than marry Si Maïeddine or any other."
+
+"Then, unless I help thee, thou wilt have to die, for nothing which thou
+alone, or thy sister can do, will open the gates for thee to go out,
+except as Si Maïeddine's wife."
+
+"Then help me," said Victoria, boldly, "and thou wilt be rid of us both
+forever."
+
+"It is with our wits we must work, not with our hands," replied the
+Ouled Naïl. "The power of the marabout is great. He has many men to
+serve him, and the gates are strong, while women are very, very weak.
+Yet I have seen into the master's heart, and I can give thee a key which
+will unlock the gates. Only it had better be done soon, for when Si
+Maïeddine is well, he will fight for thee; and if thou goest forth free,
+he will follow, and take thee in the dunes."
+
+Victoria shivered, for the picture was vivid before her eyes, as Miluda
+painted it. "Give me the key," she said in a low voice.
+
+"The key of the master's heart is his son," the other answered, in a
+tone that kept down anger and humiliation. "Even me he would sacrifice
+to his boy. I know it well, and I hate the child. I pray for one of my
+own, for because the Sidi loves me, and did not love the boy's mother,
+he would care ten thousand times more for a child of mine. The wise
+woman says so, and I believe it. When thy sister is gone, I shall have a
+boy, and nothing left to wish for on earth. Send a message to thy lover,
+saying that the marabout's only son is at school in Oued Tolga, the
+city. Tell him to steal the child and hide it, making a bargain with the
+marabout that he shall have it safely back, if he will let thee and thy
+sister go; otherwise he shall never see it again."
+
+"That would be a cruel thing to do, and my sister could not consent,"
+said Victoria, "even if we were able to send a message."
+
+"Hadda would send the message. A friend from the village is coming to
+see her, and the master has no suspicion of me at present, as he has of
+thee. We could send a letter, and Hadda would manage everything. But
+there is not much time, for now while my husband is with Si Maïeddine,
+treating him for his fever, is our only chance, to-night. We have
+perhaps an hour in which to decide and arrange everything. After that,
+his coming may be announced to me. And no harm would happen to the
+child. The master would suffer in his mind for a short time, till he
+decided to make terms, that is all. As for me, have no fear of my
+betraying thee. Thou needst but revenge thyself by letting the master
+know how I plotted for the stealing of his boy, for him to put me out of
+his heart and house forever. Then I should have to kill myself with a
+knife, or with poison; and I am young and happy, and do not desire to
+die yet. Go now, and tell thy sister what I have said. Let her answer
+for thee, for she knows this land and the people of it, and she is wiser
+than thou."
+
+Without another word or look at the beautiful pagan face, Victoria went
+out of the room, and found Hadda waiting to hurry her away.
+
+
+
+
+XLVI
+
+
+It was after one o'clock when Stephen and Nevill bade each other good
+night, after a stroll out of the town into the desert. They had built up
+plans and torn them down again, and no satisfactory decision had been
+reached, for both feared that, if they attempted to threaten the
+marabout with their knowledge of his past, he would defy them to do
+their worst. Without Saidee and Victoria, they could bring forward no
+definite and visible proof that the great marabout, Sidi El Hadj
+Mohammed Abd el Kadr, and the disgraced Captain Cassim ben Halim were
+one. And the supreme difficulty was to produce Saidee and Victoria as
+witnesses. It was not even certain, if the marabout were threatened and
+thought himself in danger, that he might not cause the sisters to
+disappear. That thought prevented the two men from coming easily to any
+decision. Sabine had not told them that he knew Saidee, or that he had
+actually heard of the girl's arrival in the Zaouïa. He longed to tell
+and join with them in their quest; but it would have seemed a disloyalty
+to the woman he loved. It needed a still greater incentive to make him
+speak out; while as for the Englishmen, though they would gladly have
+taken his advice, they hesitated to give away the secret of Saidee Ray's
+husband to a representative of Ben Halim's stern judge, France.
+
+Various plans for action had been discussed, yet Stephen and Nevill both
+felt that all were subject to modification. Each had the hope that the
+silent hours would bring inspiration, and so they parted at last. But
+Stephen had not been in his room ten minutes when there came a gentle
+tap at his door. He thought that it must be Nevill, returning to
+announce the birth of a new idea; but in the dark corridor stood a
+shadowy Arab, he who did most of the work in the hotel outside the
+kitchen.
+
+"A person has come with a letter for Monsieur," the man mumbled in bad
+French, his voice so sleepy as to be almost inarticulate. "He would not
+give it to me, the foolish one. He insists on putting it into the hand
+of Monsieur. No doubt it is a pourboire he wants. He has followed me to
+the head of the stairs, and he has no French."
+
+"Where does he come from?" asked Stephen.
+
+"He will not say. But he is a Negro whom I have never seen in the city."
+
+"Call him," Stephen said. And in a moment a thin young Negro, dusted all
+over with sand, came into the square of light made by the open door. His
+legs were bare, and over his body he appeared to have no other garment
+but a ragged, striped gandourah. In a purple-black hand he held a folded
+piece of paper, and Stephen's heart jumped at sight of his own name
+written in a clear handwriting. It was not unlike Victoria's but it was
+not hers.
+
+"The man says he cannot take a letter back," explained the Arab servant.
+"But if Monsieur will choose a word to answer, he will repeat it over
+and over until he has it by heart. Then he will pass it on in the same
+way."
+
+Stephen was reading his letter and scarcely heard. It was Victoria's
+sister who wrote. She signed herself at the bottom of the bit of
+paper--a leaf torn from a copy book--"Saidee Ray," as though she had
+never been married. She had evidently written in great haste, but the
+thing she proposed was clearly set forth, as if in desperation. Victoria
+did not approve, she said, and hoped some other plan might be found; but
+in Saidee's opinion there was no other plan which offered any real
+chance of success. In their situation, they could not afford to stick at
+trifles, and neither could Mr. Knight, if he wished to save Victoria
+from being married against her will to an Arab. There was no time to
+lose if anything were to be done; and if Mr. Knight were willing to take
+the way suggested, would he say the word "yes," very distinctly, to the
+messenger, as it would not be safe to try and smuggle a letter into the
+Zaouïa.
+
+It was a strange, even a detestable plot, which Saidee suggested; yet
+when Stephen had turned it over in his mind for a moment he said the
+word "yes" with the utmost distinctness. The sand-covered Negro imitated
+him several times, and having achieved success, was given more money
+than he had ever seen in his life. He would not tell the Arab, who
+escorted him downstairs again, whence he had come, but it was a long
+distance and he had walked. He must return on foot, and if he were to be
+back by early morning, he ought to get off at once. Stephen made no
+effort to keep him, though he would have liked Saidee's messenger to be
+seen by Caird.
+
+Nevill had not begun to undress, when Stephen knocked at his door. He
+was about to begin one of his occasional letters to Josette, with his
+writing materials arranged abjectly round one tallow candle, on a
+washhand stand.
+
+"That beast of a Cassim! He's going to try and marry the poor child off
+to his friend Maïeddine!" Nevill growled, reading the letter. "Stick at
+trifles indeed! I should think not. This is Providential--just when we
+couldn't quite make up our minds what to do next."
+
+"You're not complimentary to Providence," said Stephen. "Seems to me a
+horrid sort of thing to do, though I'm not prepared to say I won't do
+it. _She_ doesn't approve, her sister says, you see----"
+
+"Who knows the man better, his wife or the girl?"
+
+"That goes without saying. Well, I'm swallowing my scruples as fast as I
+can get them down, though they're a lump in my throat. However, we
+wouldn't hurt the little chap, and if the father adores him, as she
+says, we'd have Ben Halim pretty well under our thumbs, to squeeze him
+as we chose. Knowing his secret as we do, he wouldn't dare apply to the
+French for help, for fear we'd give him away. We must make it clear that
+we well know who he is, and that if he squeals, the fat's in the fire!"
+
+"That's the right spirit. We'll make him shake in his boots for fear we
+give not only the secret, but the boy, over to the tender mercies of the
+authorities. For it's perfectly true that if the Government knew what a
+trick had been played on them, they'd oust the false marabout in favour
+of the rightful man, whoever he may be, clap the usurper into prison,
+and make the child a kind of--er--ward in chancery, or whatever the
+equivalent is in France. Oh, I can tell you, my boy, this idea is the
+inspiration of a genius! The man will see we're making no idle threat,
+that we can't carry out. He'll have to hand over the ladies, or he'll
+spend some of his best years in prison, and never see his beloved boy
+again."
+
+"First we've got to catch our hare. But there Sabine could help us, if
+we called him in."
+
+"Yes. And we couldn't do better than have him with us, I think, Legs,
+now we've come to this turn in the road."
+
+"I agree so far. Still, let's keep Ben Halim's secret to ourselves. We
+must have it to play with. I believe Sabine's a man to trust; but he's a
+French officer; and a plot of that sort he might feel it his duty to
+make known."
+
+"All right. We'll keep back that part of the business. It isn't
+necessary to give it away. But otherwise Sabine's the man for us. He's a
+romantic sort of chap, not unlike me in that; it's what appealed to me
+in him the minute we began to draw each other out. He'll snap at an
+adventure to help a pretty girl even though he's never seen her; and he
+knows the marabout's boy and the guardian-uncle. He was talking to me
+about them this afternoon. Let's go and rout him out. I bet he'll have a
+plan to propose."
+
+"Rather cheek, to rouse him up in the middle of the night. We might
+wait till morning, since I don't see that we can do anything useful
+before."
+
+"He only got in from seeing some friend in barracks, about one. He
+doesn't look like a sleepy-head. Besides, if I'm not mistaken, I smell
+his cigarettes. He's probably lying on his bed, reading a novel."
+
+But Sabine was reading something to him far more interesting than any
+novel written by the greatest genius of all ages; a collection of
+Saidee's letters, which he invariably read through, from first to last,
+every night before even trying to sleep.
+
+The chance to be in the game of rescue was new life to him. He grudged
+Saidee's handwriting to another man, even though he felt that, somehow,
+she had hoped that he would see it, and that he would work with the
+others. He laughed at the idea that the adventure would be more
+dangerous for him as a French officer, if anything leaked out, than for
+two travelling Englishmen.
+
+"I would give my soul to be in this!" he exclaimed, before he knew what
+he was saying, or what meaning might be read into his words. But both
+faces spoke surprise. He was abashed, yet eager. The impulse of his
+excitement led him on, and he began stammering out the story he had not
+meant to tell.
+
+"I can't say the things you ought to know, without the things that no
+one ought to know," he explained in his halting English, plunging back
+now and then inadvertently into fluent French. "It is wrong not to
+confess that all the time I know that young lady is there--in the
+Zaouïa. But there is a reason I feel it not right to confess. Now it
+will be different because of this letter that has come. You must hear
+all and you can judge me."
+
+So the story was poured out: the romance of that wonderful day when,
+while he worked at the desert well in the hot sun, a lady went by, with
+her servants, to the Moorish baths. How her veil had fallen aside, and
+he had seen her face--oh, but the face of a houri, an angel. Yet so
+sad--tragedy in the beautiful eyes. In all his life he had not seen such
+beauty or felt his heart so stirred. Through an attendant at the baths
+he had found out that the lovely lady was the wife of the marabout, a
+Roumia, said not to be happy. From that moment he would have sacrificed
+his hopes of heaven to set her free. He had written--he had laid his
+life at her feet. She had answered. He had written again. Then the
+sister had arrived. He had been told in a letter of her coming. At first
+he had thought it impossible to confide a secret concerning
+another--that other a woman--even to her sister's friends. But now there
+was no other way. They must all work together. Some day he hoped that
+the dear prisoner would be free to give herself to him as his wife. Till
+then, she was sacred, even in his thoughts. Even her sister could find
+no fault with his love. And would the new friends shake his hand wishing
+him joy in future.
+
+So all three shook hands with great heartiness; and perhaps Sabine would
+have become still more expansive had he not been brought up to credit
+Englishmen stolid fellows at best with a favourite motto: "Deeds, not
+words."
+
+As Sabine told his story, Stephen's brain had been busily weaving. He
+did not like the thing they had to do, but if it must be done, the only
+hope lay in doing it well and thoroughly. Sabine's acquaintance with the
+boy and his guardian would be a great help.
+
+"I've been thinking how we can best carry out this business," he said,
+when the pact of friendship had been sealed by clasp of hands. "We can't
+afford to have any row or scandal. It must somehow be managed without
+noise, for the sake of--the ladies, most of all, and next, for the sake
+of Captain Sabine. As a Frenchman and an officer, it would certainly be
+a lot worse for him than for us, if we landed him in any mess with the
+authorities."
+
+"I care nothing for myself." Sabine broke in, hotly.
+
+"All the more reason for us to keep our heads cool if we can, and look
+after you. We must get the boy to go away of his own accord."
+
+"That is more easy to propose than to do," said Sabine, with a shrug of
+the shoulders.
+
+"Well, an idea has come into my head. There may be something in it--if
+you can help us work it. We couldn't do it without you. Do you know the
+child and his uncle so well that it wouldn't seem queer to invite them
+to the hotel for a meal--say luncheon to-morrow, or rather to-day--for
+it's morning now?"
+
+"Yes, I could do that. And they would come. It would be an amusement for
+them. Life is dull here," Sabine eagerly replied.
+
+"Good. Does the child speak French?"
+
+"A little. He is learning in the school."
+
+"That's lucky, for I don't know a dozen words of Arab, and even my
+friend Caird can't be eloquent in it. Wings, do you think you could work
+up the boy to a wild desire for a tour in a motor-car?"
+
+"I would bet on myself to do that. I could make him a motor fiend,
+between the _hors d'oeuvres_ and fruit."
+
+"Our great stumbling block, then, is the uncle. I suppose he's a sort of
+watch-dog, who couldn't be persuaded to leave the boy alone a minute?"
+
+"I am not sure of that," said Sabine. "It is true he is a watch-dog; but
+I could throw him a bone I think would tempt him to desert his post--if
+he had no suspicion of a trap. What you want, I begin to see, is to get
+him out of the way, so that Monsieur Caird could induce the little
+Mohammed to go away willingly?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"_Eh bien!_ It is as good as done. I see the way. Hassan ben Saad, the
+respectable uncle, has a secret weakness which I have found out. He has
+lost his head for the prettiest and youngest dancer in the quarter of
+the Ouled Naïls. She is a great favourite, Nedjma, and she will not
+look at him. He is too old and dry. Besides, he has no money except what
+the marabout gives him as guardian to the boy at school. Hassan sends
+Nedjma such presents as he can afford, and she laughs at them with the
+other girls, though she keeps them, of course. To please me, she will
+write a letter to Ben Saad, telling him that if he comes to her at once,
+without waiting a moment, he may find her heart soft for him. This
+letter shall be brought to our table, at the hotel, while Hassan
+finishes his _déjeuner_ with us. He will make a thousand apologies and
+tell a thousand lies, saying it is a call of business. Probably he will
+pretend that it concerns the marabout, of whom he boasts always as his
+relative. Then he will go, in a great hurry, leaving the child, because
+we will kindly invite him to do so; and he will promise to return soon
+for his nephew. But Nedjma will be so sweet that he will not return
+soon. He will be a long time away--hours. He will forget the boy, and
+everything but his hope that at last Nedjma will love him. Does that
+plan of mine fit in with yours, Monsieur?"
+
+"Perfectly," said Knight. "What do you think, Wings?"
+
+"As you do. You're both geniuses. And I'll try to keep my end up by
+fascinating the child. He shall be mine, body and soul, by the end of
+lunch. When he finds that we're leaving Oued Tolga, instantly, and that
+he must be sent ignominiously home, he shall be ready to howl with
+grief. Then I'll ask him suddenly, how he'd like to go on a little trip,
+just far enough to meet my motor-car, and have a ride in it. He'll say
+yes, like a shot, if he's a normal boy. And if the uncle's away, it will
+be nobody's business even if they see the marabout's son having a ride
+behind me on my horse, as he might with his own father. Trust me to lure
+the imp on with us afterward, step by step, in a dream of happiness. I
+was always a born lurer--except when I wanted a thing or person for
+myself."
+
+"You say, lure him on with 'us'" Stephen cut in. "But it will have to
+be you alone. I must stay at this end of the line, and when the time
+comes, give the marabout our ultimatum. The delay will be almost
+intolerable, but of course the only thing is to lie low until you're so
+far on the way to Touggourt with the child, that a rescue scheme would
+be no good. Touggourt's a bit on the outskirts of the marabout's zone of
+influence, let's hope. Besides, he wouldn't dare attack you there, in
+the shadow of the French barracks. It's his business to help keep peace
+in the desert, and knowing what we know of his past, I think with the
+child out of his reach he'll be pretty well at our mercy."
+
+"When Hassan ben Saad finds the boy gone, he will be very sick," said
+Sabine. "But I shall be polite and sympathetic, and will give him good
+advice. He is in deadly awe of the marabout, and I will say that, if the
+child's father hears what has happened, there will be no
+forgiveness--nothing but ruin. Waiting is the game to play, I will
+counsel Hassan. I shall remind him that, being Friday, no questions will
+be asked at school till Monday, and I shall raise his hopes that little
+Mohammed will be back soon after that, if not before. At worst, I will
+say, he can pretend the child is shut up in the house with a cough. I
+shall assure him that Monsieur Caird is a man of honour and great
+riches; that no harm can come to little Mohammed in his care. I will
+explain how the boy pleaded to go, and make Hassan happy with the
+expectation that in a few days Monsieur Caird is coming back to fetch
+his friend; that certainly Mohammed will be with him, safe and sound;
+and that, if he would not lose his position, he must say nothing of what
+has happened to any one who might tell the marabout."
+
+"Do you think you can persuade him to keep a still tongue in his head
+till it suits us to have him speak, or write a letter for me to take?"
+asked Stephen.
+
+"I am sure of it. Hassan is a coward, and you have but to look him in
+the face to see he has no self-reliance. He must lean on some one else.
+He shall lean on me. And Nedjma shall console him, so that time will
+pass, and he shall hardly know how it is going. He will speak when we
+want him to speak or write, not before."
+
+The three men talked on in Stephen's room till dawn, deciding details
+which cropped up for instant settlement. At last it was arranged--taking
+the success of their plan for granted--that Stephen should wait a day
+and a half after the departure of Nevill's little caravan. By that time,
+it should have got half-way to Touggourt; but there was one bordj where
+it would come in touch with the telegraph. Stephen would then start for
+the Zaouïa, for an interview with the marabout, who, no doubt, was
+already wondering why he did not follow up his first attempt by a
+second. He would hire or buy in the city a racing camel fitted with a
+bassour large enough for two, and this he would take with him to the
+Zaouïa, ready to bring away both sisters. No allusion to Saidee would be
+made in words. The "ultimatum" would concern Victoria only, as the elder
+sister was wife to the marabout, and no outsider could assume to have
+jurisdiction over her. But as it was certain that Victoria would not
+stir without Saidee, a demand for one was equivalent to a demand for the
+other.
+
+This part of the plan was to be subject to modification, in case Stephen
+saw Victoria, and she proposed any course of action concerning her
+sister. As for Sabine, having helped to make the plot he was to hold
+himself ready at Oued Tolga, the city, for Stephen's return from the
+Zaouïa. And the rest was on the knees of the gods.
+
+
+
+
+XLVII
+
+
+For the second time Stephen entered by the great gates of the Zaouïa.
+The lounging Negro, who had let him in before, stared at the grey mehari
+with the red-curtained bassour, whose imposing height dwarfed the
+Roumi's horse. No doubt the man wondered why it was there, since only
+women or invalids travelled in a bassour;--and his eyes dwelt with
+interest on the two Arabs from the town of Oued Tolga. Perhaps he
+thought that they would satisfy his curiosity, when the visitor had gone
+inside. But Stephen thought differently. The Arabs would tell nothing,
+because they knew nothing which could explain the mystery.
+
+The Negro had no French, and either did not understand or pretended not
+to understand the Roumi's request to see the marabout. This looked
+ominous, because Stephen had been let in without difficulty the first
+time; and the Negro seemed intelligent enough to be stupid in accordance
+with instructions. Great insistance, however, and the production of
+documents (ordinary letters, but effective to impress the uneducated
+intelligence) persuaded the big gate-keeper to send for an interpreter.
+
+Stephen waited with outward patience, though a loud voice seemed crying
+in his ears, "What will happen next? What will the end be--success, or a
+sudden fluke that will mean failure?" He barred his mind against
+misgivings, but he had hoped for some sign of life when he rode in sight
+of the white roofs; and there had been no sign.
+
+For many minutes he waited; and then came an old man who had showed him
+to the marabout's reception room on his first visit. Stephen was glad
+to see this person, because he could speak a little French, and because
+he had a mild air, as if he might easily be browbeaten.
+
+"I must see Sidi Mohammed on important business," Stephen said.
+
+The old man was greatly grieved, but Sidi Mohammed was indisposed and
+not able to speak with any one. Would Monsieur care to visit the mosque
+again, and would he drink coffee?
+
+So this was the game! Stephen was not surprised. His face flushed and
+his jaw squared. He would not drink coffee, and he would not give
+himself the pleasure of seeing the mosque; but would trouble the
+interpreter with a message to the marabout; and would await an answer.
+Then Stephen wrote on one of his visiting cards, in English. "I have
+important news of your son, which you would regret not hearing. And it
+can be told to no one but yourself."
+
+In less than ten minutes the messenger came back. The marabout, though
+not well, would receive Monsieur. Stephen was led through the remembered
+labyrinth of covered passages, dim and cool, though outside the desert
+sand flamed under the afternoon sun; and as he walked he was aware of
+softly padding footsteps behind him. Once, he turned his head quickly,
+and saw that he was followed by a group of three tall Negroes. They
+looked away when they met his eyes, as if they were on his heels by
+accident; but he guessed that they had been told to watch him, and took
+the caution as a compliment. Yet he realized that he ran some risk in
+coming to this place on such an errand as his. Already the marabout
+looked upon him as an enemy, no doubt; and it was not impossible that
+news of the boy's disappearance had by this time reached the Zaouïa, in
+spite of his guardian's selfish cowardice. If so, and if the father
+connected the kidnapping of his son with to-day's visitor, he might let
+his desire for revenge overcome prudence. To prove his power by
+murdering an Englishman, his guest, would do the desert potentate more
+harm than good in the end; yet men of mighty passions do not always stop
+to think of consequences, and Stephen was not blind to his own danger.
+If the marabout lost his temper, not a man in the Zaouïa but would be
+ready to obey a word or gesture, and short work might be made of
+Victoria Ray's only champion. However, Stephen counted a good deal on
+Ben Halim's caution, and on the fact that his presence in the Zaouïa was
+known outside. He meant to acquaint his host with that fact as a preface
+to their conversation.
+
+"The marabout will come presently," the mild interpreter announced, when
+he had brought Stephen once more to the reception room adjoining the
+mosque. So saying, he bowed himself away, and shut the door; but Stephen
+opened it almost instantly, to look out. It was as he expected. The tall
+Negroes stood lazily on guard. They scarcely showed surprise at being
+caught, yet their fixed stare was somewhat strained.
+
+"I wonder if there's to be a signal?" thought Stephen.
+
+It was very still in the reception-room of Sidi Mohammed. The young man
+sat down opposite the door of that inner room from which the marabout
+had come to greet him the other day, but he did not turn his back fully
+upon the door behind which were the watchers. Minutes passed on. Nothing
+happened, and there was no sound. Stephen grew impatient. He knew, from
+what he had heard of the great Zaouïa, that manifold and strenuous lives
+were being lived all around him in this enormous hive, which was
+university, hospice, mosque, and walled village in one. Yet there was no
+hum of men talking, of women chatting over their work, or children
+laughing at play. The silence was so profound that it was emphasized to
+his ears by the droning of a fly in one of the high, iron-barred
+windows; and in spite of himself he started when it was suddenly and
+ferociously broken by a melancholy roar like the thunderous yawn of a
+bored lion. But still the marabout did not appear. Evidently he intended
+to show the persistent Roumi that he was not to be intimidated or
+browbeaten, or else he did not really mean to come at all.
+
+The thought that perhaps, while he waited, he had been quietly made a
+prisoner, brought Stephen to his feet. He was on the point of trying the
+inner door, when it opened, and the masked marabout stood looking at
+him, with keen eyes which the black veil seemed to darken and make
+sinister.
+
+Without speaking, the Arab closed, but did not latch, the door behind
+him; and standing still he spoke in the deep voice that was slightly
+muffled by the thin band of woollen stuff over the lower part of his
+face.
+
+"Thou hast sent me an urgent summons to hear tidings of my son," he said
+in his correct, measured French. "What canst thou know, which I do not
+know already?"
+
+"I began to think you were not very desirous to hear my news," replied
+Stephen, "as I have been compelled to wait so long that my friends in
+Oued Tolga will be wondering what detains me in the Zaouïa, or whether
+any accident has befallen me."
+
+"As thou wert doubtless informed, I am not well, and was not prepared to
+receive guests. I have made an exception in thy favour, because of the
+message thou sent. Pray, do not keep me in suspense, if harm has come to
+my son." Sidi Mohammed did not invite his guest to sit down.
+
+"No harm has come to the boy," Stephen reassured him. "He is in good
+hands."
+
+"In charge of his uncle, whom I have appointed his guardian," the
+marabout broke in.
+
+"He doesn't know anything yet," Stephen said to himself, quickly. Then,
+aloud: "At present, he is not in charge of his uncle, but is with a
+friend of mine. He will be sent back safe and well to Oued Tolga, when
+you have discovered the whereabouts of Miss Ray--the young lady of whom
+you knew nothing the other day--and when you have produced her. I know
+now, with absolute certainty, that she is here in the Zaouïa. When she
+leaves it, with me and the escort I have brought, to join her friends,
+you will see your son again, but not before; and never unless Miss Ray
+is given up."
+
+The marabout's dark hands clenched themselves, and he took a step
+forward, but stopped and stood still, tall and rigid, within
+arm's-length of the Englishman.
+
+"Thou darest to come here and threaten me!" he said. "Thou art a fool.
+If thou and thy friends have stolen my child, all will be punished, not
+by me, but by the power which is set above me to rule this
+land--France."
+
+"We have no fear of such punishment, or any other," Stephen answered.
+"We have 'dared' to take the boy; and I have dared, as you say, to come
+here and threaten, but not idly. We have not only your son, but your
+secret, in our possession; and if Miss Ray is not allowed to go, or if
+anything happens to me, you will never see your boy again, because
+France herself will come between you and him. You will be sent to prison
+as a fraudulent pretender, and the boy will become a ward of the nation.
+He will no longer have a father."
+
+The dark eyes blazed above the mask, though still the marabout did not
+move. "Thou art a liar and a madman," he said. "I do not understand thy
+ravings, for they have no meaning."
+
+"They will have a fatal meaning for Cassim ben Halim if they reach the
+ears of the French authorities, who believe him dead," said Stephen,
+quietly. "Ben Halim was only a disgraced officer, not a criminal, until
+he conspired against the Government, and stole a great position which
+belonged to another man. Since then, prison doors are open for him if
+his plottings are found out."
+
+Unwittingly Stephen chose words which were as daggers in the breast of
+the Arab. Although made without knowledge of the secret work to which
+the marabout had vowed himself and all that was his, the young man's
+threat sounded like a hint so terrible in its meaning that Ben Halim's
+heart turned suddenly to water. He saw himself exposed, defeated, hand
+and foot in the enemy's power. How this Roumi had wormed out the hidden
+truth he could not conceive; but he realized on the instant that the
+situation was desperate, and his brain seemed to him to become a
+delicate and intricate piece of mechanism, moving with oiled wheels. All
+the genius of a great soldier and a great diplomat were needed at one
+and the same time, and if he could not call such inspiration to his aid
+he was lost. He had been tempted for one volcanic second to stab Stephen
+with the dagger which he always carried under his burnous and
+embroidered vest, but a lightning-flash of reason bade him hold his
+hand. There were other ways--there must be other ways. Fortunately
+Maïeddine had not been told of the Roumi's presence in the Zaouïa, and
+need not learn anything concerning him or his proposals until the time
+came when a friend could be of use and not a hindrance. Even in this
+moment, when he saw before his eyes a fiery picture of ruin, Ben Halim
+realized that Maïeddine's passion for Victoria Ray might be utilized by
+and by, for the second time.
+
+Not once did the dark eyes falter or turn from the enemy's, and Stephen
+could not help admiring the Arab's splendid self-control. It was
+impossible to feel contempt for Ben Halim, even for Ben Halim trapped.
+Stephen had talked with an air of cool indifference, his hands in his
+pockets, but in one pocket was a revolver, and he kept his fingers on it
+as the marabout stood facing him silently after the ultimatum.
+
+"I have listened to the end," the Arab said at last, "because I wished
+to hear what strange folly thou hadst got in thy brain. But now, when
+thou hast finished apparently, I cannot make head or tail of thy
+accusations. Of a man named Cassim ben Halim I may have heard, but he is
+dead. Thou canst hardly believe in truth that he and I are one; but even
+if thou dost believe it, I care little, for if thou wert unwise enough
+to go with such a story to my masters and friends the French, they
+could bring a hundred proofs that thy tale was false, and they would
+laugh thee to scorn. I have no fear of anything thou canst do against
+me; but if it is true that thou and thy friend have stolen my son,
+rather than harm should come to him who is my all on earth, I may be
+weak enough to treat with thee."
+
+"I have brought proof that the boy is gone," returned Stephen. For the
+moment, he tacitly accepted the attitude which the marabout chose to
+take up. "Let the fellow save his face by pretending to yield entirely
+for the boy's sake," he said to himself. "What can it matter so long as
+he does yield?"
+
+In the pocket with the revolver was a letter which Sabine had induced
+Hassan ben Saad to write, and now Stephen produced it. The writing was
+in Arabic, of course; but Sabine, who knew the language well, had
+translated every word for him before he started from Oued Tolga. Stephen
+knew, therefore, that the boy's uncle, without confessing how he had
+strayed from duty, admitted that, "by an incredible misfortune," the
+young Mohammed had been enticed away from him. He feared, Hassan ben
+Saad added, to make a disturbance, as an influential friend--Captain
+Sabine--advised him to inform the marabout of what had happened before
+taking public action which the child's father might disapprove.
+
+The Arab frowned as he read on, not wholly because of his anger with the
+boy's guardian, though that burned in his heart, hot as a new-kindled
+fire, and could be extinguished only by revenge.
+
+"This Captain Sabine," he said slowly, "I know slightly. He called upon
+me at a time when he made a well in the neighbourhood. Was it he who put
+into thine head these ridiculous notions concerning a dead man? I warn
+thee to answer truly if thou wouldst gain anything from me."
+
+"My countrymen don't, as a rule, transact business by telling
+diplomatic lies," said Stephen smiling, as he felt that he could now
+afford to smile. "Captain Sabine did not put the notion into my head."
+
+"Hast thou spoken of it to him?"
+
+Stephen shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I do not see that I'm called
+upon to answer that question. All I will say is, you need have no fear
+of Captain Sabine or of any one else, once Miss Ray is safely out of
+this place."
+
+The marabout turned this answer over quickly in his mind. He knew that,
+if Sabine or any Frenchman suspected his identity and his plans for the
+future, he was irretrievably lost. No private consideration would induce
+a French officer to spare him, if aware that he hoped eventually to
+overthrow the rule of France in North Africa. This being the case (and
+believing that Knight had learned of the plot), he reflected that Sabine
+could not have been taken into the secret, otherwise the Englishman dare
+not make promises. He saw too, that it would have been impolitic for
+Knight to take Sabine into his confidence. A Frenchman in the secret
+would have ruined this _coup d'état_; and, beginning to respect Stephen
+as an enemy, he decided that he was too clever to be in real partnership
+with the officer. Ben Halim's growing conviction was that his wife,
+Saidee, had told Victoria all she knew and all she suspected, and that
+the girl had somehow contrived to smuggle a letter out of the Zaouïa to
+her English lover.
+
+The distrust and dislike he had long felt for Saidee suddenly burst into
+a flame of hatred. He longed to crush under his foot the face he had
+once loved, to grind out its beauty with a spurred heel. And he hated
+the girl, too, though he could not punish her as he could punish Saidee,
+for he must have Maïeddine's help presently, and Maïeddine would insist
+that she should be protected, whatever might happen to others. But he
+was beginning to see light ahead, if he might take it for granted that
+his secret was suspected by no more than four persons--Saidee,
+Victoria, and the two Englishmen who were acting for the girl.
+
+"I see by this letter from my brother-in-law that it is even as thou
+sayest; thou and thy friend together have committed the cruel wrong of
+which thou boastest," Ben Halim said at last. "A father robbed of his
+one son is as a stag pinned to earth with a spear through his heart. He
+is in the hands of the hunter, his courage ebbing with his life-blood.
+Had this thing been done when thou wert here before, I should have been
+powerless to pay the tribute, for the lady over whom thou claimst a
+right was not within my gates. Now, I admit, she has come. If she wish
+to go with thee, she is free to do so. But I will send with her men of
+my own, to travel by her side, and refuse to surrender her until my
+child is given into their hands."
+
+"That is easy to arrange," Stephen agreed. "I will telegraph to my
+friend, who is by this time--as you can see by your letter--two days'
+journey away or more. He will return with your son, and an escort, but
+only a certain distance. I will meet him at some place appointed, and we
+will hand the boy over to your men."
+
+"It will be better that the exchange should be made here," said the
+marabout.
+
+"I can see why it might be so from your point of view, but that view is
+not ours. You have too much power here, and frankly, I don't trust you.
+You'll admit that I'd be a fool if I did! The meeting must be at some
+distance from your Zaouïa."
+
+The marabout raised his eyebrows superciliously. They said--"So thou art
+afraid!" But Stephen was not to be taunted into an imprudence where
+Victoria's safety was at stake.
+
+"Those are our terms," he repeated.
+
+"Very well, I accept," said the Arab. "Thou mayest send a message to the
+lady, inviting her to leave my house with thee; and I assure thee, that
+in any case I would have no wish to keep her, other than the desire of
+hospitality. Thou canst take her at once, if she will go; and passing
+through the city, with her and my men, thou canst send thy telegram.
+Appoint as a meeting place the Bordj of Toudja, one day's march from the
+town of Oued Tolga. When my men have the child in their keeping, thou
+wilt be free to go in peace with the girl and thy friend."
+
+"I should be glad if thou wouldst send for her, and let me talk with her
+here," Stephen suggested.
+
+"No, that cannot be," the marabout answered decidedly. "When she is out
+of my house, I wash my hands of her; but while she is under my roof it
+would be shameful that she should speak, even in my presence, with a
+strange man."
+
+Stephen was ready to concede a point, if he could get his wish in
+another way. "Give me paper, then, and I will write to the lady," he
+said. "There will be an answer, and it must be brought to me quickly,
+for already I have stopped longer than I expected, and Captain Sabine,
+who knows I have come to call upon you and fetch a friend, may be
+anxious."
+
+He spoke his last words with a certain emphasis, knowing that Ben Halim
+would understand the scarcely veiled threat.
+
+The marabout went into the next room, and got some French writing paper.
+Stephen wrote a hasty note, begging Victoria to leave the Zaouïa under
+his care. He would take her, he said, to Lady MacGregor, who had come to
+Touggourt on purpose to be at hand if wanted. He wrote in English, but
+because he was sure that Ben Halim knew the language, he said nothing to
+Victoria about her sister. Only he mentioned, as if carelessly, that he
+had brought a good camel with a comfortable bassour large enough for
+two.
+
+When the letter was in an envelope, addressed to Miss Ray, the marabout
+took it from Stephen and handed it to somebody outside the door, no
+doubt one of the three watchers. There were mumbled instructions in
+Arabic, and ten minutes later an answer came back. Stephen could have
+shouted for joy at sight of Victoria's handwriting. There were only a
+few lines, in pencil, but he knew that he would keep them always, with
+her first letter.
+
+"Oh, how glad I am that you're here!" she wrote. "By and by I hope to
+thank you--but of course I can't come without my sister. She is
+wretched, and wants to leave the man who seems to her no longer a
+husband, but she thinks he will not want to let her go. Tell him that it
+must be both of us, or neither. Or if you feel it would be better, give
+him this to read, and ask him to send an answer."
+
+Stephen guessed why the girl had written in French. She had fancied that
+the marabout would not choose to admit his knowledge of English, and he
+admired the quickness of her wit in a sudden emergency.
+
+As he handed the letter to the Arab, Stephen would have given a great
+deal to see the face under the black mask. He could read nothing of the
+man's mind through the downcast eyelids, with their long black fringe of
+close-set lashes. And he knew that Ben Halim must have finished the
+short letter at least sixty seconds before he chose to look up from the
+paper.
+
+"It is best," the marabout said slowly, "that the two sisters go
+together. A man of Islam has the right to repudiate a woman who gives
+him no children, but I have been merciful. Now an opportunity has come
+to rid myself of a burden, without turning adrift one who is helpless
+and friendless. For my son's sake I have granted thy request; for my own
+sake I grant the girl's request: but both, only on one condition--that
+thou swearest in the name of thy God, and upon the head of thy father,
+never to breathe with thy lips, or put with thy hand upon paper, the
+malicious story about me, at which thou hast to-day hinted; that thou
+enforce upon the two sisters the same silence, which, before going, they
+must promise me to guard for ever. Though there is no foundation for the
+wicked fabrication, and no persons of intelligence who know me would
+believe it, even if I had no proof, still for a man who holds a place of
+spiritual eminence, evil gossip is a disgrace."
+
+"I promise for myself, for my friend, and for both the ladies, silence
+on that subject, so long as we may live. I swear before my God, and on
+the head of my dead father, that I will keep my word, if you keep yours
+to me," said Stephen, who knew only half the secret. Yet he was
+astonished at gaining his point so easily. He had expected more trouble.
+Nevertheless, he did not see how the marabout could manage to play him
+false, if he wanted to get his boy and hide the truth about himself.
+
+"I am content," said the Arab. "And thou shouldst be content, since thou
+hast driven a successful bargain, and it is as if the contract between
+us were signed in my heart's blood. Now, I will leave thee. When the
+ladies are ready, thou shalt be called by one of the men who will be of
+their escort. It is not necessary that thou and I meet again, since we
+have, I hope, finished our business together, once and for ever."
+
+        *        *        *        *        *        *        *
+
+"Why is it that he lets me go, without even trying to make me swear
+never to tell what I know?" Saidee asked Victoria, while all in haste
+and in confusion they put together a few things for the long journey.
+Saidee packed the little volumes of her diary, with trembling fingers,
+and looked a frightened question at her sister.
+
+"I'm thankful that he doesn't ask us," Victoria answered, "for we
+couldn't promise not to tell, unless he would vow never to do the
+dreadful things you say he plans--lead a great rising, and massacre the
+French. Even to escape, one couldn't make a promise which might cost
+thousands of lives."
+
+"We could perhaps evade a promise, yet seem to do what he asked," said
+Saidee, who had learned subtle ways in a school of subtlety. "I'm
+terrified that he _doesn't_ ask. Why isn't he afraid to let us go,
+without any assurances?"
+
+"He knows that because you've been his wife, we wouldn't betray him
+unless we were forced to, in order to prevent massacres," Victoria tried
+to reassure her sister. "And perhaps for the sake of getting his boy
+back, he's willing to renounce all his horrible plans."
+
+"Perhaps--since he worships the child," Saidee half agreed. "Yet--it
+doesn't seem like Cassim to be so easily cowed, and to give up the whole
+ambition of his life, with scarcely a struggle, even for his child."
+
+"You said, when you told me how you had written to Mr. Knight, that
+Cassim would be forced to yield, if they took the boy, and so the end
+would justify the means."
+
+"Yes. It was a great card to play. But--but I expected him to make me
+take a solemn oath never to tell what I know."
+
+"Don't let's think of it," said Victoria. "Let's just be thankful that
+we're going, and get ready as quickly as we can, lest he should change
+his mind at the last moment."
+
+"Or lest Maïeddine should find out," Saidee added. "But, if Cassim
+really means us to go, he won't let Maïeddine find out. He will thank
+Allah and the Prophet for sending the fever that keeps Maïeddine in his
+bedroom."
+
+"Poor Maïeddine!" Victoria half whispered. In her heart lurked kindness
+for the man who had so desperately loved her, even though love had
+driven him to the verge of treachery. "I hope he'll forget all about me
+and be happy," she said. And then, because she was happy herself, and
+the future seemed bright, she forgot Maïeddine, and thought only of
+another.
+
+
+
+
+XLVIII
+
+
+"That must be the bordj of Toudja, at last," Victoria said, looking out
+between the curtains of her bassour. "Aren't you thankful, Saidee?
+You'll feel happier and freer, when Cassim's men have gone back to the
+Zaouïa, and our ransom has been paid by the return of the little boy.
+That volume of your life will be closed for ever and ever, and you can
+begin the next."
+
+Saidee was silent. She did not want to think that the volume was closed
+for ever, because in it there was one chapter which, unless it could be
+added to the new volume, would leave the rest of the book without
+interest for her. Half involuntarily she touched the basket which Honoré
+Sabine had given her when they parted in the desert city of Oued Tolga
+early that morning. In the basket were two carrier pigeons. She had
+promised to send one from the Bordj of Toudja, and another at the end of
+the next day's journey. After that she would be within reach of the
+telegraph. Her reason told her it was well that Sabine was not with her
+now, yet she wished for him, and could not be glad of his absence.
+Perhaps she would never see him again. Who could tell? It would have
+been unwise for Sabine, as an officer and as a man, to leave his duty to
+travel with her: she could see that, yet she was secretly angry with
+Victoria, because Victoria, happy herself, seemed to have little
+sympathy with her sister's hopes. The girl did not like to talk about
+Sabine, or discuss any connection he might possibly have with Saidee's
+future; and because Victoria was silent on that subject, Saidee revenged
+herself by being reticent on others. Victoria guessed the reason, and
+her heart yearned over Saidee; but this was something of which they
+could not talk. Some day, perhaps, Saidee would understand, and they
+would be drawn together again more closely than before.
+
+"There's Toudja," Stephen said, as the girl looked out again from the
+bassour. Whenever he saw her face, framed thus by the dark red curtains,
+his heart beat, as if her beauty were new to him, seen that instant for
+the first time. This was the flood-tide of his life, now when they
+travelled through the desert together, he and she, and she depended upon
+his help and protection. For to-day, and the few more days until the
+desert journey should come to an end at Biskra, the tide would be at
+flood: then it would ebb, never to rise again, because at Algiers they
+must part, she to go her way, he to go his; and his way would lead him
+to Margot Lorenzi. After Algiers there would be no more happiness for
+him, and he did not hope for it; but, right or wrong, he was living
+passionately in every moment now.
+
+Victoria smiled down from the high bassour at the dark, sunburnt face of
+the rider. How different it was from the dark face of another rider who
+had looked up at her, between her curtains, when she had passed that way
+before! There was only one point of resemblance between the two: the
+light of love in the eyes. Victoria could not help recognizing that
+likeness. She could not help being sure that Stephen loved her, and the
+thought made her feel safe, as well as happy. There had been a sense of
+danger in the knowledge of Maïeddine's love.
+
+"The tower in the bordj is ruined," she said, looking across the waving
+sea of dunes to a tall black object like the crooked finger of a giant
+pointing up out of the gold into the blue. "It wasn't so when I passed
+before."
+
+"No," Stephen answered, welcoming any excuse for talk with her. "But it
+was when we came from Touggourt. Sabine told me there'd been a
+tremendous storm in the south just before we left Algiers, and the
+heliograph tower at Toudja was struck by lightning. They'll build it up
+again soon, for all these heliograph stations are supposed to be kept
+in order, in case of any revolt; for the first thing a rebellious tribe
+does is to cut the telegraph wires. If that happened, the only way of
+communication would be by heliograph; and Sabine says that from
+Touggourt to Tombouctou this chain of towers has been arranged always on
+elevations, so that signals can be seen across great stretches of
+desert; and inside the walls of a bordj whenever possible, for defence.
+But the South is so contented and peaceful now, I don't suppose the
+Government will get out of breath in its hurry to restore the damage
+here."
+
+At the sound of Sabine's name Saidee had instantly roused to attention,
+and as Stephen spoke calmly of the peace and content in the South, she
+smiled. Then suddenly her face grew eager.
+
+"Did the marabout appoint Toudja as the place to make the exchange, or
+was it you?" she asked, over Victoria's shoulder.
+
+"The marabout," said Stephen. "I fell in with the idea because I'd
+already made objections to several, and I could see none to Toudja. It's
+a day's journey farther north than the Zaouïa, and I remembered the
+bordj being kept by two Frenchmen, who would be of use if----" He
+checked himself, not wishing to hint that it might be necessary to guard
+against treason. "If we had to stop for the night," he amended, "no
+doubt the bordj would be better kept than some others. And we shall have
+to stop, you know, because my friend, Caird, can't arrive from Touggourt
+with the boy till late, at best."
+
+"Did--the marabout seem bent on making this bordj the rendezvous?"
+Saidee asked.
+
+Stephen's eyes met hers in a quick, involuntary glance, then turned to
+the ruined tower. He saw it against the northern sky as they came from
+the south, and, blackened by the lightning, it accentuated the
+desolation of the dunes. In itself, it looked sinister as a broken
+gibbet. "If the marabout had a strong preference for the place, he
+didn't betray it," was the only answer he could make. "Have you a
+special reason for asking?"
+
+"No," Saidee echoed. "No special reason."
+
+But Stephen and Victoria both guessed what was in her mind. As they
+looked at the tower all three thought of the Arabs who formed their
+caravan. There were six, sent out from the Zaouïa to take back the
+little Mohammed. They belonged body and soul to the marabout. At the
+town of Oued Tolga, Stephen had added a third to his escort of two; but
+though they were good guides, brave, upstanding fellows, he knew they
+would turn from him if there were any question between Roumis and men of
+their own religion. If an accident had happened to the child on the way
+back from Touggourt, or if any other difficulty arose, in which their
+interest clashed with his, he would have nine Arabs against him. He and
+Caird, with the two Highlanders, if they came, would be alone, no matter
+how large might be Nevill's Arab escort. Stephen hardly knew why these
+thoughts pressed upon him suddenly, with new insistence, as he saw the
+tower rise dark against the sky, jagged as if it had been hacked with a
+huge, dull knife. He had known from the first what risks they ran.
+Nevill and he and Sabine had talked them all over, and decided that, on
+the whole, there was no great danger of treachery from the marabout, who
+stood to lose too much, to gain too little, by breaking faith. As for
+Maïeddine, he was ill with fever, so the sisters said, and Saidee and
+Victoria believed that he had been kept in ignorance of the marabout's
+bargain. Altogether, circumstances seemed to have combined in their
+favour. Ben Halim's wife was naturally suspicious and fearful, after her
+long martyrdom, but there was no new reason for uneasiness. Only,
+Stephen reminded himself, he must not neglect the slightest wavering of
+the weather-vane. And in every shadow he must look for a sign.
+
+They had not made a hurried march from the desert city, for Stephen and
+Sabine had calculated the hour at which Nevill might have received the
+summons, and the time he would take on the return journey. It was
+possible, Lady MacGregor being what she was, that she might have rewired
+the telegram to a certain bordj, the only telegraph station between
+Touggourt and Oued Tolga. If she had done this, and the message had
+caught Nevill, many hours would be saved. Instead of getting to the
+bordj about midnight, tired out with a long, quick march, he might be
+expected before dark. Even so, Stephen would be well ahead, for, as the
+caravan came to the gate of the bordj, it was only six o'clock, blazing
+afternoon still, and hot as midday, with the fierce, golden heat of the
+desert towards the end of May.
+
+The big iron gates were wide open, and nothing stirred in the quadrangle
+inside; but as Stephen rode in, one of the Frenchmen he remembered
+slouched out of a room where the wooden shutters of the window were
+closed for coolness. His face was red, and he yawned as he came forward,
+rubbing his eyes as if he had been asleep. But he welcomed Stephen
+politely, and seeing that a good profit might be expected from so large
+a party, he roused himself to look pleased.
+
+"I must have a room for two ladies," said Stephen, "and I am expecting a
+friend with a small caravan, to arrive from the north. However, six of
+my Arabs will go back when he comes. You must do the best you can for
+us, but nothing is of any importance compared to the ladies' comfort."
+
+"Certainly, I will do my best," the keeper of the bordj assured him.
+"But as you see, our accommodation is humble. It is strained when we
+have four or five officers for the night, and though I and my brother
+have been in this God-forsaken place--worse luck!--for nine years, we
+have never yet had to put up ladies. Unfortunately, too, my brother is
+away, gone to Touggourt to buy stores, and I have only one Arab to help
+me. Still, though I have forgotten many useful things in this
+banishment, I have not forgotten how to cook, as more than one French
+officer could tell you."
+
+"One has told me," said Stephen. "Captain Sabine, of the Chasseurs
+d'Afrique."
+
+"Ah, ce beau sabreur! He stopped with me on his way to Oued Tolga, for
+the well-making. If he has recommended me, I shall be on my mettle,
+Monsieur."
+
+The heavy face brightened; but there were bags under the bloodshot eyes,
+and the man's breath reeked of alcohol. Stephen was sorry the brother
+was away. He had been the more alert and prepossessing of the two.
+
+As they talked, the quadrangle of the bordj--which was but an inferior
+caravanserai--had waked to animation. The landlord's one Arab servant
+had appeared, like a rat out of a hole, to help the new arrivals with
+their horses and camels. The caravans had filed in, and the marabout's
+men and Stephen's guides had dismounted.
+
+None of these had seen the place since the visitation of the storm, and
+one or two from the Zaouïa had perhaps never been so far north before,
+yet they looked at the broken tower with grave interest rather than
+curiosity. Stephen wondered whether they had been primed with knowledge
+before starting, or if their lack of emotion were but Arab stoicism.
+
+As usual in a caravanserai or large bordj, all round the square
+courtyard were series of rooms: a few along one wall for the
+accommodation of French officers and rich Arabs, furnished with
+elementary European comforts; opposite, a dining-room and kitchen; to
+the left, the quarters of the two landlords and their servants; along
+the fourth wall, on either side of the great iron gate, sheds for
+animals, untidily littered with straw and refuse, infested with flies.
+Further disorder was added by the débris from the broken
+heliograph-tower which had been only partially cleared away since the
+storm. Other towers there were, also; three of them, all very low and
+squat, jutting out from each corner of the high, flat-topped wall, and
+loopholed as usual, so that men stationed inside could defend against an
+escalade. These small towers were intact, though the roof of one was
+covered with rubbish from the ruined shell rising above; and looking up
+at this, Stephen saw that much had fallen away since he passed with
+Nevill, going to Oued Tolga. One entire wall had been sliced off,
+leaving the inside of the tower, with the upper chamber, visible from
+below. It was like looking into a half-dissected body, and the effect
+was depressing.
+
+"If we should be raided by Arabs now," said the landlord, laughing, as
+he saw Stephen glance at the tower, "we should have to pray for help:
+there would be no other means of getting it."
+
+"You don't seem to worry much," replied Stephen.
+
+"No, for the Arabs in these parts are sheep nowadays," said the
+Frenchman. "Like sheep, they might follow a leader; but where is the
+leader? It is different among the Touaregs, where I spent some time
+before I came here. They are warriors by nature, but even they are quiet
+of late."
+
+"Do you ever see any here?" Stephen asked.
+
+"A few occasionally, going to Touggourt, but seldom. They are
+formidable-looking fellows, in their indigo-coloured masks, which stain
+their skin blue, but they are tractable enough if one does not offend
+them."
+
+There was only one room which could be made passably habitable for
+Saidee and Victoria, and they went into it, out of the hot sun, as soon
+as it could be prepared. The little luggage they had brought went with
+them, and the basket containing the two carrier pigeons. Saidee fed the
+birds, and scribbled a few words on a scrap of paper, to tell Sabine
+that they had arrived safely at Toudja. On second thoughts, she added a
+postscript, while Victoria unpacked what they needed for the night.
+"_He_ chose the rendezvous," Saidee wrote. "I suppose I'm too
+superstitious, but I can't help wondering if his choice had anything to
+do with the ruined tower? Don't be anxious, though. You will probably
+receive another line to-morrow night, to say that we've reached the next
+stage, and all's well."
+
+"I suppose you think I'm doing wrong to write to him?" she said to
+Victoria, as she took one of the pigeons out of its basket.
+
+"No," the girl answered. "Why shouldn't you write to say you're safe?
+He's your friend, and you're going far away."
+
+Saidee almost wished that Victoria had scolded her. Without speaking
+again, she began to fasten her letter under the bird's wing, but gave a
+little cry, for there was blood on her fingers. "Oh, he's hurt himself
+somehow!" she exclaimed. "He won't be able to fly, I'm afraid. What
+shall I do? I must send the other one. And yet--if I do, there'll be
+nothing for to-morrow."
+
+"Won't you wait until after Mr. Caird has come, and you can tell about
+the little boy?" Victoria suggested.
+
+"He mayn't arrive till very late, and--I promised Captain Sabine that he
+should hear to-night."
+
+"But think how quickly a pigeon flies! Surely it can go in less than
+half the time we would take, riding up and down among the dunes."
+
+"Oh, much less than half! Captain Sabine said that from the bordj of
+Toudja the pigeon would come to him in an hour and a half, or two at
+most."
+
+"Then wait a little longer. Somehow I feel you'll be glad if you do."
+
+Saidee looked quickly at the girl. "You make me superstitious," she
+said.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"With your 'feelings' about things. They're almost always right. I'm
+afraid of them. I shouldn't dare send the pigeon now, for fear----"
+
+"For fear of what?"
+
+"I hardly know. I told you that you made me superstitious."
+
+Stephen stood between the open gates of the bordj, looking north, whence
+Nevill should come. The desert was empty, a great, waving stretch of
+gold, but a caravan might be engulfed among the dunes. Any moment
+horses or camels might come in sight; and he was not anxious about
+Nevill or the boy. It was impossible that they could have been cut off
+by an attacking party from the Zaouïa. Captain Sabine and he, Stephen,
+had kept too keen a watch for that to happen, for the Zaouïa lay south
+of Oued Tolga the city.
+
+Others besides himself were searching the sea of sand. One of his own
+guides was standing outside the gates, talking with two of the
+marabout's men, and looking into the distance. But rather oddly, it
+seemed to him, their faces were turned southward, until the guide said
+something to the others. Then, slowly, they faced towards the north.
+Stephen remembered how he had told himself to neglect no sign. Had he
+just seen a sign?
+
+For some moments he did not look at the Arabs. Then, glancing quickly at
+the group, he saw that the head man sent by the marabout was talking
+emphatically to the guide from Oued Tolga, the city. Again, their eyes
+flashed to the Roumi, before he had time to turn away, and without
+hesitation the head man from the Zaouïa came a few steps towards him.
+"Sidi, we see horses," he said, in broken French. "The caravan thou dost
+expect is there," and he pointed.
+
+Stephen had very good eyesight, but he saw nothing, and said so.
+
+"We Arabs are used to looking across great distances," the man answered.
+"Keep thy gaze steadily upon the spot where I point, and presently thou
+wilt see."
+
+It was as he prophesied. Out of a blot of shadow among the tawny dunes
+crawled some dark specks, which might have been particles of the shadow
+itself. They moved, and gradually increased in size. By and by Stephen
+could count seven separate specks. It must be Nevill and the boy, and
+Stephen wondered if he had added two more Arabs to the pair who had gone
+back with him from Oued Tolga, towards Touggourt.
+
+"Hurrah for Lady MacGregor!" the watcher said under his breath. "She
+wired on my telegram, and caught him before he'd passed the last
+station. I might have known she would, the glorious old darling!" He
+hurried inside the bordj to knock at the ladies' door, and tell the
+news. "They're in sight!" he cried. "Would you like to come outside the
+gate and look?"
+
+Instantly the door opened, and the sisters appeared. Victoria looked
+flushed and happy, but Saidee was pale, almost haggard in comparison
+with the younger girl. Both were in Arab dress still, having nothing
+else, even if they had wished to change; and as she came out, Saidee
+mechanically drew the long blue folds of her veil closely over her face.
+Custom had made this a habit which it would be hard to break.
+
+All three went out together, and the Arabs, standing in a group, turned
+at the sound of their voices. Again they had been looking southward.
+Stephen looked also, but the dazzle of the declining sun was in his
+eyes.
+
+"Don't seem to notice anything," said Saidee in a low voice.
+
+"What is there to notice?" he asked in the same tone.
+
+"A big caravan coming from the south. Can't you see it?"
+
+"No. I see nothing."
+
+"You haven't stared at the desert for eight years, as I have. There must
+be eighteen or twenty men."
+
+"Do you think they're from the Zaouïa?" asked Victoria.
+
+"Who can tell? We can't know till they're very close, and then----"
+
+"Nevill Caird will get here first," Stephen said, half to himself. "You
+can see five horses and two camels plainly now. They're travelling
+fast."
+
+"Those Arabs have seen the others," Saidee murmured. "But they don't
+want us to know they're thinking about them."
+
+"Even if men are coming from the Zaouïa," said Stephen, "it may easily
+be that they've only been sent as an extra escort for the boy, owing to
+his father's anxiety."
+
+"Yes, it may be only that," Saidee admitted. "Still, I'm glad----" She
+did not finish her sentence. But she was thinking about the carrier
+pigeon, and Victoria's advice.
+
+All three looked northward, watching the seven figures on horseback, in
+the far distance; but now and then, when they could hope to do so
+without being noticed by the Arabs, they stole a hasty glance in the
+other direction. "The caravan has stopped," Saidee declared at last. "In
+the shadow of a big dune."
+
+"I see, now," said Stephen.
+
+"And I," added Victoria.
+
+"Perhaps after all, it's just an ordinary caravan," Saidee said more
+hopefully. "Many nomads come north at this time of year. They may be
+making their camp now. Anyway, its certain they haven't moved for some
+time."
+
+And still they had not moved, when Nevill Caird was close enough to the
+bordj for a shout of greeting to be heard.
+
+"There are two of the strangest-looking creatures with him!" cried
+Saidee. "What can they be--on camels!"
+
+"Why," exclaimed Victoria, "it's those men in kilts, who waited on the
+table at Mr. Caird's house!"
+
+"Hurrah for Lady MacGregor again!" laughed Stephen. "It's the twins,
+Angus and Hamish." He pulled off his panama hat and waved it, shouting to
+his friend in joy. "We're a regiment!" he exclaimed gaily.
+
+
+
+
+XLIX
+
+
+The boy Mohammed was proud and very happy. He had not been in a
+motor-car, for he had not got to Touggourt; but it was glorious to have
+travelled far north, almost out of the dunes, and not only to have seen
+giant women in short skirts with bare legs, but not to be afraid of
+them, as the grown-up Arabs were. The giant women were Hamish and Angus,
+and it was a great thing to know them, and to be able to explain them to
+his father's men from the Zaouïa.
+
+He was a handsome little fellow, with a face no darker than old ivory,
+and heavily lashed, expressive eyes, like those which looked over the
+marabout's mask. His dress was that of a miniature man; a white silk
+burnous, embroidered with gold, over a pale blue vest, stitched in many
+colours; a splendid red cloak, whose embroidery of stiff gold stood out
+like a bas-relief; a turban and chechia of thin white muslin; and
+red-legged boots finer than those of the Spahis. Though he was but
+eleven years old, and had travelled hard for days, he sat his horse with
+a princely air, worthy the son of a desert potentate; and like a prince
+he received the homage of the marabout's men who rushed to him with
+guttural cries, kissing the toes of his boots, in their short stirrups,
+and fighting for an end of his cloak to touch with their lips. He did
+not know that he had been "kidnapped." His impression was that he had
+deigned to favour a rather agreeable Roumi with his company. Now he was
+returning to his own people, and would bid his Roumi friend good-bye
+with the cordiality of one gentleman to another, though with a certain
+royal condescension fitted to the difference in their positions.
+
+Nevill was in wild spirits, though pale with heat and fatigue. He had
+nothing to say of himself, but much of his aunt and of the boy Mohammed.
+"Ripping little chap," he exclaimed, when Saidee had gone indoors. "You
+never saw such pluck. He'd die sooner than admit he was tired. I shall
+be quite sorry to part from him. He was jolly good company, a sort of
+living book of Arab history. And what do you say to our surprise,--the
+twins? My aunt sent them off at the same time with the telegram, but of
+course they put in an appearance much later. They caught me up this
+morning, riding like devils on racing camels, with one guide. No horses
+could be got big enough for them. They've frightened every Arab they've
+met--but they're used to that and vain of it. They've got rifles--and
+bagpipes too, for all I know. They're capable of them."
+
+"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, Wings," said Stephen, "and
+only a little less glad to see those big fellows with their brave
+faces." Then he mentioned to Nevill the apparition of that mysterious
+caravan which had appeared, and vanished. Also he described the
+behaviour of the Zaouïa men when they had looked south, instead of
+north.
+
+"Oh, that's all right, I'll bet," exclaimed Nevill, exuberant with the
+joy of success, and in the hope of coolness, food and rest. "Might have
+been any old caravan, on its own business--nothing to do with us. That's
+the most likely thing. But if the marabout's mixed up with it, I should
+say it's only because he couldn't bear to stop at home and wait in
+suspense, and I don't blame him, now I've made acquaintance with the
+kid. He'd be too proud to parade his anxiety under our noses, but would
+lurk in the distance, out of our sight, he probably flatters himself, to
+welcome his son, and take him back to Oued Tolga. Not unnatural--and in
+spite of all, I can't help being a little sorry for the man. We've
+humiliated and got the better of him, because we happen to have his
+secret. It's a bit like draining a chap's blood, and then challenging
+him to fight. He's got all he can expect now, in receiving the child
+back and if I can judge him by myself, he'll be so happy, that he'll be
+only too thankful to see our backs for the last time."
+
+"He might feel safer to stick a knife in them."
+
+"Oh, lord, I'm too hot to worry!" laughed Nevill. "Let's bid the boy
+Godspeed, or the Mussulman equivalent, which is a lot more elaborate,
+and then turn our thoughts to a bath of sorts and a dinner of sorts. I
+think Providence has been good to us so far, and we can afford to trust
+It. I'm sure Miss Ray would agree with me there." And Nevill glanced
+with kind blue eyes toward the shut door behind which Victoria had
+disappeared with her sister.
+
+When at last the little Mohammed had been despatched with great ceremony
+of politeness, as well as a present of Stephen's gold watch, the two
+Englishmen watched him fade out of sight with his cavalcade of men from
+the Zaouïa, and saw that nothing moved in the southern distance.
+
+"All's right with the world, and now for a wash and food!" cried Nevill,
+turning in with a sigh of relief at the gate of the bordj. "But oh, by
+the way--Hamish has got a letter for you--or is it Angus? Anyhow, it's
+from my fairy aunt, which I would envy you, if she hadn't sent me on
+something better--a post-card from Tlemcen. My tyrant goddess thinks
+letters likely to give undue encouragement, but once in a while she
+sheds the light of a post-card on me. Small favours thankfully
+received--from that source!"
+
+Inside the courtyard, the Highlanders were watching the three Arabs who
+had travelled with them and their master, attending to the horses and
+camels. These newcomers were being shown the ropes by the one servant of
+the bordj, Stephen's men helping with grave good-nature. They all seemed
+very friendly together, as is the way of Arabs, unless they inhabit
+rival districts.
+
+Hamish had the letter, and gave it to Stephen, who retired a few steps
+to read it, and Nevill, seeing that the twins left all work to the
+Arabs, ordered them to put his luggage into the musty-smelling room
+which he was to share with Stephen, and to get him some kind of bath, if
+it were only a tin pan.
+
+Stephen did not listen to these directions, nor did he hear or see
+anything that went on in the courtyard, for the next ten minutes. There
+was, indeed, a short and characteristic letter from Lady MacGregor, but
+it was only to say that she had finished and named the new game of
+Patience for Victoria Ray, and that, after all, she enclosed him a
+telegram, forwarded from Algiers to Touggourt. "I know Nevill told me
+that everything could wait till you got back," she explained, "but as I
+am sending the twins, they might as well take this. It may be of
+importance; and I'm afraid by the time you get it, the news will be
+several days old already."
+
+He guessed, before he looked, whence the telegram came; and he dreaded
+to make sure. For an instant, he was tempted to put the folded bit of
+paper in his pocket, unread until Touggourt, or even Biskra. "Why
+shouldn't I keep these few days unspoiled by thoughts of what's to come,
+since they're the only happy days I shall ever have?" he asked himself.
+But it would be weak to put off the evil moment, and he would not yield.
+He opened the telegram.
+
+     "Sailing on Virginian. Hope you can meet me Liverpool May 22nd.
+     Love and longing. Margot."
+
+To-day was the 25th.
+
+        *        *        *        *        *        *        *
+
+When he looked up, the courtyard was empty, and quiet, save for the
+quacking of two or three forlorn ducks. Nevill had gone inside, and the
+Highlanders were waiting upon him, no doubt--for Nevill liked a good
+deal of waiting upon. The Arabs had left the animals peacefully feeding,
+and had disappeared into the kitchen, or perhaps to have a last look at
+the vanishing escort of the marabout's sacred son.
+
+Stephen was suddenly conscious of fatigue, and a depression as of great
+weariness. He envied Nevill, whose boyish laugh he heard. The girl
+Nevill loved had refused to marry him, but she smiled when she saw him,
+and sent him post-cards when he was absent. There was hope for Nevill.
+For him there was none; although--and it was as if a fierce hand seized
+and wrenched his heart--sometimes it had seemed, in the last few hours,
+that in Victoria Ray's smile for him there was the same lovely,
+mysterious light which made the eyes of Josette Soubise wonderful when
+she looked at Nevill. If it were not for Margot--but there was no use
+thinking of that. He could not ask Margot to set him free, after all
+that had passed, and even if he should ask, she would refuse. Shuddering
+disgustfully, the thought of a new family scandal shot through his mind:
+a breach-of-promise case begun by Margot against him, if he tried to
+escape. It was the sort of thing she would do, he could not help
+recognizing. Another _cause célèbre_, more vulgar than the fight for his
+brother's title! How Victoria would turn in shocked revulsion from the
+hero of such a coarse tragi-comedy. But he would never be that hero. He
+would keep his word and stick to Margot. When he should come to the
+desert telegraph station between Toudja and Touggourt, he would wire to
+the Carlton, where she thought of returning, and explain as well as he
+could that, not expecting her quite yet, he had stayed on in Africa, but
+would see her as soon as possible.
+
+"Better hurry up and get ready for dinner!" shouted Nevill, through a
+crack of their bedroom door. "I warn you, I'm starving!"
+
+By this time the Highlanders were out in the courtyard again--two
+gigantic figures, grotesque and even fearful in the eyes of Arabs; but
+there were no Arabs to stare at them now. All had gone about their
+business in one direction or other.
+
+Stephen said nothing to his friend about the enclosure in Lady
+MacGregor's letter, mentioning merely the new game of cards named in
+honour of Miss Ray, at which they both laughed. And it seemed rather
+odd to Stephen just then, to hear himself laugh.
+
+The quick-falling twilight had now given sudden coolness and peace to
+the desert. The flies had ceased their persecutions. The whole air was
+blue as the light seen through a pale star-sapphire, for the western sky
+was veiled with a film of cloud floating up out of the sunset like the
+smoke of its fire, and there was no glow of red.
+
+As the two friends made themselves ready for dinner, and talked of such
+adventures as each had just passed through, they heard the voice of the
+landlord, impatiently calling, "Abdallah! Abdallah!"
+
+There was no reply, and again he roared the name of his servant, from
+the kitchen and from the courtyard, into which he rushed with a huge
+ladle in his hand; then from farther off, outside the gate, which
+remained wide open. Still there came no answer; and presently Stephen,
+looking from his bedroom, saw the Frenchman, hot and red-faced, slowly
+crossing the courtyard, mumbling to himself.
+
+Nevill had not quite finished his toilet, for he had a kind of boyish
+vanity, and wished to show how well and smart he could look after the
+long, tiresome journey. But Stephen was ready, and he stepped out,
+closing the door behind him.
+
+"Can't you find your servant?" he asked the keeper of the bordj.
+
+"No," said the man, adding some epithets singularly unflattering to the
+absent one and his ancestors. "He has vanished as if his father, the
+devil, had dragged him down to hell."
+
+"Where are the others?" inquired Stephen. "My men and my friend's men?
+Are they still standing outside the gates, watching the boy and his
+caravan?"
+
+"I saw them nowhere," returned the Frenchman. "It is bad enough to keep
+one Arab in order. I do not run after others. Would that the whole
+nation might die like flies in a frost! I hate them. What am I to do
+for my dinner, and ladies in the bordj for the first time? It is just my
+luck. I cannot leave the kitchen, and that brute Abdallah has not laid
+the table! When I catch him I will wring his neck as if he were a hen."
+
+He trotted back to the kitchen, swearing, and an instant later he was
+visible through the open door, drinking something out of a bottle.
+
+Stephen went to the door of the third and last guest-room of the bordj.
+It was larger than the others, and had no furniture except a number of
+thick blue and red rugs spread one on top of the other, on the floor.
+This was the place where those who paid least were accommodated, eight
+or ten at a time if necessary; and it was expected that Hamish and Angus
+would have to share the room with the Arab guides of both parties.
+
+Stephen looked in at the twins, as they scornfully inspected their
+quarters.
+
+"Where are the Arabs?" he asked, as he had asked the landlord.
+
+"We dinna ken whaur they've ta'en theirsel's," replied Angus. "All we
+ken is, we wull not lie in the hoose wi' 'em. Her leddyship wadna expect
+it, whateffer. We prefair t' sleep in th' open."
+
+Stephen retired from the argument, and mounted a steep, rough stairway,
+close to the gate, which led to the flat top of the wall, and had
+formerly been connected by a platform with the ruined heliograph tower.
+The wall was perhaps two feet thick, and though the top was rough and
+somewhat broken, it was easy to walk upon it. Once it had been defended
+by a row of nails and bits of glass, but most of these were gone. It was
+an ancient bordj, and many years of peace had passed since it was built
+in the old days of raids and razzias.
+
+Stephen looked out over the desert, through the blue veil of twilight,
+but could see no sign of life anywhere. Then, coming down, he mounted
+into each squat tower in turn, and peered out, so that he might spy in
+all directions, but there was nothing to spy save the shadowy dunes,
+more than ever like waves of the sea, in this violet light. He was not
+reassured, however, by the appearance of a vast peace and emptiness.
+Behind those billowing dunes that surged away toward the horizon, north,
+south, east, and west, there was hiding-place for an army.
+
+As he came down from the last of the four towers, his friend sauntered
+out from his bedroom. "I hope the missing Abdallah's turned up, and
+dinner's ready," said Nevill gaily.
+
+Then Stephen told him what had happened, and Nevill's cheerful face
+settled into gravity.
+
+"Looks as if they'd got a tip from the marabout's men," he said slowly.
+
+"It can be nothing else," Stephen agreed.
+
+"I blame myself for calling the twins inside to help me," said Nevill.
+"If I'd left them to moon about the courtyard, they'd have seen those
+sneaks creeping away, and reported."
+
+"They wouldn't have thought it strange that the Arabs stood outside,
+watching the boy go. You're not to blame, because you didn't see the sly
+look in my fellows' faces. I had the sign, and neglected it, in spite of
+my resolutions. But after all, if we're in for trouble, I don't know
+that it isn't as well those cowards have taken French leave. If they'd
+stayed, we'd only have had an enemy inside the gates, as well as out.
+And that reminds me, we must have the gates shut at once. Thank heaven
+we brought those French army rifles and plenty of cartridges from
+Algiers, when we didn't know what we might be in for. Now we _do_ know;
+and all are likely to come handy. Also our revolvers."
+
+"Thank heaven and my aunt for the twins, too," said Nevill. "They might
+be better servants, but I'll bet on them as fighters. And perhaps you
+noticed the rifles her 'leddyship' provided them with at Touggourt?"
+
+"I saw the muzzles glitter as they rode along on camel-back," Stephen
+answered. "I was glad even then, but now----" He did not need to finish
+the sentence. "We'd better have a word with our host," he said.
+
+To reach the dining-room, where the landlord was busy, furiously
+clattering dishes, they had to pass the door of the room occupied by the
+sisters. It was half open, and as they went by, Victoria came out.
+
+"Please tell me things," she said. "I'm sure you're anxious. When we
+heard the landlord call his servant and nobody answered, Saidee was
+afraid there was something wrong. You know, from the first she thought
+that her--that Cassim didn't mean to keep his word. Have the Arabs all
+gone?"
+
+Nevill was silent, to let Stephen take the responsibility. He was not
+sure whether or no his friend meant to try and hide their anxiety from
+the women. But Stephen answered frankly. "Yes, they've gone. It may be
+that nothing will happen, but we're going to shut the gates at once, and
+make every possible preparation."
+
+"In case of an attack?"
+
+"Yes. But we have a good place for defence here. It would be something
+to worry about if we were out in the open desert."
+
+"There are five men, counting your Highlanders," said Victoria, turning
+to Nevill. "I think they are brave, and I know well already what you
+both are." Her eyes flashed to Stephen's with a beautiful look, all for
+him. "And Saidee and I aren't cowards. Our greatest grief is that we've
+brought you into this danger. It's for our sakes. If it weren't for us,
+you'd be safe and happy in Algiers."
+
+Both men laughed. "We'd rather be here, thank you," said Stephen. "If
+you're not frightened, that's all we want. We're as safe as in a fort,
+and shall enjoy the adventure, if we have any."
+
+"It's like you to say that," Victoria answered. "But there's no use
+pretending, is there? Cassim will bring a good many men, and Si
+Maïeddine will be with them, I think. They couldn't afford to try, and
+fail. If they come, they'll have to--make thorough work."
+
+"Yet, on the other hand, they wouldn't want to take too many into their
+secret," Stephen tried to reassure her.
+
+"Well, we may soon know," she said. "But what I came out to say, is
+this. My sister has two carrier pigeons with her. One has hurt its wing
+and is no use. But the other is well, and--he comes from Oued Tolga. Not
+the Zaouïa, but the city. We've been thinking, she and I, since the Arab
+servant didn't answer, that it would be a good thing to send a letter
+to--to Captain Sabine, telling him we expected an attack."
+
+"It would be rather a sell if he got the message, and acted on it--and
+then nothing happened after all," suggested Nevill.
+
+"I think we'll send the message," said Stephen. "It would be different
+if we were all men here, but----"
+
+Victoria turned, and ran back to the open door.
+
+"The pigeon shall go in five minutes," she called over her shoulder.
+
+Stephen and Nevill went to the dining-room.
+
+The landlord was there, drunk, talking to himself. He had broken a dish,
+and was kicking the fragments under the table. He laughed at first when
+the two Englishmen tried to impress upon him the gravity of the
+situation; at last, however, they made him understand that this was no
+joke, but deadly earnest. They helped him close and bar the heavy iron
+gates; and as they looked about for material with which to build up a
+barrier if necessary, they saw the sisters come to the door. Saidee had
+a pigeon in her hands, and opening them suddenly, she let it go. It
+rose, fluttered, circling in the air, and flew southward. Victoria ran
+up the dilapidated stairway by the gate, to see it go, but already the
+tiny form was muffled from sight in the blue folds of the twilight.
+
+"In less than two hours it will be at Oued Tolga," the girl cried,
+coming down the steep steps.
+
+At that instant, far away, there was the dry bark of a gun.
+
+They looked at each other, and said nothing, but the same doubt was in
+the minds of all.
+
+It might be that the message would never reach Oued Tolga.
+
+Then another thought flashed into Stephen's brain. He asked himself
+whether it would be possible to climb up into the broken tower. If he
+could reach the top, he might be able to call for help if they should be
+hard-pressed; for some years before he had, more for amusement than
+anything else, taken a commission in a volunteer battalion and among
+many other things which he considered more or less useless, had learned
+signalling. He had not entirely forgotten the accomplishment, and it
+might serve him very well now, only--and he looked up critically at the
+jagged wall--it would be difficult to get into that upper chamber, a
+shell of which remained. In any case, he would not think of so extreme a
+measure, until he was sure that, if he gave an alarm, it would not be a
+false one.
+
+"Let's have dinner," said Nevill. "If we have fighting to do, I vote we
+start with ammunition in our stomachs as well as in our pockets."
+
+Saidee had gone part way up the steps, and was looking over the wall.
+
+"I see something dark, that moves," she said. "It's far away, but I am
+sure. My eyes haven't been trained in the desert for nothing. It's a
+caravan--quite a big caravan, and it's coming this way. That's where the
+shot came from. If they killed the pigeon, or winged it, we're all lost.
+It would only be childish to hope. We must look our fate in the face.
+The men will be killed, and I, too. Victoria will be saved, but I think
+she'd rather die with the rest of us, for Maïeddine will take her."
+
+"It's never childish to hope, it seems to me," said Nevill. "This little
+fort of ours isn't to be conquered in an hour, or many hours, I assure
+you."
+
+"And we have no intention of letting you be killed, or Miss Ray carried
+off, or of dying ourselves, at the hands of a few Arabs," Knight added.
+"Have confidence."
+
+"In our star," Victoria half whispered, looking at Stephen. They both
+remembered, and their eyes spoke, in a language they had never used
+before.
+
+In England, Margot Lorenzi was wondering why Stephen Knight had not come
+to meet her, and angrily making up her mind that she would find out the
+reason.
+
+
+
+
+L
+
+
+Somehow, they all contrived to take a little food, three watching from
+the wall-towers while the others ate; and Saidee prepared strong,
+delicious coffee, such as had never been tasted in the bordj of Toudja.
+
+When they had dined after a fashion, each making a five-minute meal,
+there was still time to arrange the defence, for the attacking party--if
+such it were--could not reach the bordj in less than an hour, marching
+as fast as horses and camels could travel among the dunes.
+
+The landlord was drunk. There was no disguising that, but though he was
+past planning, he was not past fighting. He had a French army rifle and
+bayonet. Each of the five men had a revolver, and there was another in
+the bordj, belonging to the absent brother. This Saidee asked for, and
+it was given her. There were plenty of cartridges for each weapon,
+enough at all events to last out a hot fight of several hours. After
+that--but it was best not to send thoughts too far ahead.
+
+The Frenchman had served long ago in the Chasseurs d'Afrique, and had
+risen, he said, to the rank of sergeant; but the fumes of absinthe
+clouded his brain, and he could only swagger and boast of old exploits
+as a soldier, crying from time to time "Vive l'entente cordiale," and
+assuring the Englishmen that they could trust him to the death. It was
+Stephen who, by virtue of his amateur soldiering experience, had to take
+the lead. He posted the Highlanders in opposite watch-towers, placing
+Nevill in one which commanded the two rear walls of the bordj. The next
+step was the building of bonfires, one at each corner of the roof, so
+that when the time for fighting came, the defenders might confound the
+enemy by lighting the surrounding desert, making a surprise impossible.
+Old barrels were broken up, therefore, and saturated with oil. The
+spiked double gates of iron, though apparently strong, Stephen judged
+incapable of holding out long against battering rams, but he knew heavy
+baulks of wood to be rare in the desert, far from the palms of the
+oases. What he feared most was gunpowder; and though he was ignorant of
+the marabout's secret ambitions and warlike preparations, he thought it
+not improbable that a store of gunpowder might be kept in the Zaouïa.
+True, the French Government forbade Arabs to have more than a small
+supply in their possession; but the marabout was greatly trusted, and
+was perhaps allowed to deal out a certain amount of the coveted treasure
+for "powder play" on religious fête days. To prevent the bordj falling
+into the hands of the Arabs if the gate were blown down, Stephen and his
+small force built up at the further corner of the yard, in front of the
+dining-room door, a barrier of mangers, barrels, wooden troughs, iron
+bedsteads and mattresses from the guest-rooms. Also they reinforced the
+gates against pressure from the outside, using the shafts of an old cart
+to make struts, which they secured against the side walls or frame of
+the gateway. These formed buttresses of considerable strength; and the
+landlord, instead of grumbling at the damage which might be done to his
+bordj, and the danger which threatened himself, was maudlin with delight
+at the prospect of killing a few detested Arabs.
+
+"I don't know what your quarrel's about, unless it's the ladies," he
+said, breathing vengeance and absinthe, "but whatever it is, I'll make
+it mine, whether you compensate me or not. Depend upon me, _mon
+capitaine_. Depend on an old soldier."
+
+But Stephen dared not depend upon him to man one of the watch-towers.
+Eye and hand were too unsteady to do good service in picking off
+escaladers. The ex-soldier was brave enough for any feat, however, and
+was delighted when the Englishman suggested, rather than gave orders,
+that his should be the duty of lighting the bonfires. That done, he was
+to take his stand in the courtyard, and shoot any man who escaped the
+rifles in the wall-towers.
+
+It was agreed among all five men that the gate was to be held as long as
+possible; that if it fell, a second stand should be made behind the
+crescent-shaped barricade outside the dining-room door; that, should
+this defence fall also, all must retreat into the dining-room, where the
+two sisters must remain throughout the attack; and this would be the
+last stand.
+
+Everything being settled, and the watch-towers well supplied with food
+for the rifles, Stephen went to call Saidee and Victoria, who were in
+their almost dismantled room. The bedstead, washstand, chairs and table
+had ceased to be furniture, and had become part of the barricade.
+
+"Let me carry your things into the dining-room now," he said. "And your
+bed covering. We can make up a sort of couch there, for you may as well
+be comfortable if you can. And you know, it's on the cards that all our
+fuss is in vain. Nothing whatever may happen."
+
+They obeyed, without objection; but Saidee's look as she laid a pair of
+Arab blankets over Stephen's arm, told how little rest she expected. She
+gathered up a few things of her own, however, to take from the bedroom
+to the dining-room, and as she walked ahead, Stephen asked Victoria if,
+in the handbag she had brought from the Zaouïa there was a mirror.
+
+"Yes," she answered. "There's quite a good-sized one, which I used to
+have on my dressing-table in the theatre. How far away that time seems
+now!"
+
+"Will you lend the mirror to me--or do you value it too much to risk
+having it smashed?"
+
+"Of course I'll lend it. But----" she looked up at him anxiously, in
+the blue star-dusk. "What are you going to do?"
+
+"Nothing particular, unless we've reason to believe that an attack will
+be made; that is, if a lot of Arabs come near the bordj. In that case, I
+want to try and get up into the tower, and do some signalling--for fear
+the shot we heard hit your sister's messenger. I used to be rather a
+nailer at that sort of thing, when I played at soldiering a few years
+ago."
+
+"But no one could climb the tower now!" the girl exclaimed.
+
+"I don't know. I almost flatter myself that I could. I've done the Dent
+Blanche twice, and a Welsh mountain or two. To be sure, I must be my own
+guide now, but I think I can bring it off all right. I've been searching
+about for a mirror and reflector, in case I try the experiment; for the
+heliographing apparatus was spoilt in the general wreckage of things by
+the storm. I've got a reflector off a lamp in the kitchen, but couldn't
+find a looking-glass anywhere, and I saw there was only a broken bit in
+your room. My one hope was in you."
+
+As he said this, he felt that the words meant a great deal more than he
+wished her to understand.
+
+"I hate being afraid of things," said Victoria. "But I am afraid to have
+you go up in the tower. It's only a shell, that looks as if it might
+blow down in another storm. It could fall with you, even if you got up
+safely to the signalling place. And besides, if Cassim's men were near,
+they might see you and shoot. Oh, I don't think I could bear to have you
+go!"
+
+"You care--a little--what becomes of me?" Stephen had stammered before
+he had time to forbid himself the question.
+
+"I care a great deal--what becomes of you."
+
+"Thank you for telling me that," he said, warmly. "I--" but he knew he
+must not go on. "I shan't be in danger," he finished. "I'll be up and
+back before any one gets near enough to see what I'm at, and pot at me."
+
+As he spoke, the sound of a strange, wild singing came to them, with the
+desert wind that blew from the south.
+
+"That's a Touareg song," exclaimed Saidee, turning. "It isn't Arab. I've
+heard Touaregs sing it, coming to the Zaouïa."
+
+"Madame is right," said the landlord. "I, too, have heard Touaregs sing
+it, in their own country, and also when they have passed here, in small
+bands. Perhaps we have deceived ourselves. Perhaps we are not to enjoy
+the pleasure of a fight. I feared it was too good to be true."
+
+"I can see a caravan," cried Nevill, from his cell in a wall-tower.
+"There seem to be a lot of men."
+
+"Would they come like that, if they wanted to fight?" asked the girl.
+"Wouldn't they spread out, and hope to surprise us?"
+
+"They'll either try to rush the gate, or else they'll pretend to be a
+peaceful caravan," said Stephen.
+
+"I see! Get the landlord to let their leaders in, and then.... That's
+why they sing the Touareg song, perhaps, to put us off our guard."
+
+"Into the dining-room, both of you, and have courage! Whatever happens,
+don't come out. Will you give me the mirror?"
+
+"Must you go?"
+
+"Yes. Be quick, please."
+
+On the threshold of the dining-room Victoria opened her bag, and gave
+him a mirror framed in silver. It had been a present from an
+enthusiastic millionairess in New York, who admired her dancing. That
+seemed very odd now. The girl's hand trembled as for an instant it
+touched Stephen's. He pressed her fingers, and was gone.
+
+"Babe, I think this will be the last night of my life," said Saidee,
+standing behind the girl, in the doorway, and pressing against her.
+"Cassim will kill me, when he kills the men, because I know his secret
+and because he hates me. If I could only have had a little happiness! I
+don't want to die. I'm afraid. And it's horrible to be killed."
+
+"I love being alive, but I want to know what happens next," said
+Victoria. "Sometimes I want it so much, that I almost long to die. And
+probably one feels brave when the minute comes. One always does, when
+the great things arrive. Besides, we're sure it must be glorious as soon
+as we're out of our bodies. Don't you know, when you're going to jump
+into a cold bath, you shiver and hesitate a little, though you know
+perfectly well it will be splendid in an instant. Thinking of death's
+rather like that."
+
+"You haven't got to think of it for yourself to-night. Maïeddine
+will----"
+
+"No," the girl broke in. "I won't go with Maïeddine."
+
+"If they take this place--as they must, if they've brought many men,
+you'll have to go, unless----"
+
+"Yes; 'unless.' That's what I mean. But don't ask me any more. I--I
+can't think of ourselves now."
+
+"You're thinking of some one you love better than you do me."
+
+"Oh, no, not better. Only----" Victoria's voice broke. The two clung to
+each other. Saidee could feel how the girl's heart was beating, and how
+the sobs rose in her throat, and were choked back.
+
+Victoria watched the tower, that looked like a jagged black tear in the
+star-strewn blue fabric of the sky. And she listened. It seemed as if
+her very soul were listening.
+
+The wild Touareg chant was louder now, but she hardly heard it, because
+her ears strained for some sound which the singing might cover: the
+sound of rubble crumbling under a foot that climbed and sought a
+holding-place.
+
+From far away came the barking of Kabyle dogs, in distant camps of
+nomads. In stalls of the bordj, where the animals rested, a horse
+stamped now and then, or a camel grunted. Each slightest noise made
+Victoria start and tremble. She could be brave for herself, but it was
+harder to be brave for one she loved, in great danger.
+
+"They'll be here in ten minutes," shouted Nevill. "Legs, where are you?"
+
+There was no answer; but Victoria thought she heard the patter of
+falling sand. At least, the ruin stood firm so far. By this time Stephen
+might have nearly reached the top. He had told her not to leave the
+dining-room, and she had not meant to disobey; but she had made no
+promise, and she could bear her suspense no longer. Where she stood, she
+could not see into the shell of the broken tower. She must see!
+
+Running out, she darted across the courtyard, pausing near the
+Frenchman, Pierre Rostafel, who wandered unsteadily up and down the
+quadrangle, his torch of alfa grass ready in his hand. He did not know
+that one of the Englishmen was trying to climb the tower, and would not
+for an instant have believed that any human being could reach the upper
+chamber, if suddenly a light had not flashed out, at the top, seventy
+feet above his head.
+
+Dazed already with absinthe, fantastic ideas beat stupidly upon his
+brain, like bats that blunder against a lamp and extinguish it with
+foolish, flapping wings. He thought that somehow the enemy must have
+stolen a march upon the defenders: that the hated Arabs had got into the
+tower, from a ladder raised outside the wall, and that soon they would
+be pouring down in a swarm. Before he knew what he was doing, he had
+stumbled up the stairs on to the flat wall by the gate. Scrambling along
+with his torch, he got on to the bordj roof, and lit bonfire after
+bonfire, though Victoria called on him to stop, crying that it was too
+soon--that the men outside would shoot and kill him who would save them
+all.
+
+The sweet silence of the starry evening was crashed upon with lights and
+jarring sounds.
+
+Stephen, who had climbed the tower with a lantern and a kitchen
+lamp-reflector slung in a table-cover, on his back, had just got his
+makeshift apparatus in order, and standing on a narrow shelf of floor
+which overhung a well-like abyss, had begun his signalling to the
+northward.
+
+Too late he realized that, for all the need of haste, he ought to have
+waited long enough to warn the drunken Frenchman what he meant to do. If
+he had, this contretemps would not have happened. His telegraphic
+flashes, long and short, must have told the enemy what was going on in
+the tower, but they could not have seen him standing there, exposed like
+a target to their fire, if Rostafel had not lit the bonfires.
+
+Suddenly a chorus of yells broke out, strange yells that sprang from
+savage hearts; and one sidewise glance down showed Stephen the desert
+illuminated with red fire. He went on with his work, not stopping to
+count the men on horses and camels who rode fast towards the bordj,
+though not yet at the foot of that swelling sand hill on which it stood.
+But a picture--of uplifted dark faces and pointing rifles--was stamped
+upon his brain in that one swift look, clear as an impression of a seal
+in hot wax. He had even time to see that those faces were half enveloped
+in masks such as he had noticed in photographs of Touaregs, yet he was
+sure that the twenty or thirty men were not Touaregs. When close to the
+bordj all flung themselves from their animals, which were led away,
+while the riders took cover by throwing themselves flat on the sand.
+Then they began shooting, but he looked no more. He was determined to
+keep on signalling till he got an answer or was shot dead.
+
+There were others, however, who looked and saw the faces, and the rifles
+aimed at the broken tower. The bonfires which showed the figure in the
+ruined heliographing-room, to the enemy, also showed the enemy to the
+watchers in the wall-towers, on opposite sides of the gates.
+
+The Highlanders open fire. Their skill as marksmen, gained in the glens
+and mountains of Sutherlandshire, was equally effective on different
+game, in the desert of the Sahara. One shot brought a white mehari to
+its knees. Another caused a masked man in a striped gandourah to wring
+his hand and squeal.
+
+The whole order of things was changed by the sudden flashes from the
+height of the dark ruin, and the lighting of the bonfires on the bordj
+roof.
+
+Two of the masked men riding on a little in advance of the other twenty
+had planned, as Stephen guessed, to demand admittance to the bordj,
+declaring themselves leaders of a Touareg caravan on its way to
+Touggourt. If they could have induced an unsuspecting landlord to open
+the gates, so much the better for them. If not, a parley would have
+given the band time to act upon instructions already understood. But
+Cassim ben Halim, an old soldier, and Maïeddine, whose soul was in this
+venture, were not the men to meet an emergency unprepared. They had
+calculated on a check, and were ready for surprises.
+
+It was Maïeddine's camel that went down, shot in the neck. He had been
+keeping El Biod in reserve, when the splendid stallion might be needed
+for two to ride away in haste--his master and a woman. As the mehari
+fell, Maïeddine escaped from the saddle and alighted on his feet, his
+blue Touareg veil disarranged by the shock. His face uncovered, he
+bounded up the slope with the bullets of Angus and Hamish pattering
+around him in the sand.
+
+"She's bewitched, whateffer!" the twins mumbled, each in his
+watch-tower, as the tall figure sailed on like a war-cloud, untouched.
+And they wished for silver bullets, to break the charm woven round the
+"fanatic" by a wicked spirit.
+
+Over Maïeddine's head his leader was shooting at Stephen in the tower,
+while Hamish returned his fire, leaving the running man to Angus. But
+suddenly Angus wheeled after a shot, to yell through the tower door into
+the courtyard. "Oot o' the way, wimmen! He's putten gunpowder to the
+gate if I canna stop him." Then, he wheeled into place, and was
+entranced to see that the next bullet found its billet under the Arab's
+turban. In the orange light of the bonfires, Angus could see a spout of
+crimson gush down the bronze forehead and over the glittering eyes. But
+the wounded Arab did not fall back an inch or drop a burden which he
+carried carefully. Now he was sheltering behind the high, jutting
+gate-post. In another minute it would be too late to save the gate.
+
+But Angus did not think of Victoria. Nor did Victoria stop to think of
+herself. Something seemed to say in her heart, "Maïeddine won't let them
+blow up the gate, if it means your death, and so, maybe, you can save
+them all."
+
+This was not a thought, since she had no time for thought. It was but a
+murmur in her brain, as she ran up the steep stairway close to the gate,
+and climbed on to the wall.
+
+Maïeddine, streaming with blood, was sheltering in the narrow angle of
+the gate-post where the firing from the towers struck the wall instead
+of his body. He had suspended a cylinder of gunpowder against the gate,
+and, his hands full of powder to sprinkle a trail, he was ready to make
+a dash for life when a voice cried his name.
+
+Victoria stood on the high white wall of the bordj, just above the gate,
+on the side where he had hung the gunpowder. A few seconds more--his
+soul sickened at the thought. He forgot his own danger, in thinking of
+hers, and how he might have destroyed her, blotting out the light of his
+own life.
+
+"Maïeddine!" she called, before she knew who had been ready to lay the
+fuse, and that, instead of crying to a man in the distance, she spoke to
+one at her feet. He stared up at her through a haze of blood. In the red
+light of the fire, she was more beautiful even than when she had danced
+in his father's tent, and he had told himself that if need be he would
+throw away the world for her. She recognized him as she looked down, and
+started back with an impulse to escape, he seemed so near and so
+formidable. But she feared that, if the gate were blown up, the ruined
+tower might be shaken down by the explosion. She must stay, and save
+the gate, until Stephen had reached the ground.
+
+"Thou!" exclaimed Maïeddine. "Come to me, heart of my life, thou who art
+mine forever, and thy friends shall be spared, I promise thee."
+
+"I am not thine, nor ever can be," Victoria answered him. "Go thou, or
+thou wilt be shot with many bullets. They fire at thee and I cannot stop
+them. I do not wish to see thee die."
+
+"Thou knowest that while thou art on the wall I cannot do what I came to
+do," Maïeddine said. "If they kill me here, my death will be on thy
+head, for I will not go without thee. Yet if thou hidest from me, I will
+blow up the gate."
+
+Victoria did not answer, but looked at the ruined tower. One of its
+walls and part of another stood firm, and she could not see Stephen in
+the heliographing-chamber at the top. But through a crack between the
+adobe bricks she caught a gleam of light, which moved. It was Stephen's
+lantern, she knew. He was still there. Farther down, the crack widened.
+On his way back, he would see her, if she were still on the wall above
+the gate. She wished that he need not learn she was there, lest he lose
+his nerve in making that terrible descent. But every one else knew that
+she was trying to save the gate, and that while she remained, the fuse
+would not be lighted. Saidee, who had come out from the dining-room into
+the courtyard, could see her on the wall, and Rostafel was babbling that
+she was "une petite lionne, une merveille de courage et de finesse." The
+Highlanders knew, too, and were doing their best to rid her of
+Maïeddine, but, perhaps because of the superstition which made them
+doubt the power of their bullets against a charmed life, they could not
+kill him, though his cloak was pierced, and his face burned by a bullet
+which had grazed his cheek. Suddenly, however, to the girl's surprise
+and joy, Maïeddine turned and ran like a deer toward the firing line of
+the Arabs. Then, as the bullets of Hamish and Angus spattered round
+him, he wheeled again abruptly and came back towards the bordj as if
+borne on by a whirlwind. With a run, he threw himself towards the gate,
+and leaping up caught at the spikes for handhold. He grasped them
+firmly, though his fingers bled, got a knee on the wall, and freeing a
+hand snatched at Victoria's dress.
+
+
+
+
+LI
+
+
+Saidee, down in the courtyard, shrieked as she saw her sister's danger.
+"Fire!--wound him--make him fall!" she screamed to Rostafel. But to fire
+would be at risk of the girl's life, and the Frenchman danced about
+aimlessly, yelling to the men in the watch-towers.
+
+In the tower, Stephen heard a woman's cry and thought the voice was
+Victoria's. His work was done. He had signalled for help, and, though
+this apparatus was a battered stable lantern, a kitchen-lamp reflector,
+and a hand-mirror, he had got an answer. Away to the north, a man whom
+perhaps he would never see, had flashed him back a message. He could not
+understand all, for it is easier to send than to receive signals; but
+there was something about soldiers at Bordj Azzouz, changing garrison,
+and Stephen believed that they meant marching to the rescue. Now, his
+left arm wounded, his head cut, and eyes half blinded with a rain of
+rubble brought down by an Arab bullet, he had made part of the descent
+when Saidee screamed her high-pitched scream of terror.
+
+He was still far above the remnant of stairway, broken off thirty feet
+above ground level. But, knowing that the descent would be more
+difficult than the climb, he had torn into strips the stout tablecloth
+which had wrapped his heliographing apparatus. Knotting the lengths
+together, he had fastened one end round a horn of shattered adobe, and
+tied the other in a slip-noose under his arms. Now, he was thankful for
+this precaution. Instead of picking his way, from foothold to foothold,
+at the sound of the cry he lowered himself rapidly, like a man who goes
+down a well on the chain of a bucket, and dropped on a pile of bricks
+which blocked the corkscrew steps. In a second he was free of the
+stretched rope, and, half running, half falling down the rubbish-blocked
+stairway, he found himself, giddy and panting, at the bottom. A rush
+took him across the courtyard to the gate; snatching Rostafel's rifle
+and springing up the wall stairway, a bullet from Maïeddine's revolver
+struck him in the shoulder. For the space of a heart-beat his brain was
+in confusion. He knew that the Arab had a knee on the wall, and that he
+had pulled Victoria to him by her dress, which was smeared with blood.
+But he did not know whether the blood was the girl's or Maïeddine's, and
+the doubt, and her danger, and the rage of his wound drove him mad. It
+was not a sane man who crashed down Rostafel's rifle on Maïeddine's
+head, and laughed as he struck. The Arab dropped over the wall and fell
+on the ground outside the gate, like a dead man, his body rolling a
+little way down the slope. There it lay still, in a crumpled heap, but
+the marabout and two of his men made a dash to the rescue, dragging the
+limp form out of rifle range. It was a heroic act, and the Highlanders
+admired it while they fired at the heroes. One fell, to rise no more,
+and already two masked corpses had fallen from the wall into the
+courtyard, daring climbers shot by Rostafel as they tried to drop.
+Sickened by the sight of blood, dazed by shots and the sharp "ping" of
+bullets, frenzied with horror at the sight of Victoria struggling in the
+grasp of Maïeddine, Saidee sank down unconscious as Stephen beat the
+Arab off the wall.
+
+"Darling, precious one, for God's sake say you're not hurt!" he
+stammered, as he caught Victoria in his arms, holding her against his
+heart, as he carried her down. He was still a madman, mad with fear for
+her, and love for her--love made terrible by the dread of loss. It was
+new life to hold her so, to know that she was safe, to bow his forehead
+on her hair. There was no Margot or any other woman in existence. Only
+this girl and he, created for each other, alone in the world.
+
+Victoria clung to him thankfully, sure of his love already, and glad of
+his words.
+
+"No, my dearest, I'm not hurt," she answered. "But you--you are
+wounded!"
+
+"I don't know. If I am, I don't feel it," said Stephen. "Nothing matters
+except you."
+
+"I saw him shoot you. I--I thought you were killed. Put me down. I want
+to look at you."
+
+She struggled in his arms, as they reached the foot of the stairs, and
+gently he put her down. But her nerves had suffered more than she knew.
+Strength failed her, and she reached out to him for help. Then he put
+his arm round her again, supporting her against his wounded shoulder. So
+they looked at each other, in the light of the bonfires, their hearts in
+their eyes.
+
+"There's blood in your hair and on your face," she said. "Oh, and on
+your coat. Maïeddine shot you."
+
+"It's nothing," he said. "I feel no pain. Nothing but rapture that
+you're safe. I thought the blood on your dress might be----"
+
+"It was his, not mine. His hands were bleeding. Oh, poor Maïeddine--I
+can't help pitying him. What if he is killed?"
+
+"Don't think of him. If he's dead, I killed him, not you, and I don't
+repent. I'd do it again. He deserved to die."
+
+"He tried to kill you!"
+
+"I don't mean for that reason. But come, darling. You must go into the
+house, I have to take my turn in the fighting now----"
+
+"You've done more than any one else!" she cried, proudly.
+
+"No, it was little enough. And there's the wall to defend. I--but look,
+your sister's fainting."
+
+"My Saidee! And I didn't see her lying there!" The girl fell on her
+knees beside the white bundle on the ground. "Oh, help me get her into
+the house."
+
+"I'll carry her."
+
+But Victoria would help him. Together they lifted Saidee, and Stephen
+carried her across the courtyard, making a détour to avoid passing the
+two dead Arabs. But Victoria saw, and, shuddering, was speechless.
+
+"This time you'll promise to stay indoors!" Stephen said, when he had
+laid Saidee on the pile of blankets in a corner of the room.
+
+"Yes--yes--I promise!"
+
+The girl gave him both hands. He kissed them, and then, without turning,
+went out and shut the door. It was only at this moment that he
+remembered Margot, remembered her with anguish, because of the echo of
+Victoria's voice in his ears as she named him her "dearest."
+
+As Stephen came from behind the barricade which screened the dining-room
+from the courtyard, he found Rostafel shooting right and left at men who
+tried to climb the rear wall, having been missed by Nevill's fire.
+Rostafel had recovered the rifle snatched by Stephen in his stampede to
+the stairway, and, sobered by the fight, was making good use of it.
+Stephen had now armed himself with his own, left for safety behind the
+barrier while he signalled in the tower; and together the two men had
+hot work in the quadrangle. Here and there an escalader escaped the fire
+from the watch-towers, and hung half over the wall, but dropped alive
+into the courtyard, only to be bayoneted by the Frenchman. The
+signalling-tower gave little shelter against the enemy, as most of the
+outer wall had fallen above the height of twenty feet from the ground;
+but, as without it only three sides of the quadrangle could be fully
+defended, once again Stephen scrambled up the choked and broken
+stairway. Screening himself as best he could behind a jagged ledge of
+adobe, he fired through a crack at three or four Arabs who made a human
+ladder for a comrade to mount the wall. The man at the top fell. The
+next mounted, to be shot by Nevill from a watch-tower. The bullet
+pierced the fellow's leg, which was what Nevill wished, for he, who
+hated to rob even an insect of its life, aimed now invariably at arms or
+legs, never at any vital part. "All we want," he thought half guiltily,
+"is to disable the poor brutes. They must obey the marabout. We've no
+spite against 'em!"
+
+But every one knew that it was a question of moments only before some
+Arab, quicker or luckier than the rest, would succeed in firing the
+trail of gunpowder already laid. The gate would be blown up. Then would
+follow a rush of the enemy and the second stand of the defenders behind
+the barricade. Last of all, the retreat to the dining-room.
+
+Among the first precautions Stephen had taken was that of locking the
+doors of all rooms except the dining-room, and pulling out the keys, so
+that, when the enemy got into the quadrangle, they would find themselves
+forced to stay in the open, or take shelter in the watch-towers vacated
+by the defenders. From the doorways of these, they could not do much
+harm to the men behind the barricade. But there was one thing they might
+do, against which Stephen had not guarded. The idea flashed into his
+head now, too late. There were the stalls where the animals were tied.
+The Arabs could use the beasts for a living barricade, firing over their
+backs. Stephen grudged this advantage, and was puzzling his brain how to
+prevent the enemy from taking it, when a great light blazed into the
+sky, followed by the roar of an explosion.
+
+The tower shook, and Stephen was thrown off his feet. For half a second
+he was dazed, but came to himself in the act of tumbling down stairs,
+still grasping his rifle.
+
+A huge hole yawned where the gate had stood. The iron had shrivelled and
+curled like so much cardboard, and the gap was filled with circling
+wreaths of smoke and a crowd of Arabs. Mad with fear, the camels and
+horses tethered in the stables of the bordj broke their halters and
+plunged wildly about the courtyard, looming like strange monsters in
+the red light and belching smoke. As if to serve the defenders, they
+galloped toward the gate, cannoning against each other in the struggle
+to escape, and thus checked the first rush of the enemy. Nearly all were
+shot down by the Arabs, but a few moments were gained for the Europeans.
+Firing as he ran, Stephen made a dash for the barricade, where he found
+Rostafel, and as the enemy swarmed into the quadrangle, pouring over
+dead and dying camels, the two Highlanders burst with yells like the
+slogans of their fighting ancestors, out from the watch-towers nearest
+the gateway.
+
+The sudden apparition of these gigantic twin figures, bare-legged,
+dressed in kilts, appalled the Arabs. Some, who had got farthest into
+the courtyard, were taken in the rear by Angus and Hamish; and as the
+Highlanders laid about them with clubbed rifles, the superstitious
+Easterners wavered. Imagining themselves assailed by giant women with
+the strength of devils, they fell back dismayed, and for some wild
+seconds the twins were masters of the quadrangle. They broke heads with
+crushing blows, and smashed ribs with trampling feet, yelling their
+fearsome yells which seemed the cries of death and war. But it was the
+triumph of a moment only, and then the Arabs--save those who would fight
+no more--rallied round their leader, a tall, stout man with a majestic
+presence. Once he had got his men in hand--thirteen or fourteen he had
+left--the open courtyard was too hot a place even for the Highland men.
+They retreated, shoulder to shoulder, towards the barricade, and soon
+were firing viciously from behind its shelter. If they lived through
+this night, never again, it would seem, could they be satisfied with the
+daily round of preparing an old lady's bath, and pressing upon her
+dishes which she did not want. And yet--their mistress was an
+exceptional old lady.
+
+Now, all the towers were vacant, except the one defended by Nevill, and
+it had been agreed from the first that he was to stick to his post
+until time for the last stand. The reason of this was that the door of
+his tower was screened by the barricade, and the two rear walls of the
+bordj (meeting in a triangle at this corner) must be defended while the
+barricade was held. These walls unguarded, the enemy could climb them
+from outside and fire down on the backs of the Europeans, behind the
+barrier. Those who attempted to climb from the courtyard (the
+gate-stairway being destroyed by the explosion) must face the fire of
+the defenders, who could also see and protect themselves against any one
+mounting the wall to pass over the scattered débris of the ruined
+signal-tower. Thus every contingency was provided for, as well as might
+be by five men, against three times their number; and the Europeans
+meant to make a stubborn fight before that last resort--the dining-room.
+Nevertheless, it occurred to Stephen that perhaps, after all, he need
+not greatly repent the confession of love he had made to Victoria. He
+had had no right to speak, but if there were to be no future for either
+in this world, fate need not grudge him an hour's happiness. And he was
+conscious of a sudden lightness of spirit, as of an exile nearing home.
+
+The Arabs, sheltering behind the camels and horses they had shot, fired
+continuously in the hope of destroying a weak part of the barricade or
+killing some one behind it. Gradually they formed of the dead animals a
+barricade of their own, and now that the bonfires were dying it was
+difficult for the Europeans to touch the enemy behind cover. Consulting
+together, however, and calculating how many dead each might put to his
+credit, the defenders agreed that they must have killed or disabled more
+than a dozen. The marabout, whose figure in one flashing glimpse Stephen
+fancied he recognized, was still apparently unhurt. It was he who seemed
+to be conducting operations, but of Si Maïeddine nothing had been seen
+since his unconscious or dead body was dragged down the slope by his
+friends. Precisely how many Arabs remained to fight, the Europeans were
+not sure, but they believed that over a dozen were left, counting the
+leader.
+
+By and by the dying fires flickered out, leaving only a dull red glow on
+the roofs. The pale light of the stars seemed dim after the blaze which
+had lit the quadrangle, and in the semi-darkness, when each side watched
+the other as a cat spies at a rat-hole, the siege grew wearisome. Yet
+the Europeans felt that each moment's respite meant sixty seconds of new
+hope for them. Ammunition was running low, and soon they must fall back
+upon the small supply kept by Rostafel, which had already been placed in
+the dining-room; but matters were not quite desperate, since each minute
+brought the soldiers from Bordj Azzouz nearer, even if the carrier
+pigeon had failed.
+
+"Why do they not blow us up?" asked the Frenchman, sober now, and
+extremely pessimistic. "They could do it. Or is it the women they are
+after?"
+
+Stephen was not inclined to be confidential. "No doubt they have their
+own reasons," he answered. "What they are, can't matter to us."
+
+"It matters that they are concocting some plan, and that we do not know
+what it is," said Rostafel.
+
+"To get on to the roof over our heads is what they'd like best, no
+doubt," said Stephen. "But my friend in the tower here is saving us from
+that at the back, and they can't do much in front of our noses."
+
+"I am not sure they cannot. They will think of something," grumbled the
+landlord. "We are in a bad situation. I do not believe any of us will
+see to-morrow. I only hope my brother will have the spirit to revenge
+me. But even that is not my luck."
+
+He was right. The Arabs had thought of something--"a something" which
+they must have prepared before their start. Suddenly, behind the mound
+of dead animals arose a fitful light, and while the Europeans wondered
+at its meaning, a shower of burning projectiles flew through the air at
+the barricade. All four fired a volley in answer, hoping to wing the
+throwers, but the Arab scheme was a success. Tins of blazing pitch were
+rolling about the courtyard, close to the barrier, but before falling
+they had struck the piled mattresses and furniture, splashing fire and
+trickles of flame poured over the old bedticking, and upholstered chairs
+from the dining-room. At the same instant Nevill called from the door of
+his tower: "More cartridges, quick! I'm all out, and there are two chaps
+trying to shin up the wall. Maïeddine's not dead. He's there, directing
+'em."
+
+Stephen gave Nevill his own rifle, just reloaded. "Fetch the cartridges
+stored in the dining-room," he said to Rostafel, "while we beat the fire
+out with our coats." But there was no need for the Frenchman to leave
+his post. "Here are the cartridges," said Victoria's voice, surprising
+them. She had been at the door, which she held ajar, and behind this
+screen had heard and seen all that passed. As Stephen took the box of
+cartridges, she caught up the large pail of water which early in the
+evening had been placed in the dining-room in case of need. "Take this
+and put out the fire," she cried to Hamish, who snatched the bucket
+without a word, and dashed its contents over the barricade.
+
+Then she went back to Saidee, who sat on the blankets in a far corner,
+shivering with cold, though the night was hot, and the room, with its
+barred wooden shutters, close almost beyond bearing. They had kept but
+one tallow candle lighted, that Victoria might more safely peep out from
+time to time, to see how the fight was going.
+
+"What if our men are all killed," Saidee whispered, as the girl stole
+back to her, "and nobody's left to defend us? Cassim and Maïeddine will
+open the door, over their dead bodies, and then--then----"
+
+"You have a revolver," said Victoria, almost angrily. "Not for them, I
+don't mean that. Only--they mustn't take us. But I'm not afraid. Our
+men are brave, and splendid. They have no thought of giving up. And if
+Captain Sabine got our message, he'll be here by dawn."
+
+"Don't forget the shot we heard."
+
+"No. But the pigeon isn't our only hope. The signals!"
+
+"Who knows if an answer came?"
+
+"I know, because I know Stephen. He wouldn't have come down alive unless
+he'd got an answer."
+
+Saidee said no more, and they sat together in silence, Victoria holding
+her sister's icy hand in hers, which was scarcely warmer, though it
+tingled with the throbbing of many tiny pulses. So they listened to the
+firing outside, until suddenly it sounded different to Victoria's ears.
+She straightened herself with a start, listening even more intensely.
+
+"What's the matter? What do you hear?" Saidee stammered, dry-lipped.
+
+"I'm not sure. But--I think they've used up all the cartridges I took
+them. And there are no more."
+
+"But they're firing still."
+
+"With their revolvers."
+
+"God help us, then! It can't last long," the older woman whispered, and
+covered her face with her hands.
+
+Victoria did not stop for words of comfort. She jumped up from the couch
+of blankets and ran to the door, which Stephen had shut. It must be kept
+wide open, now, in case the defenders were obliged to rush in for the
+last stand. She pressed close to it, convulsively grasping the handle
+with her cold fingers.
+
+Then the end came soon, for the enemy had not been slow to detect the
+difference between rifle and revolver shots. They knew, even before
+Victoria guessed, exactly what had happened. It was the event they had
+been awaiting. With a rush, the dozen men dashed over the mound of
+carcasses and charged the burning barricade.
+
+"Quick, Wings," shouted Stephen, defending the way his friend must take.
+The distance was short from the door of the watch-tower to the door of
+the dining-room, but it was just too long for safety. As Nevill ran
+across, an Arab close to the barricade shot him in the side, and he
+would have fallen if Stephen had not caught him round the waist, and
+flung him to Hamish, who carried him to shelter.
+
+A second more, and they were all in the dining-room. Stephen and Angus
+had barred the heavy door, and already Hamish and Rostafel were firing
+through the two round ventilating holes in the window shutters. There
+were two more such holes in the door, and Stephen took one, Angus the
+other. But the enemy had already sheltered on the other side of the
+barricade, which would now serve them as well as it had served the
+Europeans. The water dashed on to the flames had not extinguished all,
+but the wet mattresses and furniture burned slowly, and the Arabs began
+beating out the fire with their gandourahs.
+
+Again there was a deadlock. For the moment neither side could harm the
+other: but there was little doubt in the minds of the besieged as to the
+next move of the besiegers. The Arabs were at last free to climb the
+wall, beyond reach of the loopholes in door or window, and could make a
+hole in the roof of the dining-room. It would take them some time, but
+they could do it, and meanwhile the seven prisoners were almost as
+helpless as trapped rats.
+
+Of the five men, not one was unwounded, and Stephen began to fear that
+Nevill was badly hurt. He could not breathe without pain, and though he
+tried to laugh, he was deadly pale in the wan candlelight. "Don't mind
+me. I'm all right," he said when Victoria and Saidee began tearing up
+their Arab veils for bandages. "Not worth the bother!" But the sisters
+would not listen, and Victoria told him with pretended cheerfulness what
+a good nurse she was; how she had learned "first aid" at the school at
+Potterston, and taken a prize for efficiency.
+
+In spite of his protest, Nevill was made to lie down on the blankets in
+the corner, while the two sisters played doctor; and as the firing of
+the Arabs slackened, Stephen left the twins to guard door and window,
+while he and Rostafel built a screen to serve when the breaking of the
+roof should begin. The only furniture left in the dining-room consisted
+of one large table (which Stephen had not added to the barricade because
+he had thought of this contingency) and in addition a rough unpainted
+cupboard, fastened to the wall. They tore off the doors of this
+cupboard, and with them and the table made a kind of penthouse to
+protect the corner where Nevill lay.
+
+"Now," said Stephen, "if they dig a hole in the roof they'll find----"
+
+"Flag o' truce, sir," announced Hamish at the door. And Stephen
+remembered that for three minutes at least there had been no firing. As
+he worked at the screen, he had hardly noticed the silence.
+
+He hurried to join Hamish at the door, and, peeping out, saw a tall man,
+with a bloodstained bandage wrapped round his head, advancing from the
+other side of the barricade, with a white handkerchief hanging from the
+barrel of his rifle. It was Maïeddine, and somehow Stephen was glad that
+the Arab's death did not lie at his door. His anger had cooled, now, and
+he wondered at the murderous rage which had passed.
+
+As Maïeddine came forward, fearlessly, he limped in spite of an effort
+to hide the fact that he was almost disabled.
+
+"I have to say that, if the ladies are given up to us, no harm shall
+come to them or to the others," he announced in French, in a clear, loud
+voice. "We will take the women with us, and leave the men to go their
+own way. We will even provide them with animals in place of those we
+have killed, that they may ride to the north."
+
+"Do not believe him!" cried Saidee. "Traitors once, they'll be traitors
+again. If Victoria and I should consent to go with them, to save all
+your lives, they wouldn't spare you really. As soon as we were in their
+hands, they'd burn the house or blow it up."
+
+"There can be no question of our allowing you to go, in any case," said
+Stephen. "Our answer is," he replied to Maïeddine, "that the ladies
+prefer to remain with us, and we expect to be able to protect them."
+
+"Then all will die together, except one, who is my promised wife,"
+returned the Arab. "Tell that one that by coming with me she can save
+her sister, whom she once seemed to love more than herself, more than
+all the world. If she stays, not only will her eyes behold the death of
+the men who failed to guard her, but the death of her sister. One who
+has a right to decide the lady's fate, has decided that she must die in
+punishment of her obstinacy, unless she gives herself up."
+
+"Tell Si Maïeddine that before he or the marabout can come near us, we
+shall be dead," Victoria said, in a low voice. "I know Saidee and I can
+trust you," she went on, "to shoot us both straight through the heart
+rather than they should take us. That's what you wish, too, isn't it,
+Saidee?"
+
+"Yes--yes, if I have courage or heart enough to wish anything," her
+sister faltered.
+
+But Stephen could not or would not give that message to Maïeddine. "Go,"
+he said, the fire of his old rage flaming again. "Go, you Arab dog!"
+
+Forgetting the flag of truce in his fury at the insult, Maïeddine lifted
+his rifle and fired; then, remembering that he had sinned against a code
+of honour he respected, he stood still, waiting for an answering shot,
+as if he and his rival were engaged in a strange duel. But Stephen did
+not shoot, and with a quick word forbade the others to fire. Then
+Maïeddine moved away slowly and was lost to sight behind the barricade.
+
+As he disappeared, a candle which Victoria had placed near Nevill's
+couch on the floor, flickered and dropped its wick in a pool of grease.
+There was only one other left, and the lamp had been forgotten in the
+kitchen: but already the early dawn was drinking the starlight. It was
+three o'clock, and soon it would be day.
+
+For some minutes there was no more firing. Stillness had fallen in the
+quadrangle. There was no sound except the faint moaning of some wounded
+animal that lived and suffered. Then came a pounding on the roof, not in
+one, but in two or three places. It was as if men worked furiously, with
+pickaxes; and somehow Stephen was sure that Maïeddine, despite his
+wounds, was among them. He would wish to be the first to see Victoria's
+face, to save her from death, perhaps, and keep her for himself. Still,
+Stephen was glad he had not killed the Arab, and he felt, though they
+said nothing of it to each other, that Victoria, too, was glad.
+
+They must have help soon now, if it were to come in time. The knocking
+on the roof was loud.
+
+"How long before they can break through?" Victoria asked, leaving Nevill
+to come to Stephen, who guarded the door.
+
+"Well, there are several layers of thick adobe," he said, cheerfully.
+
+"Will it be ten minutes?"
+
+"Oh, more than that. Much more than that," Stephen assured her.
+
+"Please tell me what you truly think. I have a reason for asking. Will
+it be half an hour?"
+
+"At least that," he said, with a tone of grave sincerity which she no
+longer doubted.
+
+"Half an hour. And then----"
+
+"Even then we can keep you safe for a little while, behind the screen.
+And help may come."
+
+"Have you given up hope, in your heart?"
+
+"No. One doesn't give up hope."
+
+"I feel the same. I never give up hope. And yet--we may have to die, all
+of us, and for myself, I'm not afraid, only very solemn, for death must
+be wonderful. But for you--to have you give your life for ours----"
+
+"I would give it joyfully, a hundred times for you."
+
+"I know. And I for you. That's one thing I wanted to tell you, in
+case--we never have a chance to speak to each other again. That, and
+just this beside: one reason I'm not afraid, is because I'm with you. If
+I die, or live, I shall be with you. And whichever it's to be, I shall
+find it sweet. One will be the same as the other, really, for death's
+only a new life."
+
+"And I have something to tell you," Stephen said. "I worship you, and to
+have known you, has made it worth while to have existed, though I
+haven't always been happy. Why, just this moment alone is worth all the
+rest of my life. So come what may, I have lived."
+
+The pounding on the roof grew louder. The sound of the picks with which
+the men worked could be heard more clearly. They were rapidly getting
+through those layers of adobe, of whose thickness Stephen had spoken.
+
+"It won't be half an hour now," Victoria murmured, looking up.
+
+"No. Promise me you'll go to your sister and Nevill Caird behind the
+screen, when I tell you."
+
+"I promise, if----"
+
+The pounding ceased. In the courtyard there was a certain confusion--the
+sound of running feet, and murmur of excited voices, though eyes that
+looked through the holes in the door and window could not see past the
+barricade.
+
+Then, suddenly, the pounding began again, more furiously than ever. It
+was as if demons had taken the place of men.
+
+"It is Maïeddine, I'm sure!" cried Victoria. "I seem to know what is in
+his mind. Something has made him desperate."
+
+"There's a chance for us," said Stephen. "What I believe has happened,
+is this. They must have stationed a sentinel or two outside the bordj in
+case of surprise. The raised voices we heard, and the stopping of the
+work on the roof for a minute, may have meant that a sentinel ran in
+with news--good news for us, bad news for the Arabs."
+
+"But--would they have begun to work again, if soldiers were coming?"
+
+"Yes, if help were so far off that the Arabs might hope to reach us
+before it came, and get away in time. Ben Halim's one hope is to make an
+end of--some of us. It was well enough to disguise the whole band as
+Touaregs, in case they were seen by nomads, or the landlord here should
+escape, and tell of the attack. But he'd risk anything to silence us
+men, and----"
+
+"He cares nothing for Saidee's life or mine. It's only Maïeddine who
+cares," the girl broke in. "I suppose they've horses and meharis waiting
+for them outside the bordj?"
+
+"Yes. Probably they're being got ready now. The animals have had a
+night's rest."
+
+As he spoke, the first bit of ceiling fell in, rough plaster dropping
+with a patter like rain on the hard clay floor.
+
+Saidee cried out faintly in her corner, where Nevill had fallen into
+semi-unconsciousness behind the screen. Rostafel grumbled a "sapriste!"
+under his breath, but the Highlanders were silent.
+
+Down poured more plaster, and put out the last candle. Though a faint
+dawn-light stole through the holes in door and window, the room was dim,
+almost dark, and with the smell of gunpowder mingled the stench of hot
+tallow.
+
+"Go now, dearest, to your sister," Stephen said to the girl, in a low
+voice that was for her alone.
+
+"You will come?"
+
+"Yes. Soon. But the door and window must be guarded. We can't have them
+breaking in two ways at once."
+
+"Give me your hand," she said.
+
+He took one of hers, instead, but she raised his to her lips and kissed
+it. Then she went back to her sister, and the two clung together in
+silence, listening to the patter of broken adobe on the floor. At first
+it was but as a heavy shower of rain; then it increased in violence
+like the rattle of hail. They could hear men speaking on the roof, and a
+gleam of daylight silvered a crack, as Stephen looked up, a finger on
+the trigger of his revolver.
+
+"Five minutes more," were the words which repeated themselves in his
+mind, like the ticking of a watch. "Four minutes. Three. Can I keep my
+promise to her, when the time comes!"
+
+A shout broke the question short, like a snapped thread.
+
+He remembered the voice of the marabout, and knew that the sisters must
+recognize it also.
+
+"What does he say?" Stephen called across the room to Victoria, speaking
+loudly to be heard over voices which answered the summons, whatever it
+might be.
+
+"He's ordering Maïeddine to come down from the roof. He says five
+seconds' delay and it will be too late--they'll both be ruined. I can't
+hear what Maïeddine answers. But he goes on working still--he won't
+obey."
+
+"Fool--traitor! For thy sentimental folly wilt thou sacrifice thy
+people's future and ruin my son and me?" Cassim shouted, as the girl
+stood still to listen. "Thou canst never have her now. Stay, and thou
+canst do naught but kill thyself. Come, and we may all be saved. I
+command thee, in the name of Allah and His Prophet, that thou obey me."
+
+The pounding stopped. There was a rushing, sliding sound on the roof.
+Then all was quiet above and in the courtyard.
+
+Saidee broke into hysterical sobbing, crying that they were rescued,
+that Honoré Sabine was on his way to save them. And Victoria thought
+that Stephen would come to her, but he did not. They were to live, not
+to die, and the barrier that had been broken down was raised again.
+
+        *        *        *        *        *        *        *
+
+"What if it's only a trap?" Saidee asked, as Stephen opened the door.
+"What if they're behind the barricade, watching?"
+
+"Listen! Don't you hear shots?" Victoria cried.
+
+"Yes. There are shots--far away," Stephen answered. "That settles it.
+There's no ambush. Either Sabine or the soldiers marching from Azzouz
+are after them. They didn't go an instant too soon to save their skins."
+
+"And ours," murmured Nevill, roused from his stupor. "Queer, how natural
+it seems that we should be all right after all." Then his mind wandered
+a little, leading him back to a feverish dream. "Ask Sabine, when he
+comes--if he's got a letter for me--from Josette."
+
+Stephen opened the door, and let in the fresh air and morning light, but
+the sight in the quadrangle was too ugly for the eyes of women. "Don't
+come out!" he called sharply over his shoulder as he turned past the
+barricade, with Rostafel at his back.
+
+The courtyard was hideous as a slaughter-house. Only the sky of rose and
+gold reminded him of the world's beauty and the glory of morning, after
+that dark nightmare which wrapped his spirit like the choking folds of a
+black snake.
+
+Outside the broken gate, in the desert, there were more traces of the
+night's work; blood-stains in the sand, and in a shadowy hollow here and
+there a huddled form which seemed a denser shadow. But it would not move
+when other shadows crept away before the sun.
+
+Far in the distance, as Stephen strained his eyes through the
+brightening dawn, he saw flying figures of men on camels and horses; and
+sounds of shooting came faintly to his ears. At last it ceased
+altogether. Some of the figures had vanished. Others halted. Then it
+seemed to Stephen that these last were coming back, towards the bordj.
+They were riding fast, and all together, as if under discipline.
+Soldiers, certainly: but were they from the north or south? Stephen
+could not tell; but as his eyes searched the horizon, the doubt was
+solved. Another party of men were riding southward, toward Toudja, from
+the north.
+
+"It's Sabine who has chased the Arabs. The others are just too late," he
+thought. And he saw that the rescuers from Oued Tolga must reach the
+bordj half an hour in advance of the men from Azzouz.
+
+He was anxious to know what news Sabine had, and the eagerness he felt
+to hear details soothed the pain and shame which weighed upon his heart.
+
+"How am I to explain--to beg her forgiveness?" was the question that
+asked itself in his mind; but he had no answer to give. Only this he
+could see: after last night, he was hers, if she would take him. But he
+believed that she would send him away, that she would despise him when
+she had heard the whole story of his entanglement. She would say that he
+belonged to the other woman, not to her. And though he was sure she
+would not reproach him, he thought there were some words, some looks
+which, if she could not forget, it would be hard for even her sweet
+nature to forgive.
+
+He went back to the dining-room with the news of what he had seen. And
+as there was no longer any need of protection for the women, the
+Highlanders came out with him and Rostafel. All four stood at the gate
+of the bordj as the party of twelve soldiers rode up, on tired horses;
+but Stephen was in advance, and it was he who answered Sabine's first
+breathless question.
+
+"She's safe. They're both safe, thank God. So are we all, except poor
+Caird, who's damaged a good deal worse than any of us. But not
+dangerously, I hope."
+
+"I brought our surgeon," said Sabine, eagerly. "He wanted to be in this
+with me. I had to ask for the command, because you know I'm on special
+duty at Tolga. But I had no trouble with Major Duprez when I told him
+how friends of mine were attacked by Arab robbers, and how I had got the
+message."
+
+"So that's what you told him?"
+
+"Yes. I didn't want a scandal in the Zaouïa, for _her_ sake. Nobody
+knows that the marabout is for anything in this business. But, of
+course, if you've killed him----"
+
+"We haven't. He's got clear away. Unless your men have nabbed him and
+his friend Maïeddine."
+
+"Not we. I'm not sure I cared to--unless we could kill him. But we did
+honestly try--to do both. There were six we chased----"
+
+"Only six. Then we must have polished off more than we thought."
+
+"We can find out later how many. But the last six didn't get off without
+a scratch, I assure you. They must have had a sentinel watching. We saw
+no one, but as we were hoping to surprise the bordj these six men, who
+looked from a distance like Touaregs, rushed out, mounted horses and
+camels and dashed away, striking westward."
+
+"They dared not go north. I'd been signalling----"
+
+"From the broken tower?"
+
+"Yes. As you came, you must have sighted the men from Azzouz. But tell
+me the rest."
+
+"There's little to tell, and I want your news more than you can want
+mine. The Arabs' animals were fresh, and ours tired, for I'd given them
+no rest. The brutes had a good start of us and made the best of it, but
+at first I thought we were gaining. We got within gunshot, and fired
+after them. Two at least were hit. We came on traces of fresh blood
+afterward, but the birds themselves were flown. In any case, it was to
+bring help I came, not to make captures. Do you think _she_ would like
+me to see her now?"
+
+"Come with me and try, before the other rescue party arrives. I'm glad
+the surgeon's with you. I'm worried about Caird, and we're all a bit
+dilapidated. How we're to get him and the ladies away from this place, I
+don't know. Our animals are dead or dying."
+
+"You will probably find that the enemy has been generous in spite of
+himself and left you some--all that couldn't be taken away. Strange how
+those men looked like Touaregs! You are sure of what they really were?"
+
+"Sure. But since no one else knows, why should the secret leak out?
+Better for the ladies if the Touareg disguise should hide the truth, as
+it was meant to do."
+
+"Why not indeed? Since we weren't lucky enough to rid his wife--and the
+world of the marabout."
+
+"Then we're agreed: unless something happens to change our minds, we
+were attacked by Touaregs."
+
+Sabine smiled grimly. "Duprez bet," he answered, "that I should find
+they were not Arabs, but Touaregs. He will enjoy saying 'I told you
+so.'"
+
+        *        *        *        *        *        *        *
+
+That night, and for many nights to come, there was wailing in the
+Zaouïa. The marabout had gone out to meet his son, who had been away
+from school on a pilgrimage, and returning at dark, to avoid the great
+heat of the day, had been bitten by a viper. Thus, at least, pronounced
+the learned Arab physician. It was of the viper bite he died, so it was
+said, and no one outside the Zaouïa knew of the great man's death until
+days afterwards, when he was already buried. Even in the Zaouïa it was
+not known by many that he had gone away or returned from a journey, or
+that he lay ill. In spite of this secrecy and mystery, however, there
+was no gossip, but only wild wailing, of mourners who refused to be
+comforted. And if certain persons, to the number of twenty or more, were
+missing from their places in the Zaouïa, nothing was said, after Si
+Maïeddine had talked with the holy men of the mosque. If these missing
+ones were away, and even if they should never come back, it was because
+they were needed to carry out the marabout's wishes, at a vast distance.
+But now, the dearest wishes of Sidi Mohammed would never be fulfilled.
+That poignant knowledge was a knife in every man's heart; for men of
+ripe age or wisdom in the Zaouïa knew what these wishes were, and how
+some day they were to have come true through blood and fire.
+
+All were sad, though no tongue spoke of any other reason for sadness,
+except the inestimable loss of the Saint. And sadder than the saddest
+was Si Maïeddine, who seemed to have lost his youth.
+
+
+
+
+LII
+
+
+It is a long cry from the bordj of Toudja among the dunes of the
+southern desert, to Algiers, yet Nevill begged that he might be taken
+home. "You know why," he said to Stephen, and his eyes explained, if
+Stephen needed explanations. Nevill thought there might be some chance
+of seeing Josette in Algiers, if he were dying. But the army surgeon
+from Oued Tolga pronounced it unsafe to take him so far.
+
+Yet away from Toudja he must go, since it was impossible to care for him
+properly there, and the bullet which had wounded him was still in his
+side.
+
+Fortunately the enemy had left plenty of camels. They had untethered
+all, hoping that the animals might wander away, too far to be caught by
+the Europeans, but more than were needed remained in the neighbourhood
+of Toudja, and Rostafel took possession of half a dozen good meharis,
+which would help recoup him for his losses in the bordj. Not one animal
+had any mark upon it which could identify the attackers, and saddles and
+accoutrements were of Touareg make. The dead men, too, were impossible
+to identify, and it was not likely that much trouble would be taken in
+prosecuting inquiries. Among those whose duty it is to govern Algeria,
+there is a proverb which, for various good reasons, has come to be much
+esteemed: "Let sleeping dogs lie."
+
+Not a man of the five who defended the bordj but had at least one wound
+to show for his night's work. Always, however, it is those who attack,
+in a short siege, who suffer most; and the Europeans were not proud of
+the many corpses they had to their credit. There was some patching for
+the surgeon to do for all, but Nevill's was the only serious case. The
+French doctor, De Vigne, did not try to hide the truth from the wounded
+man's friend; there was danger. The best thing would have been to get
+Nevill to Algiers, but since that was impossible, he must travel in a
+bassour, by easy stages, to Touggourt. Instead of two days' journey they
+must make it three, or more if necessary, and he--De Vigne--would go
+with them to put his patient into the hands of the army surgeon at
+Touggourt.
+
+They had only the one bassour; that in which Saidee and Victoria had
+come to Toudja from Oued Tolga, but Nevill was delirious more often than
+not, and had no idea that a sacrifice was being made for him. Blankets,
+and two of the mattresses least damaged by fire in the barricade, were
+fastened on to camels for the ladies, after the fashion in use for
+Bedouin women of the poorest class, or Ouled Naïls who have not yet made
+their fortune as dancers; and so the journey began again.
+
+There was never a time during the three days it lasted, for Stephen to
+confess to Victoria. Possibly she did not wish him to take advantage of
+a situation created as if by accident at Toudja. Or perhaps she thought,
+now that the common danger which had drawn them together, was over, it
+would be best to wait until anxiety for Nevill had passed, before
+talking of their own affairs.
+
+At Azzouz, where they passed a night full of suffering for Nevill, they
+had news of the marabout's death. It came by telegraph to the operator,
+just before the party was ready to start on; yet Saidee was sure that
+Sabine had caused it to be sent just at that time. He had been obliged
+to march back with his men--the penalty of commanding the force for
+which he had asked; but a letter would surely come to Touggourt, and
+Saidee could imagine all that it would say. She had no regrets for Ben
+Halim, and said frankly to Victoria that it was difficult not to be
+indecently glad of her freedom. At last she had waked up from a black
+dream of horror, and now that it was over, it hardly seemed real. "I
+shall forget," she said. "I shall put my whole soul to forgetting
+everything that's happened to me in the last ten years, and every one
+I've known in the south--except one. But to have met him and to have him
+love me, I'd live it all over again--all."
+
+She kept Victoria with her continually, and in the physical weakness and
+nervous excitement which followed the strain she had gone through, she
+seemed to have forgotten her interest in Victoria's affairs. She did not
+know that her sister and Stephen had talked of love, for at Toudja after
+the fight began she had thought of nothing but the danger they shared.
+
+Altogether, everything combined to delay explanations between Stephen
+and Victoria. He tried to regret this, yet could not be as sorry as he
+was repentant. It was not quite heaven, but it was almost paradise to
+have her near him, though they had a chance for only a few words
+occasionally, within earshot of Saidee, or De Vigne, or the twins, who
+watched over Nevill like two well-trained nurses. She loved him, since a
+word from her meant more than vows from other women. Nothing had
+happened yet to disturb her love, so these few days belonged to Stephen.
+He could not feel that he had stolen them. At Touggourt he would find a
+time and place to speak, and then it would be over forever. But one joy
+he had, which never could have come to him, if it had not been for the
+peril at Toudja. They knew each other's hearts. Nothing could change
+that. One day, no doubt, she would learn to care for some other man, but
+perhaps never quite in the same way she had cared for him, because
+Stephen was sure that this was her first love. And though she might be
+happy in another love--he tried to hope it, but did not succeed
+sincerely--he would always have it to remember, until the day of his
+death, that once she had loved him.
+
+As far out from Touggourt as Temacin, Lady MacGregor came to meet them,
+in a ramshackle carriage, filled with rugs and pillows in case Nevill
+wished to change. But he was not in a state to wish for anything, and De
+Vigne decided for him. He was to go on in the bassour, to the villa
+which had been let to Lady MacGregor by an officer of the garrison. It
+was there the little Mohammed was to have been kept and guarded by the
+Highlanders, if the great scheme had not been suddenly changed in some
+of its details. Now, the child had inherited his father's high place.
+Already the news had reached the marabout of Temacin, and flashed on to
+Touggourt. But no one suspected that the viper which had bitten the
+Saint had taken the form of a French bullet. Perhaps, had all been known
+to the Government, it would have seemed poetical justice that the arch
+plotter had met his death thus. But his plots had died with him; and if
+Islam mourned because the Moul Saa they hoped for had been snatched from
+them, they mourned in secret. For above other sects and nations, Islam
+knows how to be silent.
+
+When they were settled in the villa near the oasis (Saidee and Victoria
+too, for they needed no urging to wait till it was known whether Nevill
+Caird would live or die) Lady MacGregor said with her usual briskness to
+Stephen: "Of course I've telegraphed to that _creature_."
+
+Stephen looked at her blankly.
+
+"That hard-hearted little beast, Josette Soubise," the fairy aunt
+explained.
+
+Stephen could hardly help laughing, though he had seldom felt less
+merry. But that the tiny Lady MacGregor should refer to tall Josette,
+who was nearly twice her height, as a "little beast," struck him as
+somewhat funny. Besides, her toy-terrier snappishness was comic.
+
+"I've nothing _against_ the girl," Lady MacGregor felt it right to go
+on, "except that she's an idiot to bite off her nose to spite her own
+face--and Nevill's too. I don't approve of her at all as a wife for him,
+you must understand. Nevill could marry a _princess_, and she's nothing
+but a little school-teacher with a dimple or two, whose mother and
+father were less than _nobody_. Still, as Nevill wants her, she might
+have the grace to show appreciation of the honour, by not spoiling his
+life. He's never been the same since he went and fell in love with her,
+and she refused him."
+
+"You've telegraphed to Tlemcen that Nevill is ill?" Stephen ventured.
+
+"I've telegraphed to the creature that she'd better come here at once,
+if she wants to see him alive," replied Lady MacGregor. "I suppose she
+loves him in her French-Algerian way, and she must have saved up enough
+money for the fare. Anyhow, if Nevill doesn't live, I happen to know
+he's left her nearly everything, except what the poor boy imagines I
+ought to have. That's pouring coals of fire on her head!"
+
+"Don't think of his not living!" exclaimed Stephen.
+
+"Honestly I believe he won't live unless that idiot of a girl comes and
+purrs and promises to marry him, deathbed or no deathbed."
+
+Again Stephen smiled faintly. "You're a matchmaker, Lady MacGregor," he
+said. "You are one of the most subtle persons I ever saw."
+
+The old lady took this as a compliment. "I haven't lived among Arabs,
+goodness knows how many years, for nothing," she retorted. "I
+telegraphed for her about five minutes after you wired from Azzouz. In
+fact, my telegram went back by the boy who brought yours."
+
+"She may be here day after to-morrow, if she started at once," Stephen
+reflected aloud.
+
+"She did, and she will," said Lady MacGregor, drily.
+
+"You've heard?"
+
+"The day I wired."
+
+"You have quite a nice way of breaking things to people, you dear little
+ladyship," said Stephen. And for some reason which he could not in the
+least understand, this speech caused Nevill's aunt to break into tears.
+
+That evening, the two surgeons extracted the bullet from Nevill's side.
+Afterwards, he was extremely weak, and took as little interest as
+possible in things, until Stephen was allowed to speak to him for a
+moment.
+
+Most men, if told that they had just sixty seconds to spend at the
+bedside of a dear friend, would have been at a loss what to say in a
+space of time so small yet valuable. But Stephen knew what he wished to
+say, and said it, as soon as Nevill let him speak; but Nevill began
+first.
+
+"Maybe--going to--deserve name of Wings," he muttered. "Shouldn't
+wonder. Don't care much."
+
+"Is there any one thing in this world you want above everything else?"
+asked Stephen.
+
+"Yes. Sight of--Josette. One thing I--can't have."
+
+"Yes, you can," said Stephen quietly. "She's coming. She started the
+minute she heard you were ill, and she'll be in Touggourt day after
+to-morrow."
+
+"You're not--pulling my leg?"
+
+"To do that would be very injurious. But I thought good news would be
+better than medicine."
+
+"Thank you, Legs. You're a great doctor," was all that Nevill answered.
+But his temperature began to go down within the hour.
+
+"He'll get the girl, of course," remarked Lady MacGregor, when Stephen
+told her. "That is, if he lives."
+
+"He will live, with this hope to buoy him up," said Stephen. "And she
+can't hold out against him for a minute when she sees him as he is.
+Indeed, I rather fancy she's been in a mood to change her mind this last
+month."
+
+"Why this last month?"
+
+"Oh, I think she misunderstood Nevill's interest in Miss Ray, and that
+helped her to understand herself. When she finds out that it's for her
+he still cares, not some one else, she'll do anything he asks."
+Afterwards it proved that he was right.
+
+The day after the arrival at Touggourt, the house in its garden near
+the oasis was very quiet. The Arab servants, whom Lady MacGregor had
+taken with the place, moved silently, and for Nevill's sake voices were
+lowered. There was a brooding stillness of summer heat over the one
+little patch of flowery peace and perfumed shade in the midst of the
+fierce golden desert. Yet to the five members of the oddly assembled
+family it was as if the atmosphere tingled with electricity. There was a
+curious, even oppressive sense of suspense, of waiting for something to
+happen.
+
+They did not speak of this feeling, yet they could see it in each
+other's eyes, if they dare to look.
+
+It was with them as with people who wait to hear a clock begin striking
+an hour which will bring news of some great change in their lives, for
+good or evil.
+
+The tension increased as the day went on; still, no one had said to
+another, "What is there so strange about to-day? Do you feel it? Is it
+only our imagination--a reaction after strain, or is it that a
+presentiment of something to happen hangs over us?"
+
+Stephen had not yet had any talk with Victoria. They had seen each other
+alone for scarcely more than a moment since the night at Toudja; but now
+that Nevill was better, and the surgeons said that if all went well,
+danger was past, it seemed to Stephen that the hour had come.
+
+After they had lunched in the dim, cool dining-room, and Lady MacGregor
+had proposed a siesta for all sensible people, Stephen stopped the girl
+on her way upstairs as she followed her sister.
+
+"May I talk to you for a little while this afternoon?" he asked.
+
+Voice and eyes were wistful, and Victoria wondered why, because she was
+so happy that she felt as if life had been set to music. She had hoped
+that he would be happy too, when Nevill's danger was over, and he had
+time to think of himself--perhaps, too, of her.
+
+"Yes," she said, "let's talk in the garden, when it's cooler. I love
+being in gardens, don't you? Everything that happens seems more
+beautiful."
+
+Stephen remembered how lovely he had thought her in the lily garden at
+Algiers. He was almost glad that they were not to have this talk there;
+for the memory of it was too perfect to mar with sadness.
+
+"I'm going to put Saidee to sleep," she went on. "You may laugh, but
+truly I can. When I was a little girl, she used to like me to stroke her
+hair if her head ached, and she would always fall asleep. And once she's
+asleep I shan't dare move, or she'll wake up. She has such happy dreams
+now, and they're sure to come true. Shall I come to you about half-past
+five?"
+
+"I'll be waiting," said Stephen.
+
+It was the usual garden of a villa in the neighbourhood of a desert
+town, but Stephen had never seen one like it, except that of the Caïd,
+in Bou-Saada. There were the rounded paths of hard sand, the colour of
+pinkish gold in the dappling shadows of date palms and magnolias, and
+there were rills of running water that whispered and gurgled as they
+bathed the dark roots of the trees. No grass grew in the garden, and the
+flowers were not planted in beds or borders. Plants and trees sprang out
+of the sand, and such flowers as there were--roses, and pomegranate
+blossoms, hibiscus, and passion flowers--climbed, and rambled, and
+pushed, and hung in heavy drapery, as best they could without attention
+or guidance. But one of the principal paths led to a kind of arbour, or
+temple, where long ago palms had been planted in a ring, and had formed
+a high green dome, through which, even at noon, the light filtered as if
+through a dome of emerald. Underneath, the pavement of gold was hard and
+smooth, and in the centre whispered a tiny fountain ornamented with old
+Algerian tiles. It trickled rather than played, but its delicate music
+was soothing and sweet as a murmured lullaby; and from the shaded seat
+beside it there was a glimpse between tree trunks of the burning desert
+gold.
+
+On this wooden seat by the fountain Stephen waited for Victoria, and
+saw her coming to him, along the straight path that led to the round
+point. She wore a white dress which Lady MacGregor had brought her, and
+as she walked, the embroidery of light and shadow made it look like lace
+of a lovely pattern. She stopped on the way, and, gathering a red rose
+with a long stem, slipped it into her belt. It looked like a spot of
+blood over her heart, as if a sword had been driven in and drawn out.
+Stephen could not bear to see it there. It was like a symbol of the
+wound that he was waiting to inflict.
+
+She came to him smiling, looking very young, like a child who expects
+happiness.
+
+"Have I kept you waiting long?" she asked. Her blue eyes, with the
+shadow of the trees darkening them, had a wonderful colour, almost
+purple. A desperate longing to take her in his arms swept over Stephen
+like a wave. He drew in his breath sharply and shut his teeth. He could
+not answer. Hardly knowing what he did, he held out his hands, and very
+quietly and sweetly she laid hers in them.
+
+"Don't trust me--don't be kind to me," he said, crushing her hands for
+an instant, then putting them away.
+
+She looked up in surprise, as he stood by the fountain, very tall and
+pale, and suddenly rather grim, it seemed to her, his expression out of
+tune with the peace of the garden and the mood in which she had come.
+
+"What is the matter?" she asked, simply.
+
+"Everything. I hardly know how to begin to tell you. Yet I must. Perhaps
+you'll think I shouldn't have waited till now. But there's been no
+chance--at least, I----"
+
+"No, there's been no chance for us to talk, or even to think very much
+about ourselves," Victoria tried to reassure him. "Begin just as you
+like. Whatever you say, whatever you have to tell, I won't
+misunderstand."
+
+"First of all, then," Stephen said, "you know I love you. Only you don't
+know how much. I couldn't tell you that, any more than I could tell how
+much water there is in the ocean. I didn't know myself that it was
+possible to love like this, and such a love might turn the world into
+heaven. But because I am what I am, and because I've done what I have
+done, it's making mine hell. Wait--you said you wouldn't misunderstand!
+The man who loves you ought to offer some sort of spiritual gold and
+diamonds, but I've got only a life half spoiled to offer you, if you'll
+take it. And before I can even ask you to take it, I'll have to explain
+how it's spoiled."
+
+Victoria did not speak, but still looked at him with that look of an
+expectant, anxious child, which made him long to snatch her up and turn
+his back forever on the world where there was a Margot Lorenzi, and
+gossiping people, and newspapers.
+
+But he had to go on. "There's a woman," he said, "who--perhaps she cares
+for me--I don't know. Anyhow, she'd suffered through our family. I felt
+sorry for her. I--I suppose I admired her. She's handsome--or people
+think so. I can hardly tell how it came about, but I--asked her to marry
+me, and she said yes. That was--late last winter--or the beginning of
+spring. Then she had to go to Canada, where she'd been brought up--her
+father died in England, a few months ago, and her mother, when she was a
+child; but she had friends she wanted to see, before--before she
+married. So she went, and I came to Algiers, to visit Nevill. Good
+heavens, how banal it sounds! How--how different from the way I feel!
+There aren't words--I don't see how to make you understand, without
+being a cad. But I must tell you that I didn't love her, even at first.
+It was a wish--a foolish, mistaken wish, I see now--and I saw long ago,
+the moment it was too late--to make up for things. She was unhappy,
+and--no, I give it up! I can't explain. But it doesn't change things
+between us--you and me. I'm yours, body and soul. If you can forgive me
+for--for trying to make you care, when I had no right--if, after knowing
+the truth, you'll take me as I am, I----"
+
+"Do you mean, you'd break off your engagement?"
+
+Perhaps it was partly the effect of the green shadows, but the girl
+looked very pale. Except for her eyes and hair, and the red rose that
+was like a wound over her heart, there was no colour about her.
+
+"Yes, I would. And I believe it would be right to break it," Stephen
+said, forcefully. "It's abominable to marry some one you don't love, and
+a crime if you love some one else."
+
+"But you must have cared for her once," said Victoria.
+
+"Oh, cared! I cared in a way, as a man cares for a pretty woman who's
+had very hard luck. You see--her father made a fight for a title that's
+in our family, and claimed the right to it. He lost his case, and his
+money was spent. Then he killed himself, and his daughter was left
+alone, without a penny and hardly any friends----"
+
+"Poor, poor girl! I don't wonder you were sorry for her--so sorry that
+you thought your pity was love. You couldn't throw her over now, you
+know in your heart you couldn't. It would be cruel."
+
+"I thought I couldn't, till I met you," Stephen answered frankly. "Since
+then, I've thought--no, I haven't exactly thought. I've only felt. That
+night at Toudja, I knew it would be worse than death to have to keep my
+word to her. I wouldn't have been sorry if they'd killed me then, after
+you said--that is, after I had the memory of a moment or two of
+happiness to take to the next world."
+
+"Ah, that's because I let you see I loved you," Victoria explained
+softly, and a little shyly. "I told you I wouldn't misunderstand, and I
+don't. Just for a minute I was hurt--my heart felt sick, because I
+couldn't bear to think--to think less highly of you. But it was only for
+a minute. Then I began to understand--so well! And I think you are even
+better than I thought before--more generous, and chivalrous. You were
+sorry for _her_ in those days of her trouble, and then you were engaged,
+and you meant to marry her and make her happy. But at Toudja I showed
+you what was in my heart--even now I'm not ashamed that I did, because
+I knew you cared for me."
+
+"I worshipped you, only less than I do now," Stephen broke in. "Every
+day I love you more--and will to the end of my life. You can't send me
+away. You can't send me to another woman."
+
+"I can, for my sake and yours both, because if I kept you, feeling that
+I was wronging some one, neither of us could be happy. But I want you to
+know I understand that you have _me_ to be sorry for now, as well as
+her, and that you're torn between us both, hardly seeing which way
+honour lies. I'm sure you would have kept true to her, if you hadn't
+hated to make me unhappy. And instead of needing to forgive you, I will
+ask you to forgive me, for making things harder."
+
+"You've given me the only real happiness I've ever known since I was a
+boy," Stephen said.
+
+"If that's true--and it must be, since you say it--neither of us is to
+be pitied. I shall be happy always because you loved me enough to be
+made happy by my love. And you must be happy because you've done right,
+and made me love you more. I don't think there'll be any harm in our not
+trying to forget, do you?"
+
+"I could as easily forget to breathe."
+
+"So could I. Ever since the first night I met you, you have seemed
+different to me from any other man I ever knew, except an ideal man who
+used to live in the back of my mind. Soon, that man and you grew to be
+one. You wouldn't have me separate you from him, would you?"
+
+"If you mean that you'll separate me from your ideal unless I marry
+Margot Lorenzi, then divide me from that cold perfection forever. I'm
+not cold, and I'm far from perfect. But I can't feel it a decent thing
+for a man to marry one woman, promising to love and cherish her, if his
+whole being belongs to another. Even you can't----"
+
+"I used to believe it wrong to marry a person one didn't love,"
+Victoria broke in, quickly. "But it's so different when one talks of an
+imaginary case. This poor girl loves you?"
+
+"I suppose she thinks she does."
+
+"She's poor?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And she depends upon you."
+
+"Of course she counts on me. I always expected to keep my word."
+
+"And now you'd break it--for me! Oh, no, I couldn't let you do it. Were
+you--does she expect to be married soon?"
+
+Stephen's face grew red, as if it had been struck. "Yes," he answered,
+in a low voice.
+
+"Would you mind--telling me how soon?"
+
+"As soon as she gets back from Canada."
+
+Victoria's bosom rose and fell quickly.
+
+"Oh!--and when----"
+
+"At once. Almost at once."
+
+"She's coming back immediately?"
+
+"Yes. I--I'm afraid she's in England now."
+
+"How dreadful! Poor girl, hoping to see you--to have you meet her,
+maybe, and--you're here. You're planning to break her heart. It breaks
+mine to think of it. I _couldn't_ have you fail."
+
+"For God's sake don't send me away from you. I can't go. I won't."
+
+"Yes, if I beg you to go. And I do. You must stand by this poor girl,
+alone in the world except for you. I see from what you tell me, that she
+needs you and appeals to your chivalry by lacking everything except what
+comes from you. It can't be wrong to protect her, after giving your
+promise, even though you mayn't love her in the way you once thought you
+did: but it _would_ be wrong to abandon her now----"
+
+A rustling in the long path made Stephen turn. Some one was coming. It
+was Margot Lorenzi.
+
+He could not believe that it was really she, and stared stupidly,
+thinking the figure he saw an optical illusion.
+
+She had on a grey travelling dress, and a grey hat trimmed with black
+ribbon, which, Stephen noted idly, was powdered with dust. Her black
+hair was dusty, too, and her face slightly flushed with heat,
+nevertheless she was beautiful, with the luscious beauty of those women
+who make a strong physical appeal to men.
+
+Behind her was an Arab servant, whom she had passed in her eagerness. He
+looked somewhat troubled, but seeing Stephen he threw up his hands in
+apology, throwing off all responsibility. Then he turned and went back
+towards the house.
+
+Margot, too, had seen Stephen. Her eyes flashed from him to the figure
+of the girl, which she saw in profile. She did not speak, but walked
+faster; and Victoria, realizing that their talk was to be interrupted by
+somebody, looked round, expecting Lady MacGregor or Saidee.
+
+"It is Miss Lorenzi," Stephen said, in a low voice. "I don't know
+how--or why--she has come here. But for your sake--it will be better if
+you go now, at once, and let me talk to her."
+
+There was another path by which Victoria could reach the house. She
+might have gone, thinking that Stephen knew best, and that she had no
+more right than wish to stay, but the tall young woman in grey began to
+walk very fast, when she saw that the girl with Stephen was going.
+
+"Be kind enough to stop where you are, Miss Ray. I know you must be Miss
+Ray," Margot called out in a loud, sharp voice. She spoke as if Victoria
+were an inferior, whom she had a right to command.
+
+Surprised and hurt by the tone, the girl hesitated, looking from the
+newcomer to Stephen.
+
+At first glance and at a little distance, she had thought the young
+woman perfectly beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful creature she had
+ever seen--even more glorious than Saidee. But when Miss Lorenzi came
+nearer, undisguisedly angry and excited, the best part of her beauty was
+gone, wiped away, as a face in a picture may be smeared before the paint
+is dry. Her features were faultless, her hair and eyes magnificent. Her
+dress was pretty, and exquisitely made, if too elaborate for desert
+travelling; her figure charming, though some day it would be too stout;
+yet in spite of all she looked common and cruel. The thought that
+Stephen Knight had doomed himself to marry this woman made Victoria
+shiver, as if she had heard him condemned to imprisonment for life.
+
+She had thought before seeing Miss Lorenzi that she understood the
+situation, and how it had come about. She had said to Stephen, "I
+understand." Now, it seemed to her that she had boasted in a silly,
+childish way. She had not understood. She had not begun to understand.
+
+Suddenly the girl felt very old and experienced, and miserably wise in
+the ways of the world. It was as if in some other incarnation she had
+known women like this, and their influence over men: how, if they tried,
+they could beguile chivalrous men into being sorry for them, and doing
+almost anything which they wished to be done.
+
+A little while ago Victoria had been thinking and speaking of Margot
+Lorenzi as "poor girl," and urging Stephen to be true to her for his own
+sake as well as hers. But now, in a moment, everything had changed. A
+strange flash of soul-lightning had shown her the real Margot, unworthy
+of Stephen at her best, crushing to his individuality and aspirations at
+her worst. Victoria did not know what to think, what to do. In place of
+the sad and lonely girl she had pictured, here stood a woman already
+selfish and heartless, who might become cruel and terrible. No one had
+ever looked at Victoria Ray as Miss Lorenzi was looking now, not even
+Miluda, the Ouled Naïl, who had stared her out of countenance, curiously
+and maliciously at the same time.
+
+"I have heard a great deal about Miss Ray in Algiers," Margot went on.
+"And I think--you will _both_ understand why I made this long, tiresome
+journey to Touggourt."
+
+"There is no reason why Miss Ray should understand," said Stephen
+quickly. "It can't concern her in the least. On your own account it
+would have been better if you had waited for me in London. But it's too
+late to think of that now. I will go with you into the house."
+
+"No," Margot answered. "Not yet. And you're not to put on such a tone
+with me--as if I'd done something wrong. I haven't! We're engaged, and I
+have a perfect right to come here, and find out what you've been doing
+while I was at the other side of the world. You promised to meet me at
+Liverpool--and instead, you were here--with _her_. You never even sent
+me word. Yet you're surprised that I came on to Algiers. Of course, when
+I was _there_, I heard everything--or what I didn't hear, I guessed. You
+hadn't bothered to hide your tracks. I don't suppose you so much as
+thought of me--poor me, who went to Canada for your sake really. Yes!
+I'll tell you why I went now. I was afraid if I didn't go, a man who was
+in love with me there--he's in love with me now and always will be, for
+that matter!--would come and kill you. He used to threaten that he'd
+shoot any one I might marry, if I dared throw him over; and he's the
+kind who keeps his word. So I didn't want to throw him over. I went
+myself, and stayed in his mother's house, and argued and pleaded with
+him, till he'd promised to be good and let me be happy. So you see--the
+journey was for you--to save you. I didn't want to see him again for
+myself, though _his_ is real love. You're cold as ice. I don't believe
+you know what love is. But all the same I can't be jilted by you--for
+another woman. I won't have it, Stephen--after all I've gone through. If
+you try to break your solemn word to me, I'll sue you. There'll be
+another case that will drag your name before the public again, and not
+only yours----"
+
+"Be still, Margot," said Stephen.
+
+She grew deadly pale. "I will not be still," she panted. "I _will_ have
+justice. No one shall take you away from me."
+
+"No one wishes to take me away," Stephen flung at her hotly. "Miss Ray
+has just refused me. You've spared me the trouble of taking her
+advice----"
+
+"What was it?" Margot looked suddenly anxious, and at the same time
+self-assertive.
+
+"That I should go at once to England--and to you."
+
+Victoria took a step forward, then paused, pale and trembling. "Oh,
+Stephen!" she cried. "I take back that advice. I--I've changed my mind.
+You can't--you can't do it. You would be so miserable that she'd be
+wretched, too. I see now, it's not right to urge people to do things,
+especially when--one only _thinks_ one understands. She doesn't love you
+really. I feel almost sure she cares more for some one else, if--if it
+were not for things you have, which she wants. If you're rich, as I
+suppose you must be, don't make this sacrifice, which would crush your
+soul, but give her half of all you have in the world, so that she can be
+happy in her own way, and set you free gladly."
+
+As Victoria said these things, she remembered M'Barka, and the prophecy
+of the sand; a sudden decision to be made in an instant, which would
+change her whole life.
+
+"I'll gladly give Miss Lorenzi more than half my money," said Stephen.
+"I should be happy to think she had it. But even if you begged me to
+marry her, Victoria, I would not now. It's gone beyond that. Her ways
+and mine must be separate forever."
+
+Margot's face grew eager, and her eyes flamed.
+
+"What I want and insist on," she said, "is that I must have my rights.
+After all I've hoped for and expected, I _won't_ be thrown over, and go
+back to the old, dull life of turning and twisting every shilling. If
+you'll settle thirty thousand pounds on me, you are free, so far as I
+care. I wouldn't marry a man who hated me, when there's one who adores
+me as if I were a saint--and I like him better than ever I did you--a
+lot better. I realize that more than I did before."
+
+The suggestion of Margot Lorenzi as a saint might have made a looker-on
+smile, but Victoria and Stephen passed it by, scarcely hearing.
+
+"If I give you thirty thousand pounds, it will leave me a poor man," he
+said.
+
+"Oh, _do_ give her the money and be a poor man," Victoria implored. "I
+shall be so happy if we are poor--a thousand times happier than she
+could be with millions."
+
+Stephen caught the hand that half unconsciously the girl held out to
+him, and pressed it hard. "If you will go back to your hotel now," he
+said to Margot, in a quiet voice, "I will call on you there almost at
+once, and we can settle our business affairs. I promise that you shall
+be satisfied."
+
+Margot looked at them both for a few seconds, without speaking. "I'll
+go, and send a telegram to Montreal which will make somebody there
+happier than any other man in Canada," she answered. "And I'll expect
+you in an hour."
+
+When she had gone, they forgot her.
+
+"Do you really mean, when you say we--_we_ shall be happy poor, that
+you'll marry me in spite of all?" Stephen asked.
+
+"Oh, yes, if you want me still," Victoria said.
+
+"Does a man want Heaven!" He took her in his arms and held her close,
+closer than he had held her the night at Toudja, when he had thought
+that death might soon part them. "You've brought me up out of the
+depths."
+
+"Not I," the girl said. "Your star."
+
+"Your star. You gave me half yours."
+
+"Now I give it to you all," she told him. "And all myself, too. Oh,
+isn't it wonderful to be so happy--in the light of our star--and to
+know that the others we love will be happy, too--my Saidee, and your Mr.
+Caird----"
+
+"Yes," Stephen answered. "But just at this moment I can't think much
+about any one except ourselves, not even your sister and my best friend.
+You fill the universe for me."
+
+"It's filled with love--and it _is_ love," said Victoria. "The music is
+sweeter for us, though, because we know it's sweet for others. I
+_couldn't_ let her spoil your life, Stephen."
+
+"My life!" he echoed. "I didn't know what life was or might be till this
+moment. Now I know."
+
+"Now we both know," she finished.
+
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+
+Page and line numbers in these notes refer to the original printed text.
+
+Obvious punctuation corrections have been applied silently where
+applicable.
+
+As much as possible, the original spelling in the book has been
+preserved. The authors commonly use different hyphenation for several
+words throughout (for example, "note-book" on page 283, line 9, as
+opposed to "notebook" on page 285, line 16). There are mixes of English,
+American, and French spelling. The spelling of some names that appear
+only once or twice is ambiguous (for example, "Cheikh" on page 55, line
+27, and "Cheik" on page 143, line 5). In cases like these, the text has
+been left as in the printed version.
+
+The following appear to be typographical errors and have been corrected
+in this text.
+
+Page 40, line 20: "Christo" (Cristo).
+
+Page 62, line 1: "dribge" (bridge).
+
+Page 77, line 4: "hautes" (hauts).
+
+Page 92, line 20: "filagree" (filigree).
+
+Page 99, line 9: "ècole" (école).
+
+Page 184, line 8: "khol" (kohl).
+
+Page 217, line 1: "Michèlet" (Michélet).
+
+Page 235, line 16: "Neville's" (Nevill's).
+
+Page 235, line 34: "Neville" (Nevill).
+
+Page 425, line 26: "massage" (message).
+
+Page 430, line 11: "usuper" (usurper).
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Silence, by 
+C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson
+
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+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Golden Silence, by C. N. &amp; A. M. Williamson
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+<!--
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+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Silence, by 
+C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Golden Silence
+
+Author: C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson
+
+Illustrator: George Brehm
+
+Release Date: August 23, 2006 [EBook #19108]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN SILENCE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Nash, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 359px;">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="359" height="512" alt="The Golden Silence, by C. N. &amp; A. M. Williamson"/>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="center">
+<table summary="Table of Contents">
+<colgroup align="left" span="6" width="*1"/>
+
+<tr><td align="center" colspan="6"><a href="#BOOKS_BY"><b>BOOKS BY C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center" colspan="6"><a href="#FRONTISPIECE"><b>FRONTISPIECE</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center" colspan="6"><a href="#TITLE_PAGE"><b>TITLE PAGE</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center" colspan="6"><a href="#DEDICATION"><b>DEDICATION</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center" colspan="6"><a href="#THE_GOLDEN_SILENCE"><b>THE GOLDEN SILENCE</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+    <td><a href="#I"><b>I</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XI"><b>XI</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXI"><b>XXI</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXXI"><b>XXXI</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XLI"><b>XLI</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#LI"><b>LI</b></a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td><a href="#II"><b>II</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XII"><b>XII</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXII"><b>XXII</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXXII"><b>XXXII</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XLII"><b>XLII</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#LII"><b>LII</b></a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td><a href="#III"><b>III</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XIII"><b>XIII</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXIII"><b>XXIII</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXXIII"><b>XXXIII</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XLIII"><b>XLIII</b></a></td>
+    <td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td><a href="#IV"><b>IV</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XIV"><b>XIV</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXIV"><b>XXIV</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXXIV"><b>XXXIV</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XLIV"><b>XLIV</b></a></td>
+    <td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td><a href="#V"><b>V</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XV"><b>XV</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXV"><b>XXV</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXXV"><b>XXXV</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XLV"><b>XLV</b></a></td>
+    <td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td><a href="#VI"><b>VI</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XVI"><b>XVI</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXVI"><b>XXVI</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXXVI"><b>XXXVI</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XLVI"><b>XLVI</b></a></td>
+    <td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td><a href="#VII"><b>VII</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XVII"><b>XVII</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXVII"><b>XXVII</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXXVII"><b>XXXVII</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XLVII"><b>XLVII</b></a></td>
+    <td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td><a href="#VIII"><b>VIII</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XVIII"><b>XVIII</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXVIII"><b>XXVIII</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXXVIII"><b>XXXVIII</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XLVIII"><b>XLVIII</b></a></td>
+    <td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td><a href="#IX"><b>IX</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XIX"><b>XIX</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXIX"><b>XXIX</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXXIX"><b>XXXIX</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XLIX"><b>XLIX</b></a></td>
+    <td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td><a href="#X"><b>X</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XX"><b>XX</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XXX"><b>XXX</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#XL"><b>XL</b></a></td>
+    <td><a href="#L"><b>L</b></a></td>
+    <td></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr><td align="center" colspan="6"><a href="#THE_END"><b>THE END</b></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center" colspan="6"><a href="#TRANSCRIBERS_NOTES"><b>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES</b></a></td></tr>
+
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="BOOKS_BY" id="BOOKS_BY"></a>BOOKS BY C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Motor Maid</span><br/>
+<span class="smcap">Lord Loveland Discovers America</span><br/>
+<span class="smcap">Set in Silver</span><br/>
+<span class="smcap">The Lightning Conductor</span><br/>
+<span class="smcap">The Princess Passes</span><br/>
+<span class="smcap">My Friend the Chauffeur</span><br/>
+<span class="smcap">Lady Betty Across the Water</span><br/>
+<span class="smcap">Rosemary in Search of a Father</span><br/>
+<span class="smcap">The Princess Virginia</span><br/>
+<span class="smcap">The Car of Destiny</span><br/>
+<span class="smcap">The Chaperon</span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 335px;">
+<a name="FRONTISPIECE" id="FRONTISPIECE"></a><img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="335" height="512" alt="Frontispiece"/>
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;Allah sends thee a man&mdash;a strong man, whose brain
+and heart and arm are at thy service&#39;&quot;</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 325px;">
+<a name="TITLE_PAGE" id="TITLE_PAGE"></a><img src="images/titlepg.jpg" width="325" height="512" alt="The GOLDEN SILENCE, by C. N. &amp; A. M. WILLIAMSON
+Illustrated by GEORGE BREHM
+GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK
+DOUBLEDAY, PAGE &amp; COMPANY
+1911"/>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h4>ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION<br/>
+INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN</h4>
+
+<h4>COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY C. N. &amp; A. M. WILLIAMSON</h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="DEDICATION" id="DEDICATION"></a>TO</h2>
+<h2><i>Effendi</i></h2>
+<h2>HIS BOOK</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_GOLDEN_SILENCE" id="THE_GOLDEN_SILENCE"></a>THE GOLDEN SILENCE</h2>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2>
+
+
+<p>Stephen Knight was very angry, though he meant
+to be kind and patient with Margot. Perhaps, after
+all, she had not given the interview to the newspaper
+reporter. It might be what she herself would call a
+"fake." But as for her coming to stop at a big, fashionable
+hotel like the Carlton, in the circumstances she could hardly
+have done anything in worse taste.</p>
+
+<p>He hated to think that she was capable of taking so false
+a step. He hated to think that it was exactly like her to take
+it. He hated to be obliged to call on her in the hotel; and he
+hated himself for hating it.</p>
+
+<p>Knight was of the world that is inclined to regard servants
+as automata; but he was absurdly self-conscious as he saw his
+card on a silver tray, in the hand of an expressionless, liveried
+youth who probably had the famous interview in his pocket.
+If not there, it was only because the paper would not fit in. The
+footman had certainly read the interview, and followed the
+"Northmorland Case" with passionate interest, for months,
+from the time it began with melodrama, and turned violently
+to tragedy, up to the present moment when (as the journalists
+neatly crammed the news into a nutshell) "it bade fair to end
+with marriage-bells."</p>
+
+<p>Many servants and small tradespeople in London had taken
+shares, Stephen had heard, as a speculative investment, in
+the scheme originated to provide capital for the "other side,"
+which was to return a hundred per cent. in case of success.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>
+Probably the expressionless youth was inwardly reviling the
+Northmorland family because he had lost his money and would
+be obliged to carry silver trays all the rest of his life, instead of
+starting a green grocery business. Stephen hoped that his
+own face was as expressionless, as he waited to receive the
+unwelcome message that Miss Lorenzi was at home.</p>
+
+<p>It came very quickly, and in a worse form than Stephen
+had expected. Miss Lorenzi was in the Palm Court, and would
+Mr. Knight please come to her there?</p>
+
+<p>Of course he had to obey; but it was harder than ever to
+remain expressionless.</p>
+
+<p>There were a good many people in the Palm Court, and they
+all looked at Stephen Knight as he threaded his intricate way
+among chairs and little tables and palms, toward a corner
+where a young woman in black crape sat on a pink sofa. Her hat
+was very large, and a palm with enormous fan-leaves drooped
+above it like a sympathetic weeping willow on a mourning
+brooch. But under the hat was a splendidly beautiful dark face.</p>
+
+<p>"Looks as if he were on his way to be shot," a man who
+knew all about the great case said to a woman who had lunched
+with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Looks more as if he were on his way to shoot," she laughed,
+as one does laugh at other people's troubles, which are apt
+to be ridiculous. "He's simply glaring."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor beggar!" Her companion found pleasure in pitying
+Lord Northmorland's brother, whom he had never succeeded
+in getting to know. "Which is he, fool or hero?"</p>
+
+<p>"Both. A fool to have proposed to the girl. A hero to stick
+to her, now he has proposed. He must be awfully sick about
+the interview. I do think it's excuse enough to throw her over."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. It's the sort of business a man can't very
+well chuck, once he's let himself in for it. Every one blames
+him now for having anything to do with Miss Lorenzi. They'd
+blame him a lot more for throwing her over."</p>
+
+<p>"Women wouldn't."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No. Because he happens to be young and good-looking.
+But all his popularity won't make the women who like him
+receive his wife. She isn't a woman's woman."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think not, indeed! We're too clever to be taken
+in by that sort, all eyes and melodrama. They say Lord
+Northmorland warned his brother against her, and prophesied
+she'd get hold of him, if he didn't let her alone. The Duchess
+of Amidon told Lady Peggy Lynch&mdash;whom I know a little&mdash;that
+immediately after Lorenzi committed suicide, this Margot
+girl wrote to Stephen Knight and implored him to help her.
+I can quite believe she would. Fancy the daughter of the
+unsuccessful claimant to his brother's title writing begging
+letters to a young man like Stephen Knight! It appeals to
+one's sense of humour."</p>
+
+<p>"What a pity Knight didn't see it in that light&mdash;what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yet he has a sense of humour, I believe. It's supposed
+to be one of his charms. But the sense of humour often fails
+where one's own affairs are concerned. You know he's celebrated
+for his quaint ideas about life. They say he has socialistic
+views, or something rather like them. His brother and
+he are as different from one another as light is from darkness.
+Stephen gives away a lot of money, and Lady Peggy says that
+nobody ever asks him for anything in vain. He can't stand seeing
+people unhappy, if he can do anything to help. Probably,
+after he'd been kind to the Lorenzi girl, against his brother's
+advice, and gone to see her a few times, she grovelled at his
+feet and told him she was all alone in the world, and would
+die if he didn't love her. He's just young enough and romantic
+enough to be caught in that way!"</p>
+
+<p>"He's no boy. He must be nearly thirty."</p>
+
+<p>"All nice, normal men are boys until after thirty. Lady
+Peggy's new name for this poor child is the Martyr Knight."</p>
+
+<p>"St. Stephen the Second is the last thing I heard. Stephen
+the First was a martyr too, wasn't he? Stoned to death or
+something."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I believe so," hastily returned the lady, who was not learned
+in martyrology. "He will be stoned, too, if he tries to force
+Miss Lorenzi on his family, or even on his friends. He'll find
+that he'll have to take her abroad."</p>
+
+<p>"That might be a good working plan. Foreigners wouldn't
+shudder at her accent. And she's certainly one of the most
+gorgeously beautiful creatures I ever saw."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's just the right expression. Gorgeous. And&mdash;a
+<i>creature</i>."</p>
+
+<p>They both laughed, and fell to talking again of the interview.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen Knight's ears were burning. He could not hear
+any of the things people were saying; but he had a lively imagination,
+and, always sensitive, he had grown morbidly so since
+the beginning of the Northmorland-Lorenzi case, when all
+the failings and eccentricities of the family had been reviewed
+before the public eye, like a succession of cinematograph pictures.
+It did not occur to Stephen that he was an object of
+pity, but he felt that through his own folly and that of another,
+he had become a kind of scarecrow, a figure of fun: and because
+until now the world had laughed with instead of at him,
+he would rather have faced a shower of bullets than a ripple
+of ridicule.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you do?" he inquired stiffly, and shook Miss
+Lorenzi's hand as she gave it without rising from the pink
+sofa. She gazed up at him with immense, yellowish brown
+eyes, then fluttered her long black lashes in a way she had,
+which was thrilling&mdash;the first time you saw it. But Stephen
+had seen it often.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad you've come, my White Knight!" she said in
+her contralto voice, which would have been charming but for
+a crude accent. "I was so afraid you were cross."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not cross, only extremely ang&mdash;vexed if you really
+did talk to that journalist fellow," Stephen answered, trying
+not to speak sharply, and keeping his tone low. "Only, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>
+Heaven's sake, Margot, don't call me&mdash;what you did call me&mdash;anywhere,
+but especially here, where we might as well be
+on the stage of a theatre."</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody can hear us," she defended herself. "You ought
+to like that dear little name I made up because you came to
+my rescue, and saved me from following my father&mdash;came
+into my life as if you'd been a modern St. George. Calling
+you my 'White Knight' shows you how I feel&mdash;how I appreciate
+you and everything. If you just <i>would</i> realize that, you
+couldn't scold me."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not scolding you," he said desperately. "But couldn't
+you have stopped in your sitting-room&mdash;I suppose you have
+one&mdash;and let me see you there? It's loathsome making a
+show of ourselves&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>haven't</i> a private sitting-room. It would have been too
+extravagant," returned Miss Lorenzi. "Please sit down&mdash;by
+me."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen sat down, biting his lip. He must not begin to
+lecture her, or even to ask why she had exchanged her quiet
+lodgings for the Carlton Hotel, because if he once began, he
+knew that he would be carried on to unsafe depths. Besides, he
+was foolish enough to hate hurting a woman's feelings, even
+when she most deserved to have them hurt.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. It can't be helped now. Let us talk," said
+Stephen. "The first thing is, what to do with this newspaper
+chap, if you didn't give him the interview&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I did give it&mdash;in a way," she admitted, looking rather
+frightened, and very beautiful. "You mustn't do anything
+to him. But&mdash;of course it was only because I thought it
+would be better to tell him the truth. Surely it was?"</p>
+
+<p>"Surely it wasn't. You oughtn't to have received him."</p>
+
+<p>"Then do you mind so dreadfully having people know you've
+asked me to marry you, and that I've said 'yes'?"</p>
+
+<p>Margot Lorenzi's expression of pathetic reproach was
+as effective as her eyelash play, when seen for the first<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>
+time, as Stephen knew to his sorrow. But he had seen the
+one as often as the other.</p>
+
+<p>"You must know I didn't mean anything of the sort.
+Oh, Margot, if you don't understand, I'm afraid you're hopeless."</p>
+
+<p>"If you speak like that to me, I shall simply end everything
+as my father did," murmured the young woman, in a stifled,
+breaking voice. But her eyes were blazing.</p>
+
+<p>It almost burst from Stephen to order her not to threaten
+him again, to tell her that he was sick of melodrama, sick to
+the soul; but he kept silence. She was a passionate woman,
+and perhaps in a moment of madness she might carry out her
+threat. He had done a great deal to save her life&mdash;or, as he
+thought, to save it. After going so far he must not fail now
+in forbearance. And worse than having to live with beautiful,
+dramatic Margot, would it be to live without her if she killed
+herself because of him.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me. I didn't mean to hurt you," he said when
+he could control his voice.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled. "No, of course you didn't. It was stupid
+of me to fly out. I ought to know that you're always good.
+But I <i>don't</i> see what harm the interview could do you, or me,
+or any one. It lets all the world know how gloriously you've
+made up to me for the loss of the case, and the loss of my father;
+and how you came into my life just in time to save me from
+killing myself, because I was utterly alone, defeated, without
+money or hope."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with the curiously thrilling emphasis she knew
+how to give her words sometimes, and Stephen could not help
+thinking she did credit to her training. She had been preparing
+for the stage in Canada, the country of the Lorenzis'
+adoption, before her father brought her to England, whither he
+came with a flourish of trumpets to contest Lord Northmorland's
+rights to the title.</p>
+
+<p>"The world knew too much about our affairs already,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>
+Stephen said aloud. "And when you wished our engagement
+to be announced in <i>The Morning Post</i>, I had it put in at once.
+Wasn't that enough?"</p>
+
+<p>"Every one in the world doesn't read <i>The Morning Post</i>.
+But I should think every one in the world has read that interview,
+or will soon," retorted Margot. "It appeared only
+yesterday morning, and was copied in all the evening papers;
+in this morning's ones too; and they say it's been cabled word
+for word to the big Canadian and American dailies."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen had his gloves in his hand, and he tore a slit across
+the palm of one, without knowing it. But Margot saw. He
+was thinking of the heading in big black print at the top of the
+interview: "Romantic Climax to the Northmorland-Lorenzi
+Case. Only Brother of Lord Northmorland to Marry the
+Daughter of Dead Canadian Claimant. Wedding Bells Relieve
+Note of Tragedy."</p>
+
+<p>"We've nothing to be ashamed of&mdash;everything to be proud
+of," Miss Lorenzi went on. "You, of your own noble behaviour
+to me, which, as I said to the reporter, must be making
+my poor father happy in another world. Me, because I have
+won You, <i>far</i> more than because some day I shall have gained
+all that father failed to win for me and himself. His heart was
+broken, and he took his own life. My heart would have been
+broken too, and but for you I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't, please," Stephen broke in. "We won't talk any
+more about the interview. I'd like to forget it. I should
+have called here yesterday, as I wired in answer to your telegram
+saying you were at the Carlton, but being at my brother's
+place in Cumberland, I couldn't get back till&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I understand," Margot cut in. Then she laughed a
+sly little laugh. "I think I understand too why you went to
+Cumberland. Now tell me. Confession's good for the soul.
+Didn't your brother wire for you the minute he saw that announcement
+in <i>The Morning Post</i>, day before yesterday?"</p>
+
+<p>"He did wire. Or rather the Duchess did, asking me to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>
+go at once to Cumberland, on important business. I found
+your telegram, forwarded from my flat, when I got to Northmorland
+Hall. If I'd known you were moving, I wouldn't
+have gone till to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean, dear, you wouldn't have let me move? Now,
+do you think there's any harm in a girl of my age being alone
+in a hotel? If you do, it's dreadfully old-fashioned of you.
+I'm twenty-four."</p>
+
+<p>During the progress of the case, it had been mentioned in
+court that the claimant's daughter was twenty-nine (exactly
+Stephen Knight's age); but Margot ignored this unfortunate
+slip, and hoped that Stephen and others had forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>"No actual harm. But in the circumstances, why be conspicuous?
+Weren't you comfortable with Mrs. Middleton?
+She seemed a miraculously nice old body for a lodging-house
+keeper, and fussed over you no end&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It was for your sake that I wanted to be in a good hotel, now
+our engagement has been announced," explained Miss Lorenzi.
+"I didn't think it suitable for the Honourable Stephen Knight's
+future wife to go on living in stuffy lodgings. And as you've
+insisted on my accepting an income of eighty pounds a month
+till we're married, I'm able to afford a little luxury, dearest.
+I can tell you it's a pleasure, after all I've suffered!&mdash;and I
+felt I owed you something in return for your generosity. I
+wanted your <i>fianc&eacute;e</i> to do you credit in the eyes of the world."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen bit his lip. "I see," he said slowly.</p>
+
+<p>Yet what he saw most clearly was a very different picture.
+Margot as she had seemed the day he met her first, in the despised
+South Kensington lodgings, whither he had been implored
+to come in haste, if he wished to save a wretched, starving girl
+from following her father out of a cruel world. Of course, he
+had seen her in court, and had reluctantly encountered her
+photograph several times before he had given up looking at
+illustrated papers for fear of what he might find in them. But
+Margot's tragic beauty, as presented by photographers, or as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>
+seen from a distance, loyally seated at the claimant's side,
+was as nothing to the dark splendour of her despair when the
+claimant was in his new-made grave. It was the day after the
+burial that she had sent for Stephen; and her letter had arrived,
+as it happened, when he was thinking of the girl, wondering
+whether she had friends who would stand by her, or whether
+a member of his family might, without being guilty of bad
+taste, dare offer help.</p>
+
+<p>Her tear-blotted letter had settled that doubt, and it had
+been so despairing, so suggestive of frenzy in its wording,
+that Stephen had impulsively rushed off to South Kensington
+at once, without stopping to think whether it would not be
+better to send a representative combining the gentleness of the
+dove with the wisdom of the serpent, and armed for emergencies
+with a blank cheque.</p>
+
+<p>Margot's hair, so charmingly dressed now, folding in soft
+dark waves on either side her face, almost hiding the pink-tipped
+ears, had been tumbled, that gloomy afternoon six
+weeks ago, with curls escaping here and there; and in the
+course of their talk a great coil had fallen down over her shoulders.
+It was the sort of thing that happens to the heroine
+of a melodrama, if she has plenty of hair; but Stephen did not
+think of that then. He thought of nothing except his sympathy
+for a beautiful girl brought, through no fault of her own, to the
+verge of starvation and despair, and of how he could best set
+about helping her.</p>
+
+<p>She had not even money enough to buy mourning. Lorenzi
+had left debts which she could not pay. She had no friends.
+She did not know what was to become of her. She had not
+slept for many nights. She had made up her mind to die as
+her father had died, because it seemed the only thing to do,
+when suddenly the thought of Stephen had flashed into her
+mind, as if sent there by her guardian angel. She had heard
+that he was good and charitable to everybody, and once she
+had seen him looking at her kindly, in court, as if he were sorry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>
+for her, and could read something of what was in her heart.
+She had imagined it perhaps. But would he forgive her for
+writing to him? Would he help her, and save her life?</p>
+
+<p>Any one who knew Stephen could have prophesied what his
+answer would be. He had hated it when she snatched his hand
+to kiss at the end of their interview; but he would scarcely
+have been a human young man if he had not felt a sudden tingle
+of the blood at the touch of such lips as Margot Lorenzi's.
+Never had she seemed so beautiful to him since that first day;
+but he had called again and again, against his brother's urgent
+advice (when he had confessed the first visit); and the story
+that the Duchess of Amidon was telling her friends, though
+founded entirely on her own imagination of the scene which had
+brought about Stephen's undoing, was not very far from the truth.</p>
+
+<p>Now, he saw a picture of Margot as he had seen her in the
+lodgings she hated; and he wished to heaven that he might
+think of her as he had thought of her then.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got something important to say to you," the girl went on,
+when she realized that Stephen intended to dismiss the subject
+of the hotel, as he had dismissed the subject of the interview.
+"That's the reason I wired. But I won't speak a word till
+you've told me what your brother and the Duchess of Amidon
+think about you and me."</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing to tell," Stephen answered almost sullenly.
+And indeed there was no news of his Cumberland visit which it
+would be pleasant or wise to retail.</p>
+
+<p>Margot Lorenzi's complexion was not one of her greatest
+beauties. It was slightly sallow, so she made artistic use of
+a white cosmetic, which gave her skin the clearness of a camellia
+petal. But she had been putting on rather more than usual
+since her father's death, because it was suitable as well as
+becoming to be pale when one was in deep mourning. Consequently
+Margot could not turn perceptibly whiter, but she
+felt the blood go ebbing away from her face back upon
+her heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Stephen! Don't they mean to receive me, when we're
+married?" she stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think they've much use for either of us," Stephen
+hedged, to save her feelings. "Northmorland and I have never
+been great pals, you know. He's twenty years older than I
+am; and since he married the Duchess of Amidon&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And her money! Oh, it's no use beating about the bush.
+I hate them both. Lord Northmorland has a fiendish, vindictive
+nature."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, you mustn't say that, Margot. He has nothing of
+the sort. He's a curious mixture. A man of the world, and
+a bit of a Puritan&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"So are you a Puritan, at heart," she broke in.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen laughed. "No one ever accused me of Puritanism
+before."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe you've never shown any one else that side of you,
+as you show it to me. You're always being shocked at what I
+do and say."</p>
+
+<p>For that, it was hardly necessary to be a Puritan. But
+Stephen shrugged his shoulders instead of answering.</p>
+
+<p>"Your brother is a cold-hearted tyrant, and his wife is a
+snob. If she weren't, she wouldn't hang on to her duchess-hood
+after marrying again. It would be good enough for <i>me</i> to
+call myself Lady Northmorland, and I hope I shall some day."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen's sensitive nostrils quivered. He understood in
+that moment how a man might actually wish to strike a nagging
+virago of a woman, no matter how beautiful. And he wondered
+with a sickening heaviness of heart how he was to go on
+with the wretched business of his engagement. But he pushed
+the question out of his mind, fiercely. He was in for this
+thing now. He <i>must</i> go on.</p>
+
+<p>"Let all that alone, won't you?" he said, in a well-controlled
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't," Margot exclaimed. "I hate your brother. He
+killed my father."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Because he defended the honour of our grandfather, and
+upheld his own rights, when Mr. Lorenzi came to England to
+dispute them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who knows if they <i>were</i> his rights, or my father's? My
+father believed they were his, or he wouldn't have crossed the
+ocean and spent all his money in the hope of stepping into
+your brother's shoes."</p>
+
+<p>There were those&mdash;and Lord Northmorland and the
+Duchess of Amidon were among them&mdash;who did not admit
+that Lorenzi had believed in his "rights." And as for the money
+he had spent in trying to establish a legal claim to the Northmorland
+title and estates, it had not been his own, but lent him
+by people he had hypnotized with his plausible eloquence.</p>
+
+<p>"That question was decided in court&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It would be harder for a foreigner to get an English nobleman's
+title away than for a camel to go through the eye of
+the tiniest needle in the world. But never mind. All that's
+buried in his grave, and you're giving me everything father
+wanted me to have. I wish I could keep my horrid temper
+better in hand, and I'd never make you look so cross. But I
+inherited my emotional nature from Margherita Lorenzi, I
+suppose. What can you expect of a girl who had an Italian
+prima donna for a grandmother? And I oughtn't to quarrel
+with the fair Margherita for leaving me her temper, since she
+left me her face too, and I'm fairly well satisfied with that.
+Everybody says I'm the image of my grandmother. And you
+ought to know, after seeing her picture in dozens of illustrated
+papers, as well as in that pamphlet poor father published."</p>
+
+<p>"If you want me to tell you that you are one of the handsomest
+women who ever lived, I'll do so at once," said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>Margot smiled. "You really mean it?"</p>
+
+<p>"There couldn't be two opinions on that subject."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, if you think I'm so beautiful, don't let your brother
+and his snobbish Duchess spoil my life."</p>
+
+<p>"They can't spoil it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, they can. They can keep me from being a success
+in their set, your set&mdash;the <i>only</i> set."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps they can do that. But England isn't the only
+country, anyhow. I've been thinking that when&mdash;by and
+by&mdash;we might take a long trip round the world&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Hang</i> the world! England's my world. I've always
+looked forward to England, ever since I was a little thing,
+before mamma died, and I used to hear father repeating the
+romantic family story&mdash;how, if he could only find his mother's
+letters that she'd tried to tell him about when she was dying,
+perhaps he might make a legal claim to a title and a fortune.
+He used to turn to me and say: 'Maybe you'll be a great lady
+when you grow up, Margot, and I shall be an English viscount.'
+Then, when he did find the letters, behind the secret
+partition in grandmother's big old-fashioned sandal-wood fan-box,
+of which you've heard so much&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Too much, please, Margot."</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>beg</i> your pardon! But anyway, you see why I want to
+live in England. My life and soul are bound up in my success
+here. And I could have a success. You know I could. I
+am beautiful. I haven't seen any woman whose face I'd change
+for mine. I won't be cheated out of my happiness&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, we'll live in England, then. That's settled,"
+said Stephen, hastily. "And you shall have all the success,
+all the happiness, that I can possibly give you. But we shall
+have to get on without any help from my brother and sister-in-law,
+and perhaps without a good many other people you might
+like to have for friends. It may seem hard, but you must make
+up your mind to it, Margot. Luckily, there'll be enough money
+to do pleasant things with; and people don't matter so immensely,
+once you've got used to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"They do, they do! The right people. I <i>shall</i> know them."</p>
+
+<p>"You must have patience. Everybody is rather tired of
+our names just now. Things may change some day. I'm
+ready to begin the experiment whenever you are."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You are a dear," said Margot. And Stephen did not
+even shiver. "That brings me to what I had to tell you.
+It's this: after all, we can't be married quite as soon as we
+expected."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't we?" he echoed the words blankly. Was this to
+be a reprieve? But he was not sure that he wanted a reprieve.
+He thought, the sooner the plunge was made, the better, maybe.
+Looking forward to it had become almost unbearable.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I <i>must</i> run over to Canada first, Stephen. I've
+just begun to see that. You might say, I could go there with
+you after we were married, but it wouldn't be the same thing
+at all. I ought to stay with some of my old friends while I'm
+still Margot Lorenzi. A lot of people were awfully good to
+father, and I must show my gratitude. The sooner I sail the
+better, now the news of our engagement has got ahead of me.
+I needn't stop away very long. Seven or eight weeks&mdash;or
+nine at most, going and coming."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to be married in Canada?" Stephen asked;
+perhaps partly to please her, but probably more to disguise
+the fact that he had no impatient objections to raise against
+her plan. "If you wished, I could go whenever&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, no!" she exclaimed quickly. "I wouldn't have
+you come there for anything in the world. That is. I mean&mdash;&mdash;"
+she corrected herself with an anxious, almost frightened side
+glance at him&mdash;"I must fight it out alone. No, I don't
+mean that either. What a stupid way of putting it! But it
+would bore you dreadfully to take such a journey, and it would
+be nicer anyhow to be married in England&mdash;perhaps at St.
+George's. That used to be my dream, when I was a romantic
+little girl, and loved to stuff my head full of English novels. I
+should adore a wedding at St. George's. And oh, Stephen,
+you won't change your mind while I'm gone? It would kill
+me if you jilted me after all. I shouldn't live a single day, if
+you weren't true."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't talk nonsense, my dear girl. Of course I'm not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>
+going to change my mind," said Stephen. "When do you
+want to sail?"</p>
+
+<p>"The end of this week. You're sure you won't let your
+brother and that cruel Duchess talk you over? I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There's not the slightest chance of their talking to me at
+all," Stephen answered sharply. "We've definitely quarrelled."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2>
+
+
+<p>When he had dutifully seen Miss Lorenzi off at the
+ship, leaving her with as many flowers, novels, and
+sweets as even she could wish, Stephen expected to
+feel a sense of relief. But somehow, in a subtle
+way, he was more feverishly wretched than when Margot was
+near, and while planning to hurry on the marriage. He had
+been buoyed up with a rather youthful sense of defiance of
+the world, a hot desire to "get everything over." The flatness
+of the reaction which he felt on finding himself free, at least
+of Margot's society, was a surprise; and yet Stephen vaguely
+understood its real meaning. To be free, yet not free, was
+an aggravation. And besides, he did not know what to do or
+where to go, now that old friends and old haunts had lost much
+of their attraction.</p>
+
+<p>Since the announcement of his engagement to Miss Lorenzi,
+and especially since the famous interview, copied in all the
+papers, he disliked meeting people he knew well, lest they
+should offer good advice, or let him see that they were dying
+to do so.</p>
+
+<p>If it had been weak to say, "Be my wife, if you think I can
+make you happy," one day when Margot Lorenzi had tearfully
+confessed her love for him, it would be doubly weak&mdash;worse
+than weak, Stephen thought&mdash;to throw her over now.
+It would look to the world as if he were a coward, and it would
+look to himself the same&mdash;which would be more painful in
+the end. So he could listen to no advice, and he wished to
+hear none. Fortunately he was not in love with any other
+woman. But then, if he had loved somebody else, he would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>
+not have made the foolish mistake of saying those unlucky,
+irrevocable words to Margot.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen would have liked to get away from England for a
+while, but he hardly knew where to look for a haven. Since
+making a dash through France and Italy just after leaving
+Oxford, he had been too busy amusing himself in his own
+country to find time for any other, with the exception of an
+occasional run over to Paris. Now, if he stopped in England
+it would be difficult to evade officious friends, and soon everybody
+would be gossiping about his quarrel with Northmorland.
+The Duchess was not reticent.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen had not yet made up his mind what to do, or whether
+to do anything at all in his brief interval of freedom, when a
+letter came, to the flat near Albert Gate, where he had shut
+himself up after the sailing of Margot. The letter was post-marked
+Algiers, and it was a long time since he had seen the
+writing on the envelope&mdash;but not so long that he had forgotten
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"Nevill Caird!" he said to himself as he broke the neat
+seal which was characteristic of the writer. And he wondered,
+as he slowly, almost reluctantly, unfolded the letter, whether
+Nevill Caird had been reminded of him by reading the interview
+with Margot. Once, he and Caird had been very good
+friends, almost inseparable during one year at Oxford. Stephen
+had been twenty then, and Nevill Caird about twenty-three.
+That would make him thirty-two now&mdash;and Stephen
+could hardly imagine what "Wings" would have developed
+into at thirty-two. They had not met since Stephen's last year
+at Oxford, for Caird had gone to live abroad, and if he came
+back to England sometimes, he had never made any sign of
+wishing to pick up the old friendship where it had dropped.
+But here was this letter.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen knew that Caird had inherited a good deal of money,
+and a house in Paris, from an uncle or some other near relative;
+and a common friend had told him that there was also an Arab<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>
+palace, very ancient and very beautiful, in or near Algiers.
+Several years had passed since Nevill Caird's name had been
+mentioned in his hearing, and lately it had not even echoed in
+his mind; but now, the handwriting and the neat seal on this
+envelope brought vividly before him the image of his friend:
+small, slight, boyish in face and figure, with a bright, yet dreamy
+smile, and blue-grey eyes which had the look of seeing beautiful
+things that nobody else could see.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Legs</span>,"</p></div>
+
+<p>began the letter ("Legs" being the name
+which Stephen's skill as a runner, as well as the length of his
+limbs, had given him in undergraduate days).</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dear Legs,
+I've often thought about you in the last nine years, and hope
+you've occasionally thought of me, though somehow or other
+we haven't written. I don't know whether you've travelled
+much, or whether England has absorbed all your interests.
+Anyhow, can't you come out here and make me a visit&mdash;the
+longer it is, the more I shall be pleased. This country is interesting
+if you don't know it, and fascinating if you do. My
+place is rather nice, and I should like you to see it. Still better,
+I should like to see you. Do come if you can, and come soon.
+I should enjoy showing you my garden at its best. It's one of
+the things I care for most, but there are other things. Do let
+me introduce you to them all. You can be as quiet as you
+wish, if you wish. I'm a quiet sort myself, as you may remember,
+and North Africa suits me better than London or Paris.
+I haven't changed for the worse I hope, and I'm sure you
+haven't, in any way.</p>
+
+<p>"You can hardly realize how much pleasure it will give me if
+you'll say 'yes' to my proposal.</p>
+
+<p style="{text-align: right;}">"Yours as ever</p>
+
+<p style="{text-align: right;}"><span class="smcap">"Nevill Caird</span>, alias 'Wings,'"</p></div>
+
+<p>Not a word of "the case," though, of course, he must know
+all about it&mdash;even in Algiers. Stephen's gratitude went out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>
+to his old friend, and his heart felt warmer because of the
+letter and the invitation. Many people, even with the best
+intentions, would have contrived to say the wrong thing in
+these awkward circumstances. There would have been some
+veiled allusion to the engagement; either silly, well-meant
+congratulations and good wishes, or else a stupid hint of advice
+to get out of a bad business while there was time. But Caird
+wrote as he might have written if there had been no case, and
+no entanglement; and acting on his first impulse, Stephen telegraphed
+an acceptance, saying that he would start for Algiers
+in two or three days. Afterwards, when he had given himself
+time to think, he did not regret his decision. Indeed, he was
+glad of it, and glad that he had made it so soon.</p>
+
+<p>A few weeks ago, a sudden break in his plans would have
+caused him a great deal of trouble. There would have been
+dozens of luncheons and dinners to escape from, and twice
+as many letters to write. But nowadays he had few invitations
+and scarcely any letters to write, except those of business,
+and an occasional line to Margot. People were willing to be
+neglected by him, willing to let him alone, for now that he had
+quarrelled with Northmorland and the Duchess, and had
+promised to marry an impossible woman, he must be gently
+but firmly taught to expect little of Society in future.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen broke the news to his man that he was going away,
+alone, and though the accomplished Molton had regrets, they
+were not as poignant as they would have been some weeks
+earlier. Most valets, if not all, are human, and have a weakness
+for a master whose social popularity is as unbounded as
+his generosity.</p>
+
+<p>Molton's services did not cease until after he had packed
+Stephen's luggage, and seen him off at Victoria. He flattered
+himself, as he left the station with three months' wages in his
+pocket, that he would be missed; but Stephen was surprised
+at the sense of relief which came as Molton turned a respectable
+back, and the boat-train began to slide out of the station. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>
+was good to be alone, to have loosed his moorings, and to be
+drifting away where no eyes, once kind, would turn from him,
+or turn on him with pity. Out there in Algiers, a town of which
+he had the vaguest conception, there would be people who read
+the papers, of course, and people who loved to gossip; but
+Stephen felt a pleasant confidence that Nevill Caird would
+know how to protect him from such people. He would not
+have to meet many strangers. Nevill would arrange all
+that, and give him plenty to think about during his weeks of
+freedom.</p>
+
+<p>Algiers seemed a remote place to Stephen, who had loved
+life at home too passionately to care for foreign travel. Besides,
+there was always a great deal to do in England at every season
+of the year, and it had been difficult to find a time convenient
+for getting away. Town engagements began early
+in the spring, and lasted till after Cowes, when he was keen
+for Scotland. Being a gregarious as well as an idle young
+man, he was pleased with his own popularity, and the number
+of his invitations for country-house visits. He could never
+accept more than half, but even so, he hardly saw London until
+January; and then, if he went abroad at all, there was only time
+for a few days in Paris, and a fortnight on the Riviera, perhaps,
+before he found that he must get back. Just after leaving
+Oxford, before his father's death, he had been to Rome, to Berlin,
+and Vienna, and returned better satisfied than ever with
+his own capital; but of course it was different now that the
+capital was dissatisfied with him.</p>
+
+<p>He had chosen the night train and it was not crowded. All
+the way to Dover he had the compartment to himself, and
+there was no rush for the boat. It was a night of stars and
+balmy airs; but after the start the wind freshened, and Stephen
+walked briskly up and down the deck, shivering slightly at
+first, till his blood warmed. By and by it grew so cold that
+the deck emptied, save for half a dozen men with pipes that
+glowed between turned-up coat collars, and one girl in a blue<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>
+serge dress, with no other cloak than the jacket that matched
+her frock. Stephen hardly noticed her at first, but as men
+buttoned their coats or went below, and she remained, his
+attention was attracted to the slim figure leaning on the rail.
+Her face was turned away, looking over the sea where the
+whirling stars dipped into dark waves that sprang to engulf
+them. Her elbows rested on the railing, and her chin lay in
+the cup of her two hands; but her hair, under a blue sailor-hat
+held down with a veil, hung low in a great looped-up plait,
+tied with a wide black ribbon, so that Stephen, without wasting
+much thought upon her, guessed that she must be very young.
+It was red hair, gleaming where the light touched it, and the
+wind thrashed curly tendrils out from the thick clump of the
+braid, tracing bright threads in intricate, lacy lines over
+her shoulders, like the network of sunlight that plays on the
+surface of water.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen thought of that simile after he had passed the girl
+once or twice, and thinking of it made him think of the girl
+herself. He was sure she must be cold in her serge jacket,
+and wondered why she didn't go below to the ladies' cabin.
+Also he wondered, even more vaguely, why her people didn't
+take better care of the child: there must be some one belonging
+to her on board.</p>
+
+<p>At last she turned, not to look at him, but to pace back and
+forth as others were pacing. She was in front of Stephen, and
+he saw only her back, which seemed more girlish than ever
+as she walked with a light, springing step, that might have
+kept time to some dainty dance-music which only she could
+hear. Her short dress, of hardly more than ankle length,
+flowed past her slender shape as the black, white-frothing
+waves flowed past the slim prow of the boat; and there was
+something individual, something distinguished in her gait and
+the bearing of her head on the young throat. Stephen noticed
+this rather interesting peculiarity, remarking it more definitely
+because of the almost mean simplicity of the blue serge dress.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>
+It was of provincial cut, and looked as if the wearer might
+have bought it ready made in some country town. Her hat,
+too, was of the sort that is turned out by the thousand and
+sold at a few shillings for young persons between the ages of
+twelve and twenty.</p>
+
+<p>By and by, when she had walked as far forward as possible,
+the deck rising under her feet or plunging down, while thin
+spray-wreaths sailed by on the wind, the girl wheeled and had
+the breeze at her back. It was then Stephen caught his first
+glimpse of her face, in a full white blaze of electric light: and
+he had the picture to himself, for by this time nearly every one
+else had gone.</p>
+
+<p>He had not expected anything wonderful, but it seemed to
+him in a flash of surprise that this was an amazing beauty.
+He had never seen such hair, or such a complexion. The
+large eyes gave him no more than a passing glance, but they
+were so vivid, so full of blue light as they met his, that he had
+a startled impression of being graciously accosted. It seemed
+as if the girl had some message to give him, for which he must
+stop and ask.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as they had passed each other, however, that curious,
+exciting impression was gone, like the vanishing glint on a
+gull's wing as it dips from sun into shadow. Of course she
+had not spoken; of course she had no word to give him. He
+had seemed to hear her speak, because she was a very vital
+sort of creature, no doubt, and therefore physically, though
+unconsciously, magnetic.</p>
+
+<p>At their next crossing under the light she did not look at
+him at all, and he realized that she was not so extraordinarily
+beautiful as he had at first thought. The glory of her was
+more an effect of colouring than anything else. The creamy
+complexion of a very young girl, whipped to rose and white
+by the sea wind; brilliant turquoise blue eyes under a glitter
+of wavy red hair; these were the only marvels, for the small,
+straight nose was exactly like most pretty girls' noses, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>
+mouth, though expressive and sweet, with a short upper lip,
+was not remarkable, unless for its firmness.</p>
+
+<p>The next time they passed, Stephen granted the girl a certain
+charm of expression which heightened the effect of beauty.
+She looked singularly innocent and interested in life, which
+to Stephen's mood seemed pathetic. He was convinced that
+he had seen through life, and consequently ceased forever to
+be interested in it. But he admired beauty wherever he saw
+it, whether in the grace of a breaking wave, or the sheen on a
+girl's bright hair, and it amused him faintly to speculate about
+the young creature with the brilliant eyes and blowing red locks.
+He decided that she was a schoolgirl of sixteen, being taken
+over to Paris, probably to finish her education there. Her
+mother or guardian was no doubt prostrate with sea-sickness,
+careless for the moment whether the child paraded the deck
+insufficiently clad, or whether she fell unchaperoned into the
+sea. Judging by her clothes, her family was poor, and she
+was perhaps intended for a governess: that was why they were
+sending her to France. She was to be given "every advantage,"
+in order to command "desirable situations" by and by.
+Stephen felt dimly sorry for the little thing, who looked so
+radiantly happy now. She was much too pretty to be a governess,
+or to be obliged to earn her own living in any way.
+Women were brutes to each other sometimes. He had been
+finding this out lately. Few would care to bring a flowerlike
+creature of that type into their houses. The girl had
+trouble before her. He was sure she was going to be a
+governess.</p>
+
+<p>After she had walked for half an hour she looked round for
+a sheltered corner and sat down. But the place she
+had chosen was only comparatively sheltered, and presently
+Stephen fancied that he saw her shivering with cold. He could
+not bear this, knowing that he had a rug which Molton had
+forced upon him to use on board ship between Marseilles and
+Algiers. It was in a rolled-up thing which Molton called a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>
+"hold-all," along with some sticks and an umbrella, Stephen
+believed; and the rolled-up thing was on deck, with other
+hand-luggage.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you let me lend you a rug?" he asked, in the tone of
+a benevolent uncle addressing a child. "I have one close by,
+and it's rather cold when you don't walk."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you very much," said the girl. "I should like it,
+if it won't be too much trouble to you."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke simply, and had a pretty voice, but it was an
+American voice. Stephen was surprised, because to find that
+she was an American upset his theories. He had never heard
+of American girls coming over to Paris with the object of training
+to be governesses.</p>
+
+<p>He went away and found the rug, returning with it in two or
+three minutes. The girl thanked him again, getting up and
+wrapping the dark soft thing round her shoulders and body, as
+if it had been a big shawl. Then she sat down once more,
+with a comfortable little sigh. "That does feel good!" she
+exclaimed. "I <i>was</i> cold."</p>
+
+<p>"I think you would have been wiser to stop in the ladies'
+cabin," said Stephen, still with the somewhat patronizing air
+of the older person.</p>
+
+<p>"I like lots of air," explained the girl. "And it doesn't
+do me any harm to be cold."</p>
+
+<p>"How about getting a chill?" inquired Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I never have such things. They don't exist. At
+least they don't unless one encourages them," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled, rather interested, and pleased to linger, since
+she evidently understood that he was using no arts to scrape
+an acquaintance. "That sounds like Christian Science," he
+ventured.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that it's any kind of science," said she. "Nobody
+ever talked to me about it. Only if you're not afraid
+of things, they can't hurt you, can they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps not. I suppose you mean you needn't let your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>self
+feel them. There's something in the idea: be callous as
+an alligator and nothing can hit you."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean that at all. I'd hate to be callous," she objected.
+"We couldn't enjoy things if we were callous."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen, on the point of saying something bitter, stopped in
+time, knowing that his words would have been not only stupid
+but obvious, which was worse. "It is good to be young," he
+remarked instead.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but I'm glad to be grown up at last," said the girl;
+and Stephen would not let himself laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"I know how you feel," he answered. "I used to feel like
+that too."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not always. I've had plenty of time to get tired of being
+grown up."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe you've been a soldier, and have seen sad things,"
+she suggested. "I was thinking when I first saw you, that
+you looked like a soldier."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I had been. Unfortunately I was too disgustingly
+young, when our only war of my day was on. I mean, the sort
+of war one could volunteer for."</p>
+
+<p>"In South Africa?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. You were a baby in that remote time."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, I wasn't. I'm eighteen now, going on nineteen.
+I was in Paris then, with my stepmother and my sister. We
+used to hear talk about the war, though we knew hardly any
+English people."</p>
+
+<p>"So Paris won't be a new experience to you?" said Stephen,
+disappointed that he had been mistaken in all his surmises.</p>
+
+<p>"I went back to America before I was nine, and I've been
+there ever since, till a few weeks ago. Oh see, there are the
+lights of France! I can't help being excited."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we'll be in very soon&mdash;in about ten minutes."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad! I'd better go below and make my hair tidy.
+Thank you ever so much for helping me to be comfortable."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She jumped up, unrolled herself, and began to fold the rug
+neatly. Stephen would have taken it from her and bundled it
+together anyhow, but she would not let him do that. "I like
+folded things," she said. "It's nice to see them come straight,
+and I enjoy it more because the wind doesn't want me to do it.
+To succeed in spite of something, is a kind of little triumph&mdash;and
+seems like a sign. Good-bye, and thank you once
+more."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye," said Stephen, and added to himself that he
+would not soon again see so pretty a child; as fresh, as frank, or
+as innocent. He had known several delightful American girls,
+but never one like this. She was a new type to him, and more
+interesting, perhaps, because she was simple, and even provincial.
+He was in a state of mind to glorify women who were
+entirely unsophisticated.</p>
+
+<p>He did not see the girl getting into the train at Calais, though
+he looked for her, feeling some curiosity as to the stepmother
+and the sister whom he had imagined prostrate in the ladies'
+cabin. By the time he had arrived at Paris he felt sleepy and
+dull after an aggravating doze or two on the way, and had
+almost forgotten the red-haired child with the vivid blue eyes,
+until, to his astonishment, he saw her alone parleying with a
+<i>douanier</i>, over two great boxes, for one of which there seemed
+to be no key.</p>
+
+<p>"Those selfish people of hers have left her to do all the work,"
+he said to himself indignantly, and as she appeared to be having
+some difficulty with the official, he went to ask if he could
+help.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, it's all right now," she said. "The key of
+my biggest box is mislaid, but luckily I've got the man to believe
+me when I say there's nothing in it except clothes, just
+the same as in the other. Still it would be very, very kind
+if you wouldn't mind seeing me to a cab. That is, if it's no
+bother."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen assured her that he would be delighted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Have your people engaged the cab already," he wanted to
+know, "or are they waiting in this room for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't any people," she answered. "I'm all by myself."</p>
+
+<p>This was another surprise, and it was as much as Stephen
+could do not to blame her family audibly for allowing the child
+to travel alone, at night too. The thing seemed monstrous.</p>
+
+<p>He took her into the court-yard, where the cabs stood,
+and engaged two, one for the girl, and one for her large
+luggage.</p>
+
+<p>"You have rooms already taken at an hotel, I hope?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to a boarding-house&mdash;a <i>pension</i>, I mean," explained
+the girl. "But it's all right. They know I'm coming.
+I do thank you for everything."</p>
+
+<p>Seated in the cab, she held out her hand in a glove which
+had been cleaned, and showed mended fingers. Stephen shook
+the small hand gravely, and for the second time they bade each
+other good-bye.</p>
+
+<p>In the cold grey light of a rainy dawn, which would have
+suited few women as a background, especially after a night
+journey, the girl's face looked pearly, and Stephen saw that
+her lashes, darker at the roots, were bright golden at the turned-up
+ends.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to him that this pretty child, alone in the greyness
+and rain of the big foreign city, was like a spring flower
+thrown carelessly into a river to float with the stream. He
+felt an impulse of protection, and it went against his instincts
+to let her drive about Paris unprotected, while night had hardly
+yielded to morning. But he could not offer to go with her.
+He was interested, as any man of flesh and blood must be interested,
+in the fate of an innocent and charming girl left to
+take care of herself, and entirely unfitted for the task; yet she
+seemed happy and self-confident, and he had no right, even
+if he wished, to disturb her mind. He was going away with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>out
+another word after the good-bye, but on second thoughts
+felt that he might ask if she had friends in Paris.</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly friends, but people who will look after me,
+and be kind, I'm sure," she answered. "Thank you for taking
+an interest. Will you tell the man to go to 278A Rue Washington,
+and the other cab to follow?"</p>
+
+<p>Stephen obeyed, and as she drove away the girl looked back,
+smiling at him her sweet and childlike smile.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2>
+
+
+<p>Stephen had meant to stop only one day in Paris,
+and travel at night to Marseilles, where he would have
+twelve or fifteen hours to wait before the sailing of
+the ship on which he had engaged a cabin. But glancing
+over a French paper while he breakfasted at the Westminster,
+he saw that a slight accident had happened to the boat during
+a storm on her return voyage from Algiers, and that she
+would be delayed three days for repairs. This news made
+Stephen decide to remain in Paris for those days, rather than
+go on and wait at Marseilles, or take another ship. He did
+not want to see any one he knew, but he thought it would be
+pleasant to spend some hours picture-gazing at the Louvre,
+and doing a few other things which one ought to do in Paris,
+and seldom does.</p>
+
+<p>That night he went to bed early and slept better than he
+had slept for weeks. The next day he almost enjoyed, and
+when evening came, felt desultory, even light-hearted.</p>
+
+<p>Dining at his hotel, he overheard the people at the next
+table say they were going to the Folies Berg&egrave;res to see Victoria
+Ray dance, and suddenly Stephen made up his mind that he
+would go there too: for if life had been running its usual
+course with him, he would certainly have gone to see Victoria
+Ray in London. She had danced lately at the Palace Theatre
+for a month or six weeks, and absorbed as he had been in
+his own affairs, he had heard enough talk about this new
+dancer to know that she had made what is called a "sensation."</p>
+
+<p>The people at the next table were telling each other that
+Victoria Ray's Paris engagement was only for three nights,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>
+something special, with huge pay, and that there was a "regular
+scramble" for seats, as the girl had been such a success in
+New York and London. The speakers, who were English
+and provincial, had already taken places, but there did not
+appear to be much hope that Stephen could get anything at
+the last minute. The little spice of difficulty gave a fillip of
+interest, however; and he remembered how the charming
+child on the boat had said that she "liked doing difficult
+things." He wondered what she was doing now; and as he
+thought of her, white and ethereal in the night and in the
+dawn-light, she seemed to him like the foam-flowers that had
+blossomed for an instant on the crests of dark waves, through
+which their vessel forged. "For a moment white, then gone
+forever." The words glittered in his mind, and fascinated
+him, calling up the image of the girl, pale against the night
+and rainy sea. "For a moment white, then gone forever,"
+he repeated, and asked himself whence came the line. From
+Burns, he fancied; and thought it quaintly appropriate to
+the fair child whose clear whiteness had thrown a gleam into
+his life before she vanished.</p>
+
+<p>All the seats for this second night of Victoria Ray's short
+engagement were sold at the Folies Berg&egrave;res, he found, from
+the dearest to the cheapest: but there was standing room
+still when Stephen arrived, and he squeezed himself in among
+a group of light-hearted, long-haired students from the Latin
+Quarter. He had an hour to wait before Victoria Ray would
+dance, but there was some clever conjuring to be seen, a famous
+singer of <i>chansons</i> to be heard, and other performances
+which made the time pass well enough. Then, at last, it was
+the new dancer's "turn."</p>
+
+<p>The curtain remained down for several minutes, as some
+scenic preparation was necessary before her first dance. Gay
+French music was playing, and people chattered through it,
+or laughed in high Parisian voices. A blue haze of smoke
+hung suspended like a thin veil, and the air was close, scented<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>
+with tobacco and perfume. Stephen looked at his programme,
+beginning to feel bored. His elbows were pressed against his
+sides by the crowd. Miss Ray was down for two dances, the
+Dance of the Statue and the Dance of the Shadow. The
+atmosphere of the place depressed him. He doubted after
+all, that he would care for the dancing. But as he began to
+wish he had not come the curtain went up, to show the studio
+of a sculptor, empty save for the artist's marble masterpieces.
+Through a large skylight, and a high window at the back of
+the stage, a red glow of sunset streamed into the bare room.
+In the shadowy corners marble forms were grouped, but in the
+centre, directly under the full flood of rose-coloured light, the
+just finished statue of a girl stood on a raised platform. She
+was looking up, and held a cup in one lifted hand, as if to
+catch the red wine of sunset. Her draperies, confined by a
+Greek ceinture under the young bust, fell from shoulder to
+foot in long clear lines that seemed cut in gleaming stone.
+The illusion was perfect. Even in that ruddy blaze the delicate,
+draped form appeared to be of carved marble. It was
+almost impossible to believe it that of a living woman, and
+its grace of outline and pose was so perfect that Stephen, in
+his love of beauty, dreaded the first movement which must
+change, if not break, the tableau. He said to himself that
+there was some faint resemblance between this chiselled loveliness
+and the vivid charm of the pretty child he had met on
+the boat. He could imagine that a statue for which she had
+stood as model might look like this, though the features seemed
+to his eye more regular than those of the girl.</p>
+
+<p>As he gazed, the music, which had been rich and colourful,
+fell into softer notes; and the rose-sunset faded to an opal
+twilight, purple to blue, blue to the silver of moonlight, the
+music changing as the light changed, until at last it was low
+and slumberous as the drip-drip of a plashing fountain. Then,
+into the dream of the music broke a sound like the distant
+striking of a clock. It was midnight, and all the statues in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>
+the sculptor's bare, white studio began to wake at the magic
+stroke which granted them a few hours of life.</p>
+
+<p>There was just a shimmer of movement in the dim corners.
+Marble limbs stirred, marble face turned slowly to gaze at
+marble face; yet, as if they could be only half awakened in
+the shadows where the life-giving draught of moonlight might
+not flow, there was but the faintest flicker of white forms and
+draperies. It was the just finished statue of the girl which
+felt the full thrill of moonshine and midnight. She woke
+rapturously, and drained the silver moon-wine in her cup
+(the music told the story of her first thought and living heart-beat):
+then down she stepped from the platform where the
+sculptor's tools still lay, and began to dance for the other
+statues who watched in the dusk, hushed back into stillness
+under the new spell of her enchantments.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen had never seen anything like that dance. Many
+pretty <i>premi&egrave;res danseuses</i> he had admired and applauded,
+charming and clever young women of France, of Russia, of
+Italy, and Spain: and they had roused him and all London to
+enthusiasm over dances eccentric, original, exquisite, or wild.
+But never had there been anything like this. Stephen had
+not known that a dance could move him as this did. He was
+roused, even thrilled by its poetry, and the perfect beauty of
+its poses, its poises. It must, he supposed, have been practised
+patiently, perhaps for years, yet it produced the effect
+of being entirely unstudied. At all events, there was nothing
+in the ordinary sense "professional" about it. One would
+say&mdash;not knowing the supreme art of supreme grace&mdash;that
+a joyous child, born to the heritage of natural grace, might
+dance thus by sheer inspiration, in ecstasy of life and worship
+of the newly felt beauty of earth. Stephen did know
+something of art, and the need of devotion to its study; yet he
+found it hard to realize that this awakened marble loveliness
+had gone through the same performance week after week,
+month after month, in America and England. He preferred<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>
+rather to let himself fancy that he was dreaming the whole
+thing; and he would gladly have dreamed on indefinitely,
+forgetting the smoky atmosphere, forgetting the long-haired
+students and all the incongruous surroundings. The gracious
+dream gave him peace and pleasure such as he had not known
+since the beginning of the Northmorland case.</p>
+
+<p>Through the house there was a hush, unusual at the Folies
+Berg&egrave;res. People hardly knew what to make of the dances,
+so different from any ever seen in a theatre of Paris. Stephen
+was not alone in feeling the curious dream-spell woven by
+music and perfection of beauty. But the light changed. The
+moonlight slowly faded. Dancer and music faltered, in the
+falling of the dark hour before dawn. The charm was waning.
+Soft notes died, and quavered in apprehension. The
+magic charm of the moon was breaking, had broken: a crash
+of cymbals and the studio was dark. Then light began to
+glimmer once more, but it was the chill light of dawn, and
+growing from purple to blue, from blue to rosy day, it showed
+the marble statues fast locked in marble sleep again. On the
+platform stood the girl with uplifted arm, holding her cup,
+now, to catch the wine of sunrise; and on the delicately
+chiselled face was a faint smile which seemed to hide a secret.
+When the first ray of yellow sunshine gilded the big skylight, a
+door up-stage opened and the sculptor came in, wearing his
+workman's blouse. He regarded his handiwork, as the curtain
+came down.</p>
+
+<p>When the music of the dream had ceased and suddenly became
+ostentatiously puerile, the audience broke into a tumult
+of applause. Women clapped their hands furiously and many
+men shouted "brava, brava," hoping that the curtain might
+rise once more on the picture; but it did not rise, and Stephen
+was glad. The dream would have been vulgarized by
+repetition.</p>
+
+<p>For fully five minutes the orchestra played some gay tune
+which every one there had heard a hundred times; but ab<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>ruptly
+it stopped, as if on a signal. For an instant there was
+a silence of waiting and suspense, which roused interest and
+piqued curiosity. Then there began a delicate symphony
+which could mean nothing but spring in a forest, and on that
+the curtain went up. The prophecy of the music was fulfilled,
+for the scene was a woodland in April, with young leaves
+a-flicker and blossoms in birth, the light song of the flutes and
+violins being the song of birds in love. All the trees were
+brocaded with dainty, gold-green lace, and daffodils sprouted
+from the moss at their feet.</p>
+
+<p>The birds sang more gaily, and out from behind a silver-trunked
+beech tree danced a figure in spring green. Her
+arms were full of flowers, which she scattered as she danced,
+curtseying, mocking, beckoning the shadow that followed
+her along the daisied grass. Her little feet were bare, and
+flitted through the green folding of her draperies like white
+night-moths fluttering among rose leaves. Her hair fell over
+her shoulders, and curled below her waist. It was red hair
+that glittered and waved, and she looked a radiant child of
+sixteen. Victoria Ray the dancer, and the girl on the Channel
+boat were one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2>
+
+
+<p>The Shadow Dance was even more beautiful than the
+Dance of the Statue, but Stephen had lost pleasure
+in it. He was supersensitive in these days, and he
+felt as if the girl had deliberately made game of him,
+in order that he should make a fool of himself. Of course it
+was a pose of hers to travel without chaperon or maid, and dress
+like a school girl from a provincial town, in cheap serge, a
+sailor hat, and a plait of hair looped up with ribbon. She
+was no doubt five or six years older than she looked or admitted,
+and probably her manager shrewdly prescribed the
+"line" she had taken up. Young women on the stage&mdash;actresses,
+dancers, or singers, it didn't matter which&mdash;must
+do something unusual, in order to be talked about,
+and get a good free advertisement. Nowadays, when professionals
+vied with each other in the expensiveness of their jewels, the
+size of their hats, or the smallness of their waists, and the
+eccentricity of their costumes, it was perhaps rather a new
+note to wear no jewels at all, and appear in ready-made frocks
+bought in bargain-sales; while, as for the young woman's air
+of childlike innocence and inexperience, it might be a tribute
+to her cleverness as an actress, but it was not a tribute to his
+intelligence as a man, that he should have been taken in by
+it. Always, he told himself, he was being taken in by some
+woman. After the lesson he had had, he ought to have learned
+wisdom, but it seemed that he was as gullible as ever. And
+it was this romantic folly of his which vexed him now; not the
+fact that a simple child over whose fate he had sentimentalized,
+was a rich and popular stage-dancer. Miss Ray was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>
+probably a good enough young woman according to her lights,
+and it was not she who need be shamed by the success of the
+Channel boat comedy.</p>
+
+<p>He had another day and night in Paris, where he did more
+sightseeing than he had ever accomplished before in a dozen
+visits, and then travelled on to Marseilles. The slight damage
+to the <i>Charles Quex</i> had been repaired, and at noon the
+ship was to sail. Stephen went on board early, as he could
+think of nothing else which he preferred to do, and he was
+repaid for his promptness. By the time he had seen his luggage
+deposited in the cabin he had secured for himself alone,
+engaged a deck chair, and taken a look over the ship&mdash;which
+was new, and as handsome as much oak, fragrant cedar-wood,
+gilding, and green brocade could make her&mdash;many
+other passengers were coming on board. Travelling first
+class were several slim French officers, and stout Frenchmen of
+the commercial class; a merry theatrical company going to
+act in Algiers and Tunis; an English clergyman of grave
+aspect; invalids with their nurses, and two or three dignified
+Arabs, evidently of good birth as well as fortune. Arab
+merchants were returning from the Riviera, and a party of
+German students were going second class.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen was interested in the lively scene of embarkation,
+and glad to be a part of it, though still more glad that there
+seemed to be nobody on board whom he had ever met. He
+admired the harbour, and the shipping, and felt pleasantly
+exhilarated. "I feel very young, or very old, I'm not sure
+which," he said to himself as a faint thrill ran through his
+nerves at the grinding groan of the anchor, slowly hauled out
+of the deep green water.</p>
+
+<p>It was as if he heard the creaking of a gate which opened
+into an unknown garden, a garden where life would be new
+and changed. Nevill Caird had once said that there was
+no sharp, dividing line between phases of existence, except
+one's own moods, and Stephen had thought this true; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>
+now it seemed as if the sea which silvered the distance was
+the dividing line for him, while all that lay beyond the horizon
+was mysterious as a desert mirage.</p>
+
+<p>He was not conscious of any joy at starting, yet he was
+excited, as if something tremendous were about to happen to
+him. England, that he knew so well, seemed suddenly less
+real than Africa, which he knew not at all, and his senses
+were keenly alert for the first time in many days. He saw
+Marseilles from a new point of view, and wondered why he
+had never read anything fine written in praise of the ancient
+Phoenician city. Though he had not been in the East, he
+imagined that the old part of the town, seen from the sea,
+looked Eastern, as if the traffic between east and west, going
+on for thousands of years, had imported an Eastern taste in
+architecture.</p>
+
+<p>The huge, mosque-like cathedral bubbled with domes,
+where fierce gleams of gold were hammered out by strokes of
+the noonday sun. A background of wild mountain ranges,
+whose tortured peaks shone opaline through long rents in
+mist veils, lent an air of romance to the scene, and Notre
+Dame de la Garde loomed nobly on her bleached and arid
+height. "Have no fear: I keep watch and ward over land
+and sea," seemed to say the majestic figure of gold on the
+tall tower, and Stephen half wished he were of the Catholic
+faith, that he might take comfort from the assurance.</p>
+
+<p>As the <i>Charles Quex</i> steamed farther and farther away,
+the church on the mountainous hill appeared to change in
+shape. Notre Dame de la Garde looked no longer like a
+building made by man, but like a great sacred swan crowned
+with gold, and nested on a mountain-top. There she sat,
+with shining head erect on a long neck, seated on her nest,
+protecting her young, and gazing far across the sea in search
+of danger. The sun touched her golden crown, and dusky
+cloud-shadows grouped far beneath her eyrie, like mourners
+kneeling below the height to pray. The rock-shapes and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>
+island rocks that cut the blue glitter of the sea, suggested
+splendid tales of Phoenician mariners and Saracenic pirates,
+tales lost forever in the dim mists of time; and so Stephen
+wandered on to thoughts of Dumas, wishing he had brought
+"Monte Cristo," dearly loved when he was twelve. Probably
+not a soul on board had the book; people were so stupid and
+prosaic nowadays. He turned from the rail on which he had
+leaned to watch the fading land, and as he did so, his eyes
+fell upon a bright red copy of the book for which he had been
+wishing. There was the name in large gold lettering on a
+scarlet cover, very conspicuous on the dark blue serge lap of
+a girl. It was the girl of the Channel boat, and she wore the
+same dress, the same sailor hat tied on with a blue veil, which
+she had worn that night crossing from England to France.</p>
+
+<p>While Stephen had been absorbed in admiration of Marseilles
+harbour, she had come up on deck, and settled herself
+in a canvas chair. This time she had a rug of her own, a thin
+navy blue rug which, like her frock, might have been chosen
+for its cheapness. Although she held a volume of "Monte
+Cristo," she was not reading, and as Stephen turned towards
+her, their eyes met.</p>
+
+<p>Hers lit up with a pleased smile, and the pink that sprang
+to her cheeks was the colour of surprise, not of self-consciousness.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>thought</i> your back looked like you, but I didn't suppose
+it would turn out to be you," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen's slight, unreasonable irritation could not stand
+against the azure of such eyes, and the youth in her friendly
+smile. Since the girl seemed glad to see him, why shouldn't
+he be glad to see her? At least she was not a link with England.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought your statue looked like you," he retorted, standing
+near her chair, "but I didn't suppose it would turn out
+to be you until your shadow followed."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you saw me dance! Did you like it?" She asked
+the question eagerly, like a child who hangs upon grown-up
+judgment of its work.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I thought both dances extremely beautiful and artistic,"
+replied Stephen, a little stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him questioningly, as if puzzled. "No, I
+don't think you did like them, really," she said. "I oughtn't
+to have asked in that blunt way, because of course you would
+hate to hurt my feelings by saying no!"</p>
+
+<p>Her manner was so unlike that of a spoiled stage darling,
+that Stephen had to remind himself sharply of her "innocent
+pose," and his own soft-hearted lack of discrimination where
+pretty women were concerned. By doing this he kept himself
+armed against the clever little actress laughing at him
+behind the blue eyes of a child. "You must know that there
+can't be two opinions of your dancing," said he coolly. "You
+have had years and years of flattery, of course; enough to
+make you sick of it, if a woman ever&mdash;&mdash;" He stopped,
+smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I've been dancing professionally for only a few
+months!" she exclaimed. "Didn't you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm ashamed to say I was ignorant," Stephen confessed.
+"But before the dancing, there must have been something else
+equally clever. Floating&mdash;or flying&mdash;or&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She laughed. "Why don't you suggest fainting in coils?
+I'm certain you would, if you'd ever read 'Alice.'"</p>
+
+<p>"As a matter of fact, I was brought up on 'Alice,'" said
+Stephen. "Do children of the present day still go down the
+rabbit hole?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not sure about children of the <i>present</i> day. Children
+of my day went down," she replied with dignity. "I loved
+Alice dearly. I don't know much about other children, though,
+for I never had a chance to make friends as a child. But then I
+had my sister when I was a little girl, so nothing else mattered."</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't think me rude to say so," ventured Stephen,
+"you would seem to me a little girl now, if I hadn't found out
+that you're an accomplished star of the theatres, admired all
+over Europe."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Now you're making fun of me," said the dancer. "Paris
+was only my third engagement; and it's going to be my last,
+anyway for ever so long, I hope."</p>
+
+<p>This time Stephen was really surprised, and all his early
+interest in the young creature woke again; the personal sort
+of interest which he had partly lost on finding that she was
+of the theatrical world.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see!" he ejaculated, before stopping to reflect that
+he had no right to put into words the idea which jumped into
+his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"You see?" she echoed. "But how can you see, unless
+you know something about me already?"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon," he apologized. "It was only a thought.
+I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A thought about my dancing?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly that. About your not dancing again."</p>
+
+<p>"Then please tell me the thought."</p>
+
+<p>"You may be angry. I rather think you'd have a right to
+be angry&mdash;not at the thought, but the telling of it."</p>
+
+<p>"I promise."</p>
+
+<p>"Why," explained Stephen, "when a young and successful
+actress makes up her mind to leave the stage, what is the
+usual reason?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not an actress, so I can't imagine what you mean&mdash;unless
+you suppose I've made a great fortune in a few
+months?"</p>
+
+<p>"That too, perhaps&mdash;but I don't think a fortune would
+induce you to leave the stage yet a while. You'd want to go
+on, not for the money perhaps, but for the fun."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't been dancing for fun."</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I began with a purpose. I'm leaving the stage for
+a purpose. And you say you can guess what that is. If you
+know, you must have been told."</p>
+
+<p>"Since you insist, it occurred to me that you might be going<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>
+to marry. I thought maybe you were travelling to Africa
+to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She laughed. "Oh, you <i>are</i> wrong! I don't believe there
+ever was a girl who thinks less about marrying. I've never
+had time to think of such things. I've always&mdash;ever since
+I was nine years old&mdash;looked to the one goal, and aimed for
+it, studied for it, lived for it&mdash;at last, danced towards it."</p>
+
+<p>"You excite my curiosity immensely," said Stephen. And
+it was true. The girl had begun to take him out of
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>"There is lunch," she announced, as a bugle sounded.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen longed to say, "Don't go yet. Stop and tell me
+all about the 'goal' you're working for." But he dared not.
+She was very frank, and evidently willing, for some reason, to
+talk of her aims, even to a comparative stranger; yet he
+knew that it would be impertinent to suggest her sitting
+out on deck to chat with him, while the other passengers
+lunched.</p>
+
+<p>He asked if she were hungry, and she said she was. So
+was he, now that he came to think of it; nevertheless he let
+her go in alone, and waited deliberately for several minutes
+before following. He would have liked to sit by Miss Ray at
+the table, but wished her to see that he did not mean to presume
+upon any small right of acquaintanceship. As she was
+on the stage, and extremely attractive, no doubt men often
+tried to take such advantage, and he didn't intend to be one
+of them; therefore he supposed that he had lost the chance of
+placing himself near her in the dining-room. To his surprise,
+however, as he was about to slip into a far-away chair, she
+beckoned from her table. "I kept this seat for you," she
+said. "I hoped you wouldn't mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Mind!" He was on the point of repaying her kindness
+with a conventional little compliment, but thought better of
+it, and expressed his meaning in a smile.</p>
+
+<p>The oak-panelled saloon was provided with a number of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>
+small tables, and at the one where Victoria Ray sat, were
+places for four. Three were already occupied when Stephen
+came; one by Victoria, the others by a German bride and
+groom.</p>
+
+<p>At the next table were two French officers of the Chasseurs
+d'Afrique, the English clergyman Stephen had noticed on
+deck, and a remarkably handsome Arab, elaborately dressed.
+He sat facing Victoria Ray and Stephen Knight, and Stephen
+found it difficult not to stare at the superb, pale brown person
+whose very high white turban, bound with light grey cord,
+gave him a dignity beyond his years, and whose pale grey
+burnous, over a gold-embroidered vest of dark rose-colour,
+added picturesqueness which appeared theatrical in eyes
+unaccustomed to the East.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen had never seen an Arab of the aristocratic class
+until to-day; and before, only a few such specimens as parade
+the Galerie Charles Trois at Monte Carlo, selling prayer-rugs
+and draperies from Algeria. This man's high birth and
+breeding were clear at first glance. He was certainly a personage
+aware of his own attractions, though not offensively
+self-conscious, and was unmistakably interested in the beauty
+of the girl at the next table. He was too well-bred to make a
+show of his admiration, but talked in almost perfect, slightly
+guttural French, with the English clergyman, speaking occasionally
+also to the officers in answer to some question. He
+glanced seldom at Miss Ray, but when he did look across, in
+a guarded way, at her, there was a light of ardent pleasure in
+his eyes, such as no eyes save those of East or South ever betray.
+The look was respectful, despite its underlying passion.
+Nevertheless, because the handsome face was some shades
+darker than his own, it offended Stephen, who felt a sharp bite
+of dislike for the Arab. He was glad the man was not at the
+same table with Miss Ray, and knew that it would have vexed
+him intensely to see the girl drawn into conversation. He wondered
+that the French officers should talk with the Arab as with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>
+an equal, yet knew in his heart that such prejudice was narrow-minded,
+especially at the moment when he was travelling to the
+Arab's own country. He tried, though not very strenuously, to
+override his conviction of superiority to the Eastern man, but
+triumphed only far enough to admit that the fellow was handsome
+in a way. His skin was hardly darker than old ivory:
+the aquiline nose delicate as a woman's, with sensitive nostrils;
+and the black velvet eyes under arched brows, that met
+in a thin, pencilled line, were long, and either dreamy or calmly
+calculating. A prominent chin and a full mouth, so determined
+as to suggest cruelty, certainly selfishness, preserved
+the face from effeminacy at the sacrifice of artistic perfection.
+Stephen noticed with mingled curiosity and disapproval that
+the Arab appeared to be vain of his hands, on which he wore
+two or three rings that might have been bought in Paris, or
+even given him by European women&mdash;for they looked like a
+woman's rings. The brown fingers were slender, tapering to
+the ends, and their reddened nails glittered. They played,
+as the man talked, with a piece of bread, and often he glanced
+down at them, with the long eyes which had a blue shadow
+underneath, like a faint smear of kohl.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen wondered what Victoria Ray thought of her <i>vis-&agrave;-vis</i>;
+but in the presence of the staring bride and groom he
+could ask no questions, and the expression of her face, as once
+she quietly regarded the Arab, told nothing. It was even
+puzzling, as an expression for a young girl's face to wear in
+looking at a handsome man so supremely conscious of sex
+and of his own attraction. She was evidently thinking about
+him with considerable interest, and it annoyed Stephen that
+she should look at him at all. An Arab might misunderstand,
+not realizing that he was a legitimate object of curiosity for
+eyes unused to Eastern men.</p>
+
+<p>After luncheon Victoria went to her cabin. This was disappointing.
+Stephen, hoping that she might come on deck
+again soon, and resume their talk where it had broken off in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
+the morning, paced up and down until he felt drowsy, not
+having slept in the train the night before. To his surprise
+and disgust, it was after five when he waked from a long nap,
+in his stateroom; and going on deck he found Miss Ray in
+her chair once more, this time apparently deep in "Monte
+Cristo."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2>
+
+
+<p>He walked past, and she looked up with a smile,
+but did not ask him to draw his chair near hers,
+though there was a vacant space. It was an absurd
+and far-fetched idea, but he could not help asking
+himself if it were possible that she had picked up any acquaintance
+on board, who had told her he was a marked man, a foolish
+fellow who had spoiled his life for a low-born, unscrupulous
+woman's sake. It was a morbid fancy, he knew, but he was
+morbid now, and supposed that he should be for some time to
+come, if not for the rest of his life. He imagined a difference in
+the girl's manner. Maybe she had read that hateful interview
+in some paper, when she was in London, and now remembered
+having seen his photograph with Margot Lorenzi's.
+He hated the thought, not because he deliberately wished to
+keep his engagement secret, but because the newspaper interview
+had made him seem a fool, and somehow he did not
+want to be despised by this dancing girl whom he should never
+see again after to-morrow. Just why her opinion of his character
+need matter to him, it was difficult to say, but there was
+something extraordinary about the girl. She did not seem
+in the least like other dancers he had met. He had not that
+feeling of comfortable comradeship with her that a man may
+feel with most unchaperoned, travelling actresses, no matter
+how respectable. There was a sense of aloofness, as if she had
+been a young princess, in spite of her simple and friendly
+ways.</p>
+
+<p>Since it appeared that she had no intention of picking up
+the dropped threads of their conversation, Stephen thought of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>
+the smoking-room; but his wish to know whether she really had
+changed towards him became so pressing that he was impelled
+to speak again. It was an impulse unlike himself, at any rate
+the old self with which he was familiar, as with a friend or an
+intimate enemy.</p>
+
+<p>"I hoped you would tell me the rest," he blurted out.</p>
+
+<p>"The rest?"</p>
+
+<p>"That you were beginning to tell."</p>
+
+<p>The girl blushed. "I was afraid afterwards, you might
+have been bored, or anyway surprised. You probably thought it
+'very American' of me to talk about my own affairs to a stranger,
+and it <i>isn't</i>, you know. I shouldn't like you to think
+Americans are less well brought up than other girls, just because
+<i>I</i> may do things that seem queer. I have to do them.
+And I am quite different from others. You mustn't suppose
+I'm not."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen was curiously relieved. Suddenly he felt young
+and happy, as he used to feel before knowing Margot Lorenzi.
+"I never met a brilliantly successful person who was as modest
+as you," he said, laughing with pleasure. "I was never less
+bored in my life. Will you talk to me again&mdash;and let me talk
+to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to ask your advice," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>That gave permission for Stephen to draw his chair near
+to hers. "Have you had tea?" he inquired, by way of a beginning.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm too American to drink tea in the afternoon," she explained.
+"It's only fashionable Americans who take it, and
+I'm not that kind, as you can see. I come from the country&mdash;or
+almost the country."</p>
+
+<p>"Weren't you drawn into any of our little ways in London?"
+He was working up to a certain point.</p>
+
+<p>"I was too busy."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure you weren't too busy for one thing: reading the
+papers for your notices."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Victoria shook her head, smiling. "There you're mistaken.
+The first morning after I danced at the Palace Theatre, I asked
+to see the papers they had in my boarding-house, because I
+hoped so much that English people would like me, and
+I wanted to be a success. But afterwards I didn't bother. I
+don't understand British politics, you see&mdash;how could I?&mdash;and
+I hardly know any English people, so I wasn't very interested
+in their papers."</p>
+
+<p>Again Stephen was relieved. But he felt driven by one of
+his strange new impulses to tell her his name, and watch her
+face while he told it.</p>
+
+<p>"'Curiouser and curiouser,' as our friend Alice would say,"
+he laughed. "No newspaper paragraphs, and a boarding-house
+instead of a fashionable hotel. What was your manager
+thinking about?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had no manager of my very own," said Victoria. "I
+'exploited' myself. It costs less to do that. When people in
+America liked my dancing I got an offer from London, and I
+accepted it and made all the arrangements about going over.
+It was quite easy, you see, because there were only costumes
+to carry. My scenery is so simple, they either had it in the
+theatres or got something painted: and the statues in the
+studio scene, and the sculptor, needed very few rehearsals.
+In Paris they had only one. It was all I had time for, after I
+arrived. The lighting wasn't difficult either, and though
+people told me at first there would be trouble unless I had my
+own man, there never was any, really. In my letters to the
+managers I gave the dates when I could come to their theatres,
+how long I could stay, and all they must do to get things ready.
+The Paris engagement was made only a little while beforehand.
+I wanted to pass through there, so I was glad to accept the
+offer and earn extra money which I thought I might need by
+and by."</p>
+
+<p>"What a mercenary star!" Stephen spoke teasingly; but
+in truth he could not make the girl out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She took the accusation with a smile. "Yes, I am mercenary,
+I suppose," she confessed with unashamed frankness,
+"but not entirely for myself. I shouldn't like to be that! I
+told you how I've been looking forward always to one end.
+And now, just when that end may be near, how foolish I should
+be to spend a cent on unnecessary things! Why, I'd have
+felt <i>wicked</i> living in an expensive hotel, and keeping a maid,
+when I could be comfortable in a Bloomsbury boarding-house
+on ten dollars a week. And the dresser in the theater, who did
+everything very nicely, was delighted with a present of twenty
+dollars when my London engagement was over."</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt she was," said Stephen. "But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you're thinking that I must have made lots of
+money, and that I'm a sort of little miseress: and so I have&mdash;and
+so I am. I earned seven hundred and fifty dollars a week&mdash;isn't
+that a hundred and fifty pounds?&mdash;for the six weeks,
+and I spent as little as possible; for I didn't get as large a
+salary as that in America. I engaged to dance for three
+hundred dollars a week there, which seemed perfectly wonderful
+to me at first; so I had to keep my contract, though other
+managers would have given me more. I wanted dreadfully
+to take their offers, because I was in such a hurry to have
+enough money to begin my real work. But I knew I shouldn't
+be blessed in my undertaking if I acted dishonourably. Try
+as I might, I've only been able to save up ten thousand dollars,
+counting the salary in Paris and all. Would you say that was
+enough to <i>bribe</i> a person, if necessary? Two thousand of
+your pounds."</p>
+
+<p>"It depends upon how rich the person is."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know how rich he is. Could an Arab be <i>very</i> rich?"</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay there are still some rich ones. But maybe
+riches aren't the same with them as with us. That fellow
+at lunch to-day looks as if he'd plenty of money to spend on
+embroideries."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And he looks important too&mdash;as if he might have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>
+travelled, and known a great many people of all sorts. I
+wish it were proper for me to talk to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Good Heavens, why?" asked Stephen, startled. "It
+would be most improper."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'm afraid so, and I won't, of course, unless I get to
+know him in some way," went on Victoria. "Not that there's
+any chance of such a thing."</p>
+
+<p>"I should hope not," exclaimed Stephen, who was privately
+of opinion that there was only too good a chance if the girl
+showed the Arab even the faintest sign of willingness to know
+and be known. "I've no right to ask it, of course, except that
+I'm much older than you and have seen more of the world&mdash;but
+do promise not to look at that nigger. I don't like his
+face."</p>
+
+<p>"He isn't a nigger," objected Victoria. "But if he were,
+it wouldn't matter&mdash;nor whether one liked his face or not.
+He might be able to help me."</p>
+
+<p>"To help you&mdash;in Algiers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, in the same way that you might be able to help me&mdash;or
+more, because he's an Arab, and must know Arabs."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen forgot to press his request for her promise. "How
+can I help you?" he wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not sure. Only, you're going to Algiers. I always
+ask everybody to help, if there's the slightest chance they can."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen felt disappointed and chilled. But she went on.
+"I should hate you to think I <i>gush</i> to strangers, and tell them
+all my affairs, just because I'm silly enough to love talking.
+I must talk to strangers. I <i>must</i> get help where I can. And
+you were kind the other night. Everybody is kind. Do
+you know many people in Algeria, or Tunisia?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only one man. His name is Nevill Caird, and he lives in
+Algiers. My name is Stephen Knight. I've been wanting to
+tell you&mdash;I seemed to have an unfair advantage, knowing
+yours ever since Paris."</p>
+
+<p>He watched her face almost furtively, but no change came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>
+over it, no cloud in the blueness of her candid eyes. The
+name meant nothing to her.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry. It's hardly worth while my bothering you then."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen wished to be bothered. "But Nevill Caird has
+lived in Algiers for eight winters or so," he said. "He knows
+everybody, French and English&mdash;Arab too, very likely, if
+there are Arabs worth knowing."</p>
+
+<p>A bright colour sprang to the girl's cheeks and turned her
+extreme prettiness into brilliant beauty. It seemed to Stephen
+that the name of Ray suited her: she was dazzling as sunshine.
+"Oh, then, I will tell you&mdash;if you'll listen," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"If I had as many ears as a spear of wheat, they'd all want
+to listen." His voice sounded young and eager. "Please begin
+at the beginning, as the children say."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I really? But it's a long story. It begins when I
+was eight."</p>
+
+<p>"All the better. It will be ten years long."</p>
+
+<p>"I can skip lots of things. When I was eight, and my
+sister Saidee not quite eighteen, we were in Paris with my
+stepmother. My father had been dead just a year, but she was
+out of mourning. She wasn't old&mdash;only about thirty, and
+handsome. She was jealous of Saidee, though, because
+Saidee was so much younger and fresher, and because Saidee
+was beautiful&mdash;Oh, you can't imagine how beautiful!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I can," said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean me to take that for a compliment. I know I'm
+quite pretty, but I'm nothing to Saidee. She was a great
+beauty, though with the same colouring I have, except that her
+eyes were brown, and her hair a little more auburn. People
+turned to look after her in the street, and that made our stepmother
+angry. <i>She</i> wanted to be the one looked at. I knew,
+even then! She wouldn't have travelled with us, only father had
+left her his money, on condition that she gave Saidee and me the
+best of educations, and allowed us a thousand dollars a year
+each, from the time our schooling was finished until we married.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>
+She had a good deal of influence over him, for he was ill a
+long time, and she was his nurse&mdash;that was the way they
+got acquainted. And she persuaded him to leave practically
+everything to her; but she couldn't prevent his making some
+conditions. There was one which she hated. She was obliged
+to live in the same town with us; so when she wanted to
+go and enjoy herself in Paris after father died, she had to
+take us too. And she didn't care to shut Saidee up, because if
+Saidee couldn't be seen, she couldn't be married; and of course
+Mrs. Ray wanted her to be married. Then she would have no
+bother, and no money to pay. I often heard Saidee say these
+things, because she told me everything. She loved me a great
+deal, and I adored her. My middle name is Cecilia, and
+she was generally called Say; so she used to tell me that our
+secret names for each other must be 'Say and Seal.' It made
+me feel very grown-up to have her confide so much in me: and
+never being with children at all, gave me grown-up thoughts."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor child!" said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I was very happy. It was only after&mdash;but that
+isn't the way to tell the story. Our stepmother&mdash;whom we
+always called 'Mrs. Ray,' never 'mother'&mdash;liked officers,
+and we got acquainted with a good many French ones. They
+used to come to the flat where we lived. Some of them were
+introduced by our French governess, whose brother was in
+the army, but they brought others, and Saidee and Mrs.
+Ray went to parties together, though Mrs. Ray hated being
+chaperon. If poor Saidee were admired at a dinner, or a dance,
+Mrs. Ray would be horrid all next day, and say everything
+disagreeable she could think of. Then Saidee would cry when
+we were alone, and tell me she was so miserable, she would
+have to marry in self-defence. That made me cry too&mdash;but
+she promised to take me with her if she went away.</p>
+
+<p>"When we had been in Paris about two months, Saidee came
+to bed one night after a ball, and waked me up. We slept in
+the same room. She was excited and looked like an angel. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>
+knew something had happened. She told me she'd met a
+wonderful man, and every one was fascinated with him. She
+had heard of him before, but this was the first time they'd seen
+each other. He was in the French army, she said, a captain,
+and older than most of the men she knew best, but very handsome,
+and rich as well as clever. It was only at the last, after
+she'd praised the man a great deal, that she mentioned his
+having Arab blood. Even then she hurried on to say his
+mother was a Spanish woman, and he had been partly educated
+in France, and spoke perfect French, and English too. They
+had danced together, and Saidee had never met so interesting a
+man. She thought he was like the hero of some romance;
+and she told me I would see him, because he'd begged Mrs.
+Ray to be allowed to call. He had asked Saidee lots of questions,
+and she'd told him even about me&mdash;so he sent me his
+love. She seemed to think I ought to be pleased, but I wasn't.
+I'd read the 'Arabian Nights', with pictures, and I knew Arabs
+were dark people. I didn't look down on them particularly,
+but I couldn't bear to have Say interested in an Arab. It
+didn't seem right for her, somehow."</p>
+
+<p>The girl stopped, and apparently forgot to go on. She had
+been speaking with short pauses, as if she hardly realized that
+she was talking aloud. Her eyebrows drew together, and she
+sighed. Stephen knew that some memory pressed heavily
+upon her, but soon she began again.</p>
+
+<p>"He came next day. He was handsome, as Saidee had said&mdash;as handsome
+as the Arab on board this ship, but in a different way.
+He looked noble and haughty&mdash;yet as if he might
+be very selfish and hard. Perhaps he was about thirty-three
+or four, and that seemed old to me then&mdash;old even to Saidee.
+But she was fascinated. He came often, and she saw him at
+other houses. Everywhere she was going, he would find out,
+and go too. That pleased her&mdash;for he was an important
+man somehow, and of good birth. Besides, he was desperately
+in love&mdash;even a child could see that. He never took his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>
+eyes off Saidee's face when she was with him. It was as if he
+could eat her up; and if she flirted a little with the real French
+officers, to amuse herself or tease him, it drove him half mad.
+She liked that&mdash;it was exciting, she used to say. And I forgot
+to tell you, he wore European dress, except for a fez&mdash;no turban,
+like this man's on the boat, or I'm sure she couldn't
+have cared for him in the way she did&mdash;he wouldn't have
+seemed <i>possible</i>, for a Christian girl. A man in a turban!
+You understand, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I understand," Stephen said. He understood, too,
+how violently such beauty as the girl described must have
+appealed to the dark man of the East. "The same colouring
+that I have," Victoria Ray had said. If he, an Englishman,
+accustomed to the fair loveliness of his countrywomen, were a
+little dazzled by the radiance of this girl, what compelling influence
+must not the more beautiful sister have exercised upon
+the Arab?</p>
+
+<p>"He made love to Saidee in a fierce sort of way that carried
+her off her feet," went on Victoria. "She used to tell me
+things he said, and Mrs. Ray did all she could to throw them
+together, because he was rich, and lived a long way off&mdash;so
+she wouldn't have to do anything for Say if they were married,
+or even see her again. He was only on leave in Paris. He
+was a Spahi, stationed in Algiers, and he owned a house there."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, in Algiers!" Stephen began to see light&mdash;rather a
+lurid light.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. His name was Cassim ben Halim el Cheikh el Arab.
+Before he had known Saidee two weeks, he proposed. She
+took a little while to think it over, and I begged her to say 'no'&mdash;but
+one day when Mrs. Ray had been crosser and more horrid
+than usual, she said 'yes'. Cassim ben Halim was Mohammedan,
+of course, but he and Saidee were married according
+to French law. They didn't go to church, because he couldn't
+do that without showing disrespect to his own religion, but he
+promised he'd not try to change hers. Altogether it seemed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>
+Saidee that there was no reason why they shouldn't be as
+happy as a Catholic girl marrying a Protestant&mdash;or <i>vice
+versa</i>; and she hadn't any very strong convictions. She was a
+Christian, but she wasn't fond of going to church."</p>
+
+<p>"And her promise that she'd take you away with her?"
+Stephen reminded the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"She would have kept it, if Mrs. Ray had consented&mdash;though
+I'm sure Cassim didn't want me, and only agreed to do
+what Saidee asked because he was so deep in love, and feared
+to lose my sister if he refused her anything. But Mrs. Ray
+was afraid to let me go, on account of the condition in father's
+will that she should keep me near her while I was being educated.
+There was an old friend of father's who'd threatened
+to try and upset the will, for Saidee's sake and mine, so I
+suppose she thought he might succeed if she disobeyed father's
+instructions. It ended in Saidee and her husband going to
+Algiers without me, and Saidee cried&mdash;but she couldn't help
+being happy, because she was in love, and very excited about
+the strange new life, which Cassim told her would be wonderful
+as some gorgeous dream of fairyland. He gave her quantities
+of jewellery, and said they were nothing to what she should
+have when she was in her own home with him. She should
+be covered from head to foot with diamonds and pearls, rubies
+and emeralds, if she liked; and of course she would like, for
+she loved jewels, poor darling."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you say 'poor?'" asked Stephen. "Are you
+going to tell me the marriage wasn't a success?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," answered the girl. "I don't know any
+more about her than if Cassim ben Halim had really carried
+my sister off to fairyland, and shut the door behind them.
+You see, I was only eight years old. I couldn't make my
+own life. After Saidee was married and taken to Algiers,
+my stepmother began to imagine herself in love with an American
+from Indiana, whom she met in Paris. He had an impressive
+sort of manner, and made her think him rich and im<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>portant.
+He was in business, and had come over to rest, so
+he couldn't stay long abroad; and he urged Mrs. Ray to go
+back to America on the same ship with him. Of course she
+took me, and this Mr. Henry Potter told her about a boarding-school
+where they taught quite little girls, not far from the
+town where he lived. It had been a farmhouse once, and he
+said there were 'good teachers and good air.' I can hear him
+saying it now. It was easy to persuade her; and she engaged
+rooms at a hotel in the town near by, which was called Potterston,
+after Mr. Potter's grandfather. By and by they were
+married, but their marriage made no difference to me. It
+wasn't a bad little old-fashioned school, and I was as happy as I
+could be anywhere, parted from Saidee. There was an attic
+where I used to be allowed to sit on Saturdays, and think
+thoughts, and write letters to my sister; and there was one
+corner, where the sunlight came in through a tiny window shaped
+like a crescent, without any glass, which I named Algiers.
+I played that I went there to visit Saidee in the old Arab palace
+she wrote me about. It was a splendid play&mdash;but I felt
+lonely when I stopped playing it. I used to dance there, too,
+very softly in stockinged feet, so nobody could hear&mdash;dances
+she and I made up together out of stories she used to tell me.
+The Shadow Dance and the Statue Dance which you saw, came
+out of those stories, and there are more you didn't see, which
+I do sometimes&mdash;a butterfly dance, the dance of the wheat,
+and two of the East, which were in stories she told me after
+we knew Cassim ben Halim. They are the dance of the
+smoke wreath, and the dance of the jewel-and-the-rose. I
+could dance quite well even in those days, because I loved
+doing it. It came as natural to dance as to breathe, and Saidee
+had always encouraged me, so when I was left alone it made
+me think of her, to dance the dances of her stories."</p>
+
+<p>"What about your teachers? Did they never find you out?"
+asked Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. One of the young teachers did at last. Not in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>
+attic, but when I was dancing for the big girls in their dormitory,
+at night&mdash;they'd wake me up to get me to dance. But
+she wasn't much older than the biggest of the big girls, so she
+laughed&mdash;I suppose I must have looked quaint dancing in my
+nighty, with my long red hair. And though we were all scolded
+afterwards, I was made to dance sometimes at the entertainments
+we gave when school broke up in the summer. I was
+the youngest scholar, you see, and stayed through the vacations,
+so I was a kind of pet for the teachers. They were of one
+family, aunts and nieces&mdash;Southern people, and of course
+good-natured. But all this isn't really in the story I want to
+tell you. The interesting part's about Saidee. For months
+I got letters from her, written from Algiers. At first they were
+like fairy tales, but by and by&mdash;quite soon&mdash;they stopped
+telling much about herself. It seemed as if Saidee were growing
+more and more reserved, or else as if she were tired of
+writing to me, and bored by it&mdash;almost as if she could hardly
+think of anything to say. Then the letters stopped altogether.
+I wrote and wrote, but no answer came&mdash;no answer ever came."</p>
+
+<p>"You've never heard from your sister since then?" The
+thing appeared incredible to Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Never. Now you can guess what I've been growing up for,
+living for, all these years. To find her."</p>
+
+<p>"But surely," Stephen argued, "there must have been some
+way to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not any way that was in my power, till now. You see I
+was helpless. I had no money, and I was a child. I'm not
+very old yet, but I'm older than my years, because I had this
+thing to do. There I was, at a farmhouse school in the country,
+two miles out of Potterston&mdash;and you would think Potterston
+itself not much better than the backwoods, I'm sure. When
+I was fourteen, my stepmother died suddenly&mdash;leaving all
+the money which came from my father to her husband, except
+several thousand dollars to finish my education and give me a
+start in life; but Mr. Potter lost everything of his own and of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>
+mine too, in some wild speculation about which the people
+in that part of Indiana went mad. The crash came a year
+ago, and the Misses Jennings, who kept the school, asked me
+to stay on as an under teacher&mdash;they were sorry for me, and
+so kind. But even if nothing had happened, I should have
+left then, for I felt old enough to set about my real work.
+Oh, I see you think I might have got at my sister before, somehow,
+but I couldn't, indeed. I tried everything. Not only did
+I write and write, but I begged the Misses Jennings to help, and
+the minister of the church where we went on Sundays. The
+Misses Jennings told the girls' parents and relations whenever
+they came to visit, and they all promised, if they ever went to
+Algiers, they would look for my sister's husband, Captain
+Cassim ben Halim, of the Spahis. But they weren't the sort of
+people who ever do go such journeys. And the minister wrote
+to the American Consul in Algiers for me, but the only answer
+was that Cassim ben Halim had disappeared. It seemed not
+even to be known that he had an American wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Your stepmother ought to have gone herself," said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;<i>ought</i>! I very seldom saw my stepmother after
+she married Mr. Potter. Though she lived so near, she
+never asked me to her house, and only came to call at the
+school once or twice a year, for form's sake. But I ran away one
+evening and begged her to go and find Saidee. She said it
+was nonsense; that if Saidee hadn't wanted to drop us, she
+would have kept on writing, or else she was dead. But don't
+you think I should have <i>known</i> if Saidee were dead?"</p>
+
+<p>"By instinct, you mean&mdash;telepathy, or something of that
+sort?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what I mean, but <i>I should have known</i>. I
+should have felt her death, like a string snapping in my heart.
+Instead, I heard her calling to me&mdash;I hear her always. She
+wants me. She needs me. I know it, and nothing could make
+me believe otherwise. So now you understand how, if anything
+were to be done, I had to do it myself. When I was quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>
+little, I thought by the time I should be sixteen or seventeen,
+and allowed to leave school&mdash;or old enough to run away if
+necessary&mdash;I'd have a little money of my own. But when
+my stepmother died I felt sure I should never, never get anything
+from Mr. Potter."</p>
+
+<p>"But that old friend you spoke of, who wanted to upset the
+will? Couldn't he have done anything?" Stephen asked.</p>
+
+<p>"If he had lived, everything might have been different; but
+he was a very old man, and he died of pneumonia soon after
+Saidee married Cassim ben Halim. There was no one else
+to help. So from the time I was fourteen, I knew that somehow
+I must make money. Without money I could never hope
+to get to Algiers and find Saidee. Even though she had disappeared
+from there, it seemed to me that Algiers would be
+the place to begin my search. Don't you think so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Algiers is the place to begin," Stephen echoed. "There
+ought to be a way of tracking her. <i>Some one</i> must know
+what became of a more or less important man such as your
+brother-in-law seems to have been. It's incredible that he
+should have been able to vanish without leaving any trace."</p>
+
+<p>"He must have left a trace, and though nobody else, so
+far, has found it, I shall find it," said the girl. "I did what I
+could before. I asked everybody to help; and when I got to
+New York last year, I used to go to Cook's office, to inquire
+for people travelling to Algiers. Then, if I met any, I would
+at once speak of my sister, and give them my address, to let
+me know if they should discover anything. They always
+seemed interested, and said they would really do their best, but
+they must have failed, or else they forgot. No news ever
+came back. It will be different with me now, though. I
+shall find Saidee, and if she isn't happy, I shall bring her away
+with me. If her husband is a bad man, and if the reason he left
+Algiers is because he lost his money, as I sometimes think, I
+may have to bribe him to let her go. But I have money enough
+for everything, I hope&mdash;unless he's very greedy, or there are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>
+difficulties I can't foresee. In that case, I shall dance again,
+and make more money, you know&mdash;that's all there is about it."</p>
+
+<p>"One thing I do know, is that you are wonderful," said
+Stephen, his conscience pricking him because of certain unjust
+thoughts concerning this child which he had harboured
+since learning that she was a dancer. "You're the most wonderful
+girl I ever saw or heard of."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed happily. "Oh no, I'm not wonderful at all.
+It's funny you should think so. Perhaps none of the girls
+you know have had a big work to do."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure they never have," said Stephen, "and if they
+had, they wouldn't have done it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, they would. Anybody would&mdash;that is, if they wanted
+to, <i>enough</i>. You can always do what you want to <i>enough</i>.
+I wanted to do this with all my heart and soul, so I knew I
+should find the way. I just followed my instinct, when people
+told me I was unreasonable, and of course it led me right.
+Reason is only to depend on in scientific sorts of things, isn't
+it? The other is higher, because instinct is your <i>You</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't that what people say who preach New Thought,
+or whatever they call it?" asked Stephen. "A lot of women
+I know had rather a craze about that two or three years ago.
+They went to lectures given by an American man they raved
+over&mdash;said he was 'too fascinating.' And they used their
+'science' to win at bridge. I don't know whether it worked
+or not."</p>
+
+<p>"I never heard any one talk of New Thought," said Victoria.
+"I've just had my own thoughts about everything.
+The attic at school was a lovely place to think thoughts in.
+Wonderful ones always came to me, if I called to them&mdash;thoughts
+all glittering&mdash;like angels. They seemed to bring
+me new ideas about things I'd been born knowing&mdash;beautiful
+things, which I feel somehow have been handed down to
+me&mdash;in my blood."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that's the way my friends used to talk about 'wak<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>ing
+their race-consciousness.' But it only led to bridge, with
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's led me from Potterston here," said Victoria,
+"and it will lead me on to the end, wherever that may be,
+I'm sure. Perhaps it will lead me far, far off, into that mysterious
+golden silence, where in dreams I often see Saidee
+watching for me: the strangest dream-place, and I've no
+idea where it is! But I shall find out, if she is really there."</p>
+
+<p>"What supreme confidence you have in your star!" Stephen
+exclaimed, admiringly, and half enviously.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. Haven't you, in yours?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no star."</p>
+
+<p>She turned her eyes to his, quickly, as if grieved. And
+in his eyes she saw the shadow of hopelessness which was
+there to see, and could not be hidden from a clear gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry," she said simply. "I don't know how I could
+have lived without mine. I walk in its light, as if in a path.
+But yours must be somewhere in the sky, and you can find
+it if you want to very much."</p>
+
+<p>He could have found two in her eyes just then, but such
+stars were not for him. "Perhaps I don't deserve a star,"
+he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure you do. You are the kind that does," the girl
+comforted him. "Do have a star!"</p>
+
+<p>"It would only make me unhappy, because I mightn't
+be able to walk in its light, as you do."</p>
+
+<p>"It would make you very happy, as mine does me. I'm
+always happy, because the light helps me to do things. It
+helped me to dance: it helped me to succeed."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me about your dancing," said Stephen, vaguely
+anxious to change the subject, and escape from thoughts of
+Margot, the only star of his future. "I should like to hear
+how you began, if you don't mind."</p>
+
+<p>"That's kind of you," replied Victoria, gratefully.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed. "Kind!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's nothing of a story. Luckily, I'd always danced.
+So when I was fourteen, and began to think I should never
+have any money of my own after all, I saw that dancing would
+be my best way of earning it, as that was the one thing I could
+do very well. Afterwards I worked in real earnest&mdash;always
+up in the attic, where I used to study the Arabic language
+too; study it very hard. And no one knew what I was doing
+or what was in my head, till last year when I told the
+oldest Miss Jennings that I couldn't be a teacher&mdash;that
+I must leave school and go to New York."</p>
+
+<p>"What did she say?"</p>
+
+<p>"She said I was crazy. So did they all. They got the
+minister to come and argue with me, and he was dreadfully
+opposed to my wishes at first. But after we'd talked a while,
+he came round to my way."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you persuade him to that point of view?" Stephen
+catechized her, wondering always.</p>
+
+<p>"I hardly know. I just told him how I felt about everything.
+Oh, and I danced."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove! What effect had that on him?"</p>
+
+<p>"He clapped his hands and said it was a good dance, quite
+different from what he expected. He didn't think it would
+do any one harm to see. And he gave me a sort of lecture
+about how I ought to behave if I became a dancer. It was
+easy to follow his advice, because none of the bad things he
+feared might happen to me ever did."</p>
+
+<p>"Your star protected you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. There was a little trouble about money at
+first, because I hadn't any, but I had a few things&mdash;a watch
+that had been my mother's, and her engagement ring (they
+were Saidee's, but she left them both for me when she went
+away), and a queer kind of brooch Cassim ben Halim gave me
+one day, out of a lovely mother-o'-pearl box he brought full
+of jewels for Saidee, when they were engaged. See, I have the
+brooch on now&mdash;for I wouldn't <i>sell</i> the things. I went to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>
+a shop in Potterston and asked the man to lend me fifty
+dollars on them all, so he did. It was very good of him."</p>
+
+<p>"You seem to consider everybody you meet kind and good,"
+Stephen said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, they almost always have been so to me. If you
+believe people are going to be good, it <i>makes</i> them good, unless
+they're very bad indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps." Stephen would not for a great deal have
+tried to undermine her confidence in her fellow beings, and
+such was the power of the girl's personality, that for the moment
+he was half inclined to feel she might be right. Who
+could tell? Maybe he had not "believed" enough&mdash;in
+Margot. He looked with interest at the brooch of which
+Miss Ray spoke, a curiously wrought, flattened ring of dull
+gold, with a pin in the middle which pierced and fastened
+her chiffon veil on her breast. Round the edge, irregularly
+shaped pearls alternated with roughly cut emeralds, and
+there was a barbaric beauty in both workmanship and colour.</p>
+
+<p>"What happened when you got to your journey's end?"
+he went on, fearing to go astray on that subject of the world's
+goodness, which was a sore point with him lately. "Did
+you know anybody in New York?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody. But I asked the driver of a cab if he could take
+me to a respectable theatrical boarding-house, and he said
+he could, so I told him to drive me there. I engaged a wee
+back room at the top of the house, and paid a week in advance.
+The boarders weren't very successful people, poor
+things, for it was a cheap boarding-house&mdash;it had to be,
+for me. But they all knew which were the best theatres and
+managers, and they were interested when they heard I'd
+come to try and get a chance to be a dancer. They were
+afraid it wasn't much use, but the same evening they changed
+their minds, and gave me lots of good advice."</p>
+
+<p>"You danced for them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, in such a stuffy parlour, smelling of gas and dust<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>
+and there were holes in the carpet it was difficult not to step
+into. A dear old man without any hair, who was on what he
+called the 'Variety Stage,' advised me to go and try to see
+Mr. Charles Norman, a fearfully important person&mdash;so
+important that even I had heard of him, away out in Indiana.
+I did try, day after day, but he was too important to be got
+at. I wouldn't be discouraged, though. I knew Mr. Norman
+must come to the theatre sometimes, so I bought a photograph
+in order to recognize him; and one day when he passed
+me, going in, I screwed up my courage and spoke. I said
+I'd been waiting for days and days. At first he scowled, and
+I think meant to be cross, but when he'd given me one long,
+terrifying glare, he grumbled out: "Come along with me,
+then. I'll soon see what you can do." I went in, and danced
+on an almost dark stage, with Mr. Norman and another man
+looking at me, in the empty theatre where all the chairs and
+boxes were covered up with sheets. They seemed rather
+pleased with my dancing, and Mr. Norman said he would
+give me a chance. Then, if I 'caught on'&mdash;he meant if
+people liked me&mdash;I should have a salary. But I told him
+I must have the salary at once, as my money would only last
+a few more days. I'd spent nearly all I had, getting to New
+York. Very well, said he, I should have thirty dollars a week
+to begin with, and after that, we'd see what we'd see. Well,
+people did like my dances, and by and by Mr. Norman gave
+me what seemed then a splendid salary. So now you know
+everything that's happened; and please don't think I'd have
+worried you by talking so much about myself, if you hadn't
+asked questions. I'm afraid I oughtn't to have done it, anyway."</p>
+
+<p>Her tone changed, and became almost apologetic. She
+stirred uneasily in her deck chair, and looked about half dazedly,
+as people look about a room that is new to them, on waking
+there for the first time. "Why, it's grown dark!" she exclaimed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This fact surprised Stephen equally. "So it has," he said.
+"By Jove, I was so interested in you&mdash;in what you were
+telling&mdash;I hadn't noticed. I'd forgotten where we were."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd forgotten, too," said Victoria. "I always do forget
+outside things when I think about Saidee, and the golden
+dream-silence where I see her. All the people who were near
+us on deck have gone away. Did you see them go?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Stephen, "I didn't."</p>
+
+<p>"How odd!" exclaimed the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think so? You had taken me to the golden
+silence with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Where can everybody be?" She spoke anxiously. "Is it
+late? Maybe they've gone to get ready for dinner."</p>
+
+<p>From a small bag she wore at her belt, American tourist-fashion,
+she pulled out an old-fashioned gold watch of the
+kind that winds up with a key&mdash;her mother's, perhaps, on
+which she had borrowed money to reach New York. "Something
+must be wrong with my watch," she said. "It can't
+be twenty minutes past eight."</p>
+
+<p>The same thing was wrong with Stephen's expensive repeater,
+whose splendour he was ashamed to flaunt beside the
+modesty of the girl's poor little timepiece. There remained
+now no reasonable doubt that it was indeed twenty minutes
+past eight, since by the mouths of two witnesses a truth can
+be established.</p>
+
+<p>"How dreadful!" exclaimed Victoria, mortified. "I've
+kept you here all this time, listening to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't I tell you I'd rather listen to you than anything
+else? Eating was certainly not excepted. I don't remember
+hearing the bugle."</p>
+
+<p>"And I didn't hear it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd forgotten dinner. You had carried me so far away
+with you."</p>
+
+<p>"And Saidee," added the girl. "Thank you for going with us."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you for taking me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>They both laughed, and as they laughed, people began
+streaming out on deck. Dinner was over. The handsome
+Arab passed, talking with the spare, loose-limbed English
+parson, whom he had fascinated. They were discussing
+affairs in Morocco, and as they passed Stephen and Victoria,
+the Arab did not appear to turn; yet Stephen knew that he
+was thinking of them and not of what he was saying to the
+clergyman.</p>
+
+<p>"What shall we do?" asked Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen reflected for an instant. "Will you invite me to
+dine at your table?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe they'll tell us it's too late now to have anything
+to eat. I don't mind for myself, but for you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have a better dinner than the others have had,"
+Stephen prophesied. "I guarantee it, if you invite me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do please come," she implored, like a child. "I
+couldn't face the waiters alone. And you know, I feel as if
+you were a friend, now&mdash;though you may laugh at that."</p>
+
+<p>"It's the best compliment I ever had," said Stephen. "And&mdash;it
+gives me faith in myself&mdash;which I need."</p>
+
+<p>"And your star, which you're to find," the girl reminded him,
+as he unrolled her from her rug.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you'd lend me a little of the light from yours, to
+find mine by," he said half gaily, yet with a certain wistfulness
+which she detected under the laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"I will," she said quickly. "Not a little, but half."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2>
+
+
+<p>Stephen's prophecy came true. They had a better
+dinner than any one else had, and enjoyed it as an
+adventure. Victoria thought their waiter a particularly
+good-natured man, because instead of sulking
+over his duties he beamed. Stephen might, if he had
+chosen, have thrown another light upon the waiter's smiles;
+but he didn't choose. And he was happy. He gave Victoria
+good advice, and promised help from Nevill Caird. "He's
+sure to meet me at the ship," he said, "and if you'll let
+me, I'll introduce him to you. He may be able to find out
+everything you want to know."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen would have liked to go on talking after dinner,
+but the girl, ashamed of having taken up so much of his time,
+would not be tempted. She went to her cabin, and thought of
+him, as well as of her sister; and he thought of her while he
+walked on deck, under the stars.</p>
+
+<p>"For a moment white, then gone forever."</p>
+
+<p>Again the words came singing into his head. She was
+white&mdash;white as this lacelike foam that silvered the Mediterranean
+blue; but she had not gone forever, as he had thought
+when he likened her whiteness to the spindrift on the dark
+Channel waves. She had come into his life once more, unexpectedly;
+and she might brighten it again for a short time
+on land, in that unknown garden his thoughts pictured, behind
+the gate of the East. Yet she would not be of his life. There
+was no place in it for a girl. Still, he thought of her, and went
+on thinking, involuntarily planning things which he and Nevill
+Caird would do to help the child, in her romantic errand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>
+Of course she must not be allowed to travel about Algeria
+alone. Once settled in Algiers she must stay there quietly
+till the authorities found her sister.</p>
+
+<p>He used that powerful-sounding word "authorities" vaguely
+in his mind, but he was sure that the thing would be simple
+enough. The police could be applied to, if Nevill and his
+friends should be unable to discover Ben Halim and his American
+wife. Almost unconsciously, Stephen saw himself earning
+Victoria Ray's gratitude. It was a pleasant fancy, and he
+followed it as one wanders down a flowery path found in a
+dark forest.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria's thoughts of him were as many, though different.</p>
+
+<p>She had never filled her mind with nonsense about men, as
+many girls do. As she would have said to herself, she had been
+too busy. When girls at school had talked of being in love,
+and of marrying, she had been interested, as if in a story-book,
+but it had not seemed to her that she would ever fall
+in love or be married. It seemed so less than ever, now that she
+was at last actually on her way to look for Saidee. She was
+intensely excited, and there was room only for the one absorbing
+thought in mind and heart; yet she was not as anxious
+as most others would have been in her place. Now that
+Heaven had helped her so far, she was sure she would be helped
+to the end. It would be too bad to be true that anything
+dreadful should have happened to Saidee&mdash;anything from
+which she, Victoria, could not save her; and so now, very
+soon perhaps, everything would come right. It seemed to
+the girl that somehow Stephen was part of a great scheme,
+that he had been sent into her life for a purpose. Otherwise,
+why should he have been so kind since the first, and have
+appeared this second time, when she had almost forgotten
+him in the press of other thoughts? Why should he be going
+where she was going, and why should he have a friend who had
+known Algiers and Algeria since the time when Saidee's letters
+had ceased?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>All these arguments were childlike; but Victoria Ray had
+not passed far beyond childhood; and though her ideas of
+religion were her own&mdash;unlearned and unconventional&mdash;such
+as they were they meant everything to her. Many things
+which she had heard in churches had seemed unreal to the girl;
+but she believed that the Great Power moving the Universe
+planned her affairs as well as the affairs of the stars, and with
+equal interest. She thought that her soul was a spark given out
+by that Power, and that what was God in her had only to call
+to the All of God to be answered. She had called, asking to
+find Saidee, and now she was going to find her, just how she did
+not yet know; but she hardly doubted that Stephen Knight
+was connected with the way. Otherwise, what was the good of
+him to her? And Victoria was far too humble in her opinion
+of herself, despite that buoyant confidence in her star, to
+imagine that she could be of any use to him. She could be
+useful to Saidee; that was all. She hoped for nothing more.
+And little as she knew of society, she understood that Stephen
+belonged to a different world from hers; the world where
+people were rich, and gay, and clever, and amused themselves;
+the high world, from a social point of view. She supposed,
+too, that Stephen looked upon her as a little girl, while she in
+her turn regarded him gratefully and admiringly, as from a
+distance. And she believed that he must be a very good
+man.</p>
+
+<p>It would never have occurred to Victoria Ray to call him,
+even in thought, her "White Knight," as Margot Lorenzi persisted
+in calling him, and had called him in the famous interview.
+But it struck her, the moment she heard his name,
+that it somehow fitted him like a suit of armour. She was
+fond of finding an appropriateness in names, and sometimes,
+if she were tired or a little discouraged, she repeated her own
+aloud, several times over: "Victoria, Victoria. I am Victoria,"
+until she felt strong again to conquer every difficulty
+which might rise against her, in living up to her name. Now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>
+she was of opinion that Stephen's face would do very well in
+the picture of a young knight of olden days, going out to fight
+for the True Cross. Indeed, he looked as if he had already
+passed through the preparation of a long vigil, for his face was
+worn, and his eyes seldom smiled even when he laughed and
+seemed amused. His features gave her an idea that the
+Creator had taken a great deal of pains in chiselling them,
+not slighting a single line. She had seen handsomer men&mdash;indeed,
+the splendid Arab on the ship was handsomer&mdash;but
+she thought, if she were a general who wanted a man to lead
+a forlorn hope which meant almost certain death, she would
+choose one of Stephen's type. She had the impression that
+he would not hesitate to sacrifice himself for a cause, or even
+for a person, in an emergency, although he had the air of one
+used to good fortune, who loved to take his own way in the
+small things of life.</p>
+
+<p>And so she finally went to sleep thinking of Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>It is seldom that even the <i>Charles Quex</i>, one of the fastest
+ships plying between Marseilles and Algiers, makes the trip
+in eighteen hours, as advertised. Generally she takes two
+half-days and a night, but this time people began to say that
+she would do it in twenty-two hours. Very early in the dawning
+she passed the Balearic Isles, mysterious purple in an opal
+sea, and it was not yet noon when the jagged line of the Atlas
+Mountains hovered in pale blue shadow along a paler horizon.
+Then, as the turbines whirred, the shadow materialized,
+taking a golden solidity and wildness of outline. At
+length the tower of a lighthouse started out clear white against
+blue, as a shaft of sunshine struck it. Next, the nearer mountains
+slowly turned to green, as a chameleon changes: the
+Admiralty Island came clearly into view; the ancient nest
+of those fierce pirates who for centuries scourged the Mediterranean;
+and last of all, the climbing town of Algiers, old
+Al-Dj&eacute;zair-el-Bahadja, took form like thick patterns of mother-o'-pearl
+set in bright green enamel, the patterns eventually<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>
+separating themselves into individual buildings. The strange,
+bulbous domes of a Byzantine cathedral on a hill sprang up
+like a huge tropical plant of many flowers, unfolding fantastic
+buds of deep rose-colour, against a sky of violet flame.</p>
+
+<p>"At last, Africa!" said Victoria, standing beside Stephen,
+and leaning on the rail. She spoke to herself, half whispering
+the words, hardly aware that she uttered them, but Stephen
+heard. The two had not been long together during the morning,
+for each had been shy of giving too much of himself or
+herself, although they had secretly wished for each other's
+society. As the voyage drew to a close, however, Stephen
+was no longer able to resist an attraction which he felt like a
+compelling magnetism. His excuse was that he wanted to
+know Miss Ray's first impressions of the place she had constantly
+seen in her thoughts during ten years.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it like what you expected?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "it's like, because I have photographs.
+And I've read every book I could get hold of, old and new,
+in French as well as English. I always kept up my French,
+you know, for the same reason that I studied Arabic. I
+think I could tell the names of some of the buildings, without
+making mistakes. Yet it looks different, as the living
+face of a person is different from a portrait in black and white.
+And I never imagined such a sky. I didn't know skies could
+be of such a colour. It's as if pale fire were burning behind
+a thin veil of blue."</p>
+
+<p>It was as she said. Stephen had seen vivid skies on the
+Riviera, but there the blue was more opaque, like the blue
+of the turquoise. Here it was ethereal and quivering, like
+the violet fire that hovers over burning ship-logs. He was
+glad the sky of Africa was unlike any other sky he had known.
+It intensified the thrill of enchantment he had begun to feel.
+It seemed to him that it might be possible for a man to forget
+things in a country where even the sky was of another blue.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, when Stephen had read in books of travel (at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>
+which he seldom even glanced), or in novels, about "the mystery
+of the East," he had smiled in a superior way. Why should
+the East be more mysterious than the West, or North, or South,
+except that women were shut up in harems and wore veils if
+they stirred out of doors? Such customs could scarcely make a
+whole country mysterious. But now, though he had not
+yet landed, he knew that he would be compelled to acknowledge
+the indefinable mystery at which he had sneered. Already
+he fancied an elusive influence, like the touch of a ghost.
+It was in the pulsing azure of the sky; in the wild forms of
+the Atlas and far Kabyle mountains stretching into vague, pale
+distances; in the ivory white of the low-domed roofs that
+gleamed against the vivid green hill of the Sahel, like pearls
+on a veiled woman's breast.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it what you thought it would be?" Victoria inquired in
+her turn.</p>
+
+<p>"I hadn't thought much about it," Stephen had to confess,
+fearing she would consider such indifference uninteresting.
+He did not add what remained of the truth, that he
+had thought of Algiers as a refuge from what had become
+disagreeable, rather than as a beautiful place which he wished
+to see for its own sake. "I'd made no picture in my mind.
+You know a lot more about it all than I do, though you've
+lived so far away, and I within a distance of forty-eight hours."</p>
+
+<p>"That great copper-coloured church high on the hill is
+Notre Dame d'Afrique," said the girl. "She's like a dark
+sister of Notre Dame de la Garde, who watches over Marseilles,
+isn't she? I think I could love her, though she's ugly, really.
+And I've read in a book that if you walk up the hill to visit her
+and say a prayer, you may have a hundred days' indulgence."</p>
+
+<p>Much good an "indulgence" would do him now, Stephen
+thought bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>As the ship steamed closer inshore, the dreamlike beauty of
+the white town on the green hillside sharpened into a reality
+which might have seemed disappointingly modern and French,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>
+had it not been for the sprinkling of domes, the pointing fingers
+of minarets with glittering tiles of bronzy green, and the
+groups of old Arab houses crowded in among the crudities
+of a new, Western civilization. Down by the wharf for which
+the boat aimed like a homing bird, were huddled a few of these
+houses, ancient dwellings turned into commercial offices where
+shipping business was transacted. They looked forlorn, yet
+beautiful, like haggard slavewomen who remembered days
+of greatness in a far-off land.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Charles Quex</i> slackened speed as she neared the
+harbour, and every detail of the town leaped to the eyes, dazzling
+in the southern sunshine. The encircling arms of break-waters
+were flung out to sea in a vast embrace; the smoke of
+vessels threaded with dark, wavy lines the pure crystal of the
+air; the quays were heaped with merchandise, some of it in
+bales, as if it might have been brought by caravans across
+the desert. There was a clanking of cranes at work, a creaking
+of chains, a flapping of canvas, and many sounds which blend
+in the harsh poetry of sea-harbours. Then voices of men
+rose shrilly above all heavier noises, as the ship slowly turned
+and crept beside a floating pontoon. The journey together
+was over for Stephen Knight and Victoria Ray.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2>
+
+
+<p>A first glance, at such close quarters, would have
+told the least instructed stranger that he was in the
+presence of two clashing civilizations, both tenacious,
+one powerful.</p>
+
+<p>In front, all along the shore, towered with confident effrontery
+a massive line of buildings many stories high, great cubes
+of brick and stone, having elaborate balconies that shadowed
+swarming offices with dark, gaping vaults below. Along the
+broad, stone-paved street clanged electric tramcars. There
+was a constant coming and going of men. Cloaked and
+hooded white forms, or half-clad apparitions wrapped in what
+looked like dirty bagging, mingled with commonplace figures
+in Western dress. But huddled in elbow-high with this busy
+town of modern France (which might have been Marseilles
+or Bordeaux) was something alien, something remote in spirit;
+a ghostly band of white buildings, silent and pale in the midst
+of colour and noise. Low houses with flat roofs or miniature
+domes, small, secret doorways, tiny windows like eyes
+narrowed for spying, and overhanging upper stories supported
+on close-set, projecting sticks of mellow brown which meant
+great age. Minarets sprang up in mute protest against the
+infidel, appealing to the sky. All that was left of old Algiers
+tried to boast, in forced dumbness, of past glories, of every
+charm the beautiful, fierce city of pirates must have possessed
+before the French came to push it slowly but with deadly
+sureness back from the sea. Now, silent and proud in the
+tragedy of failure, it stood masked behind pretentious
+French houses, blocklike in ugliness, or flauntingly ornate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>
+as many buildings in the Rue de Rivoli or Boulevard
+Haussmann.</p>
+
+<p>In those low-browed dwellings which thickly enamelled the
+hill with a mosaic of pink and pearly whiteness, all the way
+up to the old fortress castle, the Kasbah, the true life of African
+Algiers hid and whispered. The modern French front along
+the fine street was but a gay veneer concealing realities, an
+incrusted civilization imposed upon one incredibly ancient,
+unspeakably different and ever unchanging.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen remembered now that he had heard people decry
+Algiers, pronouncing it spoiled and "completely Frenchified."
+But it occurred to him that in this very process of spoiling,
+an impression of tragic romance had been created which less
+"spoiled" towns might lack. Here were clashing contrasts
+which, even at a glance, made the strangest picture he had
+ever seen; and already he began to feel more and more keenly,
+though not yet to understand, something of the magic of the
+East. For this place, though not the East according to geographers,
+held all the spirit of the East&mdash;was in essence truly
+the East.</p>
+
+<p>Before the ship lay fairly in harbour, brown men had climbed
+on board from little boats, demanding to be given charge of the
+passengers' small luggage, which the stewards had brought on
+deck, and while one of these was arguing in bad French with
+Stephen, a tall, dark youth beautifully dressed in crimson and
+white, wearing a fez jauntily on one side, stepped up with a
+smile. "<i>Pardon, monsieur</i>," he ventured. "<i>Je suis le domestique
+de Monsieur Caird.</i>" And then, in richly guttural
+accents, he offered the information that he was charged to
+look after monsieur's baggage; that it was best to avoid <i>tous
+ces Arabes l&agrave;</i>, and that Monsieur Caird impatiently awaited
+his friend on the wharf.</p>
+
+<p>"But you&mdash;aren't you Arab?" asked Stephen, who knew
+no subtle differences between those who wore the turban or
+fez. He saw that the good-looking, merry-faced boy was no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>
+browner than many a Frenchman of the south, and that his
+eyes were hazel; still, he did not know what he might be, if
+not Arab.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Je suis Kabyle, monsieur; Kabyle des hauts plateaux</i>,"
+replied the youth with pride, and a look of contempt at the
+shouting porters, which was returned with interest. They
+darted glances of scorn at his gold-braided vest and jacket of
+crimson cloth, his light blue sash, and his enormously full
+white trousers, beneath which showed a strip of pale golden
+leg above the short white stockings, spurning the immaculate
+smartness of his livery, preferring, or pretending to prefer,
+their own soiled shabbiness and freedom. The Kabyle saw
+these glances, but, completely satisfied with himself, evidently
+attributed them to envy.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen turned towards Victoria, of whom he had lost sight
+for a moment. He wished to offer the Kabyle boy's services,
+but already she had accepted those of a very old Arab who
+looked thin and ostentatiously pathetic. It was too late now.
+He saw by her face that she would refuse help, rather than
+hurt the man's feelings. But she had told him the name of
+the hotel where she had telegraphed to engage a room, and
+Stephen meant at the instant of greeting his host, to ask if it
+were suitable for a young girl travelling alone.</p>
+
+<p>He caught sight of Caird, looking up and waiting for him,
+before he was able to land. It was the face he remembered;
+boyish, with beautiful bright eyes, a wide forehead, and curly
+light hair. The expression was more mature, but the same
+quaintly angelic look was there, which had earned for Nevill
+the nickname of "Choir Boy" and "Wings."</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo, Legs!" called out Caird, waving his Panama.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo, Wings!" shouted Stephen, and was suddenly tremendously
+glad to see the friend he had thought of seldom
+during the last eight or nine years. In another moment he
+was introducing Nevill to Miss Ray and hastily asking questions
+concerning her hotel, while a fantastic crowd surged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>
+round all three. Brown, skurrying men in torn bagging, the
+muscles of whose bare, hairless legs seemed carved in dark
+oak; shining black men whose faces were ebony under the
+ivory white of their turbans; pale, patient Kabyles of the
+plains bent under great sacks of flour which drained through
+ill-sewn seams and floated on the air in white smoke, making
+every one sneeze as the crowd swarmed past. Large grey
+mules roared, miniature donkeys brayed, and half-naked
+children laughed or howled, and darted under the heads of
+the horses, or fell against the bright bonnets of waiting motor
+cars. There were smart victorias, shabby cabs, hotel omnibuses,
+and huge carts; and, mingling with the floating dust
+of the spilt flour was a heavy perfume of spices, of incense
+perhaps blown from some far-off mosque, and ambergris mixed
+with grains of musk in amulets which the Arabs wore round
+their necks, heated by their sweating flesh as they worked or
+stalked about shouting guttural orders. There was a salt
+tang of seaweed, too, like an undertone, a foundation for all
+the other smells; and the air was warm with a hint of summer,
+a softness that was not enervating.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as the first greeting and the introduction to Miss
+Ray were confusedly over, Caird cleverly extricated the newcomers
+from the thick of the throng, sheltering them between
+his large yellow motor car and a hotel omnibus waiting for
+passengers and luggage.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you're safe," he said, in the young-sounding voice
+which pleasantly matched his whole personality. He was
+several years older than Stephen, but looked younger, for
+Stephen was nearly if not quite six feet in height, and Nevill
+Caird was less in stature by at least four inches. He was very
+slightly built, too, and his hair was as yellow as a child's. His
+face was clean-shaven, like Stephen's, and though Stephen,
+living mostly in London, was brown as if tanned by the sun,
+Nevill, out of doors constantly and exposed to hot southern
+sunshine, had the complexion of a girl. Nevertheless, thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>
+Victoria&mdash;sensitive and quick in forming impressions&mdash;he
+somehow contrived to look a thorough man, passionate and
+ready to be violently in earnest, like one who would love or
+hate in a fiery way. "He would make a splendid martyr," the
+girl said to herself, giving him straight look for straight look,
+as he began advising her against her chosen hotel. "But I
+think he would want his best friends to come and look on
+while he burned. Mr. Knight would chase everybody away."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't go to any hotel," Nevill said. "Be my aunt's
+guest. It's a great deal more her house than mine. There's
+lots of room in it&mdash;ever so much more than we want. Just
+now there's no one staying with us, but often we have a dozen
+or so. Sometimes my aunt invites people. Sometimes I do:
+sometimes both together. Now I invite you, in her name.
+She's quite a nice old lady. You'll like her. And we've got
+all kinds of animals&mdash;everything, nearly, that will live in this
+climate, from tortoises of Carthage, to white mice from Japan,
+and a baby panther from Grand Kabylia. But they keep
+themselves to themselves. I promise you the panther won't
+try to sit on your lap. And you'll be just in time to christen
+him. We've been looking for a name."</p>
+
+<p>"I should love to christen the panther, and you are more than
+kind to say your aunt would like me to visit her; but I can't
+possibly, thank you very much," answered Victoria in the
+old-fashioned, quaintly provincial way which somehow intensified
+the effect of her brilliant prettiness. "I have come
+to Algiers on&mdash;on business that's very important to me. Mr.
+Knight will tell you all about it. I've asked him to tell, and
+he's promised to beg for your help. When you know, you'll
+see that it will be better for me not to be visiting anybody.
+I&mdash;I would rather be in a hotel, in spite of your great kindness."</p>
+
+<p>That settled the matter. Nevill Caird had too much tact
+to insist, though he was far from being convinced. He said
+that his aunt, Lady MacGregor, would write Miss Ray a note
+asking her to lunch next day, and then they would have the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>
+panther-christening. Also by that time he would know, from
+his friend, how his help might best be given. But in any case
+he hoped that Miss Ray would allow his car to drop her at the
+Hotel de la Kasbah, which had no omnibus and therefore did
+not send to meet the boat. Her luggage might go up with the
+rest, and be left at the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>These offers Victoria accepted gratefully; and as Caird
+put her into the fine yellow car, the handsome Arab who had
+been on the boat looked at her with chastened curiosity as he
+passed. He must have seen that she was with the Englishman
+who had talked to her on board the <i>Charles Quex</i>, and
+that now there was another man, who seemed to be the owner
+of the large automobile. The Arab had a servant with him,
+who had travelled second class on the boat, a man much darker
+than himself, plainly dressed, with a smaller turban bound by
+cheaper cord; but he was very clean, and as dignified as his
+master. Stephen scarcely noticed the two figures. The
+fine-looking Arab had ceased to be of importance since he
+had left the ship, and would see no more of Victoria Ray.</p>
+
+<p>The chauffeur who drove Nevill's car was an Algerian who
+looked as if he might have a dash of dark blood in his veins.
+Beside him sat the Kabyle servant, who, in his picturesque
+embroidered clothes, with his jaunty fez, appeared amusingly
+out of place in the smart automobile, which struck the last
+note of modernity. The chauffeur had a reckless, daring face,
+with the smile of a mischievous boy; but he steered with caution
+and skill through the crowded streets where open trams
+rushed by, filled to overflowing with white-veiled Arab women
+of the lower classes, and French girls in large hats, who sat
+crushed together on the same seats. Arabs walked in the middle
+of the street, and disdained to quicken their steps for motor
+cars and carriages. Tiny children with charming brown faces
+and eyes like wells of light, darted out from the pavement,
+almost in front of the motor, smiling and begging, absolutely,
+fearless and engagingly impudent. It was all intensely interes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>ting
+to Stephen, who was, however, conscious enough of his past
+to be glad that he was able to take so keen an interest. He
+had the sensation of a man who has been partially paralyzed,
+and is delighted to find that he can feel a pinch.</p>
+
+<p>The Hotel de la Kasbah, which Victoria frankly admitted
+she had chosen because of its low prices, was, as its name
+indicated, close to the mounting of the town, near the corner
+of a tortuous Arab street, narrow and shadowy despite its
+thick coat of whitewash. The house was kept by an extremely
+fat Algerian, married to a woman who called herself Spanish,
+but was more than half Moorish; and the proprietor himself
+being of mixed blood, all the servants except an Algerian
+maid or two, were Kabyles or Arabs. They were cheap and
+easy to manage, since master and mistress had no prejudices.
+Stephen did not like the look of the place, which might suit
+commercial travellers or parties of economical tourists who
+liked to rub shoulders with native life; but for a pretty young
+girl travelling alone, it seemed to him that, though it was clean
+enough, nothing could be less appropriate. Victoria had
+made up her mind and engaged her room, however; and so
+as no definite objection could be urged, he followed Caird's
+example, and held his tongue. As they bade the girl good-bye
+in the tiled hall (a fearful combination of all that was
+worst in Arab and European taste) Nevill begged her to let
+them know if she were not comfortable. "You're coming to
+lunch to-morrow at half-past one," he went on, "but if there's
+anything meanwhile, call us up on the telephone. We can
+easily find you another hotel, or a pension, if you're determined
+not to visit my aunt."</p>
+
+<p>"If I need you, I promise that I will call," Victoria said.
+And though she answered Caird, she looked at Stephen Knight.</p>
+
+<p>Then they left her; and Stephen became rather thoughtful.
+But he tried not to let Nevill see his preoccupation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>As they left the arcaded streets of commercial Algiers,
+and drove up the long hill towards Mustapha Sup&eacute;rieur,
+where most of the best and finest houses are,
+Stephen and Nevill Caird talked of what they saw,
+and of Victoria Ray; not at all of Stephen himself. Nevill had
+asked him what sort of trip he had had, and not another question
+of any sort. Stephen was glad of this, and understood very
+well that it was not because his friend was indifferent. Had he
+been so, he would not have invited Stephen to make this visit.</p>
+
+<p>To speak of the past they had shared, long ago, would
+naturally have led farther, and though Stephen was not sure
+that he mightn't some day refer, of his own accord, to the distasteful
+subject of the Case and Margot Lorenzi, he could not
+have borne to mention either now.</p>
+
+<p>As they passed gateways leading to handsome houses, mostly
+in the Arab style, Nevill told him who lived in each one: French,
+English, and American families; people connected with the
+government, who remained in Algiers all the year round, or
+foreigners who came out every winter for love of their beautiful
+villa gardens and the climate.</p>
+
+<p>"We've rather an amusing society here," he said. "And we'd
+defend Algiers and each other to any outsider, though our
+greatest pleasure is quarrelling among ourselves, or patching
+up one another's rows and beginning again on our own account.
+It's great fun and keeps us from stagnating. We also give
+quantities of luncheons and teas, and are sick of going to each
+other's entertainments; yet we're so furious if there's anything
+we're not invited to, we nearly get jaundice. I do myself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>&mdash;though
+I hate running about promiscuously; and I spend
+hours thinking up ingenious lies to squeeze out of accepting
+invitations I'd have been ill with rage not to get. And there
+are factions which loathe each other worse than any mere
+Montagus and Capulets. We have rival parties, and vie
+with one another in getting hold of any royalties or such like,
+that may be knocking about; but we who hate each other
+most, meet at the Governor's Palace and smile sweetly if
+French people are looking; if not, we snort like war-horses&mdash;only
+in a whisper, for we're invariably polite."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen laughed, as he was meant to do. "What about
+the Arabs?" he asked, with Victoria's errand in his mind. "Is
+there such a thing as Arab society?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very little&mdash;of the kind we'd call 'society'&mdash;in Algiers.
+In Tunis there's more. Much of the old Arab aristocracy
+has died out here, or moved away; but there are a few left
+who are rich and well born. They have their palaces outside
+the town; but most of the best houses have been sold to Europeans,
+and their Arab owners have gone into the interior where
+the Roumis don't rub elbows with them quite as offensively
+as in a big French town like this. Naturally they prefer the
+country. And I know a few of the great Arab Chiefs&mdash;splendid-looking
+fellows who turn up gorgeously dressed for
+the Governor's ball every year, and condescend to dine with
+me once or twice while they're staying on to amuse themselves
+in Algiers."</p>
+
+<p>"Condescend!" Stephen repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, yes. I'm sure they think it's a great condescension.
+And I'm not sure you won't think so too, when you
+see them&mdash;as of course you will. You must go to the
+Governor's ball with me, even if you can't be bothered going
+anywhere else. It's a magnificent spectacle. And I get on
+pretty well among the Arabs, as I've learned to speak their
+lingo a bit. Not that I've worried. But nearly nine years
+is a long time."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This was Stephen's chance to tell what he chose to tell of
+his brief acquaintance with Victoria Ray, and of the mission
+which had brought her to Algiers. Somehow, as he unfolded
+the story he had heard from the girl on board ship, the scent
+of orange blossoms, luscious-sweet in this region of gardens,
+connected itself in his mind with thoughts of the beautiful
+woman who had married Cassim ben Halim, and disappeared
+from the world she had known. He imagined her in an Arab
+garden where orange blossoms fell like snow, eating her heart
+out for the far country and friends she would never see again,
+rebelling against a monstrous tyranny which imprisoned her
+in this place of perfumes and high white walls. Or perhaps
+the scented petals were falling now upon her grave.</p>
+
+<p>"Cassim ben Halim&mdash;Captain Cassim ben Halim," Nevill
+repeated. "Seems familiar somehow, as if I'd heard the name;
+but most of these Arab names have a kind of family likeness
+in our ears. Either he's a person of no particular importance,
+or else he must have left Algiers before my Uncle James Caird
+died&mdash;the man who willed me his house, you know&mdash;brother
+of Aunt Caroline MacGregor who lives with me now. If
+I've ever heard anything about Ben Halim, whatever it is has
+slipped my mind. But I'll do my best to find out something."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Ray believes he was of importance," said Stephen.
+"She oughtn't to have much trouble getting on to his trail,
+should you think?"</p>
+
+<p>Nevill looked doubtful. "Well, if he'd wanted her on his
+trail, she'd never have been off it. If he didn't, and doesn't,
+care to be got at, finding him mayn't be as simple as it
+would be in Europe, where you can always resort to detectives
+if worst comes to worst."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you here?" asked Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there's the French police, of course, and the military
+in the south. But they don't care to interfere with the private
+affairs of Arabs, if no crime's been committed&mdash;and they
+wouldn't do anything in such a case, I should think, in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>
+way of looking up Ben Halim, though they'd tell anything
+they might happen to know already, I suppose&mdash;unless they
+thought best to keep silence with foreigners."</p>
+
+<p>"There must be people in Algiers who'd remember seeing
+such a beautiful creature as Ben Halim's wife, even if her
+husband whisked her away nine years ago," Stephen argued.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder?" murmured Caird, with an emphasis which
+struck his friend as odd.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" asked Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean, I wonder if any one in Algiers ever saw her at all?
+Ben Halim was in the French Army; but he was a Mussulman.
+Paris and Algiers are a long cry, one from the other&mdash;if you're
+an Arab."</p>
+
+<p>"Jove! You don't think&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You've spotted it. That's what I do think."</p>
+
+<p>"That he shut her up?"</p>
+
+<p>"That he forced her to live the life of a Mussulman woman.
+Why, what else could you expect, when you come to look at
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"But an American girl&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A woman who marries gives herself to her husband's
+nation as well as to her husband, doesn't she&mdash;especially if
+he's an Arab? Only, thank God, it happens to very few
+European girls, except of the class that doesn't so much matter.
+Think of it. This Ben Halim, a Spahi officer, falls dead
+in love with a girl when he's on leave in Paris. He feels he
+must have her. He can get her only by marriage. They're
+as subtle as the devil, even the best of them, these Arabs.
+He'd have to promise the girl anything she wanted, or lose
+her. Naturally he wouldn't give it away that he meant to
+veil her and clap her into a harem the minute he got her home.
+If he'd even hinted anything of that sort she wouldn't have
+stirred a step. But for a Mussulman to let his wife walk
+the streets unveiled, like a Roumia, or some woman of easy
+virtue, would be a horrible disgrace to them both. His re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>lations
+and friends would cut him, and hoot her at sight. The
+more he loved his wife, the less likely he'd be to keep a promise,
+made in a different world. It wouldn't be human nature&mdash;Arab
+human nature&mdash;to keep it. Besides, they have the
+jealousy of the tiger, these Eastern fellows. It's a madness."</p>
+
+<p>"Then perhaps no one ever knew, out here, that the man
+had brought home a foreign wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"Almost surely not. No European, that is. Arabs might
+know&mdash;through their women. There's nothing that passes
+which they can't find out. How they do it, who can tell?
+Their ways are as mysterious as everything else here, except
+the lives of us <i>hiverneurs</i>, who don't even try very hard to
+hide our own scandals when we have any. But no Arab
+could be persuaded or forced to betray another Arab to a
+European, unless for motives of revenge. For love or hate,
+they stand together. In virtues and vices they're absolutely
+different from Europeans. And if Ben Halim doesn't want
+anybody, not excepting his wife's sister, to get news of his
+wife, why, it may be difficult to get it, that's all I say. Going
+to Miss Ray's hotel, you could see something of that Arab
+street close by, on the fringe of the Kasbah&mdash;which is what
+they call, not the old fort alone, but the whole Arab town."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I saw the queer white houses, huddled together,
+that looked like blank walls only broken by a door, with here
+and there a barred window."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what I mean is that it's almost impossible for any
+European to learn what goes on behind those blank walls
+and those little square holes, in respectable houses. But
+we'll hope for the best. And here we are at my place. I'm
+rather proud of it."</p>
+
+<p>They had come to the arched gateway of a white-walled
+garden. The sun had set fire to the gold of some sunken
+Arab lettering over the central arch, so that each broken line
+darted forth its separate flame. "Djenan el Djouad; House
+of the Nobleman," Nevill translated. "It was built for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>
+great confidant of a particularly wicked old Dey of Algiers,
+in sixteen hundred and something, and the place had been
+allowed to fall into ruin when my uncle bought it, about twenty
+or thirty years ago. There was a romance in his life, I believe.
+He came to Algiers for his health, as a young man,
+meaning to stay only a few months, but fell in love with a
+face which he happened to catch a glimpse of, under a veil
+that disarranged itself&mdash;on purpose or by accident&mdash;in a
+carriage belonging to a rich Arab. Because of that face he
+remained in Algiers, bought this house, spent years in restoring
+it, exactly in Arab style, and making a beautiful garden
+out of his fifteen or sixteen acres. Whether he ever got to
+know the owner of the face, history doesn't state: my uncle
+was as secretive as he was romantic. But odd things have
+been said. I expect they're still said, behind my back. And
+they're borne out, I'm bound to confess, by the beauty of the
+decorations in that part of the house intended for the ladies.
+Whether it was ever occupied in Uncle James's day, nobody
+can tell; but Aunt Caroline, his sister, who has the best rooms
+there now, vows she's seen the ghost of a lovely being, all
+spangled gauze and jewels, with silver khal-khal, or anklets,
+that tinkle as she moves. I assure my aunt it must be a dream,
+come to punish her for indulging in two goes of her favourite
+sweet at dinner; but in my heart I shouldn't wonder if it's
+true. The whole lot of us, in our family, are romantic and
+superstitious. We can't help it and don't want to help it,
+though we suffer for our foolishness often enough, goodness
+knows."</p>
+
+<p>The scent of orange blossoms and acacias was poignantly
+sweet, as the car passed an Arab lodge, and wound slowly
+up an avenue cut through a grove of blossoming trees.
+The utmost pains had been taken in the laying out of the
+garden, but an effect of carelessness had been preserved.
+The place seemed a fairy tangle of white and purple lilacs,
+gold-dripping laburnums, acacias with festoons of pearl,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>
+roses looping from orange tree to mimosa, and a hundred
+gorgeous tropical flowers like painted birds and butterflies.
+In shadowed nooks under dark cypresses, glimmered arum
+lilies, sparkling with the diamond dew that sprayed from
+carved marble fountains, centuries old; and low seats of marble
+mosaiced with rare tiles stood under magnolia trees or
+arbours of wistaria. Giant cypresses, tall and dark as a band
+of Genii, marched in double line on either side the avenue as
+it straightened and turned towards the house.</p>
+
+<p>White in the distance where that black procession halted,
+glittered the old Arab palace, built in one long fa&ccedil;ade, and
+other fa&ccedil;ades smaller, less regular, looking like so many huge
+blocks of marble grouped together. Over one of these blocks
+fell a crimson torrent of bougainvill&aelig;a; another was veiled
+with white roses and purple clematis; a third was showered
+with the gold of some strange tropical creeper that Stephen
+did not know.</p>
+
+<p>On the roof of brown and dark-green tiles, the sunlight
+poured, making each tile lustrous as the scale of a serpent,
+and all along the edge grew tiny flowers and grasses, springing
+out of interstices to wave filmy threads of pink and gold.</p>
+
+<p>The principal fa&ccedil;ade was blank as a wall, save for a few
+small, mysterious windows, barred with <i>grilles</i> of iron, green
+with age; but on the other fa&ccedil;ades were quaint recessed balconies,
+under projecting roofs supported with beams of cedar;
+and the door, presently opened by an Arab servant, was very
+old too, made of oak covered with an armour of greenish
+copper.</p>
+
+<p>Even when it had closed behind Stephen and Nevill, they
+were not yet in the house, but in a large court with a ceiling
+of carved and painted cedar-wood supported by marble pillars
+of extreme lightness and grace. In front, this court was
+open, looking on to an inner garden with a fountain more
+delicate of design than those Stephen had seen outside. The
+three walls of the court were patterned all over with ancient<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>
+tiles rare as some faded Spanish brocade in a cathedral, and
+along their length ran low seats where in old days sat slaves
+awaiting orders from their master.</p>
+
+<p>Out from this court they walked through a kind of pillared
+cloister, and the fa&ccedil;ades of the house as they passed on, were
+beautiful in pure simplicity of line; so white, they seemed
+to turn the sun on them to moonlight; so jewelled with bands
+and plaques of lovely tiles, that they were like snowy shoulders
+of a woman hung with necklaces of precious stones.</p>
+
+<p>By the time they had left this cloistered garden and threaded
+their way indoors, Stephen had lost his bearings completely.
+He was convinced that, once in, he should never find the
+clue which would guide him out again as he had come.
+There was another garden court, much larger than the
+first, and this, Nevill said, had been the garden of the
+palace-women in days of old. It had a fountain whose
+black marble basin was fringed with papyrus, and filled
+with pink, blue, and white water lilies, from under whose
+flat dark pads glimmered the backs of darting goldfish. Three
+walls of this garden had low doorways with cunningly carved
+doors of cedar-wood, and small, iron-barred windows festooned
+with the biggest roses Stephen had ever seen; but the fourth
+side was formed by an immense loggia with a dais at the back,
+and an open-fronted room at either end. Walls and floor
+of this loggia were tiled, and barred windows on either side
+the dais looked far down over a world which seemed all sky,
+sea, and garden. One of the little open rooms was hung
+with Persian prayer-rugs which Stephen thought were like
+fading rainbows seen through a mist; and there were queer
+old tinselled pictures such as good Moslems love: Borak,
+the steed of the prophet, half winged woman, half horse;
+the Prophet's uncle engaged in mighty battle; the Prophet's
+favourite daughter, Fatma-Zora, daintily eating her sacred breakfast.
+The other room at the opposite end of the tiled loggia
+was fitted up, Moorish fashion, for the making of coffee; walls<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>
+and ceiling carved, gilded, and painted in brilliant colours;
+the floor tiled with the charming "windmill" pattern; many
+shelves adorned with countless little coffee cups in silver standards; with copper and brass utensils of all imaginable kinds;
+and in a gilded recess was a curious apparatus for boiling water.</p>
+
+<p>Nevill Caird displayed his treasures and the beauties of
+his domain with an ingenuous pride, delighted at every word
+of appreciation, stopping Stephen here and there to point
+out something of which he was fond, explaining the value of
+certain old tiles from the point of view of an expert, and gladly
+lingering to answer every question. Some day, he said, he
+was going to write a book about tiles, a book which should
+have wonderful illustrations.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really like it all?" he asked, as Stephen looked
+out from a barred window of the loggia, over the wide view.</p>
+
+<p>"I never even imagined anything so fantastically beautiful,"
+Stephen returned warmly. "You ought to be happy,
+even if you could never go outside your own house and gardens.
+There's nothing to touch this on the Riviera. It's a
+palace of the 'Arabian Nights.'"</p>
+
+<p>"There was a palace in the 'Arabian Nights,' if you remember,"
+said Nevill, "where everything was perfect except one
+thing. Its master was miserable because he couldn't get that
+thing."</p>
+
+<p>"The Roc's egg, of Aladdin's palace," Stephen recalled.
+"Do you lack a Roc's egg for yours?"</p>
+
+<p>"The equivalent," said Nevill. "The one thing which
+I want, and don't seem likely to get, though I haven't quite
+given up hope. It's a woman. And she doesn't want me&mdash;or
+my palace. I'll tell you about her some day&mdash;soon,
+perhaps. And maybe you'll see her. But never mind my
+troubles for the moment. I can put them out of my mind
+with comparative ease, in the pleasure of welcoming you.
+Now we'll go indoors. You haven't an idea what the house
+is like yet. By the way, I nearly forgot this chap."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He put his hand into the pocket of his grey flannel coat,
+and pulled out a green frog, wrapped in a lettuce leaf which
+was inadequate as a garment, but a perfect match as to colour.</p>
+
+<p>"I bought him on the way down to meet you," Nevill explained.
+"Saw an Arab kid trying to sell him in the street,
+poor little beast. Thought it would be a friendly act to bring
+him here to join my happy family, which is large and varied.
+I don't remember anybody living in this fountain who's likely
+to eat him, or be eaten by him."</p>
+
+<p>Down went the frog on the wide rim of the marble fountain,
+and sat there, meditatively, with a dawning expression of
+contentment, so Stephen fancied, on his green face. He looked,
+Stephen thought, as if he were trying to forget a troubled past,
+and as if his new home with all its unexplored mysteries of
+reeds and lily pads were wondrously to his liking.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you'd name that person after me," said Stephen.
+"You're being very good to both of us,&mdash;taking us out of
+Hades into Paradise."</p>
+
+<p>"Come along in," was Nevill Caird's only answer. But
+he walked into the house with his hand on Stephen's shoulder.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2>
+
+
+<p>Djenan El Djouad was a labyrinth. Stephen
+Knight abandoned all attempt at keeping a mental
+clue before he had reached the drawing-room.
+Nevill led him there by way of many tile-paved
+corridors, lit by hanging Arab lamps suspended from roofs
+of arabesqued cedar-wood. They went up or down marble
+steps, into quaint little alcoved rooms furnished with nothing
+but divans and low tables or dower chests crusted with
+Syrian mother-o'-pearl, on into rooms where brocade-hung
+walls were covered with Arab musical instruments of all kinds,
+or long-necked Moorish guns patterned with silver, ivory and
+coral. Here and there as they passed, were garden glimpses,
+between embroidered curtains, looking through windows
+always barred with greenish wrought iron, so old as to be
+rarely beautiful; and some small windows had no curtains,
+but were thickly frilled outside with the violent crimson of
+bougainvill&aelig;a, or fringed with tassels of wistaria, loop on loop
+of amethysts. High above these windows, which framed
+flowery pictures, were other windows, little and jewelled, mere
+plaques of filigree workmanship, fine as carved ivory or silver
+lace, and lined with coloured glass of delicate tints&mdash;gold,
+lilac, and pale rose.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's the drawing-room at last," said Nevill, "and here's
+my aunt."</p>
+
+<p>"If you can call it a drawing-room," objected a gently
+complaining voice. "A filled-in court, where ghosts of murdered
+slaves come and moan, while you have your tea. How
+do you do, Mr. Knight? I'm delighted you've taken pity<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>
+on Nevill. He's never so happy as when he's showing a new
+friend the house&mdash;except when he's obtained an old tile,
+or a new monster of some sort, for his collection."</p>
+
+<p>"In me, he kills two birds with one stone," said Stephen,
+smiling, as he shook the hand of a tiny lady who looked rather
+like an elderly fairy disguised in a cap, that could have been
+born nowhere except north of the Tweed.</p>
+
+<p>She had delicate little features which had been made to fit
+a pretty child, and had never grown up. Her hair, of a reddish
+yellow, had faded to a yellowish white, which by a faint
+fillip of the imagination could be made to seem golden in
+some lights. Her eyes were large and round, and of a china-blue
+colour; her eyebrows so arched as to give her an expression
+of perpetual surprise, her forehead full, her cheekbones
+high and pink, her small, pursed mouth of the kind which
+prefers to hide a sense of humour, and then astonish people
+with it when they have ceased to believe in its existence. If
+her complexion had not been netted all over with a lacework
+of infinitesimal wrinkles, she would have looked like a little
+girl dressed up for an old lady. She had a ribbon of the MacGregor
+tartan on her cap, and an uncompromising cairngorm
+fastened her fichu of valuable point lace. A figure more
+out of place than hers in an ancient Arab palace of Algiers
+it would be impossible to conceive; yet it was a pleasant figure
+to see there, and Stephen knew that he was going to like Nevill's
+Aunt Caroline, Lady MacGregor.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you looked more of a monster than you do," said
+she, "because you might frighten the ghosts. We're eaten
+up with them, the way some folk in old houses are with rats.
+Nearly all of them slaves, too, so there's no variety, except
+that some are female. I've given you the room with the
+prettiest ghosts, but if you're not the seventh son of a seventh
+son, you may not see or even hear them."</p>
+
+<p>"Does Nevill see or hear?" asked Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"As much as Aunt Caroline does, if the truth were known,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>
+answered her nephew. "Only she couldn't be happy unless
+she had a grievance. Here she wanted to choose an original
+and suitable one, so she hit upon ghosts&mdash;the ghosts of slaves
+murdered by a cruel master."</p>
+
+<p>"Hit upon them, indeed!" she echoed indignantly, making
+her knitting needles click, a movement which displayed her
+pretty, miniature hands, half hidden in lace ruffles. "As
+if they hadn't gone through enough, in flesh and blood, poor
+creatures! Some of them may have been my countrymen,
+captured on the seas by those horrid pirates."</p>
+
+<p>"Who was the cruel master?" Stephen wanted to know,
+still smiling, because it was almost impossible not to smile
+at Lady MacGregor.</p>
+
+<p>"Not my brother James, I'm glad to say," she quickly
+replied. "It was about three hundred years before his time.
+And though he had some quite irritating tricks as a young
+man, murdering slaves wasn't one of them. To be sure, they
+tell strange tales of him here, as I make no doubt Nevill has
+already mentioned, because he's immoral enough to be proud
+of what he calls the romance. I mean the story of the beautiful
+Arab lady, whom James is supposed to have stolen from
+her rightful husband&mdash;that is, if an Arab can be rightful&mdash;and
+hidden in this house far many a year, till at last she died,
+after the search for her had long, long gone by."</p>
+
+<p>"You're as proud of the romance as I am, or you wouldn't
+be at such pains to repeat it to everybody, pretending to think
+I've already told it," said Nevill. "But I'm going to show
+Knight his quarters. Pretty or plain, there are no ghosts
+here that will hurt him. And then we'll have lunch, for which
+he's starving."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen's quarters consisted of a bedroom (furnished in
+Tunisian style, with an imposing four-poster of green and
+gold ornamented with a gilded, sacred cow under a crown)
+and a sitting room gay with colourful decorations imported
+from Morocco. These rooms opened upon a wide covered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>
+balcony screened by a carved wooden lattice and from the
+balcony Stephen could look over hills, near and far, dotted
+with white villas that lay like resting gulls on the green wave
+of verdure which cascaded down to join the blue waves of the
+sea. Up from that far blueness drifted on the wind a murmurous
+sound like &AElig;olian harps, mingled with the tinkle of
+fairy mandolins in the fountain of the court below.</p>
+
+<p>At luncheon, in a dining-room that opened on to a white-walled
+garden where only lilies of all kinds grew, to Stephen's
+amazement two Highlanders in kilts stood behind his hostess's
+chair. They were young, exactly alike, and of precisely the
+same height, six foot two at least. "No, you are not dreaming
+them, Mr. Knight," announced Lady MacGregor, evidently
+delighted with the admiring surprise in the look he bestowed
+upon these images. "And you're quite right. They <i>are</i>
+twins. I may as well break it to you now, as I had to do to
+Nevill when he invited me to come to Algiers and straighten
+out his housekeeping accounts: they play Ruth to my Naomi.
+Whither I go, they go also, even to the door of the bathroom,
+where they carry my towels, for I have no other maid than
+they."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen could not help glancing at the two giants, expecting
+to see some involuntary quiver of eye or nostril answer
+electrically to this frank revelation of their office; but their
+countenances (impossible to think of as mere faces) remained
+expressionless as if carved in stone. Lady MacGregor took
+nothing from Mohammed and the other Kabyle servant who
+waited on Nevill and Stephen. Everything for her was
+handed to one of the Highlanders, who gravely passed on
+the dish to their mistress. If she refused a <i>plat</i> favoured by
+them, instead of carrying it away, the giants in kilts silently
+but firmly pressed it upon her acceptance, until in self-defence
+she seized some of the undesired food, and ate it under their
+watchful eyes.</p>
+
+<p>During the meal a sudden thunderstorm boiled up out of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>
+the sea: the sky became a vast brazen bowl, and a strange,
+coppery twilight bleached the lilies in the white garden to a
+supernatural pallor. The room, with its embroidered Moorish
+hangings, darkened to a rich gloom; but Mohammed
+touched a button on the wall, and all the quaint old Arab
+lamps that stood in corners, or hung suspended from the
+cedar roof, flashed out cunningly concealed electric lights.
+At the same moment, there began a great howling outside the
+door. Mohammed sprang to open it, and in poured a wave
+of animals. Stephen hastily counted five dogs; a collie, a white
+deerhound, a Dandy Dinmont, and a mother and child of unknown
+race, which he afterwards learned was Kabyle, a breed
+beloved of mountain men and desert tent-dwellers. In front
+of the dogs bounded a small African monkey, who leaped to
+the back of Nevill's chair, and behind them toddled with
+awkward grace a baby panther, a mere ball of yellow silk.</p>
+
+<p>"They don't like the thunder, poor dears," Nevill apologised.
+"That's why they howled, for they're wonderfully
+polite people really. They always come at the end of lunch.
+Aunt Caroline won't invite them to dinner, because then she
+sometimes wears fluffy things about which she has a foolish
+vanity. The collie is Angus's. The deerhound is Hamish's.
+The dandy is hers. The two Kabyles are Mohammed's,
+and the flotsam and jetsam is mine. There's a great deal
+more of it out of doors, but this is all that gets into the dining-room
+except by accident. And I expect you think we are a
+very queer family."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen did think so, for never till now had he been a member
+of a household where each of the servants was allowed
+to possess any animals he chose, and flood the house with
+them. But the queerer he thought the family, the better he
+found himself liking it. He felt a boy let out of school after
+weeks of disgrace and punishment, and, strangely enough,
+this old Arab palace, in a city of North Africa seemed more
+like home to him than his London flat had seemed of late.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When Lady MacGregor rose and said she must write the
+note she had promised Nevill to send Miss Ray, Stephen
+longed to kiss her. This form of worship not being permitted,
+he tried to open the dining-room door for her to go out, but
+Angus and Hamish glared upon him so superciliously that
+he retired in their favour.</p>
+
+<p>The luncheon hour, even when cloaked in the mysterious
+gloom of a thunderstorm, is no time for confidences; besides,
+it is not conducive to sustained conversation to find a cold
+nose in your palm, a baby claw up your sleeve, or a monkey
+hand, like a bit of leather, thrust down your collar or into
+your ear. But after dinner that night, when Lady MacGregor
+had trailed her maligned "fluffiness" away to the drawing-room,
+and Nevill and Stephen had strolled with their cigarettes
+out into the unearthly whiteness of the lily garden, Stephen
+felt that something was coming. He had known that Nevill
+had a story to tell, by and by, and though he knew also that he
+would be asked no questions in return, now or ever, it occurred
+to him that Nevill's offer of confidences was perhaps meant to
+open a door, if he chose to enter by it. He was not sure
+whether he would so choose or not, but the fact that he was
+not sure meant a change in him. A few days ago, even this
+morning, before meeting Nevill, he would have been certain
+that he had nothing intimate to tell Caird or any one else.</p>
+
+<p>They strolled along the paths among the lilies. Moon and
+sky and flowers and white-gravelled paths were all silver.
+Stephen thought of Victoria Ray, and wished she could see
+this garden. He thought, too, that if she would only dance
+here among the lilies in the moonlight, it would be a vision of
+exquisite loveliness.</p>
+
+<p>"For a moment white, then gone forever," he caught himself
+repeating again.</p>
+
+<p>It was odd how, whenever he saw anything very white and
+of dazzling purity, he thought of this dancing girl. He wondered
+what sort of woman it was whose image came to Nevill's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>
+mind, in the garden of lilies that smelt so heavenly sweet
+under the moon. He supposed there must always be some
+woman whose image was suggested to every man by all
+that was fairest in nature. Margot Lorenzi was the woman
+whose image he must keep in his mind, if he wanted to know
+any faint imitation of happiness in future. She would like
+this moonlit garden, and in one way it would suit her as a
+background. Yet she did not seem quite in the picture, despite
+her beauty. The perfume she loved would not blend with the
+perfume of the lilies.</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Caroline's rather a dear, isn't she?" remarked Nevill,
+apropos of nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"She's a jewel," said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Yet she isn't the immediate jewel of my soul. I'm hard
+hit, Stephen, and the girl won't have me. She's poorer
+than any church or other mouse I ever met, yet she turns
+up her little French nose at me and my palace, and all the
+cheese I should like to see her nibble&mdash;my cheese."</p>
+
+<p>"Her French nose?" echoed Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Her nose and the rest of her's French, especially
+her dimples. You never saw such dimples. Miss Ray's
+prettier than my girl, I suppose. But I think mine's beyond
+anything. Only she isn't and won't be mine that's the worst
+of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is she?" Stephen asked. "In Algiers?"</p>
+
+<p>"No such luck. But her sister is. I'll take you to see the
+sister to-morrow morning. She may be able to tell us something
+to help Miss Ray. She keeps a curiosity-shop, and is
+a connoisseur of Eastern antiquities, as well as a great character
+in Algiers, quite a sort of queen in her way&mdash;a quaint
+way. All the visiting Royalties of every nation drop in and
+spend hours in her place. She has a good many Arab
+acquaintances, too. Even rich chiefs come to sell, or buy things
+from her, and respect her immensely. But my girl&mdash;I like
+to call her that&mdash;is away off in the west, close to the border<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>
+of Morocco, at Tlemcen. I wish you were interested in
+mosques, and I'd take you there. People who care for such
+things sometimes travel from London or Paris just to see the
+mosque of Sidi Bou-Medine and a certain Mirab. But I
+suppose you haven't any fad of that kind, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I feel it coming on," said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Good chap! Do encourage the feeling. I'll lend you
+books, lots of books, on the subject. She's 'malema,' or
+mistress of an <i>&eacute;cole indig&egrave;ne</i> for embroideries and carpets, at
+Tlemcen. Heaven knows how few francs a month she earns
+by the job which takes all her time and life, yet she thinks
+herself lucky to get it. And she won't marry me."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely she must love you, at least a little, if you care so
+much for her," Stephen tried to console his friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she does, a lot," replied Nevill with infinite satisfaction.
+"But, you see&mdash;well, you see, her family wasn't
+up to much from a social point of view&mdash;such rot! The
+mother came out from Paris to be a nursery governess, when
+she was quite young, but she was too pretty for that position.
+She had various but virtuous adventures, and married a non-com.
+in the Chasseurs d'Afrique, who chucked the army for her.
+The two kept a little hotel. Then the husband died, while the
+girls were children. The mother gave up the hotel and took
+in sewing. Everybody was interested in the family, they were
+so clever and exceptional, and people helped in the girls' education.
+When their mother became an invalid, the two contrived
+to keep her and themselves, though Jeanne was only
+eighteen then, and Josette, my girl, fifteen. She's been dead
+now for some years&mdash;the mother. Josette is nearly twenty-four.
+Do you see why she won't marry me? I'm hanged
+if I do."</p>
+
+<p>"I can see what her feeling is," Stephen said. "She must
+be a ripping girl."</p>
+
+<p>"I should say she is!&mdash;though as obstinate as the devil.
+Sometimes I could shake her and box her ears. I haven't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
+seen her for months now. She wouldn't like me to go to
+Tlemcen&mdash;unless I had a friend with me, and a good excuse.
+I didn't know it could hurt so much to be in love, though I
+was in once before, and it hurt too, rather. But that was
+nothing. For the woman had no soul or mind, only her beauty,
+and an unscrupulous sort of ambition which made her want
+to marry me when my uncle left me his money. She'd refused
+to do anything more serious than flirt and reduce me to misery,
+until she thought I could give her what she wanted. I'd
+imagined myself horribly in love, until her sudden willingness
+to take me showed me once for all what she was. Even so,
+I couldn't cure the habit of love at first; but I had just sense
+enough to keep out of England, where she was, for fear I
+should lose my head and marry her. My cure was rather
+slow, but it was sure; and now I know that what I thought
+was love then wasn't love at all. The real thing's as different
+as&mdash;as&mdash;a modern Algerian tile is from an old Moorish
+one. I can't say anything stronger! That's why I cut England,
+to begin with, and after a while my interests were more
+identified with France. Sometimes I go to Paris in the summer&mdash;or
+to a little place in Dauphiny. But I haven't been
+back to England for eight years. Algeria holds all my heart.
+In Tlemcen is my girl. Here are my garden and my beasts.
+Now you have my history since Oxford days."</p>
+
+<p>"You know something of <i>my</i> history through the papers,"
+Stephen blurted out with a desperate defiance of his own
+reserve.</p>
+
+<p>"Not much of your real history, I think. Papers lie, and
+people misunderstand. Don't talk of yourself unless you
+really want to. But I say, look here, Stephen. That woman
+I thought I cared for&mdash;may I tell you what she was like?
+Somehow I want you to know. Don't think me a cad. I
+don't mean to be. But&mdash;may I tell?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"She was dark and awfully handsome, and though she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>
+wasn't an actress, she would have made a splendid one. She
+thought only of herself. I&mdash;there was a picture in a London
+paper lately which reminded me of her&mdash;the picture
+of a young lady you know&mdash;or think you know. They&mdash;those
+two&mdash;are of the same type. I don't believe either
+could make a man happy."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen laughed&mdash;a short, embarrassed laugh. "Oh,
+happy!" he echoed. "After twenty-five we learn not to
+expect happiness. But&mdash;thank you for&mdash;everything, and
+especially for inviting me here." He knew now why it had
+occurred to Nevill to ask him to Algiers. Nevill had seen
+Margot's picture. In silence they walked towards the open
+door of the dining-room. Somewhere not far away the Kabyle
+dogs were barking shrilly. In the distance rose and fell muffled
+notes of strange passion and fierceness, an Arab tom-tom
+beating like the heart of the conquered East, away in the old
+town.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen's short-lived gaiety was struck out of his soul.</p>
+
+<p>"For a moment white, then gone forever."</p>
+
+<p>He pushed the haunting words out of his mind. He did
+not want them to have any meaning. They had no meaning.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to him that the perfume of the lilies was too heavy
+on the air.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2>
+
+
+<p>A white peacock, screaming in the garden under
+Stephen's balcony, waked him early, and dreamily
+his thoughts strayed towards the events planned for
+the day.</p>
+
+<p>They were to make a morning call on Mademoiselle Soubise
+in her curiosity-shop, and ask about Ben Halim, the husband
+of Saidee Ray. Victoria was coming to luncheon, for she had
+accepted Lady MacGregor's invitation. Her note had been
+brought in last night, while he and Nevill walked in the garden.
+Afterwards Lady MacGregor had shown it to them both. The
+girl wrote an interesting hand, full of individuality, and expressive
+of decision. Perhaps on her arrival they might have something
+to tell her.</p>
+
+<p>This hope shot Stephen out of bed, though it was only seven,
+and breakfast was not until nine. He had a cold bath in the
+private bathroom, which was one of Nevill's modern improvements
+in the old house, and by and by went for a walk, thinking
+to have the gardens to himself. But Nevill was there, cutting
+flowers and whistling tunefully. It was to him that the
+jewelled white peacock had screamed a greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"I like cutting the flowers myself," said he. "I don't think
+they care to have others touch them, any more than a cow likes
+to be milked by a stranger. Of course they feel the difference!
+Why, they know when I praise them, and preen themselves.
+They curl up when they're scolded, or not noticed, just as I do
+when people aren't nice to me. Every day I send off a box
+of my best roses to Tlemcen. <i>She</i> allows me to do that."</p>
+
+<p>Lady MacGregor did not appear at breakfast, which was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>
+served on a marble loggia; and by half-past nine Stephen and
+Nevill were out in the wide, tree-shaded streets, where masses
+of bougainvill&aelig;a and clematis boiled over high garden-walls of
+old plaster, once white, now streaked with gold and rose, and
+green moss and lichen. After the thunderstorm of the day
+before, the white dust was laid, and the air was pure with a
+curious sparkling quality.</p>
+
+<p>They passed the museum in its garden, and turned a
+corner.</p>
+
+<p>"There's Mademoiselle Soubise's shop," said Nevill.</p>
+
+<p>It was a low white building, and had evidently been a private
+house at one time. The only change made had been in the
+shape and size of the windows on the ground-floor; and these
+were protected by green <i>persiennes</i>, fanned out like awnings,
+although the house was shaded by magnolia trees. There was
+no name over the open door, but the word "<i>Antiquit&eacute;s</i>" was
+painted in large black letters on the house-wall.</p>
+
+<p>Under the green blinds was a glitter of jewels displayed
+among brocades and a tangle of old lace, or on embossed silver
+trays; and walking in at the door, out of the shadowy dusk,
+a blaze of colour leaped to the eyes. Not a soul was there,
+unless some one hid and spied behind a carved and gilded
+Tunisian bed or a marqueterie screen from Bagdad. Yet
+there was a collection to tempt a thief, and apparently no precaution
+taken against invaders.</p>
+
+<p>Delicate rugs, soft as clouds and tinted like opals, were
+heaped in piles on the tiled floor; rugs from Ispahan, rugs from
+Mecca; old rugs from the sacred city of Kairouan, such as
+are made no more there or anywhere. The walls were hung
+with Tunisian silks and embroidered stuffs from the homes of
+Jewish families, where they had served as screens for talismanic
+words too sacred to be seen by common eyes; and there was
+drapery of ancient banners, Tyrian-dyed, whose gold or silver
+fringes had been stained with blood, in battle. From the ceiling
+were suspended antique lamps, and chandeliers of rare<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>
+rock crystal, whose prisms gave out rose and violet sparks as
+they caught the light.</p>
+
+<p>On shelves and inlaid tables were beggars' bowls of strange
+dark woods, carried across deserts by wandering mendicants of
+centuries ago, the chains, which had hung from throats long
+since crumbled into dust, adorned with lucky rings and fetishes
+to preserve the wearer from evil spirits. There were other
+bowls, of crystal pure as full-blown bubbles, bowls which would
+ring at a tap like clear bells of silver. Some of these were
+guiltless of ornament, some were graven with gold flowers, but
+all seemed full of lights reflected from tilted, pearl-framed
+mirrors, and from the swinging prisms of chandeliers.</p>
+
+<p>Chafing-dishes of bronze at which vanished hands had been
+warmed, stood beside chased brazen ewers made to pour rose-water
+over henna-stained fingers, after Arab dinners, eaten
+without knives or forks. In the depths of half-open drawers
+glimmered precious stones, strangely cut pink diamonds, big
+square turquoises and emeralds, strings of creamy pearls,
+and hands of Fatma, a different jewel dangling from each
+finger-tip.</p>
+
+<p>The floor was encumbered, not only with rugs, but with heaps
+of priceless tiles, Persian and Moorish, of the best periods
+and patterns, taken from the walls of Arab palaces now
+destroyed; huge brass salvers; silver anklets, and chain armour,
+sabres captured from Crusaders, and old illuminated Korans.
+It was difficult to move without knocking something down,
+and one stepped delicately in narrow aisles, to avoid islands
+of piled, precious objects. Everywhere the eye was drawn to
+glittering points, or patches of splendid colour; so that at a
+glance the large, dusky room was like a temple decorated
+with mosaics. There was nothing that did not suggest the
+East, city or desert, or mountain village of the Kabyles; and the
+air was loaded with Eastern perfumes, ambergris and musk
+that blended with each other, and the scent of the black incense
+sticks brought by caravan from Tombouctou.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why doesn't some one come in and steal?" asked Stephen,
+in surprise at seeing the place deserted.</p>
+
+<p>"Because there's hardly a thief in Algiers mean enough to
+steal from Jeanne Soubise, who gives half she has to the poor.
+And because, if there were one so mean, Haroun el Raschid
+would soon let her know what was going on," said Nevill.
+"His latest disguise is that of a parrot, but he may change it
+for something else at any moment."</p>
+
+<p>Then Stephen saw, suspended among the crystal chandeliers
+and antique lamps, a brass cage, shaped like a domed palace.
+In this cage, in a coral ring, sat a grey parrot who regarded
+the two young men with jewel-eyes that seemed to know all
+good and evil.</p>
+
+<p>"He yells if any stranger comes into the shop when his mistress
+is out," Nevill explained. "I am an humble friend of
+His Majesty's, so he says nothing. I gave him to Mademoiselle
+Jeanne."</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps their voices had been heard. At all events, there
+was a light tapping of heels on unseen stairs, and from behind
+a red-curtained doorway appeared a tall young woman, dressed
+in black.</p>
+
+<p>She was robust as well as tall, and Stephen thought she looked
+rather like a handsome Spanish boy; yet she was feminine
+enough in her outlines. It was the frank and daring expression
+of her face and great black eyes which gave the look of
+boyishness. She had thick, straight eyebrows, a large mouth
+that was beautiful when she smiled, to show perfect teeth
+between the red lips that had a faint, shadowy line of down
+above them.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Monsieur Nevill Caird!" she exclaimed, in English,
+with a full voice, and a French accent that was pretty,
+though not Parisian. She smiled at Stephen, too, without
+waiting to be introduced. "Monsieur Caird is always kind
+in bringing his friends to me, and I am always glad to see
+them."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I've brought Mr. Knight, not to buy, but to ask a favour,"
+said Nevill.</p>
+
+<p>"To buy, too," Stephen hastened to cut in. "I see things
+I can't live without. I must own them."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, don't set your heart on anything Mademoiselle Soubise
+won't sell. She bought everything with the idea of selling
+it, she admits, but now she's got them here, there are some
+things she can't make up her mind to part with at any price."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, only a few tiles&mdash;and some Jewish embroideries&mdash;and
+bits of jewellery&mdash;and a rug or two or a piece of pottery&mdash;and
+maybe <i>one</i> copy of the Koran, and a beggar's bowl,"
+Jeanne Soubise excused herself, hastily adding more and
+more to her list of exceptions, as her eyes roved wistfully among
+her treasures. "Oh, and an amphora just dug up near Timgad,
+with Roman oil still inside. It's a beauty. Will you
+come down to the cellar to look at it?"</p>
+
+<p>Nevill thanked her, and reserved the pleasure for another
+time. Then he inquired what was the latest news from Mademoiselle
+Josette at Tlemcen; and when he heard that there
+was nothing new, he told the lady of the curiosity-shop what
+was the object of the early visit.</p>
+
+<p>"But of course I have heard of Ben Halim, and I have seen
+him, too," she said; "only it was long ago&mdash;maybe ten years.
+Yes, I could not have been seventeen. It is already long that
+he went away from Algiers, no one knows where. Now he
+is said to be dead. Have you not heard of him, Monsieur
+Nevill? You must have. He lived at Djenan el Hadj; close
+to the Jardin d'Essai. You know the place well. The new
+rich Americans, Madame Jewett and her daughter, have it
+now. There was a scandal about Ben Halim, and then he went
+away&mdash;a scandal that was mysterious, because every one
+talked about it, yet no one knew what had happened&mdash;never
+surely at least."</p>
+
+<p>"I told you Mademoiselle would be able to give you information!"
+exclaimed Nevill. "I felt sure the name was familiar,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>
+somehow, though I couldn't think how. One hears so many
+Arab names, and generally there's a 'Ben' or a 'Bou' something
+or other, if from the South."</p>
+
+<p>"Flan-ben-Flan," laughed Jeanne Soubise. "That means,"
+she explained, turning to Stephen, "So and So, son of So and
+So. It is strange, a young lady came inquiring about Ben
+Halim only yesterday afternoon; such a pretty young lady.
+I was surprised, but she said they had told her in her hotel I
+knew everything that had ever happened in Algiers. A nice
+compliment to my age. I am not so old as that! But," she
+added, with a frank smile, "all the hotels and guides expect
+commissions when they send people to me. I suppose they
+thought this pretty girl fair game, and that once in my place
+she would buy. So she did. She bought a string of amber beads.
+She liked the gold light in them, and said it seemed as if she
+might see a vision of something or some one she wanted to
+find, if she gazed through the beads. Many a good Mussulman
+has said his prayers with them, if that could bring her
+luck."</p>
+
+<p>The two young men looked at one another.</p>
+
+<p>"Did she tell you her name?" Stephen asked.</p>
+
+<p>"But yes; she was Mees Ray, and named for the dead
+Queen Victoria of England, I suppose, though American.
+And she told me other things. Her sister, she said, married
+a Captain Ben Halim of the Spahis, and came with him to
+Algiers, nearly ten years ago. Now she is looking for the
+sister."</p>
+
+<p>"We've met Miss Ray," said Nevill. "It's on her business
+we've come. We didn't know she'd already been to you,
+but we might have guessed some one would send her. She
+didn't lose much time."</p>
+
+<p>"She wouldn't," said Stephen. "She isn't that kind."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew nothing of the sister," went on Mademoiselle
+Soubise. "I could hardly believe at first that Ben Halim
+had an American wife. Then I remembered how these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>
+Mohammedan men can hide their women, so no one ever
+knows. Probably no one ever did know, otherwise gossip
+would have leaked out. The man may have been jealous of
+her. You see, I have Arab acquaintances. I go to visit
+ladies in the harems sometimes, and I hear stories when anything
+exciting is talked of. You can't think how word flies
+from one harem to another&mdash;like a carrier-pigeon! This
+could never have been a matter of gossip&mdash;though it is true
+I was young at the time."</p>
+
+<p>"You think, then, he would have shut her up?" asked
+Nevill. "That's what I feared."</p>
+
+<p>"But of course he would have shut her up&mdash;with another
+wife, perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Stephen. "The poor child
+has never thought of that possibility. She says he promised
+her sister he would never look at any other woman."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, the promise of an Arab in love! Perhaps she did
+not know the Arabs&mdash;that sister. It is only the men of
+princely families who take but one wife. And he would not
+tell her if he had already looked at another woman. He
+would be sure, no matter how much in love a Christian girl
+might be, she would not marry a man who already had a
+wife."</p>
+
+<p>"We might find out that," suggested Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be difficult," said the Frenchwoman. "I can
+try, among Arabs I know, but though they like to chat with
+Europeans, they will not answer questions. They resent that
+we should ask them, though they are polite. As for you, if
+you ask men, French or Arab, you will learn nothing. The
+French would not know. The Arabs, if they did, would not
+tell. They must not talk of each other's wives, even among
+themselves, much less to outsiders. You can ask an Arab
+about anything else in the world, but not his wife. That is
+the last insult."</p>
+
+<p>"What a country!" Stephen ejaculated.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that it has many more faults than others,"
+said Nevill, defending it, "only they're different."</p>
+
+<p>"But about the scandal that drove Ben Halim away?"
+Stephen ventured on.</p>
+
+<p>"Strange things were whispered at the time, I remember,
+because Ben Halim was a handsome man and well known.
+One looked twice at him in his uniform when he went by on
+a splendid horse. I believe he had been to Paris before the
+scandal. What he did afterwards no one can say. But I
+could not tell Mees Ray what I had heard of that scandal
+any more than I would tell a young girl that almost all Europeans
+who become harem women are converted to the religion
+of Islam, and that very likely the sister wasn't Ben Halim's
+first wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you tell us of the scandal, or&mdash;would you rather not
+talk of the subject?" Stephen hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I can tell you, for it would not hurt your feelings.
+People said Ben Halim flirted too much with his Colonel's
+beautiful French wife, who died soon afterwards, and her
+husband killed himself. Ben Halim had not been considered
+a good officer before. He was too fond of pleasure, and a mad
+gambler; so at last it was made known to him he had better
+leave the army of his own accord if he did not wish to go against
+his will; at least, that was the story."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course!" exclaimed Nevill. "It comes back to me now,
+though it all happened before I lived in Algiers. Ben Halim
+sold his house and everything in it to a Frenchman who went
+bankrupt soon after. It's passed through several hands since.
+I go occasionally to call on Mrs. Jewett and her daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"It is said they wish you would call oftener, Monsieur
+Caird."</p>
+
+<p>Nevill turned red. Stephen thought he could understand,
+and hid a smile. No doubt Nevill was a great "catch" in
+Algerian society. And he was in love with a teacher of Arab
+children far away in Tlemcen, a girl "poor as a church mouse,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>
+who wouldn't listen to him! It was a quaint world; as quaint
+in Africa as elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you tell Miss Ray?" Nevill hurried to ask.</p>
+
+<p>"That Ben Halim had left Algiers nine years ago, and had
+never been heard of since. When I saw she did not love his
+memory, I told her people believed him to be dead; and this
+rumour might be true, as no news of him has ever come back.
+But she turned pale, and I was sorry I had been so frank.
+Yet what would you? Oh, and I thought of one more thing,
+when she had gone, which I might have mentioned. But
+perhaps there is nothing in it. All the rest of the day I was
+busy with many customers, so I was tired at night, otherwise
+I would have sent a note to her hotel. And this morning
+since six I have been hurrying to get off boxes and things
+ordered by some Americans for a ship which sails at noon.
+But you will tell the young lady when you see her, and that
+will be better than my writing, because sending a note would
+make it seem too important. She might build hopes, and it
+would be a pity if they did explode."</p>
+
+<p>Both men laughed a little at this ending of the Frenchwoman's
+sentence, but Stephen was more impatient than
+Nevill to know what was to come next. He grudged the
+pause, and made her go on.</p>
+
+<p>"It is only that I remember my sister telling me, when she
+was at home last year for a holiday, about a Kabyle servant
+girl who waits on her in Tlemcen. The girl is of a great
+intelligence, and my sister takes an interest in her. Josette
+teaches her many things, and they talk. Mouni&mdash;that is the
+Kabyle's name&mdash;tells of her home life to my sister. One
+thing she did was to serve a beautiful foreign lady in the house
+of a rich Arab. She was only a child then, not more than
+thirteen, for such girls grow up early; but she has always
+thought about that lady, who was good to her, and very sad.
+Mouni told Josette she had never seen any one so beautiful, and
+that her mistress had hair of a natural colour, redder than hair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>
+dyed with henna and powdered with gold dust. It was this
+describing of the hair which brought the story back to my head
+when Miss Ray had gone, because she has hair like that, and
+perhaps her sister had it too."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, we'll run over to Tlemcen in the car, and see
+that Kabyle girl," Nevill eagerly proposed, carefully looking
+at his friend, and not at Jeanne Soubise. But she raised her
+eyebrows, then drew them together, and her frank manner
+changed. With that shadow of a frown, and smileless eyes and
+lips, there was something rather formidable about the handsome
+young woman.</p>
+
+<p>"Mees Ray may like to manage all her own beesiness,"
+she remarked. And it occurred to Stephen that it would be a
+propitious moment to choose such curios as he wished to buy.
+In a few moments Mademoiselle Soubise was her pleasant
+self again, indicating the best points of the things he admired,
+and giving him their history.</p>
+
+<p>"There's apparently a conspiracy of silence to keep us from
+finding out anything about Miss Ray's sister as Ben Halim's
+wife," he said to Nevill when they had left the curiosity-shop.
+"Also, what has become of Ben Halim."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll learn that there's always a conspiracy of silence in
+Africa, where Arabs are concerned," Nevill answered. There
+was a far-off, fatal look in his eyes as he spoke, those blue eyes
+which seemed at all times to see something that others could
+not see. And again the sense of an intangible, illusive, yet
+very real mystery of the East, which he had felt for a moment
+before landing, oppressed Stephen, as if he had inhaled too
+much smoke from the black incense of Tombouctou.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2>
+
+
+<p>Stephen and Nevill Caird were in the cypress
+avenue when Victoria Ray drove up in a ramshackle
+cab, guided by an Arab driver who squinted hideously.
+She wore a white frock which might have
+cost a sovereign, and had probably been made at home. Her
+wide brimmed hat was of cheap straw, wound with a scarf
+of thin white muslin; but her eyes looked out like blue stars
+from under its dove-coloured shadow, and a lily was tucked
+into her belt. To both young men she seemed very beautiful,
+and radiant as the spring morning.</p>
+
+<p>"You aren't superstitious, engaging a man with a squint,"
+said Nevill.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not," she laughed. "As if harm could come to
+me because the poor man's so homely! I engaged him because
+he was the worst looking, and nobody else seemed to want
+him."</p>
+
+<p>They escorted her indoors to Lady MacGregor, and Stephen
+wondered if she would be afraid of the elderly fairy with the
+face of a child and the manner of an autocrat. But she was
+not in the least shy; and indeed Stephen could hardly picture
+the girl as being self-conscious in any circumstances. Lady
+MacGregor took her in with one look; white hat, red hair,
+blue eyes, lily at belt, simple frock and all, and&mdash;somewhat
+to Stephen's surprise, because she was to him a new type of
+old lady&mdash;decided to be charmed with Miss Ray.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria's na&iuml;ve admiration of the house and gardens
+delighted her host and hostess. She could not be too much
+astonished at its wonders to please them, and, both being<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>
+thoroughbred, they liked her the better for saying frankly
+that she was unused to beautiful houses. "You can't think
+what this is like after school in Potterston and cheap boarding-houses
+in New York and London," she said, laughing when the
+others laughed.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen was longing to see her in the lily-garden, which,
+to his mind, might have been made for her; and after luncheon
+he asked Lady MacGregor if he and Nevill might show it to
+Miss Ray.</p>
+
+<p>The garden lay to the east, and as it was shadowed by the
+house in the afternoon, it would not be too hot.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you won't mind taking her yourself," said the
+elderly fairy. "Just for a few wee minutes I want Nevill.
+He is to tell me about accepting or refusing some invitations.
+I'll send him to you soon."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen was ashamed of the gladness with which he could
+not help hearing this proposal. He had nothing to say to the
+girl which he might not say before Nevill, or even before Lady
+MacGregor, yet he had been feeling cheated because he could
+not be alone with Victoria, as on the boat.</p>
+
+<p>"Gather Miss Ray as many lilies as she can carry away,"
+were Nevill's parting instructions. And it was exactly what
+Stephen had wished for. He wanted to give her something
+beautiful and appropriate, something he could give with his
+own hands. And he longed to see her holding masses of white
+lilies to her breast, as she walked all white in the white lily-garden.
+Now, too, he could tell her what Mademoiselle Soubise
+had said about the Kabyle girl, Mouni. He was sure Nevill
+wouldn't grudge his having that pleasure all to himself. Anyway
+he could not resist the temptation to snatch it.</p>
+
+<p>He began, as soon as they were alone together in the garden,
+by asking her what she had done, whether she had made
+progress; and it seemed that she retired from his questions
+with a vague suggestion of reserve she had not shown on the
+ship. It was not that she answered unwillingly, but he could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>
+not define the difference in her manner, although he felt that
+a difference existed.</p>
+
+<p>It was as if somebody might have been scolding her for a
+lack of reserve; yet when he inquired if she had met any one she
+knew, or made acquaintances, she said no to the first question,
+and named only Mademoiselle Soubise in reply to the second.</p>
+
+<p>That was Stephen's opportunity, and he began to tell of his
+call at the curiosity-shop. He expected Victoria to cry out
+with excitement when he came to Mouni's description of the
+beautiful lady with "henna-coloured, gold-powdered hair";
+but though she flushed and her breath came and went quickly
+as he talked, somehow the girl did not appear to be enraptured
+with a new hope, as he had expected.</p>
+
+<p>"My friend Caird proposes that he and I should motor to
+Tlemcen, which it seems is near the Moroccan border, and
+interview Mouni," he said. "We may be able to make sure,
+when we question her, that it was your sister she served; and
+perhaps we can pick up some clue through what she lets drop,
+as to where Ben Halim took his wife when he left Algiers&mdash;though,
+of course, there are lots of other ways to find out, if
+this should prove a false clue."</p>
+
+<p>"You are both more than good," Victoria answered, "but I
+mustn't let you go so far for me. Perhaps, as you say, I shall
+be able to find out in other ways, from some one here in Algiers.
+It does sound as if it might be my sister the maid spoke of to
+Mademoiselle Soubise. How I should love to hear Mouni
+talk!&mdash;but you must wait, and see what happens, before
+you think of going on a journey for my sake."</p>
+
+<p>"If only there were some woman to take you, you might
+go with us," said Stephen, more eagerly than he was aware,
+and thinking wild thoughts about Lady MacGregor as a
+chaperon, or perhaps Mademoiselle Soubise&mdash;if only she could
+be persuaded to leave her beloved shop, and wouldn't draw
+those black brows of hers together as though tabooing a forbidden
+idea.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Let's wait&mdash;and see," Victoria repeated. And this
+patience, in the face of such hope, struck Stephen as being
+strange in her, unlike his conception of the brave, impulsive
+nature, ready for any adventure if only there were a faint flicker
+of light at the end. Then, as if she did not wish to talk longer
+of a possible visit to Tlemcen, Victoria said: "I've something
+to show you: a picture of my sister."</p>
+
+<p>The white dress was made without a collar, and was wrapped
+across her breast like a fichu which left the slender white stem
+of her throat uncovered. Now she drew out from under the
+muslin folds a thin gold chain, from which dangled a flat, open-faced
+locket. When she had unfastened a clasp, she handed
+the trinket to Stephen. "Saidee had the photograph made
+specially for me, just before she was married," the girl explained,
+"and I painted it myself. I couldn't trust any one else,
+because no one knew her colouring. Of course, she was a hundred
+times more beautiful than this, but it gives you some idea
+of her, as she looked when I saw her last."</p>
+
+<p>The face in the photograph was small, not much larger than
+Stephen's thumb-nail, but every feature was distinct, not unlike
+Victoria's, though more pronounced; and the nose, seen almost
+in profile, was perfect in its delicate straightness. The lips
+were fuller than Victoria's, and red as coral. The eyes were
+brown, with a suggestion of coquetry absent in the younger
+girl's, and the hair, parted in the middle and worn in a loose,
+wavy coil, appeared to be of a darker red, less golden, more
+auburn.</p>
+
+<p>"That's exactly Saidee's colouring," repeated Victoria.
+"Her lips were the reddest I ever saw, and I used to say diamonds
+had got caught behind her eyes. Do you wonder I
+worshipped her&mdash;that I just <i>couldn't</i> let her go out of my life
+forever?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't wonder. She's very lovely," Stephen agreed.
+The coquetry in the eyes was pathetic to him, knowing the
+beautiful Saidee's history.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"She was eighteen then. She's twenty-eight now. Saidee
+twenty-eight! I can hardly realize it. But I'm sure she hasn't
+changed, unless to grow prettier. I used always to think she
+would." Victoria took back the portrait, and gazed at it.
+Stephen was sorry for the child. He thought it more than
+likely that Saidee had changed for the worse, physically and
+spiritually, even mentally, if Mademoiselle Soubise were
+right in her surmises. He was glad she had not said to Victoria
+what she had said to him, about Saidee having to live the
+life of other harem women.</p>
+
+<p>"I bought a string of amber beads at that curiosity-shop yesterday,"
+the girl went on, "because there's a light in them
+like what used to be in Saidee's eyes. Every night, when
+I've said my prayers and am ready to go to sleep, I see
+her in that golden silence I told you about, looking towards
+the west&mdash;that is, towards me, too, you know; with the sun
+setting and streaming right into her eyes, making that jewelled
+kind of light gleam in them, which comes and goes in those
+amber beads. When I find her, I shall hold up the beads to
+her eyes in the sunlight and compare them."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the golden silence like?" asked Stephen. "Do
+you see more clearly, now that at last you've come to Africa?"</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't see more clearly than I did before," the girl
+answered slowly, looking away from him, through the green
+lace of the trees that veiled the distance. "Yet it's just as
+mysterious as ever. I can't guess yet what it can be, unless
+it's in the desert. I just see Saidee, standing on a large, flat
+expanse which looks white. And she's dressed in white.
+All round her is a quivering golden haze, wave after wave of it,
+endless as the sea when you're on a ship. And there's silence&mdash;not
+one sound, except the beating which must be my own
+heart, or the blood that sings in my ears when I listen for a long
+time&mdash;the kind of singing you hear in a shell. That's all.
+And the level sun shining in her eyes, and on her hair."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a picture," said Stephen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Wherever Say was, there would always be a picture,"
+Victoria said with the unselfish, unashamed pride she had in
+her sister.</p>
+
+<p>"How I hope Saidee knows I'm near her," she went on,
+half to herself. "She'd know that I'd come to her as soon
+as I could&mdash;and she may have heard things about me that
+would tell her I was trying to make money enough for the
+journey and everything. If I hadn't hoped she <i>might</i> see the
+magazines and papers, I could never have let my photograph
+be published. I should have hated that, if it hadn't been for
+the thought of the portraits coming to her eyes, with my name
+under them; 'Victoria Ray, who is dancing in such and such
+a place.' <i>She</i> would know why I was doing it; dancing nearer
+and nearer to her."</p>
+
+<p>"You darling!" Stephen would have liked to say. But
+only as he might have spoken caressingly to a lovely child whose
+sweet soul had won him. She seemed younger than ever
+to-day, in the big, drooping hat, with the light behind her
+weaving a gold halo round her hair and the slim white figure,
+as she talked of Saidee in the golden silence. When she looked
+up at him, he thought that she was like a girl-saint, painted
+on a background of gold. He felt very tender over her, very
+much older than she, and it did not occur to him that he might
+fall in love with this young creature who had no thought for
+anything in life except the finding of her sister.</p>
+
+<p>A tiny streak of lily-pollen had made a little yellow stain on
+the white satin of her cheek, and under her blue eyes were a
+few faint freckles, golden as the lily-pollen. He had seen them
+come yesterday, on the ship, in a bright glare of sunlight, and
+they were not quite gone yet. He had a foolish wish to touch
+them with his finger, to see if they would rub off, and to brush
+away the lily-pollen, though it made her skin look pure as
+pearl.</p>
+
+<p>"You are an inspiration!" was all he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I? But how do you mean?" she asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He hardly knew that he had spoken aloud; yet challenged,
+he tried to explain. "Inspiration to new life and faith in
+things," he answered almost at random. But hearing the
+words pronounced by his own voice, made him realize that
+they were true. This child, of whose existence he had not
+known a week ago, could give him&mdash;perhaps was already
+giving him&mdash;new faith and new interests. He felt thankful
+for her, somehow, though she did not belong to him, and
+never would&mdash;unless a gleam of sunshine can belong to one on
+whom it shines. And he would always associate her with the
+golden sunshine and the magic charm of Algeria.</p>
+
+<p>"I told you I'd given you half my star," she said, laughing
+and blushing a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Which star is it?" he wanted to know. "When I don't
+see you any more, I can look up and hitch my thought-wagon
+to Mars or Venus."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's even grander than any planet you can see, with
+your real eyes. But you can look at the evening star if you
+like. It's so thrilling in the sunset sky, I sometimes call it
+my star."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Stephen, with his elder-brother air. "And
+when I look I'll think of you."</p>
+
+<p>"You can think of me as being with Saidee at last."</p>
+
+<p>"You have the strongest presentiment that you'll find her
+without difficulty."</p>
+
+<p>"When <i>I</i> say 'presentiment,' I mean creating a thing I want,
+making a picture of it happening, so it <i>has</i> to happen by and
+by, as God made pictures of this world, and all the worlds,
+and they came true."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, I wish I could go to school to you!" Stephen
+said this laughing; but he meant every word. She had just
+given him two new ideas. He wondered if he could do anything
+with them. Yet no; his life was cut out on a certain plan.
+It must now follow that plan.</p>
+
+<p>"If you should have any trouble&mdash;not that you <i>will</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>&mdash;but
+just 'if,' you know," he went on, "and if I could help you,
+I want you to remember this, wherever you are and whatever
+the trouble may be; there's nothing I wouldn't do for you&mdash;nothing.
+There's no distance I wouldn't travel."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you're the kindest man I ever met!" Victoria exclaimed,
+gratefully. "And I think you must be one of the
+best."</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens, what a character to live up to!" laughed
+Stephen. Nevertheless he suddenly lost his sense of exaltation,
+and felt sad and tired, thinking of life with Margot, and
+how difficult it would be not to degenerate in her society.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. It's a good character. And I'll promise to let you
+know, if I'm in any trouble and need help. If I can't write,
+I'll <i>call</i>, as I said yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>"Good. I shall hear you over the wireless telephone."
+They both laughed; and Nevill Caird, coming out of the house
+was pleased that Stephen should be happy.</p>
+
+<p>It had occurred to him while helping his aunt with the invitations,
+that something of interest to Miss Ray might be learned
+at the Governor's house. He knew the Governor more or less,
+in a social way. Now he asked Victoria if she would like him
+to make inquiries about Ben Halim's past as a Spahi?</p>
+
+<p>"I've already been to the Governor," replied Victoria. "I
+got a letter to him from the American Consul, and had a little
+audience with him&mdash;is that what I ought to call it?&mdash;this
+morning. He was kind, but could tell me nothing I didn't
+know&mdash;any way, he would tell nothing more. He wasn't in
+Algiers when Saidee came. It was in the day of his predecessor."</p>
+
+<p>Nevill admired her promptness and energy, and said so.
+He shared Stephen's chivalrous wish to do something for the
+girl, so alone, so courageous, working against difficulties she
+had not begun to understand. He was sorry that he had
+had no hand in helping Victoria to see the most important
+Frenchman in Algiers, a man of generous sympathy for Arabs;
+but as he had been forestalled, he hastened to think of some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>thing
+else which he might do. He knew the house Ben Halim
+had owned in Algiers, the place which must have been her
+sister's home. The people who lived there now were acquaintances
+of his. Would she like to see Djenan el Hadj?</p>
+
+<p>The suggestion pleased her so much that Stephen found himself
+envying Nevill her gratitude. And it was arranged that
+Mrs. Jewett should be asked to appoint an hour for a visit next
+day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2>
+
+
+<p>While Victoria was still in the lily-garden with her
+host and his friend, the cab which she had ordered to
+return came back to fetch her. It was early, and
+Lady MacGregor had expected her to stop for tea, as
+most people did stop, who visited Djenan el Djouad for the first
+time, because every one wished to see the house; and to see the
+house took hours. But the dancing-girl, appearing slightly embarrassed
+as she expressed her regrets, said that she must go;
+she had to keep an engagement. She did not explain what
+the engagement was, and as she betrayed constraint in speaking
+of it, both Stephen and Nevill guessed that she did not wish
+to explain. They took it for granted that it was something to
+do with her sister's affairs, something which she considered of
+importance; otherwise, as she had no friends in Algiers, and
+Lady MacGregor was putting herself out to be kind, the girl
+would have been pleased to spend an afternoon with those to
+whom she could talk freely. No questions could be asked,
+though, as Lady MacGregor remarked when Victoria had
+gone (after christening the baby panther), it did seem ridiculous
+that a child should be allowed to make its own plans and carry
+them out alone in a place like Algiers, without having any
+advice from its elders.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been, and expect to go on being, what you might call
+a perpetual chaperon," said she resignedly; "and chaperoning
+is so ingrained in my nature that I hate to see a baby running
+about unprotected, doing what it chooses, as if it were a married
+woman, not to say a widow. But I suppose it can't be stopped."</p>
+
+<p>"She's been on the stage," said Nevill reassuringly, Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>
+Ray having already broken this hard fact to the Scotch lady
+at luncheon.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you it's a baby! Even John Knox would see that,"
+sharply replied Aunt Caroline.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing better to do with the rest of the afternoon,
+Nevill thought, than to take a spin in the motor, which
+they did, the chauffeur at the wheel, as Nevill confessed himself
+of too lazy a turn of mind to care for driving his own car.
+While Stephen waited outside, he called at Djenan el Hadj
+(an old Arab house at a little distance from the town, buried
+deep in a beautiful garden), but the ladies were out. Nevill
+wrote a note on his card, explaining that his aunt would like
+to bring a friend, whose relatives had once lived in the house;
+and this done, they had a swift run about the beautiful country
+in the neighbourhood of Algiers.</p>
+
+<p>It was dinner-time when they returned, and meanwhile an
+answer had come from Mrs. Jewett. She would be delighted
+to see any friend of Lady MacGregor's, and hoped Miss Ray
+might be brought to tea the following afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we send a note to her hotel, or shall we stroll down
+after dinner?" asked Nevill.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose we stroll down," Stephen decided, trying to appear
+indifferent, though he was ridiculously pleased at the idea
+of having a few unexpected words with Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>"Good. We might take a look at the Kasbah afterward,"
+said Nevill. "Night's the time when it's most mysterious,
+and we shall be close to the old town when we leave Miss Ray's
+hotel."</p>
+
+<p>Dinner seemed long to Stephen. He could have spared
+several courses. Nevertheless, though they sat down at eight,
+it was only nine when they started out. Up on the hill of Mustapha
+Sup&eacute;rieur, all was peaceful under the moonlight; but
+below, in the streets of French shops and caf&eacute;s, the light-hearted
+people of the South were ready to begin enjoying themselves
+after a day of work. Streams of electric light poured<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>
+from restaurant windows, and good smells of French cooking
+filtered out, as doors opened and shut. The native caf&eacute;s were
+crowded with dark men smoking chibouques, eating kous-kous,
+playing dominoes, or sipping absinthe and golden liqueurs which,
+fortunately not having been invented in the Prophet's time, had
+not been forbidden by him. Curio shops and bazaars for
+native jewellery and brasswork were still open, lit up with pink
+and yellow lamps. The brilliant uniforms of young Spahis
+and Zouaves made spots of vivid colour among the dark clothes
+of Europeans, tourists, or employ&eacute;s in commercial houses out
+for amusement. Sailors of different nations swung along arm
+in arm, laughing and ogling the handsome Jewesses and
+painted ladies from the Levant or Marseilles. American
+girls just arrived on big ships took care of their chaperons and
+gazed with interest at the passing show, especially at the magnificent
+Arabs who appeared to float rather than walk, looking
+neither to right nor left, their white burnouses blowing behind
+them. The girls stared eagerly, too, at the few veiled and
+swathed figures of native women who mingled with the crowd,
+padding timidly with bare feet thrust into slippers. The
+foreigners mistook them no doubt for Arab ladies, not knowing
+that ladies never walk; and were but little interested in the
+old, unveiled women with chocolate-coloured faces, who begged,
+or tried to sell picture-postcards. The arcaded streets were
+full of light and laughter, noise of voices, clatter of horses'
+hoofs, carriage-wheels, and tramcars, bells of bicycles and
+horns of motors. The scene was as gay as any Paris boulevard,
+and far more picturesque because of the older, Eastern civilization
+in the midst of, though never part of, an imported
+European life&mdash;the flitting white and brown figures, like
+thronging ghosts outnumbering the guests at a banquet.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen and Nevill Caird went up the Rue Bab-el-Oued,
+leading to the old town, and so came to the Hotel de la Kasbah,
+where Victoria Ray was staying. It looked more attractive
+at night, with its blaze of electricity that threw out the Oriental<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>
+colouring of some crude decorations in the entrance-hall, yet
+the place appeared less than ever suited to Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>An Arab porter stood at the door, smoking a cigarette. His
+fingers were stained with henna, and he wore an embroidered
+jacket which showed grease-spots and untidy creases. It
+was with the calmest indifference he eyed the Englishmen, as
+Nevill inquired in French for Miss Ray.</p>
+
+<p>The question whether she were "at home" was conventionally
+put, for it seemed practically certain that she must be
+in the hotel. Where could she, who had no other friends than
+they, and no chaperon, go at night? It was with blank surprise,
+therefore, that he and Stephen heard the man's answer. Mademoiselle
+was out.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe it," Stephen muttered in English, to Nevill.</p>
+
+<p>The porter understood, and looked sulky. "I tell ze troot,"
+he persisted. "Ze gentlemens no believe, zay ask some ozzer."</p>
+
+<p>They took him at his word, and walked past the Arab into
+the hotel. A few Frenchmen and Spaniards of inferior type
+were in the hall, and at the back, near a stairway made of the
+cheapest marble, was a window labelled "Bureau." Behind
+this window, in a cagelike room, sat the proprietor at a desk,
+adding up figures in a large book. He was very fat, and his
+chins went all the way round his neck in grooves, as if his thick
+throat might pull out like an accordion. There was something
+curiously exotic about him, as there is in persons of mixed
+races; an olive pallor of skin, an oiliness of black hair, and a
+jetty brightness of eye under heavy lids.</p>
+
+<p>This time it was Stephen who asked for Miss Ray; but he
+was given the same answer. She had gone out.</p>
+
+<p>"You are sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mais, oui, monsieur."</p>
+
+<p>"Has she been gone long?" Stephen persisted, feeling perplexed
+and irritated, as if something underhand were going
+on.</p>
+
+<p>"Of that I cannot tell," returned the hotel proprietor, still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>
+in guttural French. "She left word she would not be at the
+dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she say when she would be back?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, monsieur. She did not say."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps the American Consul's family took pity on her,
+and invited her to dine with them," suggested Nevill.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Stephen said, relieved. "That's the most likely
+thing, and would explain her engagement this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"We might explore the Kasbah for an hour, and call again,
+to inquire."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us," returned Stephen. "I should like to know that
+she's got in all right."</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes later they had left the noisy Twentieth Century
+behind them, and plunged into the shadowy silence of
+a thousand years ago.</p>
+
+<p>The change could not have been more sudden and complete
+if, from a gaily lighted modern street, full of hum and bustle,
+they had fallen down an oubliette into a dark, deserted fairyland.
+Just outside was the imported life of Paris, but this
+old town was Turkish, Arab, Moorish, Jewish and Spanish;
+and in Algeria old things do not change.</p>
+
+<p>After all, the alley was not deserted, though it was soundless
+as a tomb save for a dull drumming somewhere behind
+thick walls. They were in a narrow tunnel, rather than a street,
+between houses that bent towards each other, their upper stories
+supported by beams. There was no electric light, scarcely
+any light at all save a strip of moonshine, fine as a line of silver
+inlaid in ebony, along the cobbled way which ascended in
+steps, and a faint glimmer of a lamp here and there in the distance,
+a lamp small and greenish as the pale spark of a glow-worm.
+As they went up, treading carefully, forms white
+as spirits came down the street in heelless babouches that made
+no more noise than the wings of a bat. These forms loomed
+vague in the shadow, then took shape as Arab men, whose
+eyes gleamed under turbans or out from hoods.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Moving aside to let a cloaked figure go by, Stephen brushed
+against the blank wall of a house, which was cold, sweating
+dampness like an underground vault. No sun, except a streak
+at midday, could ever penetrate this tunnel-street.</p>
+
+<p>So they went on from one alley into another, as if lost in
+a catacomb, or the troubling mazes of a nightmare. Always
+the walls were blank, save for a deep-set, nail-studded door,
+or a small window like a square dark hole. Yet in reality,
+Nevill Caird was not lost. He knew his way very well in
+the Kasbah, which he never tired of exploring, though he had
+spent eight winters in Algiers. By and by he guided his
+friend into a street not so narrow as the others they had
+climbed, though it was rather like the bed of a mountain
+torrent, underfoot. Because the moon could pour down a
+silver flood it was not dark, but the lamps were so dull that
+the moonlight seemed to put them out.</p>
+
+<p>Here the beating was as loud as a frightened heart. The
+walls resounded with it, and sent out an echo. More than one
+nailed door stood open, revealing a long straight passage,
+with painted walls faintly lighted from above, and a curtain
+like a shadow, hiding the end. In these passages hung the
+smoky perfume of incense; and from over tile-topped walls
+came the fragrance of roses and lemon blossoms, half choked
+with the melancholy scent of things old, musty and decayed.
+Beautiful pillars, brought perhaps from ruined Carthage, were
+set deeply in the whitewashed walls, looking sad and lumpy
+now that centuries of chalk-coats had thickened their graceful
+contours. But to compensate for loss of shape, they were dazzling
+white, marvellous as columns of carved pearl in the moonlight,
+they and their surrounding walls seeming to send out an
+eerie, bleached light of their own which struck at the eye. The
+uneven path ran floods of moonlight; and from tiny windows
+in the leaning snow-palaces&mdash;windows like little golden
+frames&mdash;looked out the faces of women, as if painted on backgrounds
+of dull yellow, emerald-green, or rose-coloured light.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>They were unveiled women, jewelled like idols, white and
+pink as wax-dolls, their brows drawn in black lines with herkous,
+their eyes glittering between bluish lines of kohl, their
+lips poppy-red with the tint of mesouak, their heads bound in
+sequined nets of silvered gauze, and crowned with tiaras of
+gold coins. The windows were so small that the women were
+hidden below their shoulders, but their huge hoop-earrings
+flashed, and their many necklaces sent out sparks as they
+nodded, smiling, at the passers; and one who seemed young
+and beautiful as a wicked fairy, against a purple light, threw
+a spray of orange blossoms at Stephen's feet.</p>
+
+<p>Then, out of that street of muffled music, open doors, and
+sequined idols, the two men passed to another where, in small
+open-air caf&eacute;s, bright with flaring torches or electric light
+squatting men smoked, listening to story-tellers; and where,
+further on, Moorish baths belched out steam mingled with
+smells of perfume and heated humanity. So, back again to
+black tunnels, where the blind walls heard secrets they would
+never tell. The houses had no eyes, and the street doors drew
+back into shadow.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you wonder now," Nevill asked, "that it's difficult
+to find out what goes on in an Arab's household?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Stephen. "I feel half stifled. It's wonderful,
+but somehow terrible. Let's get out of this 'Arabian Nights'
+dream, into light and air, or something will happen to us, some
+such things as befell the Seven Calendars. We must have
+been here an hour. It's time to inquire for Miss Ray again.
+She's sure to have come in by now."</p>
+
+<p>Back they walked into the Twentieth Century. Some of
+the lights in the hotel had been put out. There was nobody
+in the hall but the porter, who had smoked his last cigarette,
+and as no one had given him another, he was trying to sleep
+in a chair by the door.</p>
+
+<p>Mademoiselle might have come in. He did not know.
+Yes, he could ask, if there were any one to ask, but the woman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>
+who looked after the bedrooms had an evening out. There
+was only one <i>femme de chambre</i>, but what would you? The
+high season was over. As for the key of Mademoiselle,
+very few of the clients ever left their keys in the bureau when
+they promenaded themselves. It was too much trouble. But
+certainly, he could knock at the door of Mademoiselle, if the
+gentlemen insisted, though it was now on the way to eleven
+o'clock, and it would be a pity to wake the young lady if she
+were sleeping.</p>
+
+<p>"Knock softly. If she's awake, she'll hear you," Stephen
+directed. "If she's asleep, she won't."</p>
+
+<p>The porter went lazily upstairs, appearing again in a few
+minutes to announce that he had obeyed instructions and the
+lady had not answered. "But," he added, "one would say
+that an all little light came through the keyhole."</p>
+
+<p>"Brute, to look!" mumbled Stephen. There was, however,
+nothing more to be done. It was late, and they must take it
+for granted that Miss Ray had come home and gone to bed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>That night Stephen dreamed troubled dreams about
+Victoria. All sorts of strange things were happening
+behind a locked door, he never quite knew what,
+though he seemed forever trying to find out. In
+the morning, before he was dressed, Mahommed brought
+a letter to his door; only one, on a small tray. It was
+the first letter he had received since leaving London&mdash;he,
+who had been used to sighing over the pile that
+heaped up with every new post, and must presently be
+answered.</p>
+
+<p>He recognized the handwriting at a glance, though he had
+seen it only once, in a note written to Lady MacGregor. The
+letter was from Victoria, and was addressed to "Mr. Stephen
+Knight," in American fashion&mdash;a fashion unattractive to
+English eyes. But because it was Victoria's way, it seemed to
+Stephen simple and unaffected, like herself. Besides, she
+was not aware that he had any kind of handle to his
+name.</p>
+
+<p>"Now I shall know where she was last night," he
+said to himself, and was about to tear open the envelope,
+when suddenly the thought that she had touched the
+paper made him tender in his usage of it. He found
+a paper-knife and with careful precision cut the
+envelope along the top. The slight delay whetted his
+eagerness to read what Victoria had to tell. She
+had probably heard of the visit which she had missed,
+and had written this letter before going to bed. It
+was a sweet thought of the girl's to be so prompt in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>
+explaining her absence, guessing that he must have
+suffered some anxiety.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Knight,</span>"</p></div>
+
+<p>he read, the blood slowly mounting to
+his face as his eyes travelled from line to line,</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"I don't know
+what you will think of me when I have told you about the thing
+I am going to do. But whatever you may think, don't think
+me ungrateful. Indeed, indeed I am not that. I hate to go
+away without seeing you again, yet I must; and I can't even
+tell you why, or where I am going&mdash;that is the worst. But if
+you could know why, I'm almost sure you would feel that I
+am doing the right thing, and the only thing possible. Before
+all and above all with me, must be my sister's good. Everything
+else has to be sacrificed to that, even things that I value
+very, very much.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't imagine though, from what I say, that I'm making
+a great sacrifice, so far as any danger to myself is concerned.
+The sacrifice is, to risk being thought unkind, ungrateful, by
+you, and of losing your friendship. This is the <i>only</i> danger
+I am running, really; so don't fear for me, and please forgive
+me if you can. Just at the moment I must seem (as well as
+ungracious) a little mysterious, not because I want to be mysterious,
+but because it is forced on me by circumstances. I
+hate it, and soon I hope I shall be able to be as frank and open
+with you as I was at first, when I saw how good you were about
+taking an interest in my sister Saidee. I think, as far as I can
+see ahead, I may write to you in a fortnight. Then, I shall
+have news to tell, the <i>best of news</i>, I hope; and I won't need to
+keep anything back. By that time I may tell you all that has
+happened, since bidding you and Mr. Caird good-bye, at the
+door of his beautiful house, and all that will have happened by
+the time I can begin the letter. How I wish it were now!</p>
+
+<p>"There's just one more word I want to say, that I really
+can say without doing harm to anybody or to any plan. It's
+this. I did feel so guilty when you talked about your motoring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>
+with Mr. Caird to Tlemcen. It was splendid of you both to be
+willing to go, and you must have thought me cold and half-hearted
+about it. But I couldn't tell you what was in my
+mind, even then. I didn't know what was before me; but
+there was already a thing which I had to keep from you. It
+was only a small thing. But now it has grown to be a very
+big one.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, my dear friend Mr. Knight. I like to call you
+my friend, and I shall always remember how good you were
+to me, if, for any reason, we should never see each other again.
+It is very likely we may not meet, for I don't know how long you
+are going to stay in Africa, or how long I shall stay, so it may
+be that you will go back to England soon. I don't suppose
+I shall go there. When I can leave this country it will be to
+sail for America with my sister&mdash;<i>never without her</i>. But I
+shall write, as I said, in a fortnight, if all is well&mdash;indeed, I
+shall write whatever happens. I shall be able to give you an
+address, too, I hope very much, because I should like to hear
+from you. And I shall pray that you may always be happy.</p>
+
+<p>"I meant this to be quite a short letter, but after all it is
+a long one! Good-bye again, and give my best remembrances
+to Lady MacGregor and Mr. Caird, if they are not disgusted
+with me for the way I am behaving. Gratefully your friend,</p>
+
+<p style="{text-align: right;}">"<span class="smcap">Victoria Ray.</span>"</p></div>
+
+<p>There was no room for any anger against the girl in Stephen's
+heart. He was furious, but not with her. And he did not
+know with whom to be angry. There was some one&mdash;there
+must be some one&mdash;who had persuaded her to take this step
+in the dark, and this secret person deserved all his anger and
+more. To persuade a young girl to turn from the only friends
+she had who could protect her, was a crime. Stephen could
+imagine no good purpose to be served by mystery, and he could
+imagine many bad ones. The very thought of the best among
+them made him physically sick. There was a throat some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>where
+in the world which his fingers were tingling to choke;
+and he did not know where, or whose it was. It made his
+head ache with a rush of beating blood not to know. And
+realizing suddenly, with a shock like a blow in the face, the
+violence of his desire to punish some person unknown, he
+saw how intimate a place the girl had in his heart. The
+longing to protect her, to save her from harm or treachery,
+was so intense as to give pain. He felt as if a lasso had been
+thrown round his body, pressing his lungs, roping his arms
+to his sides, holding him helpless; and for a moment the
+sensation was so powerful that he was conscious of a severe
+effort, as if to break away from the spell of a hypnotist.</p>
+
+<p>It was only for a moment that he stood still, though a thousand
+thoughts ran through his head, as in a dream&mdash;as in the
+dreams of last night, which had seemed so interminable.</p>
+
+<p>The thing to do was to find out at once what had become
+of Victoria, whom she had seen, who had enticed her to leave
+the hotel. It would not take long to find out these things. At
+most she could not have been gone more than thirteen or fourteen
+hours.</p>
+
+<p>At first, in his impatience, he forgot Nevill. In two or three
+minutes he had finished dressing, and was ready to start out
+alone when the thought of his friend flashed into his mind. He
+knew that Nevill Caird, acquainted as he was with Algiers,
+would be able to suggest things that he might not think of
+unaided. It would be better that they two should set to work
+together, even though it might mean a delay of a few minutes
+in the beginning.</p>
+
+<p>He put Victoria's letter in his pocket, meaning to show it
+to Nevill as the quickest way of explaining what had happened
+and what he wanted to do; but before he had got to his friend's
+door, he knew that he could not bear to show the letter. There
+was nothing in it which Nevill might not see, nothing which
+Victoria might not have wished him to see. Nevertheless it
+was now <i>his</i> letter, and he could not have it read by any one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He knocked at the door, but Nevill did not answer. Then
+Stephen guessed that his friend must be in the garden. One
+of the under-gardeners, working near the house, had seen the
+master, and told the guest where to go. Monsieur Caird was
+giving medicine to the white peacock, who was not well, and
+in the stable-yard Nevill was found, in the act of pouring something
+down the peacock's throat with a spoon.</p>
+
+<p>When he heard what Stephen had to say, he looked very
+grave.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish Miss Ray hadn't stopped at that hotel," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" Stephen asked sharply. "You don't think the
+people there&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what to think. But I have a sort of idea
+the brutes knew something last night and wouldn't tell."</p>
+
+<p>"They'll have to tell!" exclaimed Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>Nevill did not answer.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall go down at once," Stephen went on.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I'll go with you," said his friend.</p>
+
+<p>They had forgotten about breakfast. Stopping only to get
+their hats, they started for the town.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2>
+
+
+<p>"Don't begin by accusing the landlord of anything,"
+Nevill advised, at the hotel door. "He's got too
+much Arab blood in him to stand that. You'd
+only make him tell you lies. We must seem to
+know things, and ask questions as if we expected him to confirm
+our knowledge. That may confuse him if he wants to
+lie. He won't be sure what ground to take."</p>
+
+<p>The Arab porter was not in his place, but the proprietor
+sat in his den behind the window. He was drinking a cup of
+thick, syrupy coffee, and soaking a rusk in it. Stephen thought
+this a disgusting sight, and could hardly bear to let his eyes
+rest on the thick rolls of fat that bulged over the man's low
+collar, all the way round his neck like a yellow ruff. Not
+trusting himself to speak just then, Stephen let Caird begin
+the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>The landlord bowed over his coffee and some letters he
+was reading, but did not trouble to do more than half rise from
+his chair and sink back again, solidly. These fine gentlemen
+would never be clients of his, would never be instrumental in
+sending any one to him. Why should he put himself out?</p>
+
+<p>"We've had a letter from Miss Ray this morning," Nevill
+announced, after a perfunctory exchange of "good days" in
+French.</p>
+
+<p>The two young men both looked steadily at the proprietor
+of the hotel, as Nevill said these words. The fat man did not
+show any sign of embarrassment, however, unless his expectant
+gaze became somewhat fixed, in an effort to prevent a blink.
+If this were so, the change was practically imperceptible.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>
+"She had left here before six o'clock last evening,
+hadn't she?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell you, Monsieur. It is as I answered yesterday.
+I do not know the time when she went out."</p>
+
+<p>"You must know what she said when she went."</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary, Monsieur. The young lady did not
+speak with me herself. She sent a message."</p>
+
+<p>"And the message was that she was leaving your hotel?"</p>
+
+<p>"First of all, that she had the intention of dining out. With
+a lady."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen and Nevill looked at each other. With a lady?
+Could it be possible that Mademoiselle Soubise, interested in
+the story, had called and taken the girl away?</p>
+
+<p>"What then?" went on Caird. "She let you know eventually
+that she'd made up her mind to go altogether?"</p>
+
+<p>"The message was that she might come back in some days.
+But yes, Monsieur, she let me know that for the present she
+was leaving."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet you didn't tell us this when we called!" exclaimed
+Stephen. "You let us think she would be back later in the
+evening."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, Monsieur, if you remember, you asked <i>when</i>
+Mademoiselle would be back. I replied that I did not know.
+It was perfectly true. And desolated as I was to inconvenience
+you, I could not be as frank as my heart prompted. My regrettable
+reserve was the result of Mademoiselle's expressed
+wish. She did not desire to have it known that she was leaving
+the hotel, until she herself chose to inform her friends. As
+it seems you have had a letter, Monsieur, I can now speak
+freely. Yesterday evening I could not."</p>
+
+<p>He looked like the last man whose heart would naturally
+prompt him to frankness, but it seemed impossible to prove, at
+the moment, that he was lying. It was on the cards that Miss
+Ray might have requested silence as to her movements.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen bit his lip to keep back an angry reproach, never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>theless,
+and Caird reflected a moment before answering. Then
+he said slowly; "Look here: we are both friends of Miss Ray,
+the only ones she has in Algiers, except of course my aunt, Lady
+MacGregor, with whom she lunched yesterday. We are
+afraid she has been imprudently advised by some one, as she
+is young and inexperienced in travelling. Now, if you will
+find out from your servants, and also let us know from your
+own observation, exactly what she did yesterday, after returning
+from her visit to my aunt&mdash;what callers she had, if any;
+to whose house she went, and so on&mdash;we will make it worth
+your while. Lady MacGregor" (he made great play with his
+relative's name, as if he wished the landlord to understand
+that two young men were not the girl's only friends in Algiers)
+"is very anxious to see Miss Ray. To spare her anxiety, we
+offer a reward of a thousand francs for reliable information.
+But we must hear to-day, or to-morrow at latest."</p>
+
+<p>As he evolved this proposal, Nevill and Stephen kept their
+eyes upon the man's fat face. He looked politely interested,
+but not excited, though the offer of a thousand francs was
+large enough to rouse his cupidity, it would seem, if he saw his
+way to earning it.</p>
+
+<p>He shrugged his shoulders with a discouraged air when
+Nevill finished.</p>
+
+<p>"I can tell you now, Monsieur, all that I know of Mademoiselle's
+movements&mdash;all that anybody in the hotel knows, I
+think. No one came to see her, except yourselves. She was
+out all the morning of yesterday, and did not return here till
+sometime after the <i>d&eacute;jeuner</i>. After that, she remained in her
+room until towards evening. It was the head-waiter who
+brought me the message of which I have told you, and requested
+the bill. At what hour the young lady actually went
+out, I do not know. The porter can probably tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"But her luggage," Stephen cut in quickly. "Where did
+it go? You can at least tell that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle's luggage is still in the hotel. She asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
+permission to store it, all but a dressing-bag of some sort,
+which, I believe she carried with her."</p>
+
+<p>"In a cab?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I do not know. It will be another question for the
+porter. But were I in the place of Monsieur and his friend,
+I should have no uneasiness about the young lady. She is
+certain to have found trustworthy acquaintances, for she appeared
+to be very sensible."</p>
+
+<p>"We shall be glad if you will let us have a short talk with
+several of your servants," said Nevill&mdash;"the <i>femme de
+chambre</i> who took care of Miss Ray's room, and the waiter
+who served her, as well as the porter."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, Monsieur. They shall be brought here," the
+landlord assented. "I will help you by questioning them
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>"I think we'll do that without your help, thank you," replied
+Stephen drily.</p>
+
+<p>The fat man looked slightly less agreeable, but touched
+a bell in the wall by his desk. A boy answered and was sent
+to command Ang&eacute;le and Ahmed to report at once. Also he was
+to summon the porter, whether that man had finished his breakfast
+or not. These orders given, Monsieur Constant looked at
+the two Englishmen as if to say, "You see! I put my whole
+staff at your disposition. Does not this prove my good faith?
+What would you have more?"</p>
+
+<p>Ang&eacute;le was Algerian French, evidently of mixed parentage,
+like all those in the Hotel de la Kasbah who were not Arabs.
+She was middle-aged, with a weary, hatchet face, and eyes
+from which looked a crushed spirit. If Stephen and Nevill
+could have seen Madame Constant, they would hardly have
+wondered at that expression.</p>
+
+<p>Ahmed had negro blood in his veins, and tried to smooth
+out the frizziness of the thick black hair under his fez, with
+much pomatum, which smelled of cheap bergamot.</p>
+
+<p>These two, with the porter who soon appeared, brushing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>
+breadcrumbs from his jacket, stood in front of the bureau
+window, waiting to learn the purpose for which they had been
+torn from their various occupations. "It is these gentlemen who
+have something to ask you. They do not wish me to interfere,"
+announced the master to his servants, with a gesture. He then
+turned ostentatiously to the sipping of his neglected coffee.</p>
+
+<p>Nevill undertook the cross-questionings, with occasional
+help from Stephen, but they learned no detail of importance.
+Ang&eacute;le said that she had been out when the demoiselle Americaine
+had left the hotel; but that the luggage of Mademoiselle
+was still in her room. Ahmed had taken a message to Monsieur
+le Patron, about the bill, and had brought back Mademoiselle's
+change, when the note was paid. The porter had
+carried down a large dressing-bag, at what time he could not
+be sure, but it was long before dark. He had asked if Mademoiselle
+wished him to call a <i>voiture</i>, but she had said no.
+She was going out on foot, and would presently return in a
+carriage. This she did. The porter believed it was an ordinary
+cab in which Mademoiselle had driven back, but he
+had not thought much about it, being in a hurry as he took
+the bag. He was at least certain that Mademoiselle had been
+alone. She had received no callers while she was in the hotel,
+and had not been seen speaking to any one: but she had gone
+out a great deal. Why had he not mentioned in the evening
+that the young lady had driven away with luggage? For the
+sufficient reason that Mademoiselle had particularly requested
+him to say nothing of her movements, should any one come
+to inquire. It was for the same reason that he had been
+obliged to deceive Monsieur in the matter of knocking at her
+door. And as the porter made this answer, he looked far more
+impudent than he had looked last night, though he was smiling
+blandly.</p>
+
+<p>How much of this was lies and how much truth? Stephen
+wondered, when, having given up hope of learning more from
+landlord or servants, they left the hotel.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Nevill had to confess that he was puzzled. "Their stories
+hold together well enough," he said, "but if they have anything
+to hide (mind, I don't say they have) they're the sort to
+get up their tale beforehand, so as to make it water-tight. We
+called last night, and that man Constant must have known
+we'd come again, whether we heard from Miss Ray or whether
+we didn't&mdash;still more, if we <i>didn't</i>. Easy as falling off a
+log to put the servants up to what he wanted them to say, and
+prepare them for questions, without giving them tips under our
+noses."</p>
+
+<p>"If they know anything that fat old swine doesn't want them
+to give away, we can bribe it out of them," said Stephen, savagely.
+"Surely these Arabs and half-breeds love money."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but there's something else they hold higher, most
+of them, I will say in their favour&mdash;loyalty to their own people.
+If this affair has to do with Arabs, like as not we might offer
+all we've got without inducing them to speak&mdash;except to tell
+plausible lies and send us farther along the wrong track. It's a
+point of pride with these brown faces. Their own above the
+Roumis, and I'm hanged if I can help respecting them for
+that, lies and all."</p>
+
+<p>"But why should they lie?" broke out Stephen. "What
+can it be to them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, in all probability," Nevill tried to soothe him.
+"The chances are, they've told us everything they know, in good
+faith, and that they're just as much in the dark about Miss
+Ray's movements as we are&mdash;without the clue we have, knowing
+as we do why she came to Algiers. It's mysterious enough
+anyhow, what's become of her; but it's more likely than not
+that she kept her own secret. You say she admitted in her
+letter having heard something which she didn't mention to us
+when she was at my house; so she must have got a clue,
+or what she thought was a clue, between the time when we took
+her from the boat to the Hotel de la Kasbah, and the time
+when she came to us for lunch."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It's simply hideous!" Stephen exclaimed. "The only way
+I can see now is to call in the police. They must find out where
+that cab came from and where it took Miss Ray. That's
+the important thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, to get hold of the cabman is the principal thing,"
+said Nevill, without any ring of confidence in his voice. "But
+till we learn the contrary, we may as well presume she's safe.
+As for the police, for her sake they must be a last resort."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's go at once and interview somebody. But there's
+one hope. She may have gone to Tlemcen to see that Kabyle
+maid of Mademoiselle Soubise, for herself. Perhaps that's
+why she didn't encourage us to motor there. She's jolly independent."</p>
+
+<p>Nevill's face brightened. "When we've done what we can
+in Algiers, we might run there ourselves in the car, just as I
+proposed before," he said eagerly. "If nothing came of
+it, we wouldn't be wasting time, you know. She warned you
+not to expect news for a fortnight, so there's no use hanging
+about here in hopes of a letter or telegram. We can go to
+Tlemcen and get back inside five days. What do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>What Stephen might have said was, that they could save
+the journey by telegraphing to Mademoiselle Soubise to ask
+whether Miss Ray had arrived in Tlemcen. But the brightness
+in Nevill's eyes and the hopefulness in his voice kept back the
+prosaic suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, by all means let's go to Tlemcen," he answered.
+"To-morrow, after we've found out what we can here about
+the cab, inquired at the railway stations and so on. Besides,
+we can at least apply to the police for information about Ben
+Halim. If we learn he's alive, and where he is living, it may
+be almost the same as knowing where Miss Ray has gone."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2>
+
+
+<p>Nothing could be heard of Victoria at any place of
+departure for ships, nor at the railway stations.
+Stephen agreed with Nevill that it would not be
+fair to lay the matter in the hands of the police, lest
+in some way the girl's mysterious "plan" should be defeated.
+But he could not put out of his head an insistent idea that the
+Arab on board the <i>Charles Quex</i> might stand for something
+in this underhand business. Stephen could not rest until he
+had found out the name of this man, and what had become of
+him after arriving at Algiers. As for the name, having appeared
+on the passenger list, it was easily obtained without
+expert help. The Arab was a certain Sidi Ma&iuml;eddine ben el
+Hadj Messaoud; and when Jeanne Soubise was applied to for
+information concerning him, she was able to learn from her
+Arab friends that he was a young man of good family, the son
+of an Agha or desert chief, whose douar lay far south, in the
+neighbourhood of El-Aghouat. He was respected by the
+French authorities and esteemed by the Governor of Algiers.
+Known to be ambitious, he was anxious to stand well with the
+ruling power, and among the dissipated, sensuous young Arabs
+of his class and generation, he was looked upon as an example
+and a shining light. The only fault found in him by his own
+people was that he inclined to be too modern, too French in
+his political opinions; and his French friends found no fault
+with him at all.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed impossible that a person so highly placed would
+dare risk his future by kidnapping a European girl, and Jeanne
+Soubise advised Stephen to turn his suspicions in another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>
+direction. Still he would not be satisfied, until he had found
+and engaged a private detective, said to be clever, who had
+lately seceded from a Paris agency and set up for himself in
+Algiers. Through him, Stephen hoped to learn how Sidi Ma&iuml;eddine
+ben el Hadj Messaoud had occupied himself after landing
+from the <i>Charles Quex</i>; but all he did learn was that the Arab,
+accompanied by his servant and no one else, had, after calling
+on the Governor, left Algiers immediately for El-Aghouat.
+At least, he had taken train for Bogharie, and was known
+to have affairs of importance to settle between his father the
+Agha, and the French authorities. Secret inquiries at the
+Hotel de la Kasbah elicited answers, unvaryingly the same.
+Sidi Ma&iuml;eddine ben el Hadj Messaoud was not a patron of the
+house, and had never been seen there. No one answering at
+all to his description had stopped in, or even called at, the
+hotel.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, the value of such assurances was negatived by
+the fact that Arabs hold together against foreigners, and that
+if Si Ma&iuml;eddine wished to be incognito among his own people,
+his wish would probably be respected, in spite of bribery. Besides,
+he was rich enough to offer bribes on his own part.
+Circumstantial evidence, however, being against the supposition
+that the man had followed Victoria after landing, Stephen
+abandoned it for the time, and urged the detective, Adolphe
+Roslin, to trace the cabman who had driven Miss Ray away
+from her hotel. Roslin was told nothing about Victoria's
+private interests, but she was accurately described to him,
+and he was instructed to begin his search by finding the squint-eyed
+cab-driver who had brought the girl to lunch at Djenan el
+Djouad.</p>
+
+<p>Only in the affair of Cassim ben Halim did Stephen and
+Nevill decide to act openly, Nevill using such influence as he
+had at the Governor's palace. They both hoped to learn something
+which in compassion or prudence had been kept from
+the girl; but they failed, as Victoria had failed. If a scandal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>
+had driven the Arab captain of Spahis from the army and
+from Algiers, the authorities were not ready to unearth it now
+in order to satisfy the curiosity, legitimate or illegitimate, of
+two Englishmen.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Cassim ben Halim el Cheik el Arab, had resigned
+from the army on account of ill-health, rather more than nine
+years ago, and having sold his house in Algiers had soon after
+left Algeria to travel abroad. He had never returned, and
+there was evidence that he had been burned to death in a great
+fire at Constantinople a year or two later. The few living
+relatives he had in Algeria believed him to be dead; and a house
+which Ben Halim had owned not far from Bou Saada, had
+passed into the hands of his uncle, Ca&iuml;d of a desert-village in
+the district. As to Ben Halim's marriage with an American
+girl, nobody knew anything. The present Governor and his
+staff had come to Algiers after his supposed death; and if
+Nevill suspected a deliberate reticence behind certain answers
+to his questions, perhaps he was mistaken. Cassim ben Halim
+and his affairs could now be of little importance to French
+officials.</p>
+
+<p>It did not take Roslin an hour to produce the squinting
+cabman; but the old Arab was able to prove that he had been
+otherwise engaged than in driving Miss Ray on the evening
+when she left the Hotel de la Kasbah. His son had been ill,
+and the father had given up work in order to play nurse.
+A doctor corroborated this story, and nothing was to be
+gained in that direction.</p>
+
+<p>Then it was that Nevill almost timidly renewed his suggestion
+of a visit to Tlemcen. They could find out by telegraphing
+Josette, he admitted, whether or no Victoria Ray had arrived,
+but if she were not already in Tlemcen, she might come
+later, to see Mouni. And even if not, they might find out how
+to reach Saidee, by catechizing the Kabyle girl. Once they
+knew the way to Victoria's sister, it was next best to knowing the
+way to find Victoria herself. This last argument was not to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>
+despised. It impressed Stephen, and he consented at once to
+"try their luck" at Tlemcen.</p>
+
+<p>Early in the morning of the second day after the coming of
+Victoria's letter, the two men started in Nevill's yellow car, the
+merry-eyed chauffeur charmed at the prospect of a journey
+worth doing. He was tired, he remarked to Stephen, "de tous
+ces petits voyages d'une demi-heure, comme les tristes promenades
+des enfants, sans une seule aventure."</p>
+
+<p>They had bidden good-bye to Lady MacGregor, and most
+of the family animals, overnight, and it was hardly eight o'clock
+when they left Djenan el Djouad, for the day's journey would
+be long. A magical light, like the light in a dream, gilded
+the hills of the Sahel; and beyond lay the vast plain of the
+Metidja, a golden bowl, heaped to its swelling rim of mountains
+with the fairest fruits of Algeria.</p>
+
+<p>The car rushed through a world of blossoms, fragrant open
+country full of flowers, and past towns that did their small
+utmost to bring France into the land which France had conquered.
+Boufarik, with its tall monument to a brave French
+soldier who fought against tremendous odds: Blidah, a walled
+and fortified mixture of garrison and orange-grove, with a
+market-place like a scene in the "Arabian Nights": Orleansville,
+modern and ostentatiously French, built upon ruins of vast
+antiquity, and hotter than all other towns in the dry cup of the
+Chelif Valley: Relizane, Perr&eacute;gaux, and finally Oran (famed
+still for its old Spanish forts), which they reached by moonlight.</p>
+
+<p>Always there were fields embroidered round the edges with
+wild flowers of blue and gold, and rose. Always there were
+white, dusty roads, along which other motors sometimes raced,
+but oftener there were farm-carts, wagons pulled by strings of
+mules, and horses with horned harness like the harness in Provence
+or on the Spanish border. There were huge, two-storied
+diligences, too, drawn by six or eight black mules, crammed
+under their canvas roofs with white- or brown-robed Arabs,
+and going very fast.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>From Oran they might have gone on the same night, reaching
+the end of their journey after a few hours' spin, but Nevill
+explained that haste would be vain. They could not see Mademoiselle
+Soubise until past nine, so better sleep at Oran, start
+at dawn, and see something of the road,&mdash;a road more picturesque
+than any they had travelled.</p>
+
+<p>It was not for Stephen to offer objections, though he was
+in a mood which made him long to push on without stopping,
+even though there were no motive for haste. He was ashamed
+of the mood, however, and hardly understood what it meant,
+since he had come to Algeria in search of peace. When first
+he landed, and until the day of Victoria's letter, he had been
+enormously interested in the panorama of the East which passed
+before his eyes. He had eagerly noticed each detail of colour
+and strangeness, but now, though the London lethargy was
+gone, in its place had been born a disturbing restlessness which
+would not let him look impersonally at life as at a picture.</p>
+
+<p>Questioning himself as he lay awake in the Oran hotel, with
+windows open to the moonlight, Stephen was forced to admit
+that the picture was blurred because Victoria had gone out of
+it. Her figure had been in the foreground when first he had
+seen the moving panorama, and all the rest had been only a
+magical frame for her. The charm of her radiant youth, and
+the romance of the errand which had brought her knocking,
+when he knocked, at the door of the East, had turned the
+glamour into glory. Now she had vanished; and as her letter
+said, it might be that she would never come back. The centre
+of interest was transferred to the unknown place where she
+had gone, and Stephen began to see that his impatience to be
+moving was born of the wish not only to know that she was
+safe, but to see her again.</p>
+
+<p>He was angry with himself at this discovery, and almost he
+was angry with Victoria. If he had not her affairs to worry
+over, Africa would be giving him the rest cure he had expected.
+He would be calmly enjoying this run through beautiful coun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>try,
+instead of chafing to rush on to the end. Since, in all
+probability, he could do the girl no good, and certainly she could
+do him none, he half wished that one or the other had crossed
+from Marseilles to Algiers on a different ship. What he needed
+was peace, not any new and feverish personal interest in life.
+Yes, decidedly he wished that he had never known Victoria Ray.</p>
+
+<p>But the wish did not live long. Suddenly her face, her eyes,
+came before him in the night. He heard her say that she
+would give him "half her star," and his heart grew sick with
+longing.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope to Heaven I'm not going to love that girl," he said
+aloud to the darkness. If no other woman came into his life,
+he might be able to get through it well enough with Margot.
+He could hunt and shoot, and do other things that consoled
+men for lack of something better. But if&mdash;he knew he must
+not let there be an "if." He must go on thinking of Victoria
+Ray as a child, a charming little friend whom he wished to help.
+Any other thought of her would mean ruin.</p>
+
+<p>Before dawn they were called, and started as the sun showed
+over the horizon.</p>
+
+<p>So they ran into the western country, near to the Morocco
+border. Dull at first, save for its flooding flowers, soon the
+way wound among dark mountains, from whose helmeted heads
+trailed the long plumes of white cascades, and whose feet&mdash;like
+the stone feet of Egyptian kings in ruined temples&mdash;were
+bathed by lakes that glimmered in the depths of gorges.</p>
+
+<p>It was a land of legends and dreams round about Tlemcen,
+the "Key of the West," city of beautiful mosques. The mountains
+were honeycombed with onyx mines; and rising out of
+wide plains were crumbling brown fortresses, haunted by the
+ghosts of long-dead Arabs who had buried hoards of money
+in secret hiding-places, and died before they could unearth
+their treasure. Tombs of kings and princes, and koubbahs
+of renowned marabouts, Arab saints, gleamed white, or yellow
+as old gold, under the faded silver of ancient olive trees, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>
+fields that ran red with blood of poppies. Minarets jewelled
+like peacocks' tails soared above the tops of blossoming chestnuts.
+On low trees or bushes, guarding the graves of saints,
+fluttered many-coloured rags, left there by faithful men and
+women who had prayed at the shrine for health or fortune;
+and for every foot of ground there was some wild tale of war
+or love, an echo from days so long ago that history had mingled
+inextricably with lore of fairies.</p>
+
+<p>Nevill was excited and talkative as they drove into the old
+town, once the light of western Algeria. They passed in
+by the gateway of Oran, and through streets that tried to be
+French, but contrived somehow to be Arab. Nevill told stories
+of the days when Tlemcen had queened it over the west, and
+coined her own money; of the marabouts after whom the most
+famous mosques were named: Sidi-el-Haloui, the confectioner-saint
+from Seville, who preached to the children and made them
+sweetmeats; of the lawyer-saint, Sidi Aboul Hassan from
+Arabia, and others. But he did not speak of Josette Soubise,
+until suddenly he touched Stephen's arm as they passed the
+high wall of a garden.</p>
+
+<p>"There, that's where <i>she</i> teaches," he said; and it was not
+necessary to add a name.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen glanced at him quickly. Nevill looked very young.
+His eyes no longer seemed to gaze at far-away things which no
+one else could see. All his interests were centred near at hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you mean to stop?" Stephen asked, surprised that
+the car went on.</p>
+
+<p>"No; school's begun. We'll have to wait till the noon
+interval, and even then we shan't be allowed indoors, for a
+good many of the girls are over twelve, the age for veiling&mdash;<i>hadjabah</i>,
+they call it&mdash;when they're shut up, and no man,
+except near relations, can see their faces. Several of the girls
+are already engaged. I believe there's one, not fourteen,
+who's been divorced twice, though she's still interested in dolls.
+Weird, isn't it? Josette will talk with us in the garden. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
+we'll have time now to take rooms at the hotel and wash off the
+dust. To eat something too, if you're hungry."</p>
+
+<p>But Stephen was no hungrier than Nevill, whose excitement,
+perhaps, was contagious.</p>
+
+<p>The hotel was in a wide <i>place</i>, so thickly planted with acacias
+and chestnut trees as to resemble a shabby park. An Arab
+servant showed them to adjoining rooms, plain but clean, and
+a half-breed girl brought tins of hot water and vases of syringas.
+As for roses, she said in hybrid French, no one troubled about
+them&mdash;there were too many in Tlemcen. Ah! but it was a
+land of plenty! The gentlemen would be happy, and wish to
+stay a long time. There was meat and good wine for almost
+nothing, and beggars need not ask twice for bread&mdash;fine,
+white bread, baked as the Moors baked, across the border.</p>
+
+<p>As they bathed and dressed more carefully than they had
+dressed for the early-morning start, strange sounds came up
+from the square below, which was full of people, laughing,
+quarrelling, playing games, striking bargains, singing songs.
+Arab bootblacks clamoured for custom at the hotel-door, pushing
+one another aside, fiercely. Little boys in embroidered
+green or crimson jackets sat on the hard, yellow earth, playing
+an intricate game like "jack stones," and disputed so violently
+that men and even women stopped to remonstrate, and separate
+them; now a grave, prosperous Jew dressed in red (Jewish
+mourning in the province of Oran); then an old Kabyle woman
+of the plains, in a short skirt of fiery orange scarcely hiding
+the thin sticks of legs that were stained with henna half-way
+up the calves, like painted stockings. Moors from across the
+frontier&mdash;fierce men with eagle faces and striped cloaks&mdash;grouped
+together, whispering and gesticulating, stared at with
+suspicion by the milder Arabs, who attributed all the crimes of
+Tlemcen to the wild men from over the border. Black giants
+from the Negro quarter kept together, somewhat humble, yet
+laughing and happy. Slender, coffee-coloured youths drove
+miniature cows from Morocco, or tiny black donkeys, heavily<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>
+laden and raw with sores, colliding with well-dressed Turks,
+who had the air of merchants, and looked as if they could not
+forget that Tlemcen had long been theirs before the French
+dominion. Bored but handsome officers rode through the
+square on Arab horses graceful as deer, and did not even glance
+at passing women, closely veiled in long white ha&iuml;cks.</p>
+
+<p>It was lively and amusing in the sunlight; but just as
+the two friends were ready to go out, the sky was swept with
+violet clouds. A storm threatened fiercely, but they started
+out despite its warning, turning deaf ears to the importunities
+of a Koulougli guide who wished to show them the mosques,
+"ver' cheap." He followed them, but they hurried on, pushing
+so sturdily through a flock of pink-headed sheep, which poured
+in a wave over the pavement, that they might have out-run the
+rain had they not been brought to a sudden standstill by a
+funeral procession.</p>
+
+<p>It was the strangest sight Stephen had seen yet, and he
+hardly noticed that, in a burst of sunlight, rain had begun to
+pelt down through the canopy of trees.</p>
+
+<p>The band of figures in brown burnouses marched quickly,
+with a sharp rustling of many slippered feet moving in unison,
+and golden spears of rain seemed to pierce the white turbans
+of the men who carried the bier. As they marched, fifty voices
+rose and fell wildly in a stirring chant, exciting and terrible
+as the beat-beat of a tom-tom, sometimes a shout of barbaric
+triumph, sometimes a mourning wail. Then, abruptly, a halt
+was made in the glittering rain, and the bearers were changed,
+because of the luck it brings Arab men to carry the corpse of
+a friend.</p>
+
+<p>Just in front of the two Englishmen the body rested for an
+instant, stretched out long and piteously flat, showing its thin
+shape through the mat of woven straw which wrapped it, only
+the head and feet being wound with linen. So, by and by, it
+would be laid, without a coffin, in its shallow grave in the Arab
+cemetery, out on the road to Sidi Bou-Medine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There were but a few seconds of delay. Then the new
+bearers lifted the bier by its long poles, and the procession
+moved swiftly, feverishly, on again, the wild chant trailing
+behind as it passed, like a torn war-banner. The thrill of
+the wailing crept through Stephen's veins, and roused an old,
+childish superstition which an Irish nurse had implanted in
+him when he was a little boy. According to Peggy Brian it
+was "a cruel bad omen" to meet a funeral, especially after
+coming into a new town. "Wait for a corpse," said she, "an'
+ye'll wait while yer luck goes by."</p>
+
+<p>"They're singing a song in praise of the dead man's good
+deeds, and of triumph for the joys he'll know in Paradise,"
+explained Nevill. "It's only the women who weep and scratch
+their faces when those they love have died. The men rejoice,
+or try to. Soon, they are saying, this one who has gone will
+be in gardens fair as the gardens of Allah Himself, where sit
+beautiful houris, in robes woven of diamonds, sapphires, and
+rubies, each gem of which has an eye of its own that glitters
+through a vapour of smouldering ambergris, while fountains
+send up pearly spray in the shade of fragrant cedars."</p>
+
+<p>"No wonder the Mohammedan poor don't fear death, if they
+expect to exchange their hovels for such quarters," said Stephen.
+"I wish I understood Arabic."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a difficult language to keep in your mind, and I don't
+know it well," Nevill answered. "But Jeanne and Josette
+Soubise speak it like natives; and the other day when Miss
+Ray lunched with us, I thought her knowledge of Arabic wonderful
+for a person who'd picked it up from books."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen did not answer. He wished that Nevill had not
+brought the thought of Victoria into his mind at the moment
+when he was recalling his old nurse's silly superstition. Victoria
+laughed at superstitions, but he was not sure that he could
+laugh, in this barbaric land where it seemed that anything
+might happen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2>
+
+
+<p>Nevill had not sent word to Josette Soubise that he
+was coming to see her. He wished to make the
+experiment of a surprise, although he insisted that
+Stephen should be with him. At the door in the
+high white wall of the school-garden, he asked an unveiled
+crone of a porteress to say merely that two gentlemen had
+called.</p>
+
+<p>"She'll suspect, I'm afraid," he muttered to Stephen as
+they waited, "even if her sister hasn't written that I thought
+of turning up. But she won't have time to invent a valid
+excuse, if she disapproves of the visit."</p>
+
+<p>In three or four minutes the old woman hobbled back,
+shuffling slippered feet along the tiled path between the gate
+and the low whitewashed house. Mademoiselle requested
+that ces Messieurs would give themselves the pain of walking
+into the garden. She would descend almost at once.</p>
+
+<p>They obeyed, Nevill stricken dumb by the thought of his
+coming happiness. Stephen would have liked to ask a question
+or two about the school, but he refrained, sure that if
+Nevill were forced into speech he would give random answers.</p>
+
+<p>This was being in love&mdash;the real thing! And Stephen
+dimly envied his friend, even though Caird seemed to have
+small hope of winning the girl. It was far better to love a
+woman you could never marry, than to be obliged to marry
+one you could never love.</p>
+
+<p>He imagined himself waiting to welcome Margot, beautiful
+Margot, returning from Canada to him. He would have to go
+to Liverpool, of course. She would be handsomer than ever,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>
+probably, and he could picture their meeting, seven or eight
+weeks from now. Would his face wear such an expression as
+Nevill's wore at this moment? He knew well that it would not.</p>
+
+<p>"She is coming!" said Nevill, under his breath.</p>
+
+<p>The door of the schoolhouse was opening, and Nevill moved
+forward as a tall and charming young woman appeared, like a
+picture in a dark frame.</p>
+
+<p>She was slender, with a tiny waist, though her bust was
+full, and her figure had the intensely feminine curves which
+artists have caused to be associated with women of the Latin
+races; her eyes were like those of her elder sister, but larger
+and more brilliant. So big and splendid they were that they
+made the smooth oval of her olive face seem small. Quantities
+of heavy black hair rippled away from a forehead which
+would have been square if the hair had not grown down in
+a point like a Marie Stuart cap. Her chin was pointed, with
+a deep cleft in the middle, and the dimples Nevill had praised
+flashed suddenly into being, as if a ray of sunshine had touched
+her pale cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Mon bon ami!" she exclaimed, holding out both hands in
+token of comradeship, and putting emphasis on her last
+word.</p>
+
+<p>"She's determined the poor chap shan't forget they're only
+friends," thought Stephen, wishing that Caird had not insisted
+upon his presence at this first meeting. And in a moment he
+was being introduced to Mademoiselle Josette Soubise.</p>
+
+<p>"Did I surprise you?" asked Nevill, looking at her as if he
+could never tear his eyes away, though he spoke in an ordinary
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I know you want me to say 'yes'," she laughed. "I'd
+like to tell a white fib, to please you. But no, I am not quite
+surprised, for my sister wrote that you might come, and why.
+What a pity you had this long journey for nothing. My
+Kabyle maid, Mouni, has just gone to her home, far away in a
+little village near Mich&eacute;let, in la Grande Kabylia. She is to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>
+be married to her cousin, the chief's son, whom she has always
+loved&mdash;but there were obstacles till now."</p>
+
+<p>"Obstacles can always be overcome," broke in Nevill.</p>
+
+<p>Josette would not understand any hidden meaning. "It is
+a great pity about Mouni," she went on. "Only four days
+ago she left. I gave her the price of the journey, for a wedding
+present. She is a good girl, and I shall miss her. But of
+course you can write to ask her questions. She reads a little
+French."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps we shall go ourselves," Nevill answered, glancing
+at Stephen's disappointed face. "For I know Miss Ray
+can't be here, or you would have said so."</p>
+
+<p>"No, she is not here," echoed Josette, looking astonished.
+"Jeanne wrote about the American young lady searching for
+her sister, but she did not say she might visit Tlemcen."</p>
+
+<p>"We hoped she would, that's all," explained Nevill. "She's
+left her hotel in Algiers in a mysterious way, not telling where
+she meant to go, although she assured us she'd be safe, and we
+needn't worry. However, naturally we do worry."</p>
+
+<p>"But of course. I see how it is." The dimples were gone,
+and the brightness of Josette's eyes was overcast. She looked
+at Nevill wistfully, and a flash of sympathetic understanding
+enlightened Stephen. No doubt she was generously solicitous
+for the fate of Victoria Ray, but there was something different
+from solicitude in her darkening eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Good! she's jealous. She thinks Nevill's heart's been
+caught in the rebound," he told himself. But Nevill remained
+modestly unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Ray may arrive yet," he suggested. "We'd better
+stop to-day, anyhow, on the chance; don't you think so, Stephen?
+and then, if there's no news of her when we get back to Algiers,
+go on to interview the bride in Grand Kabylia?"</p>
+
+<p>Stephen had not the heart to dispute the wisdom of this
+decision, though he was sure that, since Victoria was not in
+Tlemcen now, she would never come.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"So you think we've made a long journey for nothing, Mademoiselle
+Josette?" said Nevill.</p>
+
+<p>"But yes. So it turns out."</p>
+
+<p>"Seeing an old friend doesn't count, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, that can seem but little&mdash;in comparison to
+what you hoped. Still, you can show Monsieur Knight the
+sights. He may not guess how beautiful they are. Have you
+told him there are things here as wonderful as in the Alhambra
+itself, things made by the Moors who were in Granada?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've told him about all I care most for in Tlemcen," returned
+Nevill, with that boyish demureness he affected sometimes.
+"But I'm not a competent cicerone. If you want Knight
+to do justice to the wonders of this place, you'll have to be
+our guide. We've got room for several large-sized chaperons
+in the car. Do come. Don't say you won't! I feel as if I
+couldn't stand it."</p>
+
+<p>His tone was so desperate that Josette laughed some of
+her brightness back again. "Then I suppose I mustn't refuse.
+And I should like going&mdash;after school hours. Madame de
+Vaux, who is the bride of a French officer, will join us, I think,
+for she and I are friends, and besides, she has had no chance
+to see things yet. She has been busy settling in her quarters&mdash;and
+I have helped her a little."</p>
+
+<p>"When can you start?" asked Nevill, enraptured at the
+prospect of a few happy hours snatched from fate.</p>
+
+<p>"Not till five."</p>
+
+<p>His face fell. "But that's cruel!"</p>
+
+<p>"It would be cruel to my children to desert them sooner.
+Don't forget I am malema&mdash;malema before all. And there
+will be time for seeing nearly everything. We can go to Sidi
+Bou-Medine, afterwards to the ruins of Mansourah by sunset.
+Meanwhile, show your friend the things near by, without
+me; the old town, with its different quarters for the Jews,
+the Arabs, and the Negroes. He will like the leather-workers
+and the bakers, and the weavers of ha&iuml;cks. And you will not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>
+need me for the Grande Mosqu&eacute;e, or for the Mosqu&eacute;e of Aboul
+Hassan, where Monsieur Knight will see the most beautiful
+mihrab in all the world. When he has looked at that, he cannot
+be sorry he has come to Tlemcen; and if he has regrets,
+Sidi Bou-Medine will take them away."</p>
+
+<p>"Has Sidi Bou-Medine the power to cure all sorrows?"
+Stephen asked, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, yes. Why, Sidi Bou-Medine himself is one of the
+greatest marabouts. You have but to take a pinch of earth
+from his tomb, and make a wish upon it. Only one wish, but
+it is sure to be granted, whatever it may be, if you keep the
+packet of earth afterwards, and wear it near your heart."</p>
+
+<p>"What a shame you never told me that before. The time
+I've wasted!" exclaimed Nevill. "But I'll make up for it now.
+Thank Heaven I'm superstitious."</p>
+
+<p>They had forgotten Stephen, and laughing into each other's
+eyes, were perfectly happy for the moment. Stephen was glad,
+yet he felt vaguely resentful that they could forget the girl for
+whose sake the journey to Tlemcen had ostensibly been undertaken.
+They were ready to squander hours in a pretence of
+sightseeing, hours which might have been spent in getting back
+to Algiers and so hastening on the expedition to Grand Kabylia.
+How selfish people in love could be! And charming as Josette
+Soubise was, it seemed strange to Stephen that she should stand
+for perfection to a man who had seen Victoria Ray.</p>
+
+<p>Nevill was imploring Josette to lunch with them, chaperoned
+by Madame de Vaux, and Josette was firmly refusing.
+Then he begged that they might leave money as a gift for the
+malema's scholars, and this offer she accepted, only regretting
+that the young men could not be permitted to give the <i>cadeau</i>
+with their own hands. "My girls are so pretty," she said, "and
+it is a picture to see them at their embroidery frames, or the carpet
+making, their fingers flying, their eyes always on the coloured
+designs, which are the same as their ancestresses used
+a century ago, before the industry declined. I love them all,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>
+the dear creatures, and they love me, though I am a Roumia
+and an unbeliever. I ought to be happy in their affection,
+helping them to success. And now I must run back to my
+flock, or the lambs will be getting into mischief. Au revoir&mdash;five
+o'clock. You will find me waiting with Madame de Vaux."</p>
+
+<p>At luncheon, in the bare, cool dining-room of the hotel,
+Nevill was like a man in a dream. He sat half smiling, not
+knowing what he ate, hardly conscious of the talk and laughter
+of the French officers at another table. Just at the last, however,
+he roused himself. "I can't help being happy. I see
+her so seldom. And I keep turning over in my mind what new
+arguments in favour of myself I can bring forward when I
+propose this afternoon&mdash;for of course I shall propose, if you
+and the bride will kindly give me the chance. I know she
+won't have me&mdash;but I always do propose, on the principle
+that much dropping may wear away a stone."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose you break the habit just for once," ventured
+Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>Nevill looked anxious. "Why, do you think the case is
+hopeless?"</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary. But&mdash;well, I can't help feeling it would
+do you more good to show an absorbing interest in Miss Ray's
+affairs, this time."</p>
+
+<p>"So I have an absorbing interest," Nevill protested, remorsefully.
+"I don't want you to suppose I mean to neglect them.
+I assure you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Stephen laughed, though a little constrainedly. "Don't
+apologise, my dear fellow. Miss Ray's no more to me than
+to you, except that I happened to make her acquaintance a
+few days sooner."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," Nevill agreed, mildly. Then, after a pause,
+which he earnestly occupied in crumbling bread. "Only I'm
+head over ears in love with another woman, while you're free
+to think of her, or any other girl, every minute of the
+day."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Stephen's face reddened. "I am not free," he said in a
+low voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon. I hoped you were. I still think&mdash;you
+ought to be." Nevill spoke quickly, and without giving
+Stephen time to reply, he hurried on; "Miss Ray may arrive
+here yet. Or she may have found out about Mouni in some
+other way, and have gone to see her in Grand Kabylia&mdash;who
+knows?"</p>
+
+<p>"If she were merely going there to inquire about her sister,
+why should she have to make a mystery of her movements?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's on the cards that whatever she wanted to do,
+she didn't care to be bothered with our troublesome advice
+and offers of help. Our interest was, perhaps, too pressing."</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle Soubise is of that opinion, anyhow&mdash;in
+regard to you," remarked Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;that angel <i>jealous</i>? It's too good to be true!
+But I'll relieve her mind of any such idea."</p>
+
+<p>"If you'll take one more tip from me, I'd leave her mind
+alone for the present."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you flinty-hearted reprobate?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm no authority. But all's fair in love and war.
+And sometimes an outsider sees features of the game which the
+players don't see."</p>
+
+<p>"That's true, anyhow," Nevill agreed. "Let's <i>both</i> remember
+that&mdash;eh?" and he got up from the table abruptly,
+as if to keep Stephen from answering, or asking what he
+meant.</p>
+
+<p>They had several empty hours, between the time of finishing
+luncheon, and five o'clock, when they were to meet Mademoiselle
+Soubise and her chaperon, so they took Josette's
+advice and went sightseeing.</p>
+
+<p>Preoccupied as he was, Stephen could not be indifferent
+to the excursion, for Tlemcen is the shrine of gems in Arab
+architecture, only equalled at Granada itself. Though he was
+so ignorant still of eastern lore, that he hardly knew the mean<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>ing
+of the word mihrab, the arched recess looking towards
+Mecca, in the Mosque of the lawyer-saint Aboul Hassan, held
+him captive for many moments with its beauty. Its ornamentation
+was like the spread tail of Nevill's white peacock, or the
+spokes of a silver wheel incrusted with an intricate pattern in
+jewels. Not a mosque in town, or outside the gates, did they
+leave unvisited, lest, as Nevill said, Josette Soubise should ask
+embarrassing questions; and the last hour of probation they
+gave to the old town. There, as they stopped to look in at
+the workshops of the weavers, and the bakers, or stared at the
+hands of Fatma-Zora painted in henna on the doors of Jews
+and True Believers, crowds of ragged boys and girls followed
+them, laughing and begging as gaily as if begging were a game.
+Only this band of children, and heavily jewelled girls of Morocco
+or Spain, with unveiled, ivory faces and eyes like suns, looked
+at the Englishmen, as Stephen and Nevill passed the isolated
+blue and green houses, in front of which the women sat in a
+bath of sunshine. Arabs and Jews walked by proudly, and
+did not seem to see that there were strangers in their midst.</p>
+
+<p>When at last it was time to go back to the hotel, and motor
+to the &Eacute;cole Indig&egrave;ne, Josette was ready, plainly dressed in
+black. She introduced her friends to the bride, Madame de
+Vaux, a merry young woman, blonde by nature and art, who
+laughed always, like the children in the Arab town. She
+admired Knight far more than Caird, because she liked tall,
+dark men, her own husband being red and stout. Therefore,
+she would have been delighted to play the tactful chaperon, if
+Josette had not continually broken in upon her duet with
+Stephen, ordering them both to look at this or that.</p>
+
+<p>The country through which they drove after passing out of
+the gate in the modern French wall, might have been the
+south of England in midsummer, had it not been peopled by the
+dignified Arab figures which never lost their strangeness and
+novelty for Stephen. Here, in the west country, they glittered
+in finery like gorgeous birds: sky-blue jacket, scarlet fez<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>
+and sash glowing behind a lacework of green branches netted
+with flowers, where a man hoed his fields or planted his garden.</p>
+
+<p>Hung with a tapestry of roses, immense brown walls lay
+crumbling&mdash;ruined gateways, and shattered traces of the
+triple fortifications which defended Tlemcen when the Almohades
+were in power. By a clear rill of water gushing along
+the roadside, a group of delicate broken arches marked the
+tomb of the "flying saint," Sidi Abou Ishad el Ta&iuml;yer, an early
+Wright or Bl&eacute;riot who could swim through the air; and though
+in his grave a chest of gold was said to be buried, no one&mdash;not
+even the lawless men from over the border&mdash;had ever
+dared dig for the treasure. Close by, under the running water,
+a Moor had found a huge lump of silver which must have lain
+for no one could tell how many years, looking like a grey stone
+under a sheet of glass; nevertheless, the neighbouring tomb
+had still remained inviolate, for Sidi Abou Ishad el Ta&iuml;yer was
+a much respected saint, even more loved than the marabout
+who sent rain for the gift of a sacrificed fowl, or he who cured
+sore eyes in answer to prayer. Only Sidi Bou-Medine himself
+was more important; and presently (because the distance was
+short, though the car had travelled slowly) they came to the
+footpath in the hills which must be ascended on foot, to reach the
+shrine of the powerful saint, friend of great Sidi Abd el Kader.</p>
+
+<p>Already they could see the minaret of the mosque, high
+above the mean village which clustered round it, rising as a
+flame rises against a windless sky, while beneath this shining
+Giralda lay half-ruined houses rejuvenated with whitewash or
+coats of vivid blue. They passed up a narrow street redeemed
+from sordidness by a domed koubbah or two; and from the
+roofed balconies of caf&eacute;s maures, Arabs looked down on them
+with large, dreamy eyes like clouded stars. All the glory and
+pride of the village was concentrated in the tomb and beautiful
+mosque of the saint whose name falls sweet on the ear as the
+music of a summer storm, the tinkle and boom of rain and
+thunder coming together: Sidi Bou-Medine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Toddling girls with henna-dyed hair, and miniature brown
+men, like blowing flower-petals in scarlet, yellow, and blue, who
+had swarmed up the street after the Roumis, stopped at the
+portals of the mosque and the sacred tomb. But there was a
+humming in the air like the song of bees, which floated rhythmically
+out from the zaou&iuml;a, the school in the mosque where many
+boys squatted cross-legged before the aged Taleb who taught
+the Koran; bowing, swaying towards him, droning out the
+words of the Prophet, some half asleep, nodding against the
+onyx pillars.</p>
+
+<p>In the shadow of the mosque it was cool, though the crown
+of the minaret, gemmed with priceless tiles from Fez, blazed
+in the sun's rays as if it were on fire. Into this coolness the
+four strangers passed, involuntarily hushing their voices in
+the portico of decorated walls and hanging honeycombs of stucco
+whence, through great doors of ancient, greenish bronze (doors
+said to have arrived miraculously from across the sea), they
+found their way into a courtyard open to the sky, where a
+fountain waved silver plumes over a marble basin. Two or
+three dignified Arab men bathed their feet in preparation for
+the afternoon prayer, and tired travellers from a distance slept
+upon mats of woven straw, spread on tiles like a pavement of
+precious stones, or dozed in the little cells made for the students
+who came in the grand old days. The sons of Islam were
+reverent, yet happy and at home on the threshold of Allah's
+house, and Stephen began to understand, as Nevill and Josette
+already understood, something of the vast influence of the
+Mohammedan religion. Only Madame de Vaux remained
+flippant. In the car, she had laughed at the women muffled
+in their ha&iuml;cks, saying that as the men of Tlemcen were so
+tyrannical about hiding female faces, it was strange they did
+not veil the hens and cows. In the shadowy mosque, with
+its five naves, she giggled at the yellow babouches out of which
+her little high-heeled shoes slipped, and threatened to recite a
+French verse under the delicate arch of the pale blue mihrab.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But Stephen was impressed with the serene beauty of the
+Moslem temple, where, between labyrinths of glimmering
+pillars like young ash trees in moonlight, across vistas of rainbow-coloured
+rugs like flower-beds, the worshippers looked
+out at God's blue sky instead of peering through thick, stained-glass
+windows; where the music was the murmur of running
+water, instead of sounding organ-pipes; and where the winds
+of heaven bore away the odours of incense before they staled.
+He wondered whether a place of prayer like this&mdash;white-walled,
+severely simple despite the veil-like adornment of arabesques&mdash;did
+not more tend to religious contemplation than a
+cathedral of Italy or Spain, with its bloodstained Christs, its
+Virgins, and its saints. Did this Arab art perhaps more truly
+express the fervour of faith which needs no extraneous elaborations,
+because it has no doubts? But presently calling up a
+vision of the high, dim aisles, the strong yet soaring columns,
+all the mysterious purity of gothic cathedrals, he convinced himself
+that, after all, the old monkish architects had the real secret
+of mystic aspirations in the human heart.</p>
+
+<p>When Josette and Nevill led the way out of the mosque,
+Stephen was in the right mood for the tomb of that ineffable
+saint of Islam, Shaoib ibn Husain el Andalousi, Sidi Bou-Medine.
+He was almost ready to believe in the extraordinary
+virtue of the earth which had the honour of covering the marabout's
+remains. It annoyed him that Madame de Vaux should
+laugh at the lowness of the doorway under which they had to
+stoop, and that she should make fun of the suspended ostrich
+eggs, the tinselled pictures and mirrors, the glass lustres and
+ancient lanterns, the spilt candle-wax of many colours, or
+the old, old flags which covered the walls and the high structure
+of carved wood which was the saint's last resting-place.</p>
+
+<p>A grave Arab who approved their air of respect, gave a pinch
+of earth each to Stephen and Nevill, wrapped in paper, repeating
+Josette's assurance that their wishes would be granted. It
+would be necessary, he added, to reflect long before selecting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>
+the one desire of the soul which was to be put above all others.
+But Nevill had no hesitation. He wished instantly, and
+tucked the tiny parcel away in the pocket nearest his heart.</p>
+
+<p>"And you, Monsieur?" asked Madame de Vaux, smiling at
+Stephen. "It does not appear easy to choose. Ah, now you
+have decided! Will you tell me what you wished?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I mustn't do that. Saints favour those who can
+keep secrets," said Stephen, teasingly. Yet he made his wish
+in earnest, after turning over several in his mind. To ask for
+his own future happiness, in spite of obstacles which would
+prove the marabout's power, was the most intelligent thing
+to do; but somehow the desire clamouring loudest at the
+moment was for Victoria, and the rest might go ungranted.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish that I may find her safe and happy," he said over
+the pinch of earth before putting it into what Josette named
+his "poche du c&oelig;ur."</p>
+
+<p>"As for me," remarked Madame de Vaux, "I will not
+derange any of their Moslem saints, thank you. I have more
+influential ones of my own, who might be annoyed. And it
+is stuffy in this tomb. I am sure it is full of microbes. Let
+us go and see the ruined palace of the Black Sultan who, Josette
+says, founded everything here that was worth founding. That
+there should be a Black Sultan sounds like a fairy tale. And I
+like fairy tales next to bon-bons and new hats."</p>
+
+<p>So they made their pilgrimage to the third treasure of the
+hill-village; and then away to where the crumbling walls of
+Mansourah, and that great tower, which is one of the noblest
+Moorish relics in all Algeria, rise out of a flowering plain.</p>
+
+<p>Cherry blossoms fell in scented snow over their heads as the
+car ran back to Tlemcen, and out once more, through the
+Moorish Porte de Fez, past the reservoir built by a king for
+an Arab beauty to sail her boats upon. Sunset was near, and
+the sky blazed red as if Mansourah burned with ten thousand
+torches.</p>
+
+<p>The way led through vast blue lakes which were fields of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>
+periwinkles, and along the road trotted pink-robed children,
+whose heads were wrapped in kerchiefs of royal purple. They
+led sheep with golden-gleaming fleece, and at the tombs of
+marabouts they paused to pray, among groups of kneeling
+figures in long white cloaks and turbans. All the atmosphere
+swam with changing colours, such as come and go in the heart
+of a fire-opal.</p>
+
+<p>Very beautiful must have been the city of Mansourah, named
+after murdered Sultan el Mansour, the Victorious, who built
+its vast fortifications, its mosques and vanished palaces, its
+caravanserais and baths, in the seven years when he was besieging
+Tlemcen. And still are its ruins beautiful, after more than
+five centuries of pillage and destruction. Josette Soubise
+loved the place, and often came to it when her day's work was
+done, therefore she was happy showing it to Nevill and&mdash;incidentally&mdash;to
+the others.</p>
+
+<p>The great brown wall pricked with holes like an enormous
+wasp's nest, the ruined watch-towers, and the soaring, honey-coloured
+minaret with its intricate carvings, its marble pillars,
+its tiles and inset enamels iridescent as a Brazilian beetle's wing,
+all gleamed with a splendour that was an enchantment, in the
+fire of sunset. The scent of aromatic herbs, such as Arabs love
+and use to cure their fevers, was bitter-sweet in the fall of the
+dew, and birds cried to each other from hidden nests among the
+ruins.</p>
+
+<p>"Mussulmans think that the spirits of their dead fly back
+to visit their own graves, or places they have loved, in the
+form of birds," said Josette, looking up at the minaret, large
+marguerites with orange centres embroidering her black dress,
+as she stood knee-deep in their waving gold. "I half believe
+that these birds among the lovely carvings of the tower are the
+priests who used to read the Koran in the mosque, and could
+not bear to leave it. The birds in the walls are the soldiers
+who defended the city."</p>
+
+<p>As she spoke there was a flight of wings, black against the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>
+rose and mauve of the sunset. "There!" she exclaimed.
+"Arabs would call that an omen! To see birds flying at sundown
+has a special meaning for them. If a man wanted something,
+he would know that he could get it only by going in the
+direction the birds take."</p>
+
+<p>"Which way are they flying?" asked Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>All four followed the flight of wings with their eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"They are going south-east," said Nevill.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h2>
+
+
+<p>If Victoria Ray had accepted Nevill Caird's invitation
+to be Lady MacGregor's guest and his, at Djenan
+el Djouad, many things might have been different. But
+she had wished to be independent, and had chosen to
+go to the Hotel de la Kasbah.</p>
+
+<p>When she went down to dinner in the <i>salle &agrave; manger</i>, shortly
+after seven o'clock on the evening of her arrival, only two other
+tables were occupied, for it was late in the season, and tourists
+were leaving Algiers.</p>
+
+<p>No one who had been on board the <i>Charles Quex</i> was there,
+and Victoria saw that she was the only woman in the room.
+At one table sat a happy party of Germans, apparently dressed
+from head to foot by Dr. Jaeger, and at another were two
+middle-aged men who had the appearance of commercial
+travellers. By and by an elderly Jew came in, and dinner
+had reached the stage of peppery mutton ragout, when the
+door opened again. Victoria's place was almost opposite,
+and involuntarily, she glanced up. The handsome Arab
+who had crossed from Marseilles on the boat saluted her with
+grave courtesy as he met her look, and passed on, casting
+down his eyes. He was shown to a table at some distance,
+the manner of the Arab waiter who conducted him being
+so impressive, that Victoria was sure the newcomer must be a
+person of importance.</p>
+
+<p>He was beautifully dressed, as before, and the Germans
+stared at him frankly, but he did not seem to be aware of their
+existence. Special dishes arrived for him, and evidently he
+had been expected.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There was but one waiter to serve the meal, and not only
+did he somewhat neglect the other diners for the sake of the
+latest arrival, but the landlord appeared, and stood talking
+with the Arab while he ate, with an air of respect and
+consideration.</p>
+
+<p>The Germans, who had nearly finished their dinner when
+Victoria came in, now left the table, using their toothpicks
+and staring with the open-eyed interest of children at the
+picturesque figure near the door. The commercial travellers
+and the Jew followed. Victoria also was ready to go,
+when the landlord came to her table, bowing.</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle," he said, in French, "I am charged with a
+message from an Arab gentleman of distinction, who honours
+my house by his presence. Sidi Ma&iuml;eddine ben el Hadj
+Messaoud is the son of an Agha, and therefore he is a lord,
+and Mademoiselle need have no uneasiness that he would
+condescend to an indiscretion. He instructs me to present
+his respectful compliments to Mademoiselle, whom he saw
+on the ship which brought him home, after carrying through
+a mission in France. Seeing that Mademoiselle travelled
+alone, and intends perhaps to continue doing so, according to
+the custom of her courageous and intelligent countrywomen,
+Sidi Ma&iuml;eddine wishes to say that, as a person who has influence
+in his own land, he would be pleased to serve Mademoiselle,
+if she would honour him by accepting his offer in the
+spirit in which it is made: that is, as the chivalrous service
+of a gentleman to a lady. He will not dream of addressing
+Mademoiselle, unless she graciously permits."</p>
+
+<p>As the landlord talked on, Victoria glanced across the room
+at the Arab, and though his eyes were bent upon his plate,
+he seemed to feel the girl's look, as if by a kind of telepathy,
+instantly meeting it with what seemed to her questioning eyes
+a sincere and disarming gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell Sidi Ma&iuml;eddine ben el Hadj Messaoud that I thank
+him," she answered, rewarded for her industry in keeping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>
+up French, which she spoke fluently, with the Parisian accent
+she had caught as a child in Paris. "It is possible that he
+can help me, and I should be glad to talk with him."</p>
+
+<p>"In that case Si Ma&iuml;eddine would suggest that Mademoiselle
+grant him a short interview in the private sitting-room of my
+wife, Madame Constant, who will be honoured," the fat man
+replied promptly. "It would not be wise for Mademoiselle
+to be seen by strangers talking with the distinguished gentleman,
+whose acquaintance she is to make. This, largely for
+her own sake; but also for his, or rather, for the sake of certain
+diplomatic interests which he is appointed to carry out.
+Officially, he is supposed to have left Algiers to-day. And it
+is by his permission that I mention the matter to Mademoiselle."</p>
+
+<p>"I will do whatever you think best," said Victoria, who was
+too glad of the opportunity to worry about conventionalities.
+She was so young, and inexperienced in the ways of society,
+that a small transgression against social laws appeared of
+little importance to a girl situated as she was.</p>
+
+<p>"Would the time immediately after dinner suit Mademoiselle,
+for Si Ma&iuml;eddine to pay his respects?"</p>
+
+<p>Victoria answered that she would be pleased to talk with
+Si Ma&iuml;eddine as soon as convenient to him, and Monsieur
+Constant hurried away to prepare his wife. While he was
+absent the Arab did not again look at Victoria, and she understood
+that this reserve arose from delicacy. Her heart began
+to beat, and she felt that the way to her sister might be opening
+at last. The fact that she did feel this, made her tell herself
+that it must be true. Instinct was not given for nothing!</p>
+
+<p>She thought, too, of Stephen Knight. He would be glad
+to-morrow, when meeting her at luncheon in his friend's house,
+to hear good news. Already she had been to see Jeanne Soubise,
+in the curiosity-shop, and had bought a string of amber
+prayer-beads. She had got an introduction to the Governor
+from the American Consul, whom she had visited before unpacking,
+lest the consular office should be closed for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>
+day; and she had obtained an appointment at the palace for
+the next morning; but all that was not much to tell Mr. Knight.
+It seemed to her that even in a few hours she ought to have
+accomplished more. Now, however, the key of the door
+which opened into the golden silence might be waiting for her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>In three or four minutes the landlord came back, and begged
+to show her his wife's <i>petit salon</i>. This time as she passed
+the Arab she bowed, and gave him a grateful smile. He
+rose, and stood with his head slightly bent until she had gone
+out, remaining in the dining-room until the landlord returned
+to say that he was expected by Mademoiselle.</p>
+
+<p>"Remember," Si Ma&iuml;eddine said in Arabic to the fat man,
+"everybody is to be discreet, now and later. I shall see that
+all are rewarded for obedience."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art considerate, even of the humblest," replied the
+half-breed, using the word "thou," as all Arabs use it. "Thy
+presence is an honour for my house, and all in it is thine."</p>
+
+<p>Si Ma&iuml;eddine&mdash;who had never been in the Hotel de la Kasbah
+before, and would not have considered it worthy of his
+patronage if he had not had an object in coming&mdash;allowed
+himself to be shown the door of Madame Constant's salon.
+On the threshold, the landlord retired, and the young man
+was hardly surprised to find, on entering, that Madame was
+not in the room.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria was there alone; but free from self-consciousness
+as she always was, she received Si Ma&iuml;eddine without embarrassment.
+She saw no reason to distrust him, just because
+he was an Arab.</p>
+
+<p>Now, how glad she was that she had learned Arabic! She
+began to speak diffidently at first, stammering and halting a
+little, because, though she could read the language well after
+nine years of constant study, only once had she spoken with
+an Arab;&mdash;a man in New York from whom she had had a
+few lessons. Having learned what she could of the accent from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>
+phrase-books, her way had been to talk to herself aloud. But
+the flash of surprised delight which lit up the dark face told
+her that Si Ma&iuml;eddine understood.</p>
+
+<p>"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "My best hope was that
+French might come easily to thy lips, as I have little English."</p>
+
+<p>"I have a sister married to one of thy countrymen," Victoria
+explained at once. "I do not know where she is living, and it
+is in finding out, that I need help. Even on the ship I wished
+to ask thee if thou hadst knowledge of her husband, but to
+speak then seemed impossible. It is a fortunate chance that
+thou shouldst have come to this hotel, for I think thou wilt do
+what thou canst for me." Then she went on and told him that
+her sister was the wife of Captain Cassim ben Halim, who
+had once lived in Algiers.</p>
+
+<p>Si Ma&iuml;eddine who had dropped his eyes as she spoke of the
+fortunate chance which had brought him to the hotel, listened
+thoughtfully and with keen attention to her story, asking no
+questions, yet showing his interest so plainly that Victoria
+was encouraged to go on.</p>
+
+<p>"Didst thou ever hear the name of Cassim ben Halim?"
+she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have heard it," the Arab replied. "I have friends
+who knew him. And I myself have seen Cassim ben Halim."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast seen him!" Victoria cried, clasping her hands
+tightly together. She longed to press them over her heart,
+which was like a bird beating its wings against the bars of a
+cage.</p>
+
+<p>"Long ago. I am much younger than he."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I see that," Victoria answered. "But thou knewest
+him! That is something. And my sister. Didst thou ever
+hear of her?"</p>
+
+<p>"We of the Mussulman faith do not speak of the wives of
+our friends, even when our friends are absent. Yet&mdash;I have
+a relative in Algiers who might know something, a lady who
+is no longer young. I will go to her to-night, and all that is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>
+in her heart she will tell me. She has lived long in Algiers;
+and always when I come, I pay her my respects. But, there
+is a favour I would beg in return for any help I can give, and
+will give gladly. I am supposed to be already on my way
+south, to finish a diplomatic mission, and, for reasons connected
+with the French government, I have had to make it appear that
+I started to-day with my servant. There is also a reason,
+connected with Si Cassim, which makes it important that
+nothing I may do should be known to thy European friends.
+It is for his sake especially that I ask thy silence; and whatsoever
+might bring harm to him&mdash;if he be still upon the earth&mdash;would
+also harm thy sister. Wilt thou give me thy word,
+O White Rose of another land, that thou wilt keep thine
+own counsel?"</p>
+
+<p>"I give thee my word&mdash;and with it my trust," said the
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I swear that I will not fail thee. And though until
+I have seen my cousin I cannot speak positively, yet I think
+what I can do will be more than any other could. Wilt thou
+hold thyself free of engagements with thy European friends,
+until I bring news?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have promised to lunch to-morrow with people who have
+been kind, but rather than risk a delay in hearing from thee, I
+will send word that I am prevented from going."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast the right spirit, and I thank thee for thy good
+faith. But it may be well not to send that message. Thy
+friends might think it strange, and suspect thee of hiding something.
+It is better to give no cause for questionings. Go
+then, to their house, but say nothing of having met me, or of
+any new hope in thine heart. Yet let the hope remain, and be
+to thee like the young moon that riseth over the desert, to
+show the weary traveller a rill of sweet water in an oasis of date
+palms. And now I will bid thee farewell, with a night of
+dreams in which thy dearest desires shall be fulfilled before
+thine eyes. I go to my cousin, on thy business."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Good night, Sidi. Henceforth my hope is in thee." Victoria
+held out her hand, and Si Ma&iuml;eddine clasped it, bowing
+with the courtesy of his race. He was nearer to her than he
+had been before, and she noticed a perfume which hung about
+his clothing, a perfume that seemed to her like the East, heavy
+and rich, suggestive of mystery and secret things. It brought
+to her mind what she had read about harems, and beautiful,
+languid women, yet it suited Si Ma&iuml;eddine's personality, and
+somehow did not make him seem effeminate.</p>
+
+<p>"See," he said, in the poetic language which became him as
+his embroidered clothes and the haunting perfume became
+him; "see, how thine hand lies in mine like a pearl that has
+dropped into the hollow of an autumn leaf. But praise be to
+Allah, autumn and I are yet far apart. I am in my summer,
+as thou, lady, art in thine early spring. And I vow that thou
+shalt never regret confiding thy hand to my hand, thy trust
+to my loyalty."</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, he released her fingers gently, and turning,
+went out of the room without another word or glance.</p>
+
+<p>When he had gone, Victoria stood still, looking at the door
+which Si Ma&iuml;eddine had shut noiselessly.</p>
+
+<p>If she had not lived during all the years since Saidee's last
+letter, in the hope of some such moment as this, she would
+have felt that she had come into a world of romance, as she
+listened to the man of the East, speaking the language of the
+East. But she had read too many Arabic tales and poems
+to find his speech strange. At school, her studies of her sister's
+adopted tongue had been confined to dry lesson-books, but
+when she had been free to choose her own literature, in New
+York and London, she had read more widely. People whom
+she had told of her sister's marriage, and her own mission, had
+sent her several rare volumes,&mdash;among others a valuable old
+copy of the Koran, and she had devoured them all, delighting
+in the facility which grew with practice. Now, it seemed quite
+simple to be talking with Sidi Ma&iuml;eddine ben el Hadj Mes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>saoud
+as she had talked. It was no more romantic or strange
+than all of life was romantic and strange. Rather did she feel
+that at last she was face to face with reality.</p>
+
+<p>"He <i>does</i> know something about Cassim," she said, half
+aloud, and searching her instinct, she still thought that she
+could trust him to keep faith with her. He was not playing.
+She believed that there was sincerity in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, when Victoria called at the Governor's
+palace, and heard that Captain Cassim ben Halim was supposed
+to have died in Constantinople, years ago, she was not
+cast down. "I know Si Ma&iuml;eddine doesn't think he's dead,"
+she told herself.</p>
+
+<p>There was a note for her at the hotel, and though the writer
+had addressed the envelope to "Mademoiselle Ray," in an
+educated French handwriting, the letter inside was written in
+beautiful Arab lettering, an intentionally flattering tribute to
+her accomplishment.</p>
+
+<p>Si Ma&iuml;eddine informed her that his hope had been justified,
+and that in conversation with his cousin his own surmises had
+been confirmed. A certain plan was suggested, which he
+wished to propose to Mademoiselle Ray, but as it would need
+some discussion, there was not time to bring it forward before
+the hour when she must go out to keep her engagement. On
+her return, however, he begged that she would see him, in
+the salon of Madame Constant, where she would find him
+waiting. Meanwhile, he ventured to remind her that for the
+present, secrecy was even more necessary than he had at first
+supposed; he would be able to explain why, fully and satisfactorily,
+when they met in the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>With this appointment to look forward to, it was natural
+that Victoria should excuse herself to Lady MacGregor earlier
+than most people cared to leave Djenan el Djouad. The girl
+was more excited than she had ever been in her life, and it was
+only by the greatest self-control that she kept&mdash;or believed that
+she kept&mdash;her manner as usual, while with Stephen in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>
+white garden of lilies. She was happy, because she saw her
+feet already upon the path which would lead through the golden
+silence to her sister; but there was a drawback to her happiness&mdash;a
+fly in the amber, as in one of the prayer-beads she
+had bought of Jeanne Soubise: her secret had to be kept from
+the man of whom she thought as a very staunch friend. She
+felt guilty in talking with Stephen Knight, and accepting his
+sympathy as if she were hiding nothing from him; but she must
+be true to her promise, and Si Ma&iuml;eddine had the right to exact
+it, though of course Mr. Knight might have been excepted,
+if only Si Ma&iuml;eddine knew how loyal he was. But Si Ma&iuml;eddine
+did not know, and she could not explain. It was consoling
+to think of the time when Stephen might be told everything;
+and she wished almost unconsciously that it was his help which
+she had to rely upon now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>True to his word, Si Ma&iuml;eddine was waiting in Madame
+Constant's hideous sitting-room, when Victoria
+returned to the hotel from Djenan el Djouad.</p>
+
+<p>To-day he had changed his grey bournous for
+a white one, and all his clothing was white, embroidered with
+silver.</p>
+
+<p>"It is written," he began in Arabic, as he rose to welcome
+the girl, "that the messenger who brings good tidings shall
+come in white. Now thou art prepared for happiness. Thou
+also hast chosen white; but even in black, thy presence would
+bring a blessing, O Rose of the West."</p>
+
+<p>The colour of the rose stained Victoria's cheeks, and Si
+Ma&iuml;eddine's eyes were warm as he looked at her. When she
+had given him her hand, he kissed his own, after touching it.
+"Be not alarmed, or think that I take a liberty, for it is but a
+custom of my people, in showing respect to man or woman,"
+he explained. "Thou hast not forgotten thy promise of
+silence?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I spoke not a word of thee, nor of the hope thou gavest
+me last night," Victoria answered.</p>
+
+<p>"It is well," he said. "Then I will keep nothing back
+from thee."</p>
+
+<p>They sat down, Victoria on a repulsive sofa of scarlet plush,
+the Arab on a chair equally offensive in design and colour.</p>
+
+<p>"Into the life of thy brother-in-law, there came a great
+trouble," he said. "It befell after the days when he was
+known by thee and thy sister in Paris. Do not ask what it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>
+was, for it would grieve me to refuse a request of thine.
+Shouldst thou ever hear this thing, it will not be from my lips.
+But this I will say&mdash;though I have friends among the French,
+and am loyal to their salt which I have eaten, and I think their
+country great&mdash;France was cruel to Ben Halim. Were not
+Allah above all, his life might have been broken, but it was
+written that, after a time of humiliation, a chance to win honour
+and glory such as he had never known, should be put in his
+way. In order to take this blessing and use it for his own
+profit and that of others, it was necessary that Ben Halim&mdash;son
+of a warrior of the old fighting days, when nomads of high
+birth were as kings in the Sahara, himself lately a captain of
+the Spahis, admired by women, envied of men&mdash;it was necessary
+that he should die to the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Then he is not really dead!" cried Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>The face of Si Ma&iuml;eddine changed, and wore that look which
+already the girl had remarked in Arab men she had passed
+among French crowds: a look as if a door had shut behind the
+bright, open eyes; as if the soul were suddenly closed.</p>
+
+<p>"Thy brother-in-law was living when last I heard of him,"
+Ma&iuml;eddine answered, slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"And my sister?"</p>
+
+<p>"My cousin told me last night that Lella Sa&iuml;da was in good
+health some months ago when news came of her from a friend."</p>
+
+<p>"They call her Sa&iuml;da!" murmured the girl, half sadly; for
+that Saidee should tolerate such a change of name, seemed to
+signify some subtle alteration in her spirit. But she knew that
+"Lella" meant "Madame" in Arab society.</p>
+
+<p>"It is my cousin who spoke of the lady by that name. As
+for me, it is impossible that I should know anything of her.
+Thou wishest above all things to see thy sister?"</p>
+
+<p>"Above all things. For more than nine years it has been
+the one great wish of my life to go to her."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a long journey. Thou wouldst have to go far&mdash;very
+far."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What would it matter, if it were to the end of the world?"</p>
+
+<p>"As well try to reach the place where she is, as though it
+were beyond where the world ends, unless thou wert guided
+by one who knew the way."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria looked the Arab full in the face. "I have always
+been sure that God would lead me there, one day, soon or late,"
+she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Thy God is my God, and Mohammed is his Prophet, as
+thy Christ was also among his Prophets. It is as thou sayest;
+Allah wills that thou shouldst make this journey, for He has
+sent me into thy life at the moment of thy need. I can take thee
+to thy sister's house, if thou wilt trust thyself to me. Not alone&mdash;I
+would not ask that. My cousin will take care of thee. She
+has her own reason for going on this great journey, a reason
+which in its way is as strong as thine, for it concerns her life
+or death. She is a noble lady of my race, who should be a
+Princess of Touggourt, for her grandfather was Sultan before
+the French conquered those warlike men of the desert, far
+south where Touggourt lies. Lella M'Barka Bent Djellab
+hears the voice of the Angel Azra&iuml;l in her ears, yet her spirit
+is strong, and she believes it is written in the Book that she shall
+reach the end of her journey. This is the plan she and I have
+made; that thou leave the hotel to-day, towards evening, and
+drive (in a carriage which she will send)&mdash;to her house, where
+thou wilt spend the night. Early in the morning of to-morrow
+she can be ready to go, taking thee with her. I shall guard thee,
+and we shall have an escort which she and I will provide. Dost
+thou consent? Because if the idea pleases thee, there are many
+arrangements which must be made quickly. And I myself
+will take all trouble from thy shoulders in the matter of leaving
+the hotel. I am known and well thought of in Algiers and
+even the landlord here, as thou hast seen, has me in consideration,
+because my name is not strange to him. Thou needst not
+fear misconstruction of thine actions, by any one who is
+here."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Si Ma&iuml;eddine added these arguments, seeing perhaps that
+Victoria hesitated before answering his question.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art generous, and I have no fear," she said at last,
+with a faint emphasis which he could read as he chose. "But,
+since thou hast my word to be silent, surely thou wilt tell me
+where lies the end of the journey we must take?"</p>
+
+<p>"Even so, I cannot tell thee," Si Ma&iuml;eddine replied with
+decision which Victoria felt to be unalterable. "It is not
+for lack of trust in thee, O Rose, but for a reason which is not
+mine to explain. All I can do is to pledge my honour, and the
+honour of a princess, to conduct thee loyally to the house of thy
+sister's husband. If thou goest, it must be in the dress of an
+Arab lady, veiled from eyes which might spy upon thee; and
+so thou wilt be safe under the protection of my cousin."</p>
+
+<p>"My thanks to thee and to her&mdash;I will go," Victoria said,
+after a moment's pause.</p>
+
+<p>She was sure that Stephen Knight and his friend would prevent
+her from leaving Algiers with strangers, above all, in the
+company of Arabs, if they could know what was in her mind.
+But they were unjustly prejudiced, she thought. Her brother-in-law
+was of Arab blood, therefore she could not afford to have
+such prejudices, even if she were so inclined; and she must not
+hesitate before such a chance as Si Ma&iuml;eddine offered.</p>
+
+<p>The great difficulty she had experienced in learning anything
+about Ben Halim made it easy for her to believe that she could
+reach her sister's husband only through people of his own race,
+who knew his secrets. She was ready to agree with Si Ma&iuml;eddine
+that his God and her God had sent him at the right moment,
+and she would not let that moment pass her by.</p>
+
+<p>Others might say that she was wildly imprudent, that she
+was deliberately walking into danger; but she was not afraid.
+Always she trusted to her star, and now it had brought her to
+Algiers, she would not weaken in that trust. Common sense,
+in which one side of the girl's nature was not lacking, told her
+that this Arab might be deceiving her, that he might know no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>
+more of Ben Halim than she herself had told him yesterday;
+but she felt that he had spoken the truth, and feelings were
+more to her than common sense. She would go to the house
+which Si Ma&iuml;eddine said was the house of his cousin, and if
+there she found reason to doubt him, she had faith that even
+then no evil would be allowed to touch her.</p>
+
+<p>At seven o'clock, Si Ma&iuml;eddine said, Lella M'Barka would
+send a carriage. It would then be twilight, and as most people
+were in their homes by that hour, nobody would be likely to see
+her leave the hotel. The shutters of the carriage would be
+closed, according to the custom of Arab ladies, and on entering
+the vehicle Victoria would find a negress, a servant of Lella
+M'Barka Bent Djellab. This woman would dress her in a
+gandourah and a ha&iuml;ck, while they were on their way to the
+house of Victoria's hostess, and on stepping out she would have
+the appearance of a lady of Algiers. Thus all trace of her
+would be lost, as one Arab carriage was exactly like another.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, there would be time to pack, and write a letter
+which Victoria was determined to write. To satisfy Si Ma&iuml;eddine
+that she would not be indiscreet in any admission or allusion,
+she suggested translating for him every word she wrote
+into French or Arabic; but he refused this offer with dignity.
+She trusted him. He trusted her also. But he himself would
+post the letter at an hour too late for it to be delivered while
+she was still in Algiers.</p>
+
+<p>It was arranged that she should carry only hand-bags, as
+it would be too conspicuous to load and unload boxes. Her
+large luggage could be stored at the hotel until she returned or
+sent, and as Lella M'Barka intended to offer her an outfit
+suitable to a young Arab girl of noble birth, she need take from
+the hotel only her toilet things.</p>
+
+<p>So it was that Victoria wrote to Stephen Knight, and was
+ready for the second stage of what seemed the one great adventure
+to which her whole life had been leading up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h2>
+
+
+<p>Victoria did not wait in her room to be told that
+the carriage had come to take her away. It was
+better, Si Ma&iuml;eddine had said, that only a few
+people should know the exact manner of her going.
+A few minutes before seven, therefore, she went down to
+the entrance-hall of the hotel, which was not yet lighted. Her
+appearance was a signal for the Arab porter, who was waiting,
+to run softly upstairs and return with her hand luggage.</p>
+
+<p>For some moments Victoria stood near the door, interesting
+herself in a map of Algeria which hung on the wall. A clock
+began to strike as her eyes wandered over the desert, and was on
+the last stroke of seven, when a carriage drove up. It was
+drawn by two handsome brown mules with leather and copper
+harness which matched the colour of their shining coats, and
+was driven by a heavy, smooth-faced Negro in a white turban
+and an embroidered cafetan of dark blue. The carriage
+windows were shuttered, and as the black coachman pulled up
+his mules, he looked neither to the right nor to the left. It
+was the hotel porter who opened the door, and as Victoria
+stepped in without delay, he thrust two hand-bags after her,
+snapping the door sharply.</p>
+
+<p>It was almost dark inside the carriage, but she could see a
+white figure, which in the dimness had neither face nor definite
+shape; and there was a perfume as of aromatic amulets
+grown warm on a human body.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon, lady, I am Hsina, the servant of Lella M'Barka
+Bent Djellab, sent to wait upon thee," spoke a soft and guttural
+voice, in Arabic. "Blessings be upon thee!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And upon thee blessings," Victoria responded in the Arab
+fashion which she had learned while many miles of land and
+sea lay between her and the country of Islam. "I was told to
+expect thee."</p>
+
+<p>"E&iuml;houa!" cried the woman, "The little pink rose has the
+gift of tongues!" As she grew accustomed to the twilight,
+Victoria made out a black face, and white teeth framed in a
+large smile. A pair of dark eyes glittered with delight as the
+Roumia answered in Arabic, although Arabic was not the
+language of the negress's own people. She chattered as she
+helped Victoria into a plain white gandourah. The white
+hat and hat-pins amused her, and when she had arranged the
+voluminous ha&iuml;ck in spite of the joltings of the carriage, she
+examined these European curiosities with interest. Whenever
+she moved, the warm perfume of amulets grew stronger,
+overpowering the faint mustiness of the cushions and upholstery.</p>
+
+<p>"Never have I held such things in my hands!" Hsina gurgled.
+"Yet often have I wished that I might touch them, when
+driving with my mistress and peeping at the passers by, and
+the strange finery of foreign women in the French bazaars."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria listened politely, answering if necessary; yet her
+interest was concentrated in peering through the slits in the
+wooden shutter of the nearest window. She did not know
+Algiers well enough to recognize landmarks; but after driving
+for what seemed like fifteen or twenty minutes through
+streets where lights began to turn the twilight blue, she caught
+a glint of the sea. Almost immediately the trotting mules
+stopped, and the negress Hsina, hiding Victoria's hat in the
+folds of her ha&iuml;ck, turned the handle of the door.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria looked out into azure dusk, and after the closeness
+of the shuttered carriage, thankfully drew in a breath of salt-laden
+air. One quick glance showed her a street near the sea,
+on a level not much above the gleaming water. There were high
+walls, evidently very old, hiding Arab mansions once im<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>portant,
+and there were other ancient dwellings, which had been
+partly transformed for business or military uses by the French.
+The girl's hasty impression was of a melancholy neighbourhood
+which had been rich and stately long ago in old pirate days,
+perhaps.</p>
+
+<p>There was only time for a glance to right and left before a
+nailed door opened in the flatness of a whitewashed wall which
+was the front of an Arab house. No light shone out, but the
+opening of the door proved that some one had been listening
+for the sound of carriage wheels.</p>
+
+<p>"Descend, lady. I will follow with thy baggage," said
+Hsina.</p>
+
+<p>The girl obeyed, but she was suddenly conscious of a qualm
+as she had to turn from the blue twilight, to pass behind that
+half-open door into darkness, and the mystery of unknown
+things.</p>
+
+<p>Before she had time to put her foot to the ground the door
+was thrown wide open, and two stout Negroes dressed exactly
+alike in flowing white burnouses stepped out of the
+house to stand on either side the carriage door. Raising
+their arms as high as their heads they made two white walls
+of their long cloaks between which Victoria could pass, as if
+enclosed in a narrow aisle. Hsina came close upon her heels;
+and as they reached the threshold of the house the white-robed
+black servants dropped their arms, followed the two
+women, and shut the nailed door. Then, despite the dimness
+of the place, they bowed their heads turning aside as if
+humbly to make it evident that their unworthy eyes did not
+venture to rest upon the veiled form of their mistress's guest.
+As for Hsina, she, too, was veiled, though her age and ugliness
+would have permitted her face to be revealed without offence
+to Mussulman ideas of propriety. It was mere vanity on
+her part to preserve the mystery as dear to the heart of the
+Moslem woman as to the jealous prejudice of the man.</p>
+
+<p>A faint glittering of the walls told Victoria that the corridor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>
+she had entered was lined with tiles; and she could dimly
+see seats let in like low shelves along its length, on either side.
+It was but a short passage, with a turn into a second still shorter.
+At the end of this hung a dark curtain, which Hsina
+lifted for Victoria to pass on, round another turn into a wider
+hall, lit by an Arab lamp with glass panes framed in delicately
+carved copper. The chain which suspended it from cedar
+beams swayed slightly, causing the light to move from colour to
+colour of the old tiles, and to strike out gleams from the marble
+floor and ivory-like pillars set into the walls. The end of this
+corridor also was masked by a curtain of wool, dyed and
+woven by the hands of nomad tribes, tent-dwellers in the
+desert; and when Hsina had lifted it, Victoria saw a small
+square court with a fountain in the centre.</p>
+
+<p>It was not on a grand scale, like those in the palace owned by
+Nevill Caird; but the fountain was graceful and charming,
+ornamented with the carved, bursting pomegranates beloved
+by the Moors of Granada, and the marble columns which
+supported a projecting balcony were wreathed with red roses
+and honeysuckle.</p>
+
+<p>On each of the four sides of the quadrangle, paved with
+black and white marble, there were little windows, and large
+glass doors draped on the inside with curtains thin enough
+to show faint pink and golden lights.</p>
+
+<p>"O my mistress, Lella M'Barka, I have brought thy guest!"
+cried Hsina, in a loud, sing-song voice, as if she were chanting;
+whereupon one of the glass doors opened, letting out a rosy
+radiance, and a Bedouin woman-servant dressed in a striped
+foutah appeared on the threshold. She was old, with crinkled
+grey hair under a scarlet handkerchief, and a blue cross was
+tattooed between her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"In the name of Lella M'Barka be thou welcome," she
+said. "My mistress has been suffering all day, and fears to
+rise, lest her strength fail for to-morrow's journey, or she would
+come forth to meet thee, O Flower of the West! As it is,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>
+she begs that thou wilt come to her. But first suffer me to
+remove thy ha&iuml;ck, that the eyes of Lella M'Barka may be
+refreshed by thy beauty."</p>
+
+<p>She would have unfastened the long drapery, but Hsina put
+down Victoria's luggage, and pushing away the two brown
+hands, tattooed with blue mittens, she herself unfastened
+the veil. "No, this is <i>my</i> lady, and my work, Fafann," she
+objected.</p>
+
+<p>"But it is my duty to take her in," replied the Bedouin
+woman, jealously. "It is the wish of Lella M'Barka. Go
+thou and make ready the room of the guest."</p>
+
+<p>Hsina flounced away across the court, and Fafann held
+open both the door and the curtains. Victoria obeyed her
+gesture and went into the room beyond. It was long and
+narrow, with a ceiling of carved wood painted in colours which
+had once been violent, but were now faded. The walls were
+partly covered with hangings like the curtains that shaded the
+glass door; but, on one side, between gold-embroidered crimson
+draperies, were windows, and in the white stucco above,
+showed lace-like openings, patterned to represent peacocks,
+the tails jewelled with glass of different colours. On the opposite
+side opened doors of dark wood inlaid with mother-o'-pearl;
+and these stood ajar, revealing rows of shelves littered
+with little gilded bottles, or piled with beautiful brocades
+that were shot with gold in the pink light of an Arab lamp.</p>
+
+<p>There was little furniture; only a few low, round tables,
+or maidas, completely overlaid with the snow of mother-o'-pearl;
+two or three tabourets of the same material, and, at one
+end of the room a low divan, where something white and
+orange-yellow and purple lay half buried in cushions.</p>
+
+<p>Though the light was dim, Victoria could see as she went
+nearer a thin face the colour of pale amber, and a pair of immense
+dark eyes that glittered in deep hollows. A thin woman
+of more than middle age, with black hair, silver-streaked, moved
+slightly and held out an emaciated hand heavy with rings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>
+Her head was tied round with a silk handkerchief or takrita of
+pansy purple; she wore seroual, full trousers of soft white silk,
+and under a gold-threaded orange-coloured jacket or rlila,
+a blouse of lilac gauze, covered with sequins and open at the
+neck. On the bony arm which she held out to Victoria hung
+many bracelets, golden serpents of Djebbel Amour, and
+pearls braided with gold wire and coral beads. Her great
+eyes, ringed with kohl, had a tortured look, and there were
+hollows under the high cheek-bones. If she had ever been
+handsome, all beauty of flesh had now been drained away
+by suffering; yet stricken as she was there remained an
+almost indefinable distinction, an air of supreme pride befitting
+a princess of the Sahara.</p>
+
+<p>Her scorching fingers pressed Victoria's hand, as she gazed
+up at the girl's face with hungry curiosity and interest such
+as the Spirit of Death might feel in looking at the Spirit of
+Life.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art fresh and fair, O daughter, as a lily bud opening
+in the spray of a fountain, and radiant as sunrise shining on
+a desert lake," she said in a weary voice, slightly hoarse, yet
+with some flutelike notes. "My cousin spoke but truth of thee.
+Thou art worthy of a reward at the end of that long journey
+we shall take together, thou, and he, and I. I have never
+seen thy sister whom thou seekest, but I have friends, who
+knew her in other days. For her sake and thine own, kiss
+me on my cheeks, for with women of my race, it is the seal
+of friendship."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria bent and touched the faded face under each of the
+great burning eyes. The perfume of <i>ambre</i>, loved in the
+East, came up to her nostrils, and the invalid's breath was
+aflame.</p>
+
+<p>"Art thou strong enough for a journey, Lella M'Barka?"
+the girl asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Not in my own strength, but in that which Allah will give
+me, I shall be strong," the sick woman answered with controlled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>
+passion. "Ever since I knew that I could not hope to reach
+Mecca, and kiss the sacred black stone, or pray in the Mosque
+of the holy Lella Fatima, I have wished to visit a certain great
+marabout in the south. The pity of Allah for a daughter who
+is weak will permit the blessing of this marabout, who has
+inherited the inestimable gift of Baraka, to be the same to me,
+body and soul, as the pilgrimage to Mecca which is beyond the
+power of my flesh. Another must say for me the Fatakah
+there. I believe that I shall be healed, and have vowed to
+give a great feast if I return to Algiers, in celebration of the
+miracle. Had it not been for my cousin's wish that I should
+go with thee, I should not have felt that the hour had come
+when I might face the ordeal of such a journey to the far
+south. But the prayer of Si Ma&iuml;eddine, who, after his father,
+is the last man left of his line, has kindled in my veins a fire
+which I thought had burnt out forever. Have no fear, daughter.
+I shall be ready to start at dawn to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Does the marabout who has the gift of Baraka live near
+the place where I must go to find my sister?" Victoria inquired,
+rather timidly; for she did not know how far she might
+venture to question Si Ma&iuml;eddine's cousin.</p>
+
+<p>Lella M'Barka looked at her suddenly and strangely. Then
+her face settled into a sphinx-like expression, as if she had been
+turned to stone. "I shall be thy companion to the end of
+thy journey," she answered in a dull, tired tone. "Wilt thou
+visit thy room now, or wilt thou remain with me until Fafann
+and Hsina bring thy evening meal? I hope that thou wilt sup
+here by my side: yet if it pains thee to take food near one in
+ill health, who does not eat, speak, and thou shalt be served in
+another place."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria hastened to protest that she would prefer to eat
+in the company of her hostess, which seemed to please Lella
+M'Barka. She began to ask the girl questions about herself,
+complimenting her upon her knowledge of Arabic; and Victoria
+answered, though only half her brain seemed to be listen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>ing.
+She was glad that she had trusted Si Ma&iuml;eddine, and
+she felt safe in the house of his cousin; but now that she was
+removed from European influences, she could not see why
+the mystery concerning Ben Halim and the journey which
+would lead to his house, should be kept up. She had read
+enough books about Arab customs and superstitions to know
+that there are few saints believed to possess the gift of Baraka,
+the power given by Allah for the curing of all fleshly ills. Only
+the very greatest of the marabouts are supposed to have
+this power, receiving it direct from Allah, or inheriting it from
+a pious saint&mdash;father or more distant relative&mdash;who handed
+down the maraboutship. Therefore, if she had time and
+inclination, she could probably learn from any devout Mussulman
+the abiding places of all such famous saints as remained
+upon the earth. In that way, by setting her wits
+to work, she might guess the secret if Si Ma&iuml;eddine still tried
+to make a mystery of their destination. But, somehow, she
+felt that it would not be fair to seek information which he did not
+want her to have. She must go on trusting him, and by and
+by he would tell her all she wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>Lella M'Barka had invited her guest to sit on cushions
+beside the divan where she lay, and the interest in her feverish
+eyes, which seldom left Victoria's face, was so intense as
+to embarrass the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast wondrous hair," she said, "and when it is unbound
+it must be a fountain of living gold. Is it some kind
+of henna grown in thy country, which dyes it that beautiful
+colour?"</p>
+
+<p>Victoria told her that Nature alone was the dyer.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art not yet affianced; that is well," murmured the
+invalid. "Our young girls have their hair tinted with henna
+when they are betrothed, that they may be more fair in the
+eyes of their husbands. But thou couldst scarcely be lovelier
+than thou art; for thy skin is of pearl, though there is no paint
+upon it, and thy lips are pink as rose petals. Yet a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>
+messouak to make them scarlet, like coral, and kohl to give
+thine eyes lustre would add to thy brilliancy. Also the hand
+of woman reddened with henna is as a brazier of rosy flame
+to kindle the heart of a lover. When thou seest thy sister,
+thou wilt surely find that she has made herself mistress of
+these arts, and many more."</p>
+
+<p>"Canst thou tell me nothing of her, Lella M'Barka?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, save that I have a friend who has said she was
+fair. And it is not many moons since I heard that she was
+blessed with health."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she happy?" Victoria was tempted to persist.</p>
+
+<p>"She should be happy. She is a fortunate woman. Would
+I could tell thee more, but I live the life of a mole in these
+days, and have little knowledge. Thou wilt see her with thine
+own eyes before long, I have no doubt. And now comes
+food which my women have prepared for thee. In my house,
+all are people of the desert, and we keep the desert customs,
+since my husband has been gathered to his fathers&mdash;my husband,
+to whose house in Algiers I came as a bride from the
+Sahara. Such a meal as thou wilt eat to-night, mayst thou eat
+often with a blessing, in the country of the sun."</p>
+
+<p>Fafann, who had softly left the room when the guest had
+been introduced, now came back, with great tinkling of khal-khal,
+and mnaguach, the huge earrings which hung so low
+as to strike the silver beads twisted round her throat. She
+was smiling, and pleasantly excited at the presence of a visitor
+whose arrival broke the tiresome monotony of an invalid's
+household. When she had set one of the pearly maidas in
+front of Victoria's seat of cushions, she held back the curtains
+for Hsina to enter, carrying a copper tray. This the negress
+placed on the maida, and uncovered a china bowl balanced
+in a silver stand, like a giant coffee cup of Moorish fashion.
+It contained hot soup, called cheurba, in which Hsina had put
+so much fell-fell, the red pepper loved by Arabs, that Victoria's
+lips were burned. But it was good, and she would not wince<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>
+though the tears stung her eyes as she drank, for Lella
+M'Barka and the two servants were watching her eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Afterwards came a kouskous of chicken and farina, which she
+ate with a large spoon whose bowl was of tortoiseshell, the
+handle of ivory tipped with coral. Then, when the girl hoped
+there might be nothing more, appeared tadjine, a ragout of
+mutton with artichokes and peas, followed by a rich preserve of
+melon, and many elaborate cakes iced with pink and purple
+sugar, and powdered with little gold sequins that had to be
+picked off as the cake was eaten. At last, there was thick,
+sweet coffee, in a cup like a little egg-shell supported in filigree
+gold (for no Mussulman may touch lip to metal), and at the
+end Fafann poured rosewater over Victoria's fingers, wiping
+them on a napkin of fine damask.</p>
+
+<p>"Now thou hast eaten and drunk, thou must allow thyself
+to be dressed by my women in the garments of an Arab
+maiden of high birth, which I have ready for thee," said Lella
+M'Barka, brightening with the eagerness of a little child at
+the prospect of dressing a beautiful new doll. "Fafann shall
+bring everything here, and thou shalt be told how to robe thyself
+afterwards. I wish to see that all is right, for to-morrow
+morning thou must arise while it is still dark, that we may
+start with the first dawn."</p>
+
+<p>Fafann and Hsina had forgotten their jealousies in the
+delight of the new play. They moved about, laughing and
+chattering, and were not chidden for the noise they made.
+From shelves behind the inlaid doors in the wall, they took
+down exquisite boxes of mother-o'-pearl and red tortoiseshell.
+Also there were small bundles wrapped in gold brocade, and
+tied round with bright green cord. These were all laid on a
+dim-coloured Kairouan rug, at the side of the divan, and the
+two women squatted on the floor to open them, while their
+mistress leaned on her thin elbow among cushions, and skins
+of golden jackal from the Sahara.</p>
+
+<p>From one box came wide trousers of white silk, like Lella<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>
+M'Barka's; from another, vests of satin and velvet of pale
+shades embroidered with gold or silver. A fat parcel contained
+delicately tinted stockings and high-heeled slippers
+of different sizes. A second bundle contained blouses of thin
+silk and gauze, and in a pearl box were pretty little chechias
+of sequined velvet, caps so small as to fit the head closely;
+and besides these, there were sashes and gandourahs, and
+ha&iuml;cks white and fleecy, woven from the softest wool.</p>
+
+<p>When everything was well displayed, the Bedouin and the
+negress sprang up, lithe as leopards, and to Victoria's surprise
+began to undress her.</p>
+
+<p>"Please let me do it myself!" she protested, but they did
+not listen or understand, chattering her into silence, as if
+they had been lively though elderly monkeys. Giggling
+over the hooks and buttons which were comical to them, they
+turned and twisted her between their hands, fumbling at
+neck and waist with black fingers, and brown fingers tattooed
+blue, until she, too, began to laugh. She laughed herself into
+helplessness, and encouraged by her wild merriment, and
+Lella M'Barka's smiles and exclamations punctuated with
+fits of coughing, they set to work at pulling out hairpins, and
+the tortoise-shell combs that kept the Roumia's red gold waves
+in place. At last down tumbled the thick curly locks which
+Stephen Knight had thought so beautiful when they flowed
+round her shoulders in the Dance of the Shadow.</p>
+
+<p>The invalid made her kneel, just as she was in her petticoat,
+in order to pass long, ringed fingers through the soft masses,
+and lift them up for the pleasure of letting them fall. When
+the golden veil, as Lella M'Barka called it, had been praised
+and admired over and over again, the order was given to braid
+it in two long plaits, leaving the ends to curl as they would.
+Then, the game of dressing the doll could begin, but first the
+embroidered petticoat of batiste with blue ribbons at the top
+of its flounce, and the simple pretty little stays had to be examined
+with keen interest. Nothing like these things had ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>
+been seen by mistress or servants, except in occasional peeps
+through shuttered carriage windows when passing French shops:
+for Lella M'Barka Bent Djellab, daughter of Princes of
+Touggourt, was what young Arabs call "vieux turban." She
+was old-fashioned in her ideas, would have no European
+furniture or decorations, and until to-night had never consented
+to know a Roumia, much less receive one into her house. She
+had felt that she was making a great concession in granting
+her cousin's request, but she had forgotten her sense of condescension
+in entertaining an unveiled girl, a Christian, now
+that she saw what the girl was like. She was too old and
+lonely to be jealous of Victoria's beauty; and as Si Ma&iuml;eddine,
+her favourite cousin, deigned to admire this young foreigner,
+Lella M'Barka took an unselfish pride in each of the American
+girl's charms.</p>
+
+<p>When she was dressed to all outward appearances precisely
+like the daughter of a high-born Arab family, Fafann
+brought a mirror framed in mother-o'-pearl, and Victoria
+could not help admiring herself a little. She wished half unconsciously
+that Stephen Knight could see her, with hair
+looped in two great shining braids on either side her face,
+under the sequined chechia of sapphire velvet; and then she
+was ashamed of her own vanity.</p>
+
+<p>Having been dressed, she was obliged to prove, before the
+three women would be satisfied, that she understood how each
+garment ought to be arranged; and later she had to try on a
+new gandourah, with a white burnouse such as women wear,
+and the ha&iuml;ck she had worn in coming to the house. Hsina
+would help her in the morning, she was told, but it would be
+better that she should know how to do things properly for
+herself, since only Fafann would be with them on the journey,
+and she might sometimes be busy with Lella M'Barka when
+Victoria was dressing.</p>
+
+<p>The excitement of adorning the beautiful doll had tired the
+invalid. The dark lines under her eyes were very blue, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>
+the flesh of her face seemed to hang loose, making her look
+piteously haggard. She offered but feeble objections when her
+guest proposed to say good night, and after a few more compliments
+and blessings, Victoria was able to slip away, escorted
+by the negress.</p>
+
+<p>The room where she was to sleep was on another side of
+the court from that of Lella M'Barka, but Hsina took great
+pains to assure her that there was nothing to fear. No one
+could come into this court; and she&mdash;Hsina&mdash;slept near by
+with Fafann. To clap the hands once would be to bring one
+of them instantly. And Hsina would wake her before dawn.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria's long, narrow sleeping room had the bed across one
+end, in Arab fashion. It was placed in an alcove and built into
+the wall, with pillars in front, of gilded wood, and yellow
+brocaded curtains of a curious, Oriental design. At the opposite
+end of the room stood a large cupboard, like a buffet,
+beautifully inlaid with mother-o'-pearl, and along the length
+of the room ran shelves neatly piled with bright-coloured bed-clothing,
+or ferrachiyas. Above these shelves texts from the
+Koran were exquisitely illuminated in red, blue and gold, like a
+frieze; and there were tinselled pictures of relatives of the
+Prophet, and of Mohammed's Angel-horse, Borak. The floor
+was covered with soft, dark-coloured rugs; and on a square of
+white linen was a huge copper basin full of water, with folded
+towels laid beside it.</p>
+
+<p>The bed was not uncomfortable, but Victoria could not sleep.
+She did not even wish to sleep. It was too wonderful to think
+that to-morrow she would be on her way to Saidee.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h2>
+
+
+<p>Before morning light, Si Ma&iuml;eddine was in his
+cousin's house. Hsina had not yet called Victoria,
+but Lella M'Barka was up and dressed,
+ready to receive Ma&iuml;eddine in the room where she
+had entertained the Roumia girl last night. Being a near
+relation, Si Ma&iuml;eddine was allowed to see Lella M'Barka
+unveiled; and even in the pink and gold light of the hanging
+lamps, she was ghastly under her paint. The young man was
+struck with her martyred look, and pitied her; but stronger than
+his pity was the fear that she might fail him&mdash;if not to-day,
+before the journey's end. She would have to undergo a strain
+terrible for an invalid, and he could spare her much of this if
+he chose; but he would not choose, though he was fond of his
+cousin, and grateful in a way. To spare her would mean the
+risk of failure for him.</p>
+
+<p>Each called down salutations and peace upon the head of
+the other, and Lella M'Barka asked Ma&iuml;eddine if he would
+drink coffee. He thanked her, but had already taken coffee.
+And she? All her strength would be needed. She must not
+neglect to sustain herself now that everything depended upon
+her health.</p>
+
+<p>"My health!" she echoed, with a sigh, and a gesture of something
+like despair. "O my cousin, if thou knewest how I suffer,
+how I dread what lies before me, thou wouldst in mercy
+change thy plans even now. Thou wouldst go the short
+way to the end of our journey. Think of the difference to me!
+A week or eight days of travel at most, instead of three weeks,
+or more if I falter by the way, and thou art forced to wait."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine's face hardened under her imploring eyes, but he
+answered with gentleness, "Thou knowest, my kind friend
+and cousin, that I would give my blood to save thee suffering,
+but it is more than my blood that thou askest now. It is my
+heart, for my heart is in this journey and what I hope from it,
+as I told thee yesterday. We discussed it all, thou and I,
+between us. Thou hast loved, and I made thee understand
+something of what I feel for this girl, whose beauty, as thou
+hast seen, is that of the houris in Paradise. Never have I
+found her like; and it may be I care more because of the
+obstacles which stand high as a wall between me and her.
+Because of the man who is her sister's husband, I must not
+fail in respect, or even seem to fail. I cannot take her and ride
+away, as I might with a maiden humbly placed, trusting to
+make her happy after she was mine. My winning must be
+done first, as is the way of the Roumis, and she will be hard
+to win. Already she feels that one of my race has stolen and
+hidden her sister; for this, in her heart, she fears and half distrusts
+all Arabs. A week would give me no time to capture
+her love, and when the journey is over it will be too late. Then,
+at best, I can see little of her, even if she be allowed to keep
+something of her European freedom. It is from this journey
+together&mdash;the long, long journey&mdash;that I hope everything.
+No pains shall be spared. No luxury shall she lack even on the
+hardest stretches of the way. She shall know that she owes
+all to my thought and care. In three weeks I can pull down
+that high wall between us. She will have learned to
+depend on me, to need me, to long for me when I am out
+of her sight, as the gazelle longs for a fountain of sweet
+water."</p>
+
+<p>"Poet and dreamer thou hast become, Ma&iuml;eddine," said
+Lella M'Barka with a tired smile.</p>
+
+<p>"I have become a lover. That means both and more.
+My heart is set on success with this girl: and yesterday thou
+didst promise to help. In return, I offered thee a present that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>
+is like the gift of new life to a woman, the amulet my father's
+dead brother rubbed on the sacred Black Stone at Mecca,
+touched by the foot of the Prophet. I assured thee that at the
+end of our journey I would persuade the marabout to make
+the amulet as potent for good to thee as the Black Stone itself,
+against which thou canst never cool the fever in thy forehead.
+Then, when he has used his power, and thou hast pressed the
+amulet on thy brows, thou mayst read the destiny of men and
+women written between their eyes, as a sand-diviner reads fate
+in the sands. Thou wilt become in thine own right a marabouta,
+and be sure of Heaven when thou diest. This blessing
+the marabout will give, not for thy sake, but for mine, because
+I will do for him certain things which he has long desired, and
+so far I have never consented to undertake. Thou wilt gain
+greatly through keeping thy word to me. Believing in thy
+courage and good faith, I have made all arrangements for the
+journey. Not once last night did I close my eyes in sleep.
+There was not a moment to rest, for I had many telegrams
+to send, and letters to write, asking my friends along the different
+stages of the way, after we have left the train, to lend me
+relays of mules or horses. I have had to collect supplies, to
+think of and plan out details for which most men would have
+needed a week's preparation, yet I have completed all in
+twelve hours. I believe nothing has been forgotten, nothing
+neglected. And can it be that my prop will fail me at the last
+moment?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I will not fail thee, unless soul and body part," Lella
+M'Barka answered. "I but hoped that thou mightest feel
+differently, that in pity&mdash;but I see I was wrong to ask. I
+will pray that the amulet, and the hope of the divine benediction
+of the baraka may support me to the end."</p>
+
+<p>"I, too, will pray, dear cousin. Be brave, and remember,
+the journey is to be taken, in easy stages. All the comforts I
+am preparing are for thee, as well as for this white rose whose
+beauty has stolen the heart out of my breast."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It is true. Thou art kind, or I would not love thee even
+as I should have loved a son, had one been given me," said the
+haggard woman, meekly. "Does <i>she</i> know that there will
+be three weeks or more of travelling?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I told her vaguely that she could hardly hope to see
+her sister in less than a fortnight. I feared that, at first hearing,
+the thought of such distances, separating her from what
+she has known of life, might cause her to hesitate. But she will
+be willing to sacrifice herself and travel less rapidly than she
+hoped, when she sees that thou art weak and ailing. She has
+a heart with room in it for the welfare of others."</p>
+
+<p>"Most women have. It is expected of us." Lella M'Barka
+sighed again, faintly. "But she is all that thou describedst
+to me, of beauty and sweetness. When she has been converted
+to the True Faith, as thy wife, nothing will be lacking to make
+her perfect."</p>
+
+<p>Hsina appeared at the door. "Thy guest, O Lella M'Barka,
+is having her coffee, and is eating bread with it," she announced.
+"In a few minutes she will be ready. Shall I fetch her down
+while the gracious lord honours the house with his presence,
+or&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My guest is a Roumia, and it is not forbidden that she
+show her face to men," answered Hsina's mistress. "She will
+travel veiled, because, for reasons that do not concern thee, it
+is wiser. But she is free to appear before the Lord Ma&iuml;eddine.
+Bring her; and remember this, when I am gone. If to a
+living soul outside this house thou speakest of the Roumia
+maiden, or even of my journey, worse things will happen to
+thee than tearing thy tongue out by the roots."</p>
+
+<p>"So thou saidst last night to me, and to all the others," the
+negress answered, like a sulky child. "As we are faithful,
+it is not necessary to say it again." Without waiting to be
+scolded for her impudence, as she knew she deserved, she
+went out, to return five minutes later with Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine's eyes lighted when he saw the girl in Arab dress.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>
+It seemed to him that she was far more beautiful, because,
+like all Arabs, he detested the severe cut of a European woman's
+gowns. He loved bright colours and voluptuous outlines.</p>
+
+<p>It was only beginning to be daylight when they left the house
+and went out to the carriage in which Victoria had been driven
+the night before. She and Lella M'Barka were both veiled,
+though there was no eye to see them. Hsina and Fafann
+took out several bundles, wrapped in dark red woollen ha&iuml;cks,
+and the Negro servants carried two curious trunks of wood
+painted bright green, with coloured flowers and scrolls of gold
+upon them, and shining, flat covers of brass. In these was
+contained the luggage from the house; Ma&iuml;eddine's had already
+gone to the railway station. He wore a plain, dark blue
+burnous, with the hood up, and his chin and mouth were covered
+by the lower folds of the small veil which fell from his turban,
+as if he were riding in the desert against a wind storm. It
+would have been impossible even for a friend to recognize him,
+and the two women in their white veils were like all native
+women of wealth and breeding in Algiers. Hsina was crying,
+and Fafann, who expected to go with her mistress, was insufferably
+important. Victoria felt that she was living in a
+fairy story, and the wearing of the veil excited and amused her.
+She was happy, and looked forward to the journey itself as
+well as to the journey's end.</p>
+
+<p>There were few people in the railway station, and Victoria saw
+no European travellers. Ma&iuml;eddine had taken the tickets
+already, but he did not tell her the name of the place to which
+they were going by rail. She would have liked to ask, but as
+neither Si Ma&iuml;eddine nor Lella M'Barka encouraged questions,
+she reminded herself that she could easily read the names
+of the stations as they passed.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the train came in, and Ma&iuml;eddine put them into a first-class
+compartment, which was labelled "reserved," though all
+other Arabs were going second or third. Fafann arranged
+cushions and ha&iuml;cks for Lella M'Barka; and at six o'clock a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>
+feeble, sulky-sounding trumpet blew, signalling the train to
+move out of the station.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria was not sleepy, though she had lain awake thinking
+excitedly all night; but Lella M'Barka bade her rest, as the
+day would be tiring. No one talked, and presently Fafann
+began to snore. The girl's eyes met Si Ma&iuml;eddine's, and they
+smiled at each other. This made him seem to her more like
+an ordinary human being than he had seemed before.</p>
+
+<p>After a while, she dropped into a doze, and was surprised
+when she waked up, to find that it was nearly nine o'clock.
+Fafann had roused her by moving about, collecting bundles.
+Soon they would be "there." And as the train slowed down,
+Victoria saw that "there" was Bouira.</p>
+
+<p>This place was the destination of a number of Arab travellers,
+but the instant they were out of the train, these passengers
+appeared to melt away unobtrusively. Only one carriage
+was waiting, and that was for Si Ma&iuml;eddine and his party.</p>
+
+<p>It was a very different carriage from Lella M'Barka's, in
+Algiers; a vehicle for the country, Victoria thought it not
+unlike old-fashioned chaises in which farmers' families sometimes
+drove to Potterston, to church. It had side and back
+curtains of canvas, which were fastened down, and an Arab
+driver stood by the heads of two strong black mules.</p>
+
+<p>"This carriage belongs to a friend of mine, a Ca&iuml;d," Ma&iuml;eddine
+explained to Victoria. "He has lent it to me, with his
+driver and mules, to use as long as I wish. But we shall have
+to change the mules often, before we begin at last to travel in
+a different way."</p>
+
+<p>"How quickly thou hast arranged everything," exclaimed
+the girl.</p>
+
+<p>This was a welcome sign of appreciation, and Ma&iuml;eddine
+was pleased. "I sent the Ca&iuml;d a telegram," he said. "And
+there were many more telegrams to other places, far ahead.
+That is one good thing which the French have brought to
+our country. The telegraph goes to the most remote places<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>
+in the Sahara. By and by, thou wilt see the poles striding
+away over desert dunes."</p>
+
+<p>"By and by! Dost thou mean to-day?" asked Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it will be many days before thou seest the great dunes.
+But thou wilt see them in the end, and I think thou wilt love
+them as I do. Meanwhile, there will be other things of interest.
+I shall not let thee tire of the way, though it be long."</p>
+
+<p>He helped them into the carriage, the invalid first, then
+Victoria, and got in after them; Fafann, muffled in her veil,
+sitting on the seat beside the driver.</p>
+
+<p>"By this time Mr. Knight has my letter, and has read it,"
+the girl said to herself. "Oh, I do hope he won't be disgusted,
+and think me ungrateful. How glad I shall be when the
+day comes for me to explain."</p>
+
+<p>As it happened, the letter was in Ma&iuml;eddine's thoughts at
+the same moment. It occurred to him, too, that it would have
+been read by now. He knew to whom it had been written, for
+he had got a friend of his to bring him a list of passengers on
+board the <i>Charles Quex</i> on her last trip from Marseilles to
+Algiers. Also, he had learned at whose house Stephen Knight
+was staying.</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine would gladly have forgotten to post the letter,
+and could have done so without hurting his conscience. But
+he had thought it might be better for Knight to know that Miss
+Ray was starting on a journey, and that there was no hope of
+hearing from her for a fortnight. Victoria had been ready to
+show him the letter, therefore she had not written any forbidden
+details; and Knight would probably feel that she must be left
+to manage her own affairs in her own way. No doubt he
+would be curious, and ask questions at the Hotel de la Kasbah,
+but Ma&iuml;eddine believed that he had made it impossible for
+Europeans to find out anything there, or elsewhere. He knew
+that men of Western countries could be interested in a girl
+without being actually in love with her; and though it was
+almost impossible to imagine a man, even a European, so cold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>
+as not to fall in love with Victoria at first sight, he hoped that
+Knight was blind enough not to appreciate her, or that his
+affections were otherwise engaged. After all, the two had
+been strangers when they came on the boat, or had met only
+once before, therefore the Englishman had no right to take
+steps unauthorized by the girl. Altogether, Ma&iuml;eddine thought
+he had reason to be satisfied with the present, and to hope in
+the future.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h2>
+
+
+<p>Stephen and Nevill Caird returned from Tlemcen
+to Algiers, hoping for news of Victoria, but there
+was none; and after two days they left for Grand
+Kabylia.</p>
+
+<p>The prophetic birds at Mansourah had flown in a south-easterly
+direction, but when Stephen and Nevill started in
+search of Josette's maid Mouni, they turned full east, their
+faces looking towards the dark heights of Kabylia. It was not
+Victoria they hoped to find there, however, or Saidee her sister,
+but only a hint as to their next move. Nevertheless,
+Nevill was superstitious about the birds, and said to Stephen
+when the car had run them out of Algiers, past Maison Carr&eacute;,
+into open country: "Isn't it queer how the birds follow us?
+I never saw so many before. They're always with us. It's
+just as if they'd passed on word, the way chupatties are passed
+on in India, eh? Or maybe Josette has told her proteg&eacute;es
+to look after us."</p>
+
+<p>And Stephen smiled, for Nevill's superstitions were engaging,
+rather than repulsive; and his quaintnesses were endearing
+him more and more to the man who had just taken up the
+dropped thread of friendship after eight or nine years. What
+an odd fellow Nevill was! Stephen thought, indulgently. No
+wonder he was worshipped by his servants, and even his
+chauffeur. No wonder Lady MacGregor adored her nephew,
+though treating him as if he were a little boy!</p>
+
+<p>One of Nevill's idiosyncrasies, after arranging everything
+to fit a certain plan, was to rush off at the last minute and do
+something entirely different. Last night&mdash;the night before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>
+starting for Grand Kabylia&mdash;he had begged Stephen to be ready
+by eight, at which time the car was ordered. At nine&mdash;having
+sat up till three o'clock writing letters, and then having
+visited a lately imported gazelle in its quarters&mdash;Nevill
+was still in his bath. At length he arrived on the scene, beaming,
+with a sulky chameleon in his pocket, and flew about
+giving last directions, until he suddenly discovered that there
+was a violent hurry, whereupon he began to be boyishly peevish
+with the chauffeur for not getting off an hour ago. No sooner
+had the car started, however, than he fell into a serious mood,
+telling Stephen of many things which he had thought out in the
+night&mdash;things which might be helpful in finding Victoria.
+He had been lying awake, it seemed, brooding on this subject,
+and it had occurred to him that, if Mouni should prove a disappointment,
+they might later discover something really useful
+by going to the annual ball at the Governor's palace. This festivity
+had been put off, on account of illness in the chief official's
+family; but it would take place in a fortnight or so now.
+All the great Aghas and Ca&iuml;ds of the south would be there, and
+as Nevill knew many of them, he might be able to get definite
+information concerning Ben Halim. As for Saidee&mdash;to
+hear of Ben Halim was to hear of her. And then it was, in
+the midst of describing the ball, and the important men who
+would attend, that Nevill suddenly broke off to be superstitious
+about birds.</p>
+
+<p>It was true that the birds were everywhere! little greenish
+birds flitting among the trees; larger grey-brown birds flying
+low; fairy-like blue and yellow birds that circled round the
+car as it ran east towards the far, looming mountains of the
+Djurdjura; larks that spouted music like a fountain of jewels
+as they soared into the quivering blue; and great, stately storks,
+sitting in their nests on tall trees or tops of poles, silhouetted
+against the sky as they gazed indifferently down at the automobile.</p>
+
+<p>"Josette would tell us it's splendid luck to see storks on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>
+their nests," said Nevill. "Arabs think they bring good fortune
+to places. That's why people cut off the tops of the trees and
+make nests for them, so they can bless the neighbourhood and
+do good to the crops. Storks have no such menial work here
+as bringing babies. Arab babies have to come as best they
+can&mdash;sent into the world anyhow; for storks are men who
+didn't do their religious duties in the most approved style, so
+they have to revisit the world next time in the form of beneficent
+birds."</p>
+
+<p>But Nevill did not want to answer questions about storks
+and their habits. He had tired of them in a moment, and
+was passionately interested in mules. "There ought to be
+an epic written about the mules of North Africa!" he exclaimed.
+"I tell you, it's a great subject. Look at those poor brave
+chaps struggling to pull carts piled up with casks of beastly
+Algerian wine, through that sea of mud, which probably goes
+all the way through to China. Aren't they splendid? Wait till
+you've been in this country as long as I have, and you'll respect
+mules as I do, from army mules down to the lowest dregs of the
+mule kingdom. I don't ask you to love them&mdash;and neither do
+they. But how they work here in Africa&mdash;and never a groan!
+They go on till they drop. And I don't believe half of them ever
+get anything to eat. Some day I'm going to start a Rest Farm
+for tired mules. I shall pay well for them. A man I know
+did write a p&aelig;an of praise for mules. I believe I'll have it
+translated into Arabic, and handed about as a leaflet. These
+natives are good to their horses, because they believe they
+have souls, but they treat their mules like the dirt under their
+feet." And Nevill began quoting here and there a verse or a
+line he remembered of the "mule music," chanting in time
+to the throbbing of the motor.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><p>
+"Key A minor, measure common,<br />
+One and two and three and four and&mdash;<br />
+Every hoof-beat half a second<br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>Every hoof-beat linked with heart-beat,<br />
+Every heart-beat nearer bursting.<br />
+Andantino sostenuto:<br />
+In the downpour or the dryness,<br />
+Hottest summer, coldest winter;<br />
+Sick and sore and old and feeble,<br />
+Hourly, hourly; daily, daily,<br />
+From the sunrise to the setting;<br />
+From the setting to the sunrise<br />
+Scarce a break in all the circle<br />
+For the rough and scanty eating,<br />
+For the scant and muddy drinking,<br />
+For the fitful, fearful resting,<br />
+For the master haunted-sleeping.<br />
+Dreams in dark of God's far heaven<br />
+Tempo primo; tempo sempre."<br />
+</p></div>
+
+<p>And so, through pools of wild flowers and the blood of poppies,
+their road led to wild mountain scenery, then into the
+embrace of the Djurdjura mountains themselves&mdash;evil, snow-splashed,
+sterile-seeming mountains, until the car had passed
+the fortified town of Tizi Ouzou, an overgrown village, whose
+name Stephen thought like a drunken term of endearment.
+It was market-day there, and the long street was so full of
+Kabyles dressed apparently in low-necked woollen bags, of
+soldiers in uniform, of bold-eyed, scantily-clad children, and of
+dyed sheep and goats, that the car had to pass at a walk. Nevill
+bought a good deal of Kabyle jewellery, necklaces and long earrings,
+or boxes enamelled in crude greens and reds, blues and
+yellows. Not that he had not already more than he knew what
+to do with; but he could not resist the handsome unveiled girls,
+the wretched old women, or pretty, half-naked children who
+offered the work of the neighbouring hill villages, or family
+heirlooms. Sometimes he saw eyes which made him think of
+Josette's; but then, all beautiful things that he saw reminded
+him of her. She was an obsession. But, for a wonder, he had
+taken Stephen's advice in Tlemcen and had not proposed
+again. He was still marvelling at his own strength of mind,
+and asking himself if, after all, he had been wise.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>After Tizi Ouzou the mountains were no longer sterile-seeming.
+The road coiled up and up snakily, between rows
+of leering cactus; and far below the densely wooded heights
+lay lovely plains through which a great river wandered. There
+was a homely smell of mint, and the country did not look to
+Stephen like the Africa he had imagined. All the hill-slopes
+were green with the bright green of fig trees and almonds,
+even at heights so great that the car wallowed among clouds.
+This steep road was the road to Fort National&mdash;the "thorn
+in the eye of Kabylia," which pierces so deeply that Kabylia
+may writhe, but revolt no more. Already it was almost as if
+the car had brought them into another world. The men who
+occasionally emerged from the woolly white blankets of the
+clouds, were men of a very different type from the mild Kabyles
+of the plains they had met trooping along towards Algiers in
+search of work.</p>
+
+<p>These were brave, upstanding men, worthy of their fathers
+who revolted against French rule and could not be conquered
+until that thorn, Fort National, was planted deeply in heart and
+eye. Some were fair, and even red-haired, which would have
+surprised Stephen if he had not heard from Nevill that in old
+days the Christian slaves used to escape from Algiers and seek
+refuge in Kabylia, where they were treated as free men, and no
+questions were asked.</p>
+
+<p>Without Fort National, it seemed to Stephen that this strange
+Berber people would never have been forced to yield; for looking
+down from mountain heights as the motor sped on, it was
+as if he looked into a vast and intricate maze of valleys, and on
+each curiously pointed peak clung a Kabyle village that seemed
+to be inlaid in the rock like separate bits of scarlet enamel.
+It was the low house-roofs which gave this effect, for unlike
+the Arabs, whom the ancient Berber lords of the soil regard
+with scorn, the Kabyles build their dwellings of stone, roofed
+with red tiles.</p>
+
+<p>This was a wild, tormented world, broken into a hun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>dred
+sharp mountain ridges which seemed to cut the sky,
+because between the high peaks and the tangled skein of far-away
+villages surged foaming seas of cloud, which appeared to
+separate high, bright peaks from shadowed vales, by incredible
+distances. As far as the eye could travel with utmost straining,
+away to the dark, imposing background of the Djurdjura
+range, billowed ridges and ravines, ravines and ridges, each
+pointing pinnacle or razor-shelf adorned with its coral-red
+hamlet, like a group of poisonous fungi, or the barnacles on a
+ship's steep side. Such an extraordinary landscape Stephen
+had never imagined, or seen except on a Japanese fan; and it
+struck him that the scene actually did resemble quaint
+prints picturing half-real, half-imaginary scenes in old
+Japan.</p>
+
+<p>"What a country for war! What a country for defence!" he
+said to himself, as Nevill's yellow car sped along the levels of
+narrow ridges that gave, on either hand, vertical views far
+down to fertile valleys, rushed into clouds of weeping rain, or
+out into regions of sunlight and rainbows.</p>
+
+<p>It was three o'clock when they reached Mich&eacute;let, but they had
+not stopped for luncheon, as both were in haste to find Mouni:
+and Mouni's village was just beyond Mich&eacute;let. Since Fort
+National, they had been in the heart of Grand Kabylia; and
+Mich&eacute;let was even more characteristic of this strange mountain
+country, so different from transplanted Arabia below.</p>
+
+<p>Not an Arab lived here, in the long, straggling town, built
+on the crest of a high ridge. Not a minaret tower pointed
+skyward. The Kabyle place of worship had a roof of little
+more height or importance than those that clustered round it.
+The men were in striped brown gandourahs of camel's hair;
+the lovely unveiled women were wrapped in woollen foutahs
+dyed red or yellow, blue or purple, and from their little ears
+heavy rings dangled. The blue tattoo marks on their brown
+cheeks and foreheads, which in forgotten times had been Christian
+crosses, gave great value to their enormous, kohl-encircled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>
+eyes; and their teeth were very white as they smiled boldly, yet
+proudly, at Stephen and Nevill.</p>
+
+<p>There was a flight of steps to mount from the car to the hotel,
+and as the two men climbed the stairs they turned to look,
+across a profound chasm, to the immense mass of the Djurdjura
+opposite Mich&eacute;let's thin ledge. From their point of view,
+it was like the Jungfrau, as Stephen had seen it from M&uuml;rren,
+on one of his few trips to Switzerland. Somehow, those little
+conventional potterings of his seemed pitiable now, they had
+been so easy to do, so exactly what other people did.</p>
+
+<p>It was long past ordinary luncheon time, and hunger constrained
+the two men to eat before starting out to find the
+village where Mouni and her people lived. It was so small
+a hamlet, that Nevill, who knew Kabylia well, had never heard
+of it until Josette Soubise wrote the name for him on one of
+her own cards. The landlord of the hotel at Mich&eacute;let gave
+rapid and fluent directions how to go, saying that the distance
+was two miles, but as the way was a steep mountain path,
+les messieurs must go on foot.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately after lunching they started, armed with a
+present for the bride; a watch encrusted with tiny brilliants,
+which, following Josette's advice, they had chosen as the one
+thing of all others calculated to win the Kabyle girl's heart.
+"It will be like a fairy dream to her to have a watch of her own,"
+Josette had said. "Her friends will be dying of envy, and she
+will enjoy that. Oh, she will search her soul and tell you
+everything she knows, if you but give her a watch!"</p>
+
+<p>For a little way the friends walked along the wild and beautiful
+road, which from Mich&eacute;let plunges down the mountains
+toward Bougie and the sea; but soon they came to the narrow,
+ill-defined footpath described by the landlord. It led
+straight up a steep shoulder of rock which at its highest part
+became a ledge; and when they had climbed to the top, at a
+distance they could see a cluster of red roofs apparently falling
+down a precipice, at the far end.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Here and there were patches of snow, white as fallen lily-petals
+on the pansy-coloured earth. Looking down was like
+looking from a high wave upon a vast sea of other waves, each
+wave carrying on its apex a few bits of broken red mosaic, which
+were Kabyle roofs; and the pale sky was streaked with ragged
+violet clouds exactly like the sky and clouds painted on screens
+by Japanese artists.</p>
+
+<p>They met not a soul as they walked, but while the village
+was still far away and unreal, the bark of guns, fired quickly
+one after the other, jarred their ears, and the mountain wind
+brought a crying of ra&iuml;tas, African clarionettes, and the dull,
+yet fierce beat of tom-toms.</p>
+
+<p>"Now I know why we've met no one," said Nevill. "The
+wedding feast's still on, and everybody who is anybody at
+Yacoua, is there. You know, if you're an Arab, or even a
+Kabyle, it takes you a week to be married properly, and you
+have high jinks every day: music and dancing and eating, and
+if you've money enough, above all you make the powder
+speak. Mouni's people are doing her well. What a
+good thing we've got the watch! Even with Josette's
+introduction we mightn't have been able to come near
+the bride, unless we had something to offer worth her
+having."</p>
+
+<p>The mountain village of Yacoua had no suburbs, no outlying
+houses. The one-story mud huts with their pointed red
+roofs, utterly unlike Arab dwellings, were huddled together,
+with only enough distance between for a man and a mule or a
+donkey to pass. The best stood in pairs, with a walled yard
+between; and as Stephen and Nevill searched anxiously for
+some one to point out the home of Mouni, from over a wall
+which seemed to be running down the mountain-side, came
+a white puff of smoke and a strident bang, then more, one after
+the other. Again the wailing of the ra&iuml;ta began, and there
+was no longer any need to ask the way.</p>
+
+<p>"That's where the party is&mdash;in that yard," said Nevill,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>
+beginning to be excited. "Now, what sort of reception will
+they give us? That's the next question."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't we tell, the first thing, that we've come from Algiers
+with a present for the bride?" suggested Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"We can if they understand Arabic," Nevill answered.
+"But the Kabyle lingo's quite different&mdash;Berber, or something
+racy of the soil. I ought to have brought Mohammed
+to interpret."</p>
+
+<p>So steeply did the yard between the low houses run downhill,
+that, standing at the top of a worn path like a seam in
+some old garment, the two Europeans could look over the mud
+wall. Squalid as were the mud huts and the cattle-yard connecting
+them, the picture framed in the square enclosure blazed
+with colour. It was barbaric, and beautiful in its savagery.</p>
+
+<p>Squatting on the ground, with the last rank against the house
+wall, were several rows of women, all unveiled, their uncovered
+arms jewelled to the elbows, embracing their knees. The afternoon
+sunlight shone on their ceremonial finery, setting fire to
+the red, blue and green enamel of their necklaces, their huge
+hoop earrings and the jewelled silver chains pinned to their
+scarlet or yellow head-wrappings, struck out strange gleams
+from the flat, round brooches which fastened their gaily striped
+robes on their shoulders, and turned their great dark eyes into
+brown topazes. Twenty or thirty men, dressed in their best
+burnouses, draped over new gandourahs, their heads swathed in
+clean white muslin turbans, sat on the opposite side of the court,
+watching the "powder play" furnished by two tall, handsome
+boys, who handled with delicate grace and skill old-fashioned,
+long-muzzled guns inlaid with coral and silver, heirlooms perhaps,
+and of some value even to antiquaries.</p>
+
+<p>While the powder spoke, nobody had a thought for anything
+else. All eyes were upon the boys with the guns, only travelling
+upward in ecstasy to watch the puffs of smoke that
+belched out round and white as fat snowballs. Then, when
+the music burst forth again, and a splendidly handsome young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>
+Kabyle woman ran forward to begin the wild dance of the body
+and of the hands&mdash;dear to the mountain men as to the nomads
+of the desert&mdash;every one was at first absorbed in admiration
+of her movements. But suddenly a child (one of a dozen in
+a row in front of all the women) tired of the show, less amusing
+to him than the powder play, and looking up, saw the two
+Roumis on the hill behind the wall. He nudged his neighbour,
+and the neighbour, who happened to be a little girl, followed
+with her eyes the upward nod of his head. So the news went
+round that strangers had come uninvited to the wedding-feast,
+and men began to frown and women to whisper, while the
+dancer lost interest in her own tinklings and genuflections.</p>
+
+<p>It was time for the intruders to make it known that business
+of some sort, not idle curiosity, had brought them on the scene,
+and Nevill stepped forward, holding out the visiting card given
+him by Josette, and the crimson velvet case containing the
+watch which Stephen had bought in Algiers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII</h2>
+
+
+<p>An elderly man, with a reddish beard, got up from
+the row of men grouped behind the musicians,
+and muttered to one of the youths who had been
+making the powder speak. They argued for a
+moment, and then the boy, handing his gun to the elder man,
+walked with dignity to a closed gate, large enough to let in the
+goats and donkeys pertaining to the two houses. This gate
+he opened half-way, standing in the aperture and looking up
+sullenly as the Roumis came down the narrow, slippery track
+which led to it.</p>
+
+<p>"Cebah el-kheir, ia Sidi&mdash;Good day, sir," said Nevill,
+agreeably, in his best Arabic. "Ta' rafi el-a' riya?&mdash;Do you
+speak Arabic?"</p>
+
+<p>The young man bowed, not yet conciliated. "Ach men
+sebba jit lhena, ia Sidi?&mdash;Why have you come here, sir?" he
+asked suspiciously, in very guttural Arabic.</p>
+
+<p>Relieved to find that they would have no great difficulty
+in understanding each other, Nevill plunged into explanations,
+pointing to Josette's card. They had come recommended by
+the malema at Tlemcen. They brought good wishes and a
+present to the bride of the village, the virtuous and beautiful
+Mouni, from whom they would gladly receive information
+concerning a European lady. Was this the house of her father?
+Would they be permitted to speak with her, and give this little
+watch from Algiers?</p>
+
+<p>Nevill made his climax by opening the velvet case, and the
+brown eyes of the Kabyle boy flashed with uncontrollable admiration,
+though his face remained immobile. He answered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>
+that this was indeed the house of Mouni's father, and he himself
+was the brother of Mouni. This was the last day of her wedding-feast,
+and in an hour she would go to the home of her
+husband. The consent of the latter, as well as of her father,
+must be asked before strangers could hope to speak with her.
+Nevertheless, the Roumis were welcome to enter the yard and
+watch the entertainment while Mouni's brother consulted with
+those most concerned in this business.</p>
+
+<p>The boy stood aside, inviting them to pass through the gate,
+and the Englishmen availed themselves of his courtesy, waiting
+just inside until the red-bearded man came forward. He and
+his son consulted together, and then a dark young man in a
+white burnous was called to join the conclave. He was a handsome
+fellow, with a haughtily intelligent face, and an air of
+breeding superior to the others.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my sister's husband. He too speaks Arabic, but
+my father not so much." The boy introduced his brother-in-law.
+"Messaud-ben-Arzen is the son of our Ca&iuml;d," (he spoke
+proudly). "Will you tell him and my father what your
+business is with Mouni?"</p>
+
+<p>Nevill broke into more explanations, and evidently they
+were satisfactory, for, while the dancing and the powder play
+were stopped, and the squatting ranks of guests stared silently,
+the two Roumis were conducted into the house.</p>
+
+<p>It was larger than most of the houses in the village, but
+apart from the stable of the animals through which the visitors
+passed, there was but one room, long and narrow, lighted by
+two small windows. The darkest corner was the bedroom,
+which had a platform of stone on which rugs were spread, and
+there was a lower mound of dried mud, roughly curtained off
+from the rest with two or three red and blue foutahs suspended
+on ropes made of twisted alfa, or dried grass. Toward the
+farther end, a hole in the floor was the family cooking-place,
+and behind it an elevation of beaten earth made a wide shelf
+for a long row of jars shaped like the Roman amphor&aelig; of two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>
+thousand years ago. Pegs driven into one of the walls were
+hung with gandourahs and a foutah or two; and of furniture,
+worthy of that name in the eyes of Europeans, there was none.</p>
+
+<p>At the bedroom end of the room, several women were gathered
+round a central object of interest, and though the light was dim
+after the vivid sunshine outside, the visitors guessed that the
+object of interest was the bride. Decorously they paused near
+the door, while a great deal of arguing went on, in which the
+shriller voices of women mingled with the guttural tones of the
+men. Nevill could catch no word, for they were talking their
+own Kabyle tongue which had come down from their forefathers
+the Berbers, lords of the land long years before the Arabs
+drove them into the high mountains. But at last the group
+opened, and a young woman stepped out with half-shy eagerness.
+She was loaded with jewels, and her foutah was barbarically
+splendid in colour, but she was almost as fair as her
+father; a slim creature with grey eyes, and brown curly hair that
+showed under her orange foulard.</p>
+
+<p>Proud of her French, she began talking in that language, welcoming
+the guests, telling them how glad she was to see friends
+of her dear Mademoiselle Soubise. But soon she must be
+gone to her husband's house, and already the dark young
+bridegroom, son of the Ca&iuml;d, was growing impatient. There
+was no time to be lost, if they were to learn anything of Ben
+Halim's wife.</p>
+
+<p>As a preface to what they wished to ask, Nevill made a presentation
+speech, placing the velvet watch-case in Mouni's
+hand, and she opened it with a kind of moan expressing intense
+rapture. Never had she seen anything so beautiful, and she
+would cheerfully have recalled every phase of her career from
+earliest babyhood, if by doing so she could have pleased the
+givers.</p>
+
+<p>"But yes," she answered to Nevill's first questions, "the
+beautiful lady whom I served was the wife of Sidi Cassim ben
+Halim. At first it was in Algiers that I lived with her, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>
+soon we left, and went to the country, far, oh, very far away,
+going towards the south. The house was like a large farmhouse,
+and to me as a child&mdash;for I was but a child&mdash;it seemed
+fine and grand. Yet my lady was not pleased. She found it
+rough, and different from any place to which she was used.
+Poor, beautiful lady! She was not happy there. She cried
+a great deal, and each day I thought she grew paler than the
+day before."</p>
+
+<p>Mouni spoke in French, hesitating now and then for a word,
+or putting in two or three in Arabic, before she stopped to think,
+as she grew interested in her subject. Stephen understood
+almost all she said, and was too impatient to leave the catechizing
+to Nevill.</p>
+
+<p>"Whereabouts was this farmhouse?" he asked. "Can't
+you tell us how to find it?"</p>
+
+<p>Mouni searched her memory. "I was not yet thirteen,"
+she said. "It is nine years since I left that place; and I travelled
+in a shut-up carriage, with a cousin, older than I, who had been
+already in the house of the lady when I came. She told her
+mistress of me, and I was sent for, because I was quick and
+lively in my ways, and white of face, almost as white as the
+beautiful lady herself. My work was to wait on the mistress,
+and help my cousin, who was her maid. Yamina&mdash;that was my
+cousin's name&mdash;could have told you more about the place in the
+country than I, for she was even then a woman. But she died
+a few months after we both left the beautiful lady. We left
+because the master thought my cousin carried a letter for her
+mistress, which he did not wish sent; and he gave orders that
+we should no longer live under his roof."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely you can remember where you went, and how you
+went, on leaving the farmhouse?" Stephen persisted.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, we went back to Algiers. But it was a long distance,
+and took us many days, because we had only a little money, and
+Yamina would not spend it in buying tickets for the diligence,
+all the way. We walked many miles, and only took a diligence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>
+when I cried, and was too tired to move a step farther. At
+night we drove sometimes, I remember, and often we rested
+under the tents of nomads who were kind to us.</p>
+
+<p>"While I was with the lady, I never went outside the great
+courtyard. It is not strange that now, after all these years, I
+cannot tell you more clearly where the house was. But it was
+a great white house, on a hill, and round it was a high
+wall, with towers that overlooked the country beneath. And
+in those towers, which were on either side the big, wide gate,
+were little windows through which men could spy, or even
+shoot if they chose."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you never hear the name of any town that was near?"
+Stephen went on.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think there was a town near; yet there was a village
+not far off to the south. I saw it from the hill-top, both as
+I went in at the gate with my cousin, and when, months later,
+I was sent away with her. We did not pass through it, because
+our road was to and from the north; and I do not even
+know the name of the village. But there was a cemetery
+outside it, where some of the master's ancestors and relations
+were buried. I heard my lady speak of it one day, when she
+cried because she feared to die and be laid there without ever
+again seeing her own country and her own people. Oh, and
+once I heard Yamina talk with another servant about an oasis
+called Bou-Saada. It was not near, yet I think it could be
+reached by diligence in a long day."</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" broke in Nevill. "There's our first real clue!
+Bou-Saada I know well. When people who come and visit
+me want a glimpse of the desert in a hurry, Bou-Saada is where
+I take them. One motors there from Algiers in seven or eight
+hours&mdash;through mountains at first, then on the fringe of the
+desert; but it's true, as Mouni says, going by diligence, and
+walking now and then, it would be a journey of days. Her
+description of the house on the hill, looking down over a village
+and cemetery, will be a big help. And Ben Halim's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>
+name is sure to be known in the country round, if he ever lived
+there."</p>
+
+<p>"He may have been gone for years," said Stephen. "And if
+there's a conspiracy of silence in Algiers, why not elsewhere?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, at least we've got a clue, and will follow it up for
+all we know. By Jove, this is giving me a new interest in life!"
+And Nevill rubbed his hands in a boyish way he had. "Tell
+us what the beautiful lady was like," he went on to
+Mouni.</p>
+
+<p>"Her skin was like the snow on our mountain-tops when the
+sunrise paints the white with rose," answered Mouni. "Her
+hair was redder than the red of henna, and when it was unfastened
+it hung down below her waist. Her eyes were dark
+as a night without moon, and her teeth were little, little pearls.
+Yet for all her beauty she was not happy. She wasted the
+flower of her youth in sadness, and though the master was noble,
+and splendid as the sun to look upon, I think she had no love
+to give him, perhaps because he was grave and seldom smiled,
+or because she was a Roumia and could not suit herself to the
+ways of true believers."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she keep to her own religion?" asked Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"That I cannot tell. I was too young to understand. She
+never talked of such things before me, but she kept to none of
+our customs, that I know. In the three months I served her,
+never did she leave the house, not even to visit the cemetery
+on a Friday, as perhaps the master would have allowed her
+to do, if she had wished."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember if she spoke of a sister?"</p>
+
+<p>"She had a photograph of a little girl, whose picture looked
+like herself. Once she told me it was her sister, but the next
+day the photograph was gone from its place, and I never saw
+it again. Yamina thought the master was jealous, because
+our lady looked at it a great deal."</p>
+
+<p>"Was there any other lady in that house," Nevill ventured,
+"or was yours the master's only wife?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There was no other lady at that time," Mouni replied
+promptly.</p>
+
+<p>"So far, so good," said Nevill. "Well, Legs, I don't think
+there's any doubt we've got hold of the right end of the stick
+now. Mouni's beautiful lady and Miss Ray's sister Saidee are
+certainly one and the same. Ho for the white farmhouse on
+the hill!"</p>
+
+<p>"Must we go back to Algiers, or can we get to Bou-Saada
+from here?" Stephen asked.</p>
+
+<p>Nevill laughed. "You are in a hurry! Oh, we can get
+there from here all right. Would you like to start now?"</p>
+
+<p>Stephen's face reddened. "Why not, if we've found out all
+we can from this girl?" He tried to speak indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>Nevill laughed again. "Very well. There's nothing left
+then, except to say good-bye to the fair bride and her relations."</p>
+
+<p>He had expected to get back to Algiers that night, slipping
+away from the high passes of Grand Kabylia before dusk,
+and reaching home late, by lamplight. But now the plan was
+changed. They were not to see Algiers again until Stephen
+had made acquaintance with the desert. By setting off at once,
+they might arrive at Bou-Saada some time in the dark hours;
+and Nevill upset his old arrangements with good grace. Why
+should he mind? he asked, when Stephen apologized shame-facedly
+for his impatience. Bou-Saada was as good a place
+as any, except Tlemcen, and this adventure would give him
+an excuse for a letter, even two letters, to Josette Soubise.
+She would want to hear about Mouni's wedding, and the stately
+Kabyle home which they had visited. Besides she would be
+curious to know whether they found the white farmhouse on
+the hill, and if so, what they learned there of the beautiful lady
+and her mysterious fate. Oh yes, it would certainly mean two
+letters at least: one from Bou-Saada, one after the search for
+the farmhouse; and Nevill thought himself in luck, for he
+was not allowed to write often to Josette.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>After Mich&eacute;let the road, a mere shelf projecting along a precipice,
+slants upward on its way to the Col de Tirouda, sharp
+as a knife aimed at the heart of the mountains. From far
+below clouds boil up as if the valleys smoked after a destroying
+fire, and through flying mists flush the ruddy earth, turning
+the white film to pinkish gauze. Crimson and purple stones
+shine like uncut jewels, and cascades of yellow gorse, under
+red-flowering trees, pour down over low-growing white flowers,
+which embroider the rose-coloured rocks.</p>
+
+<p>Then, suddenly, gone is the green Kabyle mountain-world,
+gone like a dream the tangle of ridges and chasms, the bright
+tapestry of fig trees and silver olives, dark karoubias (the wild
+locusts of John the Baptist) and climbing roses. Rough,
+coarse grass has eaten up the flowers, or winds sweeping down
+from the Col have killed them. Only a few stunted trees
+bend grotesquely to peer over the sheer sides of shadowed gorges
+as the road strains up and up, twisting like a scar left by a whip-lash,
+on the naked brown shoulders of a slave. So at last it
+flings a loop over the Col de Tirouda. Then, round a corner
+the wand of an invisible magician waves: darkness and winter
+cold become summer warmth and light.</p>
+
+<p>This light was the level golden glory of late afternoon when
+Stephen saw it from Nevill's car; and so green were the wide
+stretching meadows and shining rivers far below, that he seemed
+to be looking at them through an emerald, as Nero used to
+gaze at his gardens in Rome. Down the motor plunged towards
+the light, threading back and forth a network of zig-zags, until
+long before sunset they were in the warm lowlands, racing
+towards Bordj-bou Arreredj and Msila. Beyond Msila, they
+would follow the desert track which would bring them by and
+by to the oasis town of Bou-Saada.</p>
+
+<p>If Stephen had been a tourist, guide-book in hand, he would
+have delighted in the stony road among the mountains between
+Bordj-bou Arreredj and Msila; but it was the future, not the
+past, which held his thoughts to-day, and he had no more than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>
+a passing glance for ruined mosques and palaces. It was only
+after nightfall, far beyond the town of Msila, far beyond the
+vast plain of the Hodna, that his first dim glimpse of the desert
+thrilled him out of self-absorption.</p>
+
+<p>Even under the stars which crusted a moonless sky, the vast
+stretches of billowing sand glimmered faintly golden as a phosphorescent
+sea. And among the dimly gleaming waves of that
+endless waste the motor tossed, rocking on the rough track
+like a small boat in mid-ocean.</p>
+
+<p>Nowhere was there any sound except the throbbing of their
+machinery, and a fairy fiddling of unseen crickets, which seemed
+to make the silence more intense, under the great sparkling dome
+that hung over the gold.</p>
+
+<p>"Now I am in the place where she wished to be: the golden
+silence," Stephen said to himself. And he found himself
+listening, as if for the call Victoria had promised to give if she
+needed him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>On the top of a pale golden hill, partly sand, partly
+rock, rises a white wall with square, squat towers which
+look north and south, east and west. The wall
+and the towers together are like an ivory crown
+set on the hill's brow, and from a distance the effect is very
+barbaric, very impressive, for all the country round about is
+wild and desolate. Along the southern horizon the desert goes
+billowing in waves of gold, and rose, and violet, that fade into
+the fainter violet of the sky; and nearer there are the strange
+little mountains which guard the oasis of Bou-Saada, like a
+wall reared to hide a treasure from some dreaded enemy; and
+even the sand is heaped in fantastic shapes, resembling a troop
+of tawny beasts crouched to drink from deep pools of purple
+shadow. Northward, the crumpled waste rolls away like
+prairie land or ocean, faint green over yellow brown, as if grass
+seed had been sprinkled sparsely on a stormy sea and by some
+miracle had sprouted. And in brown wastes, bright emerald
+patches gleam, vivid and fierce as serpents' eyes, ringed round
+with silver. Far away to the east floats the mirage of a lake,
+calm as a blue lagoon. Westward, where desert merges into
+sky, are high tablelands, and flat-topped mountains with
+carved sides, desert architecture, such as might have suggested
+Egyptian temples and colossal sphinxes.</p>
+
+<p>Along the rough desert track beneath the hill, where bald
+stones break through sandy earth, camels come and go, passing
+from south to north, from north to south, marching slowly with
+rhythmic gait, as if to the sound of music which only they can
+hear, glancing from side to side with unutterable supercilious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>ness,
+looking wistfully here and there at some miniature oasis
+thrown like a dark prayer-carpet on the yellow sand. Two or
+three in a band they go, led by desert men in blowing white,
+or again in a long train of twelve or twenty, their legs a moving
+lattice, their heart-shaped feet making a soft, swishing "pad-pad,"
+on the hard road.</p>
+
+<p>The little windows of the squat, domed towers on the hill
+are like eyes that spy upon this road,&mdash;small, dark and secret
+eyes, very weary of seeing nothing better than camels since old
+days when there were razzias, and wars, something worth
+shutting stout gates upon.</p>
+
+<p>When, after three days of travelling, Victoria came southward
+along this road, and looked between the flapping carriage
+curtains at the white wall that crowned the dull gold hill, her
+heart beat fast, for the thought of the golden silence sprang to
+her mind. The gold did not burn with the fierce orange flames
+she had seen in her dreams&mdash;it was a bleached and faded gold,
+melancholy and almost sinister in colour; yet it would pass for
+gold; and a great silence brooded where prairie blended with
+desert. She asked no questions of Ma&iuml;eddine, for that was a
+rule she had laid upon herself; but when the carriage turned out
+of the rough road it had followed so long, and the horses began
+to climb a stony track which wound up the yellow hill to the
+white towers, she could hardly breathe, for the throbbing in
+her breast. Always she had only had to shut her eyes to see
+Saidee, standing on a high white place, gazing westward through
+a haze of gold. What if this were the high white place? What
+if already Si Ma&iuml;eddine was bringing her to Saidee?</p>
+
+<p>They had been only three days on the way so far, it was true,
+and she had been told that the journey would be very, very
+long. Still, Arabs were subtle, and Si Ma&iuml;eddine might have
+wanted to test her courage. Looking back upon those long
+hours, now, towards evening of the third day, it seemed to Victoria
+that she had been travelling for a week in the swaying,
+curtained carriage, with the slow-trotting mules.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Just at first, there had been some fine scenery to hold her
+interest; far-off mountains of grim shapes, dark as iron, and
+spotted with snow as a leper is spotted with scales. Then
+had come low hills, following the mountains (nameless to her,
+because Ma&iuml;eddine had not cared to name them), and blue lakes
+of iris flowing over wide plains. But by and by the plains
+flattened to dullness; a hot wind ceaselessly flapped the canvas
+curtains, and Lella M'Barka sighed and moaned with the
+fatigue of constant motion. There was nothing but plain,
+endless plain, and Victoria had been glad, for her own sake as
+well as the invalid's, when night followed the first day. They had
+stopped on the outskirts of a large town, partly French, partly
+Arab, passing through and on to the house of a ca&iuml;d who
+was a friend of Si Ma&iuml;eddine's. It was a primitively simple
+house, even humble, it seemed to the girl, who had as yet no
+conception of the bareness and lack of comfort&mdash;according
+to Western ideas&mdash;of Arab country-houses. Nevertheless,
+when, after another tedious day, they rested under the roof
+of a village adel, an official below a ca&iuml;d, the first house
+seemed luxurious in contrast. During this last, third day, Victoria
+had been eager and excited, because of the desert, through
+one gate of which they had entered. She felt that once in the
+desert she was so close to Saidee in spirit that they might almost
+hear the beating of each other's hearts, but she had not
+expected to be near her sister in body for many such days to
+come: and the wave of joy that surged over her soul as the
+horses turned up the golden hill towards the white towers,
+was suffocating in its force.</p>
+
+<p>The nearer they came, the less impressive seemed the building.
+After all, it was not the great Arab stronghold it had
+looked from far away, but a fortified farmhouse a century old,
+at most. Climbing the hill, too, Victoria saw that the golden
+colour was partly due to a monstrous swarm of ochre-hued
+locusts, large as young canary birds, which had settled, thick
+as yellow snow, over the ground. They were resting after a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>
+long flight, and there were millions and millions of them, covering
+the earth in every direction as far as the eye could reach.
+Only a few were on the wing, but as the carriage stopped before
+the closed gates, fat yellow bodies came blundering against
+the canvas curtains, or fell plumply against the blinkers over
+the mules' eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Si Ma&iuml;eddine got down from the carriage, and shouted, with
+a peculiar call. There was no answering sound, but after a
+wait of two or three minutes the double gates of thick, greyish
+palm-wood were pulled open from inside, with a loud creak.
+For a moment the brown face of an old man, wrinkled as a
+monkey's, looked out between the gates, which he held ajar;
+then, with a guttural cry, he threw both as far back as he could,
+and rushing out, bent his white turban over Ma&iuml;eddine's hand.
+He kissed the Sidi's shoulder, and a fold of his burnous, half
+kneeling, and chattering Arabic, only a word of which Victoria
+could catch here and there. As he chattered, other men came
+running out, some of them Negroes, all very dark, and they vied
+with one another in humble kissing of the master's person,
+at any spot convenient to their lips.</p>
+
+<p>Politely, though not too eagerly, he made the gracious return
+of seeming to kiss the back of his own hand, or his fingers, where
+they had been touched by the welcoming mouths, but in reality
+he kissed air. With a gesture, he stopped the salutations at
+last, and asked for the Ca&iuml;d, to whom, he said, he had written,
+sending his letter by the diligence.</p>
+
+<p>Then there were passionate jabberings of regret. The Ca&iuml;d,
+was away, had been away for days, fighting the locusts on his
+other farm, west of Aumale, where there was grain to save.
+But the letter had arrived, and had been sent after him, immediately,
+by a man on horseback. This evening he would
+certainly return to welcome his honoured guest. The word
+was "guest," not "guests," and Victoria understood that she
+and Lella M'Barka would not see the master of the house. So
+it had been at the other two houses: so in all probability it would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>
+be at every house along their way unless, as she still hoped,
+they had already come to the end of the journey.</p>
+
+<p>The wide open gates showed a large, bare courtyard, the
+farmhouse, which was built round it, being itself the wall. On
+the outside, no windows were visible except those in the towers,
+and a few tiny square apertures for ventilation, but the yard
+was overlooked by a number of small glass eyes, all curtained.</p>
+
+<p>As the carriage was driven in, large yellow dogs gathered
+round it, barking; but the men kicked them away, and busied
+themselves in chasing the animals off to a shed, their white-clad
+backs all religiously turned as Si Ma&iuml;eddine helped the ladies
+to descend. Behind a closed window a curtain was shaking;
+and M'Barka had not yet touched her feet to the ground when
+a negress ran out of a door that opened in the same distant
+corner of the house. She was unveiled, like Lella M'Barka's
+servants in Algiers, and, with Fafann, she almost carried the
+tired invalid towards the open door. Victoria followed, quivering
+with suspense. What waited for her behind that door?
+Would she see Saidee, after all these years of separation?</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'm dying," moaned Lella M'Barka. "They will
+never take me away from this house alive. White Rose, where
+art thou? I need thy hand under my arm."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria tried to think only of M'Barka, and to wait with
+patience for the supreme moment&mdash;if it were to come. Even
+if she had wished it, she could not have asked questions now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was midnight when Nevill's car ran into the beautiful
+oasis town, guarded by the most curious mountains
+of the Algerian desert, and they were at their strangest,
+cut out clear as the painted mountains of stage scenery,
+in the light of the great acetylene lamps. Stephen thought
+them like a vast, half-burned Moorish city of mosques and
+palaces, over which sand-storms had raged for centuries, leaving
+only traces here and there of a ruined tower, a domed roof,
+or an ornamental frieze.</p>
+
+<p>Of the palms he could see nothing, except the long, dark
+shape of the oasis among the pale sand-billows; but early next
+morning he and Nevill were up and out on the roof of the little
+French hotel, while sunrise banners marched across the sky.
+Stephen had not known that desert dunes could be bright
+peach-pink, or that a river flowing over white stones could look
+like melted rubies, or that a few laughing Arab girls, ankle-deep
+in limpid water, could glitter in morning light like jewelled
+houris in celestial gardens. But now that he knew, he would
+never forget his first desert picture.</p>
+
+<p>The two men stood on the roof among the bubbly domes
+for a long time, looking over the umber-coloured town and
+the flowing oasis which swept to Bou-Saada's brown feet like
+a tidal wave. It was not yet time to go and ask questions
+of the Ca&iuml;d, whom Nevill knew.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen was advised not to drink coffee in the hotel before
+starting on their quest. "We shall have to swallow at least
+three cups each of <i>caf&eacute; maure</i> at the Ca&iuml;d's house, and perhaps
+a dash of tea flavoured with mint, on top of all, if we don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>
+want to begin by hurting our host's feelings," Nevill said. So
+they fasted, and fed their minds by walking through Bou-Saada
+in its first morning glory. Already the old part of the
+town was alive, for Arabs love the day when it is young, even as
+they love a young girl for a bride.</p>
+
+<p>The Englishmen strolled into the cool, dark mosque, where
+heavy Eastern scents of musk and benzoin had lain all night
+like fugitives in sanctuary, and where the roof was held up
+by cypress poles instead of marble pillars, as in the grand
+mosques of big cities. By the time they were ready to leave,
+dawn had become daylight, and coming out of the brown dusk,
+the town seemed flooded with golden wine, wonderful, bubbling,
+unbelievable gold, with scarlet and purple and green
+figures floating in it, brilliant as rainbow fish.</p>
+
+<p>The Ca&iuml;d lived near the old town, in an adobe house, with
+a garden which was a tangle of roses and pomegranate blossoms,
+under orange trees and palms. And there were narrow paths
+of hard sand, the colour of old gold, which rounded up to the
+centre, and had little runnels of water on either side. The sunshine
+dripped between the long fingers of the palm leaves,
+to trail in a lacy pattern along the yellow paths, and the sound
+of the running water was sweet.</p>
+
+<p>It was in this garden that the Ca&iuml;d gave his guests the three
+cups of coffee each, followed by the mint-flavoured tea which
+Nevill had prophesied. And when they had admired a tame
+gazelle which nibbled cakes of almond and honey from their
+hands, the Ca&iuml;d insisted on presenting it to his good friend,
+Monsieur Caird.</p>
+
+<p>Over the cups of <i>caf&eacute; maure</i>, they talked of Captain Cassim
+ben Halim, but their host could or would tell them nothing
+beyond the fact that Ben Halim had once lived for a little
+while not far from Bou-Saada. He had inherited from his
+father a country house, about fifty kilometres distant, but he had
+never stayed there until after retiring from the army, and
+selling his place in Algiers. Then he had spent a few months<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>
+in the country. The Ca&iuml;d had met him long ago in Algiers,
+but had not seen him since. Ben Halim had been ill, and had
+led a retired life in the country, receiving no one. Afterward
+he had gone away, out of Algeria. It was said that he had
+died abroad a little later. Of that, the Ca&iuml;d was not certain;
+but in any case the house on the hill was now in the possession
+of the Ca&iuml;d of Ain Dehdra, Sidi Ela&iuml;d ben Sliman, a distant
+cousin of Ben Halim, said to be his only living relative.</p>
+
+<p>Then their host went on to describe the house with the white
+wall, which looked down upon a cemetery and a village. His
+description was almost precisely what Mouni's had been, and
+there was no doubt that the place where she had lived with the
+beautiful lady was the place of which he spoke. But of the
+lady herself they could learn nothing. The Ca&iuml;d had no information
+to give concerning Ben Halim's family.</p>
+
+<p>He pressed them to stay, and see all the beauties of the oasis.
+He would introduce them to the marabout at El Hamel, and
+in the evening they should see a special dance of the Ouled
+Na&iuml;ls. But they made excuses that they must get on, and bade
+the Ca&iuml;d good-bye after an hour's talk. As for the <i>gazelle
+approvois&eacute;e</i>, Nevill named her Josette, and hired an Arab
+to take her to Algiers by the diligence, with explicit instructions
+as to food and milk.</p>
+
+<p>Swarms of locusts flew into their faces, and fell into the
+car, or were burned to death in the radiator, as they sped along
+the road towards the white house on the golden hill. They
+started from Bou-Saada at ten o'clock, and though the road was
+far from good, and they were not always sure of the way, the
+noon heat was scarcely at its height when Stephen said: "There
+it is! That must be the hill and the white wall with the towers."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there's the cemetery too," answered Nevill. "We're
+seeing it on our left side, as we go, I hope that doesn't mean
+we're in for bad luck."</p>
+
+<p>"Rot!" said Stephen, promptly. Yet for all his scorn of
+Nevill's grotesque superstitions, he was not in a confident<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>
+mood. He did not expect much good from this visit to Ben
+Halim's old country house. And the worst was, that here
+seemed their last chance of finding out what had become of
+Saidee Ray, if not of her sister.</p>
+
+<p>The sound of the motor made a brown face flash over the
+top of the tall gate, like a Jack popping out of his box.</p>
+
+<p>"La Sidi, el Ca&iuml;d?" asked Nevill. "Is he at home?"</p>
+
+<p>The face pretended not to understand; and having taken in
+every detail of the strangers' appearance and belongings, including
+the motor-car, it disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"What's going to happen now?" Stephen wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>Nevill looked puzzled. "The creature isn't too polite.
+Probably it's afraid of Roumis, and has never been spoken to
+by one before. But I hope it will promptly scuttle indoors
+and fetch its master, or some one with brains and manners."</p>
+
+<p>Several minutes passed, and the yellow motor-car continued
+to advertise its presence outside the Ca&iuml;d's gate by
+panting strenuously. The face did not show itself again; and
+there was no evidence of life behind the white wall, except the
+peculiarly ominous yelping of Kabyle dogs.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's pound on the gate, and show them we mean to get
+in," said Stephen, angry-eyed.</p>
+
+<p>But Nevill counselled waiting. "Never be in a hurry when
+you have to do with Arabs. It's patience that pays."</p>
+
+<p>"Here come two chaps on horseback," Stephen said, looking
+down at the desert track that trailed near the distant cluster
+of mud houses, which were like square blocks of gold in the
+fierce sunshine. "They seem to be staring up at the car.
+I wonder if they're on their way here!"</p>
+
+<p>"It may be the Ca&iuml;d, riding home with a friend, or a servant,"
+Nevill suggested. "If so, I'll bet my hat there are other eyes
+than ours watching for him, peering out through some spy-hole
+in one of the gate-towers."</p>
+
+<p>His guess was right. It was the Ca&iuml;d coming home, and
+Ma&iuml;eddine was with him; for Lella M'Barka had been obliged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>
+to rest for three days at the farmhouse on the hill, and the
+Ca&iuml;d's guest had accompanied him before sunrise this morning
+to see a favourite white mehari, or racing camel, belonging to
+Sidi Ela&iuml;d ben Sliman, which was very ill, in care of a wise man
+of the village. Now the mehari was dead, and as Ma&iuml;eddine
+seemed impatient to get back, they were riding home, in spite
+of the noon heat.</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine had left the house reluctantly this morning.
+Not that he could often see Victoria, who was nursing M'Barka,
+and looking so wistful that he guessed she had half hoped to
+find her sister waiting behind the white wall on the golden hill.</p>
+
+<p>Though he could expect little of the girl's society, and there
+was little reason to fear that harm would come to her, or that
+she would steal away in his absence, still he had hated to ride
+out of the gate and leave her. If the Ca&iuml;d had not made
+a point of his coming, he would gladly have stayed behind.
+Now, when he looked up and saw a yellow motor-car at the gate,
+he believed that his feeling had been a presentiment, a warning
+of evil, which he ought so have heeded.</p>
+
+<p>He and the Ca&iuml;d were a long way off when he caught sight of
+the car, and heard its pantings, carried by the clear desert air.
+He could not be certain of its identity, but he prided himself
+upon his keen sight and hearing, and where they failed, instinct
+stepped in. He was sure that it was the car which had waited
+for Stephen Knight when the <i>Charles Quex</i> came in, the car
+of Nevill Caird, about whom he had made inquiries before
+leaving Algiers. Ma&iuml;eddine knew, of course, that Victoria
+had been to the Djenan el Djouad, and he was intensely suspicious
+as well as jealous of Knight, because of the letter Victoria
+had written. He knew also that the two Englishmen had
+been asking questions at the Hotel de la Kasbah; and he was
+not surprised to see the yellow car in front of the Ca&iuml;d's gates.
+Now that he saw it, he felt dully that he had always known it
+would follow him.</p>
+
+<p>If only he had been in the house, it would not have mattered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>
+He would have been able to prevent Knight and Caird from
+seeing Victoria, or even from having the slightest suspicion that
+she was, or had been, there. It was the worst of luck that he
+should be outside the gates, for now he could not go back while
+the Englishmen were there. Knight would certainly recognize
+him, and guess everything that he did not know.</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine thought very quickly. He dared not ride on, lest
+the men in the car should have a field-glass. The only thing
+was to let Ben Sliman go alone, so that, if eyes up there on the
+hill were watching, it might seem that the Ca&iuml;d was parting
+from some friend who lived in the village. He would have
+to trust Ela&iuml;d's discretion and tact, as he knew already he might
+trust his loyalty. Only&mdash;the situation was desperate. Tact,
+and an instinct for the right word, the frank look, were worth
+even more than loyalty at this moment. And one never quite
+knew how far to trust another man's judgment. Besides, the
+mischief might have been done before Ben Sliman could arrive
+on the scene; and at the thought of what might happen, Ma&iuml;eddine's
+heart seemed to turn in his breast. He had never known
+a sensation so painful to body and mind, and it was hideous to
+feel helpless, to know that he could do only harm, and not
+good, by riding up the hill. Nevertheless, he said to himself,
+if he should see Victoria come out to speak with these men,
+he would go. He would perhaps kill them, and the chauffeur
+too. Anything rather than give up the girl now; for the sharp
+stab of the thought that he might lose her, that Stephen Knight
+might have her, made him ten times more in love than he had
+been before. He wished that Allah might strike the men in the
+yellow car dead; although, ardent Mussulman as he was, he
+had no hope that such a glorious miracle would happen.</p>
+
+<p>"It is those men from Algiers of whom I told thee," he
+said to the Ca&iuml;d. "I must stop below. They must not recognize
+me, or the dark one who was on the ship, will guess.
+Possibly he suspects already that I stand for something in this
+affair."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Who can have sent them to my house?" Ben Sliman wondered.
+The two drew in their horses and put on the manner
+of men about to bid each other good-bye.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope, I am almost sure, that they know nothing of <i>her</i>, or
+of me. Probably, when inquiring about Ben Halim, in order
+to hear of her sister, and so find out where she has gone, they
+learned only that Ben Halim once lived here. If thy servants
+are discreet, it may be that no harm will come from this visit."</p>
+
+<p>"They will be discreet. Have no fear," the Ca&iuml;d assured him.
+Yet it was on his tongue to say; "the lady herself, when she
+hears the sound of the car, may do some unwise thing." But
+he did not finish the sentence. Even though the young girl&mdash;whom
+he had not seen&mdash;was a Roumia, obsessed with horrible,
+modern ideas, which at present it would be dangerous
+to try and correct, he could not discuss her with Ma&iuml;eddine.
+If she showed herself to the men, it could not be helped. What
+was to be, would be. Mekt&ucirc;b!</p>
+
+<p>"Far be it from me to distrust my friend's servants," said
+Ma&iuml;eddine; "but if in their zeal they go too far and give an
+impression of something to hide, it would be as bad as if they
+let drop a word too many."</p>
+
+<p>"I will ride on and break any such impression if it has
+been made," Ben Sliman consoled him. "Trust me. I will
+be as gracious to these Roumis as if they were true believers."</p>
+
+<p>"I do trust thee completely," answered the younger man.
+"While they are at thy gates, or within them, I must wait
+with patience. I cannot remain here in the open&mdash;yet I wish
+to be within sight, that I may see with my own eyes all that
+happens. What if I ride to one of the black tents, and ask for
+water to wash the mouth of my horse? If they have it not, it is
+no matter."</p>
+
+<p>"Thine is a good thought," said Ben Sliman, and rode on,
+putting his slim white Arab horse to a trot.</p>
+
+<p>To the left from the group of adobe houses, and at about the
+same distance from the rough track on which they had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>
+riding, was a cluster of nomad tents, like giant bats with torpid
+wings spread out ink-black on the gold of the desert. A little
+farther off was another small encampment of a different tribe;
+and their tents were brown, striped with black and yellow.
+They looked like huge butterflies resting. But Ma&iuml;eddine
+thought of no such similes. He was a child of the Sahara,
+and used to the tents and the tent-dwellers. His own father,
+the Agha, lived half the year in a great tent, when he was with
+his douar, and Ma&iuml;eddine had been born under the roof of
+camel's hair. His own people and these people were not kin,
+and their lives lay far apart; yet a man of one nomad tribe
+understands all nomads, though he be a chief's son, and they
+as poor as their own ill-fed camels. His pride was his nomad
+blood, for all men of the Sahara, be they princes or camel-drivers,
+look with scorn upon the sedentary people, those of the
+great plain of the Tell, and fat eaters of ripe dates in the
+cities.</p>
+
+<p>The eight or ten black tents were gathered round one, a
+little higher, a little less ragged than the others&mdash;the tent of the
+Kebir, or headman; but it was humble enough. There would
+have been room and to spare for a dozen such under the <i>tente
+sultane</i> of the Agha, at his douar south of El Aghouat.</p>
+
+<p>As Ma&iuml;eddine rode up, a buzz of excitement rose in the
+hive. Some one ran to tell the Kebir that a great Sidi was arriving,
+and the headman came out from his tent, where he had
+been meditating or dozing after the chanting of the midday
+prayer&mdash;the prayer of noon.</p>
+
+<p>He was a thin, elderly man, with an eagle eye to awe his
+women-folk, and an old burnous of sheep's wool, which was
+of a deep cream colour because it had not been washed for
+many years. Yet he smelt good, with a smell that was like
+the desert, and there was no foul odour in the miniature douar,
+as in European dwellings of the very poor. There is never
+a smell of uncleanliness about Arabs, even those people who
+must perform most of the ablutions prescribed by their religion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>
+with sand instead of water. But the Saharian saying is that
+the desert purifies all things.</p>
+
+<p>The Kebir was polite though not servile to Ma&iuml;eddine, and
+while the horse borrowed from the Ca&iuml;d was having its face
+economically sprinkled with water from a brown goat-skin,
+black coffee was being hospitably prepared for the guest by the
+women of the household, unveiled of course, as are all women
+of the nomad tribes, except those of highest birth.</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine did not want the coffee, but it would have been
+an insult to refuse, and he made laboured conversation with
+the Kebir, his eyes and thoughts fixed on the Ca&iuml;d's gate and
+the yellow motor-car. He hardly saw the tents, beneath whose
+low-spread black wings eyes looked out at him, as the bright
+eyes of chickens look out from under the mother-hen's feathers.
+They were all much alike, though the Kebir's, as befitted his
+position, was the best, made of wide strips of black woollen
+material stitched together, spread tightly over stout poles,
+and pegged down into the hard sand. There was a partition
+dividing the tent in two, a partition made of one or two old
+ha&iuml;cks, woven by hand, and if Ma&iuml;eddine had been interested,
+he could have seen his host's bedding arranged for the day; a
+few coarse rugs and <i>frechias</i> piled up carelessly, out of the way.
+There was a bale of camels' hair, ready for weaving, and on
+top of it a little boy was curled up asleep. From the tent-poles
+hung an animal's skin, drying, and a cradle of netted
+cords in which swung and slept a swaddled baby no bigger
+than a doll. It was a girl, therefore its eyes were blackened
+with kohl, and its eyebrows neatly sketched on with paint, as
+they had been since the unfortunate day of its birth, when the
+father grumbled because it was not a "child," but only a
+worthless female.</p>
+
+<p>The mother of the four weeks' old doll, a fine young woman
+tinkling with Arab silver, left her carpet-weaving to grind the
+coffee, while her withered mother-in-law brightened with
+brushwood the smouldering fire of camel-dung. The women<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>
+worked silently, humbly, though they would have been chattering
+if the great Sidi stranger had not been there; but two
+or three little children in orange and scarlet rags played giggling
+among the rubbish outside the tent&mdash;a broken bassour-frame,
+or palanquin, waiting to be mended; date boxes,
+baskets, and wooden plates; old kous-kous bowls, bundles of
+alfa grass, chicken feathers, and an infant goat with its mother.</p>
+
+<p>The sound of children's shrill laughter, which passed unnoticed
+by the parents, who had it always in their ears, rasped
+Ma&iuml;eddine's nerves, and he would have liked to strike or kick
+the babies into silence. Most Arabs worship children, even girls,
+and are invariably kind to them, but to-day Ma&iuml;eddine hated
+anything that ran about disturbingly and made a noise.</p>
+
+<p>Now the Ca&iuml;d had reached the gate, and was talking to the
+men in the motor-car. Would he send them away? No, the
+gate was being opened by a servant. Ben Sliman must have
+invited the Roumis in. Possibly it was a wise thing to do, yet
+how dangerous, how terribly dangerous, with Victoria perhaps
+peeping from one of the tiny windows at the women's corner
+of the house, which looked on the court! They could not see
+her there, but she could see them, and if she were tired of travelling
+and dancing attendance on a fidgety invalid&mdash;if she
+repented her promise to keep the secret of this journey?</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine's experience of women inclined him to think that
+they always did forget their promises to a man the moment his
+back was turned. Victoria was different from the women of
+his race, or those he had met in Paris, yet she was, after all,
+a woman; and there was no truer saying than that you might
+more easily prophesy the direction of the wind than say what
+a woman was likely to do. The coffee which the Kebir handed
+him made him feel sick, as if he had had a touch of the sun.
+What was happening up there on the hill, behind the gates
+which stood half open? What would she do&mdash;his Rose of the
+West?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>XXV</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was a relief to Stephen and Nevill to see one of the
+horsemen coming up the rough hill-track to the gate,
+and to think that they need no longer wait upon the
+fears or inhospitable whims of the Arab servants on
+the other side of the wall.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as the rider came near enough for his features
+to be sketched in clearly, Nevill remembered having noticed
+him at one or two of the Governor's balls, where all Arab
+dignitaries, even such lesser lights as ca&iuml;ds and adels show
+themselves. But they had never met. The man was not one
+of the southern chiefs whom Nevill Caird had entertained
+at his own house.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen thought that he had never seen a more personable
+man as the Ca&iuml;d rode up to the car, saluting courteously
+though with no great warmth.</p>
+
+<p>His face was more tanned than very dark by nature, but it
+seemed brown in contrast to his light hazel eyes. His features
+were commanding, if not handsome, and he sat his horse well.
+Altogether he was a notable figure in his immensely tall
+white turban, wound with pale grey-brown camel's-hair rope,
+his grey cloth burnous, embroidered with gold, flung back over
+an inner white burnous, his high black boots, with wrinkled
+brown tops, and his wonderful Kairouan hat of light straw,
+embroidered with a leather appliqu&eacute; of coloured flowers and
+silver leaves, steeple-crowned, and as big as a cart-wheel, hanging
+on his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>He and Nevill politely wished the blessings of Allah and
+Mohammed his Prophet upon each other, and Nevill then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>
+explained the errand which had brought him and his friend to
+the Ca&iuml;d's house.</p>
+
+<p>The Ca&iuml;d's somewhat heavy though intelligent face did not
+easily show surprise. It changed not at all, though Stephen
+watched it closely.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art welcome to hear all I can tell of my dead relation,
+Ben Halim," he said. "But I know little that everybody does
+not know."</p>
+
+<p>"It is certain, then, that Ben Halim is dead?" asked Nevill.
+"We had hoped that rumour lied."</p>
+
+<p>"He died on his way home after a pilgrimage to Mecca,"
+gravely replied the Ca&iuml;d.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" Nevill caught him up quickly. "We heard that it
+was in Constantinople."</p>
+
+<p>Ben Sliman's expression was slightly strained. He glanced
+from Nevill's boyish face to Stephen's dark, keen one, and
+perhaps fancied suspicion in both. If he had intended to let
+the Englishmen drive away in their motor-car without seeing
+the other side of his white wall, he now changed his mind. "If
+thou and thy friend care to honour this poor farm of mine
+by entering the gates, and drinking coffee with me," he said,
+"We will afterwards go down below the hill to the cemetery
+where my cousin's body lies buried. His tombstone will
+show that he was El Hadj, and that he had reached Mecca.
+When he was in Constantinople, he had just returned from
+there."</p>
+
+<p>Possibly, having given the invitation by way of proving that
+there was nothing to conceal, Ben Sliman hoped it would not be
+accepted; but he was disappointed. Before the Ca&iuml;d had
+reached the top of the hill, Nevill had told his chauffeur to stop
+the motor, therefore the restless panting had long ago ceased,
+and when Ben Sliman looked doubtfully at the car, as if wondering
+how it was to be got in without doing damage to his wall,
+Nevill said that the automobile might stay where it was. Their
+visit would not be long.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But the longer the better," replied the Ca&iuml;d. "When I
+have guests, it pains me to see them go."</p>
+
+<p>He shouted a word or two in Arabic, and instantly the gates
+were opened. The sketchily clad brown men inside had only
+been waiting for a signal.</p>
+
+<p>"I regret that I cannot ask my visitors into the house itself,
+as I have illness there," Ben Sliman announced; "but we have
+guest rooms here in the gate-towers. They are not what I
+could wish for such distinguished personages, but thou canst see,
+Sidi, thou and thy friend, that this is a simple farmhouse. We
+make no pretension to the luxury of towns, but we do what
+we can."</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, the brown men were scuttling about, one unfastening
+the door of a little tower, which stuck as if it had not
+been opened for a long time, another darting into the house,
+which appeared silent and tenantless, a third and fourth running
+to a more distant part, and vanishing also through a dark
+doorway.</p>
+
+<p>The Ca&iuml;d quickly ushered his guests into the tower room,
+but not so quickly that the eyes of a girl, looking through a
+screened window, did not see and recognize both. The servant
+who had gone ahead unbarred a pair of wooden shutters
+high up in the whitewashed walls of the tower, which was
+stiflingly close, with a musty, animal odour. As the opening
+of the shutters gave light, enormous black-beetles which seemed
+to Stephen as large as pigeon's eggs, crawled out from cracks
+between wall and floor, stumbling awkwardly about, and falling
+over each other. It was a disgusting sight, and did not
+increase the visitors' desire to accept the Ca&iuml;d's hospitality for
+any length of time. It may be that he had thought of this.
+But even if he had, the servants were genuinely enthusiastic in
+their efforts to make the Roumis at home. The two who had
+run farthest returned soonest. They staggered under a load
+of large rugs wrapped in unbleached sheeting, and a great
+sack stuffed full of cushions which bulged out at the top. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>
+sheeting they unfastened, and, taking no notice of the beetles,
+hurriedly spread on the rough floor several beautifully woven
+rugs of bright colours. Then, having laid four or five on top
+of one another, they clawed the cushions out of the sack, and
+placed them as if on a bed.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly had they finished, when the first servant who had
+disappeared came back, carrying over his arm a folding table,
+and dishes in his hands. The only furniture already in
+the tower consisted of two long, low wooden benches without
+backs; and as the servant from the house set up the folding
+table, he who had opened the windows placed the benches,
+one on either side. At the same moment, through the open
+door, a man could be seen running with a live lamb flung over
+his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens, what is he going to do with that?" Stephen
+asked, stricken with a presentiment.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid," Nevill answered quickly in English, "that it's
+going to be killed for our entertainment." His pink colour
+faded, and in Arabic he begged the Ca&iuml;d to give orders that,
+if the lamb were for them, its life be spared, as they were under
+a vow never to touch meat. This was the first excuse he could
+think of; and when, to his joy, a message was sent after the
+slayer of innocence, he added that, very unfortunately, they
+had a pressing engagement which would tear them away from
+the Ca&iuml;d's delightful house all too soon.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the Ca&iuml;d's face expressed no oppressive regret,
+yet he said kindly that he hoped to keep his guests at least
+until next morning. In the cool of the day they would see
+the cemetery; they would return, and eat the evening meal.
+It would then be time to sleep. And with a gesture he indicated
+the rugs and cushions, under which the beetles were now
+buried like mountain-dwellers beneath an avalanche.</p>
+
+<p>Nevill, still pale, thanked his host earnestly, complimented
+the rugs, and assured the Ca&iuml;d that, of course, they would be
+extraordinarily comfortable, but even such inducements<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>
+did not make it possible for them to neglect their duty
+elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>"In any case we shall now eat and drink together," said
+Ben Sliman, pointing to the table, and towards a servant now
+arriving from the house with a coffee-tray. The dishes had
+been set down on the bare board, and one contained the usual
+little almond cakes, the other, a conserve of some sort bathed
+in honey, where already many flies were revelling. The servant
+who had spread the table, quietly pulled the flies out by their
+wings, or killed them on the edge of the dish.</p>
+
+<p>Nevill, whiter than before, accepted cordially, and giving
+Stephen a glance of despair, which said: "Noblesse oblige,"
+he thrust his fingers into the honey, where there were fewest
+flies, and took out a sweetmeat. Stephen did the same. All
+three ate, and drank sweet black <i>caf&eacute; maure</i>. Once the Ca&iuml;d
+turned to glance at something outside the door, and his secretive,
+light grey eyes were troubled. As they ate and drank,
+they talked, Nevill tactfully catechizing, the Ca&iuml;d answering
+with pleasant frankness. He did not inquire why they wished
+to have news of Ben Halim, who had once lived in the house
+for a short time, and had now long been dead. Perhaps he
+wished to give the Roumis a lesson in discretion; but as their
+friendliness increased over the dripping sweets, Nevill ventured
+to ask a crucial question. What had become of Ben
+Halim's American wife?</p>
+
+<p>Then, for the first time, the Ca&iuml;d frowned, very slightly,
+but it was plain to see he thought a liberty had been taken
+which, as host, he was unable to resent.</p>
+
+<p>"I know nothing of my dead cousin's family," he said.
+"No doubt its members went with him, if not to Mecca, at
+least a part of the way, and if any such persons wished to
+return to Europe after his death, it is certain they would have
+been at liberty to do so. This house my cousin wished me to
+have, and I took possession of it in due time, finding it empty
+and in good order. If you search for any one, I should advise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>
+searching in France or, perhaps, in America. Unluckily, there
+I cannot help. But when it is cool, we will go to the cemetery.
+Let us go after the prayer, the prayer of <i>Moghreb</i>."</p>
+
+<p>But Nevill was reluctant. So was Stephen, when the proposal
+was explained. They wished to go while it was still hot,
+or not at all. It may be that even this eccentric proposal
+did not surprise or grieve the Ca&iuml;d, though as a rule he was
+not fond of being out of doors in the glare of the sun.</p>
+
+<p>He agreed to the suggestion that the motor-car should take
+all three down the hill, but said that he would prefer to walk
+back.</p>
+
+<p>The "teuf-teuf" of the engine began once more outside the
+white gates; and for the second time Victoria flew to the window,
+pressing her face against the thick green moucharabia which
+excluded flies and prevented any one outside from seeing what
+went on within.</p>
+
+<p>"Calm thyself, O Rose," urged the feeble voice of Lella
+M'Barka. "Thou hast said these men are nothing to thee."</p>
+
+<p>"One is my friend," the girl pleaded, with a glance at the
+high couch of rugs on which M'Barka lay.</p>
+
+<p>"A young girl cannot have a man for a friend. He may be a
+lover or a husband, but never a friend. Thou knowest this in
+thy heart, O Rose, and thou hast sworn to me that never hast
+thou had a lover."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria did not care to argue. "I am sure he has come
+here to try and find me. He is anxious. That is very good
+of him&mdash;all the more, because we are nothing to each other.
+How can I let him go away without a word? It is too hard-hearted.
+I do think, if Si Ma&iuml;eddine were here, he would say
+so too. He would let me see Mr. Knight and just tell him that
+I'm perfectly safe and on the way to my sister. That once she
+lived in this house, and I hoped to find her here, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ma&iuml;eddine would not wish thee to tell the young man these
+things, or any other things, or show thyself to him at all,"
+M'Barka persisted, lifting herself on the bed in growing excite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>ment.
+"Dost thou not guess, he runs many dangers in guiding
+thee to the wife of a man who is as one dead? Dost thou
+wish to ruin him who risks his whole future to content thee?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, of course I would do nothing which could bring harm
+to Si Ma&iuml;eddine," Victoria said, the eagerness dying out of her
+voice. "I have kept my word with him. I have let nobody
+know&mdash;nobody at all. But we could trust Mr. Knight and
+Mr. Caird. And to see them there, in the courtyard, and let
+them go&mdash;it is too much!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why shouldst thou consider me, whom thou hast known but
+a few days, when thou wouldst be hurrying on towards thy
+sister Sa&iuml;da? Yet it will surely be my death if thou makest
+any sign to those men. My heart would cease to beat. It
+beats but weakly now."</p>
+
+<p>With a sigh, Victoria turned away from the moucharabia, and
+crossing the room to M'Barka, sat down on a rug by the side of
+her couch. "I do consider thee," she said. "If it were not
+for thee and Si Ma&iuml;eddine, I might not be able to get to Saidee
+at all; so I must not mind being delayed a few days. It is worse
+for thee than for me, because thou art suffering."</p>
+
+<p>"When a true believer lies ill for more than three days, his
+sins are all forgiven him," M'Barka consoled herself. She
+put out a hot hand, and laid it on Victoria's head. "Thou art
+a good child. Thou hast given up thine own will to do what
+is right."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not quite sure at this moment that I am doing what is
+right," murmured Victoria. "But I can't make thee more ill
+than thou art, so I must let Mr. Knight go. And probably I
+shall never see him, never hear of him again. He will look
+for me, and then he will grow tired, and perhaps go home to
+England before I can write to let him know I am safe with
+Saidee." Her voice broke a little. She bent down her head,
+and there were tears in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She heard the creaking of the gate as it shut. The motor-car
+had gone panting away. For a moment it seemed as if her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>
+heart would break. Just one glimpse had she caught of
+Stephen's face, and it had looked to her more than ever like the
+face of a knight who would fight to the death for a good cause.
+She had not quite realized how noble a face it was, or how hard
+it would be to let it pass out of her life. He would always
+hate her if he guessed she had sat there, knowing he had come
+so far for her sake?&mdash;she was sure it was for her sake&mdash;and
+had made no sign. But he would not guess. And it was true,
+as Lella M'Barka said, he was nothing to her. Saidee was
+everything. And she was going to Saidee. She must think
+only of Saidee, and the day of their meeting.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Stephen had never seen an Arab cemetery; and it seemed to
+him that this Mussulman burial-place, scattered over two low
+hills, in the midst of desert wastes, was beautiful and pathetic.
+The afternoon sunshine beat upon the koubbahs of marabouts,
+and the plastered graves or headstones of less important folk;
+but so pearly pale were they all that the golden quality of the
+light was blanched as if by some strange, white magic, and
+became like moonlight shining on a field of snow.</p>
+
+<p>There were no names on any of the tombs, even the grandest.
+Here and there on a woman's grave was a hand of Fatma, or a
+pair of the Prophet's slippers; and on those of a few men were
+turbans carved in marble, to tell that the dead had made pilgrimage
+to Mecca. All faces were turned towards the sacred
+city, as Mussulmans turn when they kneel to pray, in mosque or
+in desert; and the white slabs, narrow or broad, long or short,
+ornamental or plain, flat or roofed with fantastic maraboutic
+domes, were placed very close together. At one end of the
+cemetery, only bits of pottery marked the graves; yet each bit
+was a little different from the other, meaning as much to those
+who had placed them there as names and epitaphs in European
+burial grounds. On the snowy headstones and flat platforms,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>
+drops of rose-coloured wax from little candles, lay like tears
+of blood shed by the mourners, and there was a scattered spray
+of faded orange blossoms, brought by some loving hand from a
+far-away garden in an oasis.</p>
+
+<p>"Here lies my cousin, Cassim ben Halim," said the Ca&iuml;d,
+pointing to a grave comparatively new, surmounted at the
+head with a carved turban. Nearer to it than any other
+tomb was that of a woman, beautified with the Prophet's
+slippers.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it possible that his wife lies beside him?" Stephen made
+Nevill ask.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a lady of his house. I can say no more. When his
+body was brought here, hers was brought also, in a coffin,
+which is permitted to the women of Islam, with the request that
+it should be placed near my cousin's tomb. This was done;
+and it is all I can tell, because it is all I know."</p>
+
+<p>The Arab looked the Englishman straight in the eyes as he
+answered; and Stephen felt that in this place, so simple, so peaceful,
+so near to nature's heart, it would be difficult for a man
+to lie to another, even though that man were a son of Islam, the
+other a "dog of a Christian." For the first time he began to
+believe that Cassim ben Halim had in truth died, and that
+Victoria Ray's sister was perhaps dead also. Her death alone
+could satisfactorily explain her long silence. And against the
+circumstantial evidence of this little grave, adorned with the
+slippers of the Prophet, there was only a girl's impression&mdash;Victoria's
+feeling that, if Saidee were dead, she "must have
+known."</p>
+
+<p>The two friends stood for a while by the white graves, where
+the sunshine lay like moonlight on snow; and then, because
+there was nothing more for them to do in that place, they
+thanked the Ca&iuml;d, and made ready to go their way. Again he
+politely refused their offer to drive him up to his own gate, and
+bade them good-bye when they had got into the car. He
+stood and watched it go bumping away over the rough, desert<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>
+road, pieces of which had been gnawed off by a late flood, as a
+cake is bitten round the edge by a greedy child.</p>
+
+<p>They had had enough of motor-cars for that day, up there
+on the hill! The Ca&iuml;d was glad when the sound died. The
+machine was no more suited to his country, he thought, than
+were the men of Europe who tore about the world in it, trying
+to interfere in other people's business.</p>
+
+<p>"El hamdou-lillah! God be praised!" he whispered, as
+the yellow automobile vanished from sight and Ma&iuml;eddine
+came out from the cluster of black tents in the yellow sand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>XXVI</h2>
+
+
+<p>Next day, Lella M'Barka was well enough to begin
+the march again. They started, in the same curtained
+carriage, at that moment before dawn while
+it is still dark, and a thin white cloth seems spread
+over the dead face of night. Then day came trembling along
+the horizon, and the shadows of horses and carriage grew
+long and grotesquely deformed. It was the time, M'Barka
+said, when Chitan the devil, and the evil Djenoun that possess
+people's minds and drive them insane, were most powerful;
+and she would hardly listen when Victoria answered that she
+did not believe in Djenoun.</p>
+
+<p>In a long day, they came to Bou-Saada, reaching the hidden
+oasis after nightfall, and staying in the house of the Ca&iuml;d with
+whom Stephen and Nevill had talked of Ben Halim. Lella
+M'Barka was related to the Ca&iuml;d's wife, and was so happy in
+meeting a cousin after years of separation, that the fever in
+her blood was cooled; and in the morning she was able to
+go on.</p>
+
+<p>Then came two days of driving to Djelfa, at first in a country
+strange enough to be Djinn-haunted, a country of gloomy
+mountains, and deep water-courses like badly healed wounds;
+passing through dry river-beds, and over broken roads with
+here and there a bordj where men brought water to the mules,
+in skins held together with ropes of straw. At last, after a
+night, not too comfortable, spent in a dismal bordj, they came
+to a wilderness which any fairytale-teller would have called
+the end of the world. The road had dwindled to a track across
+gloomy desert, all the more desolate, somehow, because of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>
+the dry asparto grass growing thinly among stones. Nothing
+seemed to live or move in this world, except a lizard that whisked
+its grey-green length across the road, a long-legged bird which
+hopped gloomily out of the way, or a few ragged black and
+white sheep with nobody to drive them. In the heat of the
+day nothing stirred, not even the air, though the distance
+shimmered and trembled with heat; but towards night jackals
+padded lithely from one rock shelter to another. The carriage
+drove through a vast plain, rimmed with far-away mountains,
+red as porphyry, but fading to purple at the horizon. Victoria
+felt that she would never come to the end of this plain, that it
+must finish only with eternity; and she wished in an
+occasional burst of impatience that she were travelling in Nevill
+Caird's motor-car. She could reach her sister in a third of
+the time! She told herself that these thoughts were ungrateful to
+Ma&iuml;eddine, who was doing so much for her sake, and
+she kept up her spirits whether they dragged on tediously,
+or stopped by the way to eat, or to let M'Barka rest. She
+tried to control her restlessness, but feared that Ma&iuml;eddine
+saw it, for he took pains to explain, more than once, how
+necessary was the detour they were making. Along this route
+he had friends who were glad to entertain them at night, and
+give them mules or horses, and besides, it was an advantage
+that the way should be unfrequented by Europeans. He
+cheered her by describing the interest of the journey when,
+by and by, she would ride a mehari, sitting in a bassour, made
+of branches heated and bent into shape like a great cage, lined
+and draped with soft haoulis of beautiful colours, and comfortably
+cushioned. It would not be long now before they
+should come to the douar of his father the Agha, beyond El
+Aghouat. She would have a wonderful experience there;
+and according to Ma&iuml;eddine, all the rest of the journey would
+be an enchantment. Never for a moment would he let her
+tire. Oh, he would promise that she should be half sorry
+when the last day came! As for Lella M'Barka, the Rose of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>
+the West need not fear, for the bassour was easy as a cradle
+to a woman of the desert; and M'Barka, rightfully a princess
+of Touggourt, was desert-born and bred.</p>
+
+<p>Queer little patches of growing grain, or miniature orchards
+enlivened the dull plain round the ugly Saharian town of
+Djelfa, headquarters of the Ouled Na&iuml;ls. The place looked
+unprepossessingly new and French, and obtrusively military;
+dismal, too, in the dusty sand which a wailing wind blew through
+the streets; but scarcely a Frenchman was to be seen, except
+the soldiers. Many Arabs worked with surprising briskness
+at the loading or unloading of great carts, men of the Ouled
+Na&iuml;ls, with eyes more mysterious than the eyes of veiled women;
+tall fellows wearing high shoes of soft, pale brown leather made
+for walking long distances in heavy sand; and Ma&iuml;eddine
+said that there was great traffic and commerce between Djelfa
+and the M'Zab country, where she and he and M'Barka would
+arrive presently, after passing his father's douar.</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine was uneasy until they were out of Djelfa, for,
+though few Europeans travelled that way, and the road is hideous
+for motors, still it was not impossible that a certain yellow
+car had slipped in before them, to lie in wait. The Ca&iuml;d's
+house, where they spent that night, was outside the town,
+and behind its closed doors and little windows there was no
+fear of intruders. It was good to be sure of shelter and security
+under a friend's roof; and so far, in spite of the adventure
+at Ben Sliman's, everything was going well enough. Only&mdash;Ma&iuml;eddine
+was a little disappointed in Victoria's manner
+towards himself. She was sweet and friendly, and grateful
+for all he did, but she did not seem interested in him as a man.
+He felt that she was eager to get on, that she was counting the
+days, not because of any pleasure they might bring in his
+society, but to make them pass more quickly. Still, with the
+deep-rooted patience of the Arab, he went on hoping. His
+father, Agha of the Ouled-Serrin, reigned in the desert like
+a petty king. Ma&iuml;eddine thought that the douar and the Agha's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>
+state must impress her; and the journey on from there would
+be a splendid experience, different indeed from this interminable
+jogging along, cramped up in a carriage, with M'Barka
+sighing, or leaning a heavy head on the girl's shoulder. Out
+in the open, Victoria in her bassour, he on the horse which he
+would take from his father's goum, travelling would be pure
+joy. And Ma&iuml;eddine had been saving up many surprises for
+that time, things he meant to do for the girl, which must turn
+her heart towards him.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond Djelfa, on the low mountains that alone broke the
+monotony of the dismal plain, little watch-towers rose dark
+along the sky-line&mdash;watch-towers old as Roman days. Sometimes
+the travellers met a mounted man wearing a long, hooded
+cloak over his white burnous; a cavalier of the Bureau
+Arabe, or native policeman on his beat, under the authority
+of a civil organization more powerful in the Sahara than the
+army. These men, riding alone, saluted Si Ma&iuml;eddine almost
+with reverence, and Lella M'Barka told Victoria, with pride,
+that her cousin was immensely respected by the French Government.
+He had done much for France in the far south, where
+his family influence was great, and he had adjusted difficulties
+between the desert men and their rulers. "He is more tolerant
+than I, to those through whom Allah has punished us for our
+sins," said the woman of the Sahara. "I was brought up in
+an older school; and though I may love one of the Roumis, as
+I have learned to love thee, oh White Rose, I cannot love whole
+Christian nations. Ma&iuml;eddine is wiser than I, yet I would
+not change my opinions for his; unless, as I often think, he
+really&mdash;&mdash;" she stopped suddenly, frowning at herself. "This
+dreariness is not <i>our</i> desert," she explained eagerly to the girl,
+as the horses dragged the carriage over the sandy earth, through
+whose hard brown surface the harsh, colourless blades of
+<i>drinn</i> pricked like a few sparse hairs on the head of a shrivelled
+old man. "In the Sahara, there are four kinds of desert,
+because Allah put four angels in charge, giving each his own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>
+portion. The Angel of the Chebka was cold of nature, with
+no kindness in his heart, and was jealous of the others; so
+the Chebka is desolate, sown with sharp rocks which were
+upheaved from under the earth before man came, and its
+dark ravines are still haunted by evil spirits. The Angel of
+the Hameda was careless, and forgot to pray for cool valleys
+and good water, so the Hameda hardened into a great plateau
+of rock. The Angel of the Gaci was loved by a houri, who
+appeared to him and danced on the firm sand of his desert.
+Vanishing, she scattered many jewels, and fruits from the
+celestial gardens which turned into beautifully coloured stones
+as they fell, and there they have lain from that day to this.
+But best of all was the Angel of the Erg, our desert&mdash;desert
+of the shifting dunes, never twice the same, yet always more
+beautiful to-day than yesterday; treacherous to strangers, but
+kind as the bosom of a mother to her children. The first three
+angels were men, but the fourth and best is the angel woman
+who sows the heaven with stars, for lamps to light her own
+desert, and all the world beside, even the world of infidels."</p>
+
+<p>M'Barka and Ma&iuml;eddine both talked a great deal of El
+Aghouat, which M'Barka called the desert pearl, next in
+beauty to her own wild Touggourt, and Ma&iuml;eddine laughingly
+likened the oasis-town to Paris. "It is the Paris of our Sahara,"
+he said, "and all the desert men, from Ca&iuml;ds to camel-drivers,
+look forward to its pleasures."</p>
+
+<p>He planned to let the girl see El Aghouat for the first time
+at sunset. That was to be one of his surprises. By nature
+he was dramatic; and the birth of the sun and the death of
+the sun are the great dramas of the desert. He wished to be
+the hero of such a drama for Victoria, with El Aghouat for
+his background; for there, he was leading her in at the gate
+of his own country.</p>
+
+<p>When they had passed the strange rock-shape known as
+the Chapeau de Gendarme, and the line of mountains which
+is like the great wall of China, Ma&iuml;eddine defied the danger<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>
+he had never quite ceased to fear during the five long days
+since the adventure on the other side of Bou-Saada. He
+ordered the carriage curtains to be rolled up as tightly as they
+would go, and Victoria saw a place so beautiful that it was
+like the secret garden of some Eastern king. It was as if they
+had driven abruptly over the edge of a vast bowl half filled
+with gold dust, and ringed round its rim with quivering rosy
+flames. Perhaps the king of the garden had a dragon whose
+business it was to keep the fire always alight to prevent robbers
+from coming to steal the gold dust; and so ardently had
+it been blazing there for centuries, that all the sky up to the
+zenith had caught fire, burning with so dazzling an intensity
+of violet that Victoria thought she could warm her hands in its
+reflection on the sand. In the azure crucible diamonds were
+melting, boiling up in a radiant spray, but suddenly the violet
+splendour was cooled, and after a vague quivering of rainbow
+tints, the celestial rose tree of the Sahara sunset climbed blossoming
+over the whole blue dome, east, west, north and south.</p>
+
+<p>In the bottom of the golden bowl, there was a river bed to cross,
+on a bridge of planks, but among the burning stones trickled
+a mere runnel of water, bright as spilt mercury. And Ma&iuml;eddine
+chose the moment when the minarets of El Aghouat rose
+from a sea of palms, to point out the strange, pale hills crowned
+by old koubbahs of marabouts and the military hospital. He
+told the story of the Arab revolt of fifty odd years ago; and
+while he praised the gallantry of the French, Victoria saw
+in his eyes, heard in the thrill of his voice, that his admiration
+was for his own people. This made her thoughtful, for though
+it was natural enough to sympathize with the Arabs who had
+stood the siege and been reconquered after desperate fighting,
+until now his point of view had seemed to be the modern,
+progressive, French point of view. Quickly the question flashed
+through her mind&mdash;"Is he letting himself go, showing me his
+real self, because I'm in the desert with him, and he thinks
+I'll never go back among Europeans?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She shivered a little at the thought, but she put it away with
+the doubt of Ma&iuml;eddine that came with it. Never had he
+given her the least cause to fear him, and she would go on
+trusting in his good faith, as she had trusted from the first.</p>
+
+<p>Still, there was that creeping chill, in contrast to the warm
+glory of the sunset, which seemed to shame it by giving a
+glimpse of the desert's heart, which was Ma&iuml;eddine's heart.
+She hurried to say how beautiful was El Aghouat; and that
+night, in the house of the Ca&iuml;d, (an uncle of Ma&iuml;eddine's on
+his mother's side), as the women grouped round her, hospitable
+and admiring, she reproached herself again for her suspicion.
+The wife of the Ca&iuml;d was dignified and gentle. There were
+daughters growing up, and though they knew nothing, or
+seemed to know nothing, of Saidee, they were sure that, if
+Ma&iuml;eddine knew, all was well. Because they were his cousins
+they had seen and been seen by him, and the young girls
+poured out all the untaught romance of their little dim souls
+in praise of Ma&iuml;eddine. Once they were on the point of saying
+something which their mother seemed to think indiscreet,
+and checked them quickly. Then they stopped, laughing;
+and their laughter, like the laughter of little children, was so
+contagious that Victoria laughed too.</p>
+
+<p>There was some dreadful European furniture of sprawling,
+"nouveau art" design in the guest-room which she and Lella
+M'Barka shared; and as Victoria lay awake on the hard bed,
+of which the girls were proud, she said to herself that she had
+not been half grateful enough to Si Ma&iuml;eddine. For ten years
+she had tried to find Saidee, and until the other day she had
+been little nearer her heart's desire than when she was a child,
+hoping and longing in the school garret. Now Ma&iuml;eddine
+had made the way easy&mdash;almost too easy, for the road to
+the golden silence had become so wonderful that she was
+tempted to forget her haste to reach the end.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>XXVII</h2>
+
+
+<p>"There is my father's douar," said Si Ma&iuml;eddine;
+and Victoria's eyes followed his pointing finger.</p>
+
+<p>Into a stony and desolate waste had billowed
+one golden wave of sand, and on the fringe of this
+wave, the girl saw a village of tents, black and brown, lying
+closely together, as a fleet of dark fishing-boats lie in the water.
+There were many little tents, very flat and low, crouched around
+one which even at a distance was conspicuous for its enormous
+size. It looked like a squatting giant among an army of pigmies;
+and the level light of late afternoon gave extraordinary
+value to its colours, which were brighter and newer than those
+of the lesser tents. As their swaying carriage brought the
+travellers nearer, Victoria could see deep red and brown stripes,
+separated by narrow bands of white. For background, there
+was a knot of trees; for they had come south of El Aghouat to
+the strange region of dayas, where the stony desolation is broken
+by little emerald hollows, running with water, like big round
+bowls stuck full of delicate greenery and blossoms.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, as Victoria looked, figures began running about, and
+almost before she had time to speak, ten or a dozen men
+in white, mounted on horses, came speeding across the desert.</p>
+
+<p>A stain of red showed in Ma&iuml;eddine's cheeks, and his eyes
+lighted up. "They have been watching, expecting us," he
+said. "Now my father is sending men to bid us welcome."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he is coming himself," said Victoria, for there
+was one figure riding in the centre which seemed to her more
+splendidly dignified than the others, though all were magnificent
+horsemen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No. It would not be right that the Agha himself should
+come to meet his son," Ma&iuml;eddine explained. "Besides
+he would be wearing a scarlet burnous, embroidered with gold.
+He does me enough honour in sending out the pick of his goum,
+which is among the finest of the Sahara."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria had picked up a great deal of desert lore by this
+time, and knew that the "pick of the goum" would mean
+the best horses in the Agha's stables, the crack riders among
+his trained men&mdash;fighting men, such as he would give to the
+Government, if Arab soldiers were needed.</p>
+
+<p>The dozen cavaliers swept over the desert, making the sand
+fly up under the horses' hoofs in a yellow spray; and nearing
+the carriage they spread themselves in a semi-circle, the
+man Victoria had mistaken for the Agha riding forward to
+speak to Ma&iuml;eddine.</p>
+
+<p>"It is my brother-in-law, Abderrhaman ben Douadi,"
+exclaimed Ma&iuml;eddine, waving his hand.</p>
+
+<p>M'Barka pulled her veil closer, and because she did so, Victoria
+hid her face also, rather than shock the Arab woman's
+prejudices.</p>
+
+<p>At a word from his master, the driver stopped his mules
+so quickly as to bring them on their haunches, and Ma&iuml;eddine
+sprang out. He and his brother-in-law, a stately dark man
+with a short black beard under an eagle nose, exchanged
+courtesies which seemed elaborate to Victoria's European
+ideas, and Si Abderrhaman did not glance at the half-lowered
+curtains behind which the women sat.</p>
+
+<p>The men talked for a few minutes; then Ma&iuml;eddine got into
+the carriage again; and surrounded by the riders, it was driven
+rapidly towards the tents, rocking wildly in the sand, because
+now it had left the desert road and was making straight for the
+zmala.</p>
+
+<p>The Arab men on their Arab horses shouted as they rode,
+as if giving a signal; and from the tents, reddened now by the
+declining sun, came suddenly a strange crying in women's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>
+voices, shrill yet sweet; a sound that was half a chant, half
+an eerie yodeling, note after note of "you-you!&mdash;you-you!"
+Out from behind the zeribas, rough hedges of dead boughs
+and brambles which protected each low tent, burst a tidal wave
+of children, some gay as little bright butterflies in gorgeous
+dresses, others wrapped in brilliant rags. From under the
+tents women appeared, unveiled, and beautiful in the sunset
+light, with their heavy looped braids and their dangling, clanking
+silver jewellery. "You-you! you-you!" they cried, dark
+eyes gleaming, white teeth flashing. It was to be a festival
+for the douar, this fortunate evening of the son and heir's
+arrival, with a great lady of his house, and her friend, a Roumia
+girl. There was joy for everyone, for the Agha's relatives,
+and for each man, woman and child in the zmala, mighty
+ones, or humble members of the tribe, the Ouled-Serrin. There
+would be feasting, and after dark, to give pleasure to the
+Roumia, the men would make the powder speak. It was like
+a wedding; and best of all, an exciting rumour had gone round
+the douar, concerning the foreign girl and the Agha's son, Si
+Ma&iuml;eddine.</p>
+
+<p>The romance in Victoria's nature was stirred by her reception;
+by the white-clad riders on their slender horses, and the wild
+"you-yous" of the women and little girls. Ma&iuml;eddine saw her
+excitement and thrilled to it. This was his great hour. All
+that had gone before had been leading up to this day, and to
+the days to come, when they would be in the fiery heart of the
+desert together, lost to all her friends whom he hated with a
+jealous hatred. He helped M'Barka to descend from the
+carriage: then, as she was received at the tent door by the
+Agha himself, Ma&iuml;eddine forgot his self-restraint, and swung
+the girl down, with tingling hands that clasped her waist, as
+if at last she belonged to him.</p>
+
+<p>Half fearful of what he had done, lest she should take alarm
+at his sudden change of manner, he studied her face anxiously
+as he set her feet to the ground. But there was no cause for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>
+uneasiness. So far from resenting the liberty he had taken
+after so many days of almost ostentatious respect, Victoria
+was not even thinking of him, and her indifference would have
+been a blow, if he had not been too greatly relieved to be hurt
+by it. She was looking at his father, the Agha, who seemed to
+her the embodiment of some biblical patriarch. All through
+her long desert journey, she had felt as if she had wandered
+into a dream of the Old Testament. There was nothing there
+more modern than "Bible days," as she said to herself, simply,
+except the French quarters in the few Arab towns through
+which they had passed.</p>
+
+<p>Not yet, however, had she seen any figure as venerable as
+the Agha's, and she thought at once of Abraham at his tent
+door. Just such a man as this Abraham must have been in
+his old age. She could even imagine him ready to sacrifice a
+son, if he believed it to be the will of Allah; and Ma&iuml;eddine
+became of more importance in her eyes because of his relationship
+to this kingly patriarch of the Sahara.</p>
+
+<p>Having greeted his niece, Lella M'Barka, and passed her
+hospitably into the tent where women were dimly visible,
+the Agha turned to Ma&iuml;eddine and Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>"The blessing of Allah be upon thee, O my son," he said,
+"and upon thee, little daughter. My son's messenger brought
+word of thy coming, and thou art welcome as a silver shower
+of rain after a long drought in the desert. Be thou as a child
+of my house, while thou art in my tent."</p>
+
+<p>As she gave him her hand, her veil fell away from her face,
+and he saw its beauty with the benevolent admiration of an
+old man whose blood has cooled. He was so tall that the
+erect, thin figure reminded Victoria of a lonely desert palm. The
+young girl was no stern critic, and was more inclined to see
+good than evil in every one she met; therefore to her the long
+snowy beard, the large dreamy eyes under brows like Ma&iuml;eddine's,
+and the slow, benevolent smile of the Agha meant
+nobility of character. Her heart was warm for the splendid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>
+old man, and he was not unaware of the impression he had
+made. As he bowed her into the tent where his wife and
+sister and daughter were crowding round M'Barka, he said
+in a low voice to Ma&iuml;eddine: "It is well, my son. Being a
+man, and young, thou couldst not have withstood her. When
+the time is ripe, she will become a daughter of Islam, because
+for love of thee, she will wish to fulfil thine heart's desire."</p>
+
+<p>"She does not yet know that she loves me," Ma&iuml;eddine
+answered. "But when thou hast given me the white stallion
+El Biod, and I ride beside the girl in her bassour through the
+long days and the long distances, I shall teach her, in the way
+the Roumi men teach their women to love."</p>
+
+<p>"But if thou shouldst not teach her?"</p>
+
+<p>"My life is in it, and I shall teach her," said Ma&iuml;eddine.
+"But if Chitan stands between, and I fail&mdash;which I will not
+do&mdash;why, even so, it will come to the same thing in the end,
+because&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Thou wouldst say&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is well to know one's own meaning, and to speak of&mdash;date
+stones. Yet with one's father, one can open one's heart.
+He to whom I go has need of my services, and what he has
+for twelve months vainly asked me to do, I will promise to do,
+for the girl's sake, if I cannot win her without."</p>
+
+<p>"Take care! Thou enterest a dangerous path," said the
+old man.</p>
+
+<p>"Yet often I have thought of entering there, before I saw
+this girl's face."</p>
+
+<p>"There might be a great reward in this life, and in the life
+beyond. Yet once the first step is taken, it is irrevocable. In
+any case, commit me to nothing with him to whom thou goest.
+He is eaten up with zeal. He is a devouring fire&mdash;and all
+is fuel for that fire."</p>
+
+<p>"I will commit thee to nothing without thy full permission,
+O my father."</p>
+
+<p>"And for thyself, think twice before thou killest the sheep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>
+Remember our desert saying. 'Who kills a sheep, kills a bee.
+Who kills a bee, kills a palm, and who kills a palm, kills seventy
+prophets.'"</p>
+
+<p>"I would give my sword to the prophets to aid them in killing
+those who are not prophets."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art faithful. Yet let the rain of reason fall on thy
+head and on thine heart, before thou givest thy sword into
+the hand of him who waits thine answer."</p>
+
+<p>"Thine advice is of the value of many dates, even of the
+<i>deglet nour</i>, the jewel date, which only the rich can eat."</p>
+
+<p>The old man laid his hand, still strong and firm, on his son's
+shoulder, and together they went into the great tent, that part
+of it where the women were, for all were closely related to them,
+excepting the Roumia, who had been received as a daughter
+of the house.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>When it was evening, the douar feasted, in honour of the
+guests who had come to the <i>tente sultane</i>. The Agha had
+given orders that two sheep should be killed. One was for
+his own household; his relatives, his servants, many of whom
+lived under the one vast roof of red, and white, and brown.
+His daughter, and her husband who assisted him in many
+ways, and was his scribe, or secretary, had a tent of their own
+close by, next in size to the Agha's; but they were bidden to
+supper in the great tent that night, for the family reunion.
+And because there was a European girl present, the women
+ate with the men, which was not usual.</p>
+
+<p>The second sheep was for the humbler folk of the zmala,
+and they roasted it whole in an open space, over a fire of small,
+dry wood, and of dead palm branches brought on donkey back
+twenty miles across the desert, from the nearest oasis town,
+also under dominion of the Agha. He had a house and garden
+there; but he liked best to be in his douar, with only his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>
+tent roof between him and the sky. Also it made him popular
+with the tribe of which he was the head, to spend most of his
+time with them in the desert. And for some reasons of which
+he never spoke, the old man greatly valued this popularity,
+though he treasured also the respect of the French, who assured
+his position and revenues.</p>
+
+<p>The desert men had made a ring round the fire, far from
+the green <i>daya</i>, so that the blowing sparks might not reach the
+trees. They sat in a circle, on the sand, with a row of women
+on one side, who held the smallest children by their short
+skirts; and larger children, wild and dark, as the red light of
+the flames played over their faces, fed the fire with pale
+palm branches. There was no moon, but a fountain of sparks
+spouted towards the stars; and though it was night, the sky
+was blue with the fierce blue of steel. Some of the Agha's
+black Soudanese servants had made kous-kous of semolina
+with a little mutton and a great many red peppers. This they
+gave to the crowd, in huge wooden bowls; and the richer
+people boiled coffee which they drank themselves, and offered
+to those sitting nearest them.</p>
+
+<p>When everybody had eaten, the powder play began round
+the fire, and at each explosion the women shrilled out their
+"you-you, you-you!" But this was all for the entertainment
+of outsiders. Inside the Agha's tent, the family took their
+pleasure more quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Though a house of canvas, there were many divisions into
+rooms. The Agha's wife had hers, separated completely
+from her sister's, and there was space for guests, besides the
+Agha's own quarters, his reception room, his dining-room
+(invaded to-night by all his family) the kitchen, and sleeping
+place for a number of servants.</p>
+
+<p>There were many dishes besides the inevitable cheurba, or
+Arab soup, the kous-kous, the mechoui, lamb roasted over
+the fire. Victoria was almost sickened by the succession of
+sweet things, cakes and sugared preserves, made by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>
+hands of the Agha's wife, Alonda, who in the Roumia's
+eyes was as like Sarah as the Agha was like Abraham. Yet
+everything was delicious; and after the meal, when the coffee
+came, lagmi the desert wine distilled from the heart of a palm
+tree, was pressed upon Victoria. All drank a little, for, said
+Lella Alonda, though strong drink was forbidden by the
+Prophet, the palms were dear to him, and besides, in the
+throats of good men and women, wine was turned to milk, as
+Sidi Aissa of the Christians turned water to wine at the marriage
+feast.</p>
+
+<p>When they had finished at last, a Soudanese woman poured
+rose-water over their hands, from a copper jug, and wiped
+them with a large damask napkin, embroidered by Aichouch,
+the pretty, somewhat coquettish married daughter of the house,
+Ma&iuml;eddine's only sister. The rose-water had been distilled
+by Lella Fatma, the widowed sister of Alonda, who shared
+the hospitality of the Agha's roof, in village or douar. Every
+one questioned Victoria, and made much of her, even the
+Agha; but, though they asked her opinions of Africa, and
+talked of her journey across the sea, they did not speak of her
+past life or of her future. Not a word was said concerning her
+mission, or Ben Halim's wife, the sister for whom she searched.</p>
+
+<p>While they were still at supper, the black servants who had
+waited upon them went quietly away, but slightly raised the
+heavy red drapery which formed the partition between that
+room and another. They looped up the thick curtain only
+a little way, but there was a light on the other side, and Victoria,
+curious as to what would happen next, spied the servants'
+black legs moving about, watched a rough wooden
+bench placed on the blue and crimson rugs of Djebel Amour,
+and presently saw other black legs under a white burnous coil
+themselves upon the low seat.</p>
+
+<p>Then began strange music, the first sound of which made
+Victoria's heart leap. It was the first time she had heard the
+music of Africa, except a distant beating of tobols coming from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>
+a black tent across desert spaces, while she had lain at night
+in the house of Ma&iuml;eddine's friends; or the faint, pure note
+of a henna-dyed flute in the hand of some boy keeper of goats&mdash;a
+note pure as the monotonous purling of water, heard in
+the dark.</p>
+
+<p>But this music was so close to her, that it was like the throbbing
+of her own heart. And it was no sweet, pure trickle of
+silver, but the cry of passion, passion as old and as burning
+as the desert sands outside the lighted tent. As she listened,
+struck into pulsing silence, she could see the colour of the
+music; a deep crimson, which flamed into scarlet as the tom-tom
+beat, or deepened to violent purple, wicked as belladonna
+flowers. The wailing of the ra&iuml;ta mingled with the heavy
+throbbing of the tom-tom, and filled the girl's heart with a
+vague foreboding, a yearning for something she had not known,
+and did not understand. Yet it seemed that she must have
+both known and understood long ago, before memory recorded
+anything&mdash;perhaps in some forgotten incarnation. For the
+music and what it said, monotonously yet fiercely, was old as
+the beginnings of the world, old and changeless as the patterns
+of the stars embroidered on the astrological scroll of the sky.
+The hoarse derbouka, and the languorous ghesbah joined in
+with the savage tobol and the strident ra&iuml;ta; and under all was
+the tired heart-beat of the bendir, dull yet resonant, and curiously
+exciting to the nerves.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria's head swam. She wondered if it were wholly the
+effect of the African music, or if the lagmi she had sipped was
+mounting to her brain. She grew painfully conscious of every
+physical sense, and it was hard to sit and listen. She longed
+to spring up and dance in time to the droning, and throbbing,
+and crying of the primitive instruments which the Negroes
+played behind the red curtain. She felt that she must dance,
+a new, strange dance the idea of which was growing in her
+mind, and becoming an obsession. She could see it as if she
+were looking at a picture; yet it was only her nerves and her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>
+blood that bade her dance. Her reason told her to sit still.
+Striving to control herself she shut her eyes, and would have
+shut her ears too, if she could. But the music was loud in
+them. It made her see desert rivers rising after floods, and water
+pounding against the walls of underground caverns. It made
+her hear the wild, fierce love-call of a desert bird to its mate.</p>
+
+<p>She could bear it no longer. She sprang up, her eyes shining,
+her cheeks red. "May I dance for you to that music, Lella
+Alonda?" she said to the Agha's wife. "I think I could. I
+long to try."</p>
+
+<p>Lella Alonda, who was old, and accustomed only to the dancing
+of the Almehs, which she thought shameful, was scandalized
+at the thought that the young girl would willingly
+dance before men. She was dumb, not knowing what
+answer to give, that need not offend a guest, but which might
+save the Roumia from indiscretion.</p>
+
+<p>The Agha, however, was enchanted. He was a man of
+the world still, though he was aged now, and he had been to
+Paris, as well as many times to Algiers. He knew that European
+ladies danced with men of their acquaintance, and he
+was curious to see what this beautiful child wished to do. He
+glanced at Ma&iuml;eddine, and spoke to his wife: "Tell the little
+White Rose to dance; that it will give us pleasure."</p>
+
+<p>"Dance then, in thine own way, O daughter," Lella
+Alonda was forced to say; for it did not even occur to her that
+she might disobey her husband.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria smiled at them all; at M'Barka and Aichouch, and
+Aichouch's dignified husband, Si Abderrhaman: at Alonda
+and the Agha, and at Ma&iuml;eddine, as, when a child, she would
+have smiled at her sister, when beginning a dance made up
+from one of Saidee's stories.</p>
+
+<p>She had told Stephen of an Eastern dance she knew, but
+this was something different, more thrilling and wonderful,
+which the wild music put into her heart. At first, she hardly
+knew what was the meaning she felt impelled to express by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>
+gesture and pose. The spirit of the desert sang to her, a song
+of love, a song old as the love-story of Eve; and though the
+secret of that song was partly hidden from her as yet, she must
+try to find it out for herself, and picture it to others, by dancing.</p>
+
+<p>Always before, when she danced, Victoria had called up the
+face of her sister, to keep before her eyes as an inspiration. But
+now, as she bent and swayed to catch the spirit's whispers, as
+wheat sways to the whisper of the wind, it was a man's face she
+saw. Stephen Knight seemed to stand in the tent, looking at
+her with a curiously wistful, longing look, over the heads of the
+Arab audience, who sat on their low divans and piled carpets.</p>
+
+<p>She thrilled to the look, and the desert spirit made her screen
+her face from it, with a sequined gauze scarf which she wore.
+For a few measures she danced behind the glittering veil, then
+with a sudden impulse which the music gave, she tossed it
+back, holding out her arms, and smiling up to Stephen's eyes,
+above the brown faces, with a sweet smile very mysterious to
+the watchers. Consciously she called to Stephen then, as she
+had promised she would call, if she should ever need him, for
+somehow she did need and want him;&mdash;not for his help in
+finding Saidee: she was satisfied with all that Ma&iuml;eddine was
+doing&mdash;but for herself. The secret of the music which she
+had been trying to find out, was in his eyes, and learning it
+slowly, made her more beautiful, more womanly, than she had
+ever been before. As she danced on, the two long plaits of
+her red hair loosened and shook out into curls which played
+round her white figure like flames. Her hands fluttered on
+the air as they rose and fell like the little white wings of a dove;
+and she was dazzling as a brandished torch, in the ill-lit tent
+with its dark hangings.</p>
+
+<p>M'Barka had given her a necklace of black beads which
+the negresses had made of benzoin and rose leaves and spices,
+held in shape with pungent rezin. Worn on the warm flesh,
+the beads gave out a heady perfume, which was like the breath
+of the desert. It made the girl giddy, and it grew stronger<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>
+and sweeter as she danced, seeming to mingle with the crying
+of the ra&iuml;ta and the sobbing of the ghesbah, so that she confused
+fragrance with music, music with fragrance.</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine stared at her, like a man who dreams with his
+eyes open. If he had been alone, he could have watched her
+dance on for hours, and wished that she would never stop;
+but there were other men in the tent, and he had a maddening
+desire to snatch the girl in his arms, smothering her in his
+burnous, and rushing away with her into the desert.</p>
+
+<p>Her dancing astonished him. He did not know what to
+make of it, for she had told him nothing about herself, except
+what concerned her errand in Africa. Though he had been in
+Paris when she was there, he had been deeply absorbed in
+business vital to his career, and had not heard of Victoria Ray the
+dancer, or seen her name on the hoardings.</p>
+
+<p>Like his father, he knew that European women who danced
+were not as the African dancers, the Ouled Na&iuml;ls and the girls
+of Djebel Amour. But an Arab may have learned to know
+many things with his mind which he cannot feel with his heart;
+and with his heart Ma&iuml;eddine felt a wish to blind Abderrhaman,
+because his eyes had seen the intoxicating beauty of Victoria
+as she danced. He was ferociously angry, but not with the
+girl. Perhaps with himself, because he was powerless to hide
+her from others, and to order her life as he chose. Yet there
+was a kind of delicious pain in knowing himself at her mercy,
+as no Arab man could be at the mercy of an Arab woman.</p>
+
+<p>The sight of Victoria dancing, had shot new colours into
+his existence. He understood her less, and valued her more
+than before, a thousand times more, achingly, torturingly more.
+Since their first meeting on the boat, he had admired the
+American girl immensely. Her whiteness, the golden-red of
+her hair, the blueness of her eyes had meant perfection for him.
+He had wanted her because she was the most beautiful creature
+he had seen, because she was a Christian and difficult to win;
+also because the contrast between her childishness and brave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>
+independence was piquant. Apart from that contrast, he
+had not thought much about her nature. He had looked upon
+her simply as a beautiful girl, who could not be bought, but
+must be won. Now she had become a bewildering houri.
+Nothing which life could give him would make up for the loss
+of her. There was nothing he would not do to have her, or
+at least to put her beyond the reach of others.</p>
+
+<p>If necessary, he would even break his promise to the Agha.</p>
+
+<p>While she danced inside the great tent, outside in the open
+space round the fire, the dwellers in the little tents sat with
+their knees in their arms watching the dancing of two young
+Negroes from the Soudan. The blacks had torn their turbans
+from their shaven heads, and thrown aside their burnouses.
+Naked to their waists, with short, loose trousers, and sashes
+which other men seized, to swing the wearers round and round,
+their sweating skin had the gloss of ebony. It was a whirlwind
+of a dance, and an old wizard with a tom-tom, and a dark
+giant with metal castanets made music for the dancers, taking
+eccentric steps themselves as they played. The Soudanese
+fell into an ecstasy of giddiness, running about on their hands
+and feet like huge black tarantulas, or turning themselves into
+human wheels, to roll through the bed of the dying fire and out
+on the other side, sending up showers of sparks. All the while,
+they uttered a barking chant, in time to the wicked music,
+which seemed to shriek for war and bloodshed; and now and
+then they would dash after some toddling boy, catch him by
+the scalp-lock on his shaved head (left for the grasp of Azra&iuml;l
+the death-angel) and force him to join the dance.</p>
+
+<p>Mean-faced Kabyle dogs, guarding deserted tents, howled
+their hatred of the music, while far away, across desert spaces,
+jackals cried to one another. And the scintillating network
+of stars was dimmed by a thin veil of sand which the wind
+lifted and let fall, as Victoria lifted and let fall the spangled
+scarf that made her beauty more mysterious, more desirable, in
+the eyes of Ma&iuml;eddine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>XXVIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>"In the name of the All-Merciful and Pitiful! We seek
+refuge with the Lord of the Day, against the sinfulness
+of beings created by Him; against all evil, and against
+the night, lest they overcome us suddenly."</p>
+
+<p>It was the Prayer of the Dawn, El Fej&ucirc;r; and Victoria
+heard it cried in the voices of the old men of the zmala, early
+in the morning, as she dressed to continue her journey.</p>
+
+<p>Every one was astir in the <i>tente sultane</i>, behind the different
+curtain partitions, and outside were the noises of the douar,
+waking to a new day. The girl could not wait for the coffee
+that Fafann would bring her, for she was eager to see the
+caravan that Si Ma&iuml;eddine was assembling. As soon as she
+was ready she stole out into the dim dawn, more mystic in
+the desert than moon-rise or moon-setting. The air was
+crisp and tingling, and smelled of wild thyme, the herb that
+nomad women love, and wear crushed in their bosoms, or thrust
+up their nostrils. The camels had not come yet, for the men
+of the douar had not finished their prayer. In the wide open
+space where they had watched the dance last night, now they
+were praying, sons of Ishmael, a crowd of prostrate white
+figures, their faces against the sand.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria stood waiting by the big tent, but she had not much
+need for patience. Soon the desert prayer was over, and the zmala
+was buzzing with excitement, as it had buzzed when the
+travellers arrived.</p>
+
+<p>The Soudanese Negroes who had danced the wild dance
+appeared leading two white meharis, running camels, aristocrats
+of the camel world. On the back of each rose a cage-like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>
+bassour, draped with haoulis, striped rose-colour and purple.
+The desert beasts moved delicately, on legs longer and more
+slender than those of pack-camels, their necks swaying like
+the necks of swans who swim with the tide. Victoria thought
+them like magnificent, four-legged cousins of ostriches, and the
+superciliousness of their expressions amused her; the look
+they had of elderly ladies, dissatisfied with every one but themselves,
+and conscious of being supremely "well-connected."
+"A camel cannot see its own hump, but it can see those of
+others," she had heard M'Barka say.</p>
+
+<p>As Victoria stood alone in the dawn, laughing at the ghostly
+meharis, and looking with interest at the heavily laden pack-camel
+and the mule piled up with tents and mattresses, Ma&iuml;eddine
+came riding round from behind the great tent, all in
+white, on a white stallion. Seeing the girl, he tested her
+courage, and made a bid for her admiration by reining El Biod
+in suddenly, making him stand erect on his hind feet, pawing
+the air and dancing. But Roumia as she was, and unaccustomed
+to such man&oelig;uvres, she neither ran back nor screamed.
+She was not ashamed to show her admiration of man and
+horse, and Ma&iuml;eddine did not know that her thoughts were
+more of El Biod the white, "drinker of air," the saddle of
+crimson velvet and tafilet leather embroidered in gold, and the
+bridle from Figuig, encrusted with silver, than of the rider.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the horse of whom I told thee," Ma&iuml;eddine said,
+letting El Biod come down again on all four feet. "He was
+blessed as a foal by having the magical words 'Bissem Allah'
+whispered over him as he drew the first draught of his mother's
+milk. But thou wilt endow him with new gifts if thou touchest
+his forehead with thy hand. Wilt thou do that, for his
+sake, and for mine?"</p>
+
+<p>Victoria patted the flesh-coloured star on the stallion's
+white face, not knowing that, if a girl's fingers lie between the
+eyes of an Arab's horse, it is as much as to say that she is ready
+to ride with him to the world's end. But Ma&iuml;eddine knew,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>
+and the thought warmed his blood. He was superstitious,
+like all Arabs, and he had wanted a sign of success. Now he
+had it. He longed to kiss the little fingers as they rested on
+El Biod's forehead, but he said to himself, "Patience; it
+will not be long before I kiss her lips."</p>
+
+<p>"El Biod is my citadel," he smiled to her. "Thou knowest
+we have the same word for horse and citadel in Arabic? And
+that is because a brave stallion is a warrior's citadel, built on
+the wind, a rampart between him and the enemy. And we
+think the angels gave a horse the same heart as a man, that
+he might be our friend as well as servant, and carry us on his
+back to Paradise. Whether that is true or not, to-day El
+Biod and I are already on the threshold of Paradise, because
+we are thy guides, thy guardians through the desert which
+we love."</p>
+
+<p>As he made this speech, Ma&iuml;eddine watched the girl's face
+anxiously, to see whether she would resent the implication, but
+she only smiled in her frank way, knowing the Arab language
+to be largely the language of compliment; and he was encouraged.
+Perhaps he had been over-cautious with her, he
+thought; for, after all, he had no reason to believe that she
+cared for any man, and as he had a record of great successes
+with women, why be so timid with an unsophisticated girl?
+Each day, he told himself, he would take another and longer
+step forward; but for the moment he must be content. He
+began to talk about the meharis and the Negroes who would
+go with them and the beasts of burden.</p>
+
+<p>When it was time for Victoria and M'Barka to be helped
+into their bassourahs, Ma&iuml;eddine would not let the Soudanese
+touch the meharis. It was he who made the animals kneel,
+pulling gently on the bridle attached to a ring in the left nostril
+of each; and both subsided gracefully in haughty silence instead
+of uttering the hideous gobbling which common camels
+make when they get down and get up, or when they are loaded
+or unloaded. These beasts, Guelbi and Mansour, had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>
+bought from Moors, across the border where Oran and Morocco
+run together, and had been trained since babyhood by
+smugglers for smuggling purposes. "If a man would have
+a silent camel," said Ma&iuml;eddine, "he must get him from smugglers.
+For the best of reasons their animals are taught never
+to make a noise."</p>
+
+<p>M'Barka was to have Fafann in the same bassour, but Victoria
+would have her rose and purple cage to herself. Ma&iuml;eddine
+told her how, as the camel rose, she must first bow forward,
+then bend back; and, obeying carefully, she laughed
+like a child as the tall mehari straightened the knees of his forelegs,
+bearing his weight upon them as if on his feet, then got
+to his hind feet, while his "front knees," as she called them,
+were still on the ground, and last of all swung himself on to all
+four of his heart-shaped feet. Oh, how high in the air she felt
+when Guelbi was up, ready to start! She had had no idea
+that he was such a tall, moving tower, under the bassour.</p>
+
+<p>"What a sky-scraping camel!" she exclaimed. And then
+had to explain to Ma&iuml;eddine what she meant; for though he
+knew Paris, for him America might as well have been on
+another planet.</p>
+
+<p>He rode beside Victoria's mehari, when good-byes had
+been said, blessings exchanged, and the little caravan had
+started. Looking out between the haoulis which protected
+her from sun and wind, the handsome Arab on his Arab horse
+seemed far below her, as Romeo must have seemed to Juliet
+on her balcony; and to him the fair face, framed with dazzling
+hair was like a guiding star.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou canst rest in thy bassour?" he asked. "The motion
+of thy beast gives thee no discomfort?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Truly it is a cradle," she answered. "I had read
+that to ride on a camel was misery, but this is like being rocked
+on the bough of a tree when the wind blows."</p>
+
+<p>"To sit in a bassour is very different from riding on a saddle,
+or even on a mattress, as the poor Bedouin women sometimes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>
+ride, or the dancers journeying from one place to another.
+I would not let thee travel with me unless I had been able to
+offer thee all the luxuries which a sultana might command.
+With nothing less would I have been content, because to me
+thou art a queen."</p>
+
+<p>"At least thou hast given me a beautiful moving throne,"
+laughed Victoria; "and because thou art taking me on it to
+my sister, I'm happy to-day as a queen."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, if thou art happy, I also am happy," he said. "And
+when an Arab is happy, his lips would sing the song that is in
+his heart. Wilt thou be angry or pleased if I sing thee a love-song
+of the desert?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot be angry, because the song will not really be
+for me," Victoria answered with the simplicity which had
+often disarmed and disconcerted Ma&iuml;eddine. "And I shall
+be pleased, because in the desert it is good to hear desert songs."</p>
+
+<p>This was not exactly the answer which he had wanted, but
+he made the best of it, telling himself that he had not much
+longer to wait.</p>
+
+<p>"Leaders of camels sing," he said, "to make the beasts'
+burdens weigh less heavily. But thy mehari has no burden.
+Thou in thy bassour art lighter on his back than a feather on
+the wing of a dove. My song is for my own heart, and for thine
+heart, if thou wilt have it, not for Guelbi, though the meaning
+of Guelbi is 'heart of mine.'"</p>
+
+<p>Then Ma&iuml;eddine sang as he rode, his bridle lying loose,
+an old Arab song, wild and very sad, as all Arab music sounds,
+even when it is the cry of joy:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><p>
+"Truly, though I were to die, it would be naught,<br />
+If I were near my love, for whom my bosom aches,<br />
+For whom my heart is beating.<br />
+<br />
+"Yes, I am to die, but death is nothing<br />
+O ye who pass and see me dying,<br />
+For I have kissed the eyes, the mouth that I desired."
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p></div>
+
+<p>"But that is a sad song," said Victoria, when Ma&iuml;eddine
+ceased his tragic chant, after many verses.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou wouldst not say so, if thou hadst ever loved. Nothing
+is sad to a lover, except to lose his love, or not to have
+his love returned."</p>
+
+<p>"But an Arab girl has no chance to love," Victoria argued.
+"Her father gives her to a man when she is a child, and they
+have never even spoken to each other until after the wedding."</p>
+
+<p>"We of the younger generation do not like these child marriages,"
+Ma&iuml;eddine apologized, eagerly. "And, in any case,
+an Arab man, unless he be useless as a mule without an eye,
+knows how to make a girl love him in spite of herself. We are
+not like the men of Europe, bound down by a thousand conventions.
+Besides, we sometimes fall in love with women not
+of our own race. These we teach to love us before marriage."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria laughed again, for she felt light-hearted in the beautiful
+morning. "Do Arab men always succeed as teachers?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is written is written," he answered slowly. "Yet
+it is written that a strong man carves his own fate. And for
+thyself, wouldst thou know what awaits thee in the future?"</p>
+
+<p>"I trust in God and my star."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou wouldst not, then, that the desert speak to thee with
+its tongue of sand out of the wisdom of all ages?"</p>
+
+<p>"What dost thou mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that my cousin, Lella M'Barka, can divine the
+future from the sand of the Sahara, which gave her life, and
+life to her ancestors for a thousand years before her. It is a
+gift. Wilt thou that she exercise it for thee to-night, when
+we camp?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is hardly any real sand in this part of the desert,"
+said Victoria, seeking some excuse not to hear M'Barka's
+prophecies, yet not to hurt M'Barka's feelings, or Ma&iuml;eddine's.
+"It is all far away, where we see the hills which look golden as
+ripe grain. And we cannot reach those hills by evening."</p>
+
+<p>"My cousin always carries the sand for her divining. Every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>
+night she reads in the sand what will happen to her on the
+morrow, just as the women of Europe tell their fate by the
+cards. It is sand from the dunes round Touggourt; and
+mingled with it is a little from Mecca, which was brought to
+her by a holy man, a marabout. It would give her pleasure
+to read the sand for thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will ask her to do it," Victoria promised.</p>
+
+<p>As the day grew, its first brightness faded. A wind blew up
+from the south, and slowly darkened the sky with a strange
+lilac haze, which seemed tangible as thin silk gauze. Behind
+it the sun glimmered like a great silver plate, and the desert
+turned pale, as in moonlight. Although the ground was hard
+under the camels' feet, the wind carried with it from far-away
+spaces a fine powder of sand which at last forced Victoria
+to let down the haoulis, and Ma&iuml;eddine and the two Negroes
+to cover their faces with the veils of their turbans, up to the
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"It will rain this afternoon," M'Barka prophesied from
+between her curtains.</p>
+
+<p>"No," Ma&iuml;eddine contradicted her. "There has been rain
+this month, and thou knowest better than I do that beyond
+El Aghouat it rains but once in five years. Else, why do the
+men of the M'Zab country break their hearts to dig deep wells?
+There will be no rain. It is but a sand-storm we have to fear."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet I feel in the roots of my hair and behind my eyes that the
+rain is coming."</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine shrugged his shoulders, for an Arab does not twice
+contradict a woman, unless she be his wife. But the lilac
+haze became a pall of crape, and the noon meal was hurried.
+Ma&iuml;eddine saved some of the surprises he had brought for a
+more favourable time. Hardly had they started on again,
+when rain began to fall, spreading over the desert in a quivering
+silver net whose threads broke and were constantly mended
+again. Then the rough road (to which the little caravan did
+not keep) and all the many diverging tracks became wide silver<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>
+ribbons, lacing the plain broken with green dayas. A few
+minutes more&mdash;incredibly few, it seemed to Victoria&mdash;and
+the dayas were deep lakes, where the water swirled and bubbled
+round the trunks of young pistachio trees. A torrent poured
+from the mourning sky, and there was a wild sound of marching
+water, which Victoria could hear, under the haoulis which
+sheltered her. No water came through them, for the arching
+form of the bassour was like the roof of a tent, and the rain
+poured down on either side. She peeped out, enjoying her own
+comfort, while pitying Ma&iuml;eddine and the Negroes; but all
+three had covered their thin burnouses with immensely thick,
+white, hooded cloaks, woven of sheep's wool, and they had no
+air of depression. By and by they came to an oued, which
+should have been a dry, stony bed without a trickle of water;
+but half an hour's downpour had created a river, as if by black
+magic; and Victoria could guess the force at which it was rushing,
+by the stout resistance she felt Guelbi had to make, as he
+waded through.</p>
+
+<p>"A little more, and we could not have crossed," said Ma&iuml;eddine,
+when they had mounted up safely on the other side of the
+oued.</p>
+
+<p>"Art thou not very wet and miserable?" the girl asked
+sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;miserable?" he echoed. "I&mdash;who am privileged to
+feast upon the deglet nour, in my desert?"</p>
+
+<p>Victoria did not understand his metaphor, for the deglet
+nour is the finest of all dates, translucent as amber, sweet
+as honey, and so dear that only rich men or great marabouts
+ever taste it. "The deglet nour?" she repeated, puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"Dost thou not know the saying that the smile of a beautiful
+maiden is the deglet nour of Paradise, and nourishes a man's
+soul, so that he can bear any discomfort without being conscious
+that he suffers?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not know that Arab men set women so high," said
+Victoria, surprised; for now the rain had stopped, suddenly as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>
+it began, and she could look out again from between the curtains.
+Soon they would dry in the hot sun.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast much to learn then, about Arab men," Ma&iuml;eddine
+answered, "and fortunate is thy teacher. It is little to
+say that we would sacrifice our lives for the women we love,
+because for us life is not that great treasure it is to the Roumis,
+who cling to it desperately. We would do far more than give
+our lives for the beloved woman, we Arabs. We would give
+our heads, which is the greatest sacrifice a man of Islam could
+make."</p>
+
+<p>"But is not that the same thing as giving life?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a thousandfold more. It is giving up the joy of eternity.
+For we are taught to believe that if a man's head is severed
+from his body, it alone goes to Paradise. His soul is maimed.
+It is but a bodiless head, and all celestial joys are for ever
+denied to it."</p>
+
+<p>"How horrible!" the girl exclaimed. "Dost thou really
+believe such a thing?"</p>
+
+<p>He feared that he had made a mistake, and that she would
+look upon him as an alien, a pagan, with whom she could have
+no sympathy. "If I am more modern in my ideas than my
+forefathers," he said tactfully, "I must not confess it to a Roumia,
+must I, oh Rose of the West?&mdash;for that would be disloyal
+to Islam. Yet if I did believe, still would I give my head for
+the love of the one woman, the star of my destiny, she whose
+sweet look deserves that the word 'a&iuml;n' should stand for
+bright fountain, and for the ineffable light in a virgin's
+eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not know until to-day, Si Ma&iuml;eddine, that thou wert
+a poet," Victoria told him.</p>
+
+<p>"All true Arabs are poets. Our language&mdash;the literary,
+not the common Arabic&mdash;is the language of poets, as thou
+must have read in thy books. But I have now such inspiration
+as perhaps no man ever had; and thou wilt learn other
+things about me, while we journey together in the desert."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>As he said this he looked at her with a look which even
+her simplicity could not have mistaken if she had thought of it;
+but instantly the vision of Saidee came between her eyes and
+his. The current of her ideas was abruptly changed. "How
+many days now," she asked suddenly, "will the journey last?"</p>
+
+<p>His face fell. "Art thou tired already of this new way of
+travelling, that thou askest me a question thou hast not once
+asked since we started?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, no," she reassured him. "I love it. I am not tired
+at all. But&mdash;I did not question thee at first because thou
+didst not desire me to know thy plans, while I was still within
+touch of Europeans. Thou didst not put this reason in such
+words, for thou wouldst not have let me feel I had not thy full
+trust. But it was natural thou shouldst not give it, when thou
+hadst so little acquaintance with me, and I did not complain.
+Now it is different. Even if I wished, I could neither speak
+nor write to any one I ever knew. Therefore I question
+thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Art thou impatient for the end?" he wanted to know,
+jealously.</p>
+
+<p>"Not impatient. I am happy. Yet I should like to count
+the days, and say each night, 'So many more times must the
+sun rise and set before I see my sister.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Many suns must rise and set," Ma&iuml;eddine confessed doggedly.</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;when first thou planned the journey, thou saidst;
+'In a fortnight thou canst send thy friends news, I hope.'"</p>
+
+<p>"If I had told thee then, that it must be longer, wouldst
+thou have come with me? I think not. For thou sayest I
+did not wholly trust thee. How much less didst thou trust me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Completely. Or I would not have put myself in thy charge."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps thou art convinced of that now, when thou knowest
+me and Lella M'Barka, and thou hast slept in the tent of my
+father, and in the houses of my friends. But I saw in thine
+eyes at that time a doubt thou didst not wish to let thyself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>
+feel, because through me alone was there a way to reach thy
+sister. I wished to bring thee to her, for thy sake, and for her
+sake, though I have never looked upon her face and never
+shall&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why dost thou say 'never shall'?" the girl broke in upon
+him suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>The blood mounted to his face. He had made a second
+mistake, and she was very quick to catch him up.</p>
+
+<p>"It was but a figure of speech," he corrected himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou dost not mean that she's shut up, and no man allowed
+to see her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know nothing. Thou wilt find out all for thyself. But
+thou wert anxious to go to her, at no matter what cost, and I
+feared to dishearten thee, to break thy courage, while I was
+still a stranger, and could not justify myself in thine eyes. Now,
+wilt thou forgive me an evasion, which was to save thee anxiety,
+if I say frankly that, travel as we may, we cannot reach our
+journey's end for many days yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"I must forgive thee," said Victoria, with a sigh. "Yet I
+do not like evasions. They are unworthy."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry," Ma&iuml;eddine returned, so humbly that he disarmed
+her. "It would be terrible to offend thee."</p>
+
+<p>"There can be no question of offence," she consoled him.
+"I am very, very grateful for all thou hast done for me. I
+often lie awake in the night, wondering how I can repay thee
+everything."</p>
+
+<p>"When we come to the end of the journey, I will tell thee
+of a thing thou canst do, for my happiness," Ma&iuml;eddine said
+in a low voice, as if half to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Wilt thou tell me now to what place we are going? I
+should like to know, and I should like to hear thee describe
+it."</p>
+
+<p>He did not speak for a moment. Then he said slowly;
+"It is a grief to deny thee anything, oh Rose, but the secret
+is not mine to tell, even to thee."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The secret!" she echoed. "Thou hast never called it a
+secret."</p>
+
+<p>"If I did not use that word, did I not give thee to understand
+the same thing?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thou meanest, the secret about Cassim, my sister's husband?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cassim ben Halim has ceased to live."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria gave a little cry. "Dead! But thou hast made
+me believe, in spite of the rumours, that he lived."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot explain to thee," Ma&iuml;eddine answered gloomily,
+as if hating to refuse her anything. "In the end, thou wilt
+know all, and why I had to be silent."</p>
+
+<p>"But my sister?" the girl pleaded. "There is no mystery
+about her? Thou hast concealed nothing which concerns
+Saidee?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast my word that I will take thee to the place where
+she is. Thou gavest me thy trust. Give it me again."</p>
+
+<p>"I have not taken it away. It is thine," said Victoria.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>XXIX</h2>
+
+
+<p>That night they spent in a caravanserai, because,
+after the brief deluge of rain, the ground was too
+damp for camping, when an invalid was of the
+party. When they reached the place after sunset,
+the low square of the building was a block of marble set in the
+dull gold of the desert, carved in dazzling white against a deep-blue
+evening sky. Like Ben Halim's house, it was roughly
+fortified, with many loopholes in the walls, for it had been
+built to serve the uses of less peaceful days than these. Within
+the strong gates, on one side were rooms for guests, each
+with its own door and window opening into the huge court.
+On another side of the square were the kitchens and dining-room,
+as well as living-place for the Arab landlord and his
+hidden family; and opposite was a roofed, open-fronted
+shelter for camels and other animals, the ground yellow
+with sand and spilt fodder. Water overflowed from a small
+well, making a pool in the courtyard, in which ducks
+and geese waddled, quacking, turkey-cocks fought in
+quiet corners, barked at impotently by Kabyle puppies.
+Tall, lean hounds or sloughis, kept to chase the desert
+gazelles, wandered near the kitchens, in the hope of bones,
+and camels gobbled dismally as their tired drivers forced
+them to their knees, or thrust handfuls of date stones
+down their throats. There were sheep, too, and goats; and
+even a cow, the "perpetual mother" loved and valued by
+Arabs.</p>
+
+<p>M'Barka refused to "read the sand" that night, when
+Ma&iuml;eddine suggested it. The sand would yield up its secrets<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>
+only under the stars, she said, and wished to wait until they
+should be in the tents.</p>
+
+<p>All night, outside Victoria's open but shuttered window,
+there was a stealthy stirring of animals in the dark, a gliding
+of ghostly ducks, a breathing of sheep and camels. And sometimes
+the wild braying of a donkey or the yelp of a dog tore the
+silence to pieces.</p>
+
+<p>The next day was hot; so that at noon, when they stopped
+to eat, the round blot of black shadow under one small tree was
+precious as a black pearl. And there were flies. Victoria
+could not understand how they lived in the desert, miles from
+any house, miles from the tents of nomads; where there was no
+vegetation, except an occasional scrubby tree, or a few of the
+desert gourds which the Arabs use to cure the bite of scorpions.
+But she had not seen the cages of bones, sometimes bleached
+like old ivory, sometimes of a dreadful red, which told of wayside
+tragedies. Always when they had come in sight of a
+skeleton, Ma&iuml;eddine had found some excuse to make the girl
+look in another direction; for he wanted her to love the desert,
+not to feel horror of its relentlessness.</p>
+
+<p>Now for the first time he had full credit for his cleverness
+as an organizer. Never before had they been so remote from
+civilization. When travelling in the carriage, stopping each
+night at the house of some well-to-do ca&iuml;d or adel, it had been
+comparatively easy to provide supplies; but to-day, when
+jellied chicken and cream-cheese, almond cakes and oranges
+appeared at luncheon, and some popular French mineral
+water (almost cool because the bottles had been wrapped in
+wet blanket) fizzed in the glasses, Victoria said that Si Ma&iuml;eddine
+must have a tame djinn for a slave.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait till evening," he told her. "Then perhaps thou mayest
+see something to please thee." But he was delighted with
+her compliments, and made her drink water from the glass
+out of which he had drunk, that she might be sure of his good
+faith in all he had sworn to her yesterday. "They who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>
+drink water from the same cup have made an eternal pact
+together," he said. "I should not dare to be untrue, even if
+I would. And thou&mdash;I think that thou wilt be true to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, certainly I will," answered Victoria, with the pretty
+American accent which Stephen Knight had admired and
+smiled at the night he heard it first. "Thou art one of my
+very best friends."</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine looked down into the glass and smiled, as if he
+were a crystal-gazer, and could see something under the bright
+surface, that no one else could see.</p>
+
+<p>Night folded down over the desert, hot and velvety, like the
+wings of a mother-bird covering her children; but before
+darkness fell, the tents glimmered under the stars. There were
+two only, a large one for the women, and one very small for
+Ma&iuml;eddine. The Negroes would roll themselves in their burnouses,
+and lie beside the animals. But sleeping-time had not
+come yet; and it was the Soudanese who prepared the evening
+meal.</p>
+
+<p>One of them was a good cook, and for that reason Ma&iuml;eddine
+had begged him from the Agha. He made desert bread, by
+mixing farina with salted water, and baking it on a flat tin
+supported by stones over a fire of dry twigs. When the thin
+loaf was crisply brown on top, the man took it off the fire, and
+covered it up, on the tin, because it was to be eaten hot.</p>
+
+<p>While Victoria waited for all to be got ready, she strolled a
+little away from the tents and the group of resting animals,
+having promised Ma&iuml;eddine to avoid the tufts of alfa
+grass, for fear of vipers which sometimes lurked among them.
+He would have liked to go with her, but the unfailing tact
+of the Arab told him that she wished to be alone with her
+thoughts, and he could only hope that they might be of
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Here, it was no longer beautiful desert. They had passed
+the charming region of dayas, and were entering the grim world
+through which, long ago, the ever harried M'Zabites had fled to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>
+find a refuge beyond the reach of greedy pursuers. Nevertheless
+the enchantment of the Sahara, in all its phases, had
+taken hold of Victoria. She did not now feel that the desert
+was a place where a tired soul might find oblivion, though
+once she had imagined that it would be a land of forgetfulness.
+Arabs say, in talking idly to Europeans, that men forget their
+past in the desert, but she doubted if they really forgot, in
+these vast spaces where there was so much time to think.
+She herself began to feel that the illimitable skies, where flamed
+sunsets and sunrises whose miracles no eye saw, might teach
+her mysteries she had snatched at and lost, in dreams. The
+immensity of the desert sent her soul straining towards the immensity
+of the Beyond; and almost, in flashes elusive as the
+light on a bird's wing, she understood what eternity might
+mean. She felt that the last days of her childhood had been
+left behind, on the threshold of these mysterious spaces, this
+vastness into which she had plunged, as into an ocean. Yet
+she did not regret the loss, if it were a loss. Never, she thought,
+whatever might happen, would she wish not to have known
+this experience, not to have entered upon this great adventure,
+whose end Ma&iuml;eddine still hid behind a veil of secrecy.</p>
+
+<p>It was true, as she had told him, that she was not impatient,
+though she would have liked to count the days like the beads
+of a rosary. She looked forward to each one, as to the discovery
+of a beautiful thing new to the world and to her; for
+though the spaces surrounding her were wide beyond thinking,
+they were not empty. As ships, great and small, sail the sea,
+so sailed the caravans of the nomad tribes in the desert which
+surges on unchecked to Egypt: nomads who come and go,
+north and south, east and west, under the burning sun and the
+throbbing stars, as Allah has written their comings and goings
+in His book: men in white, journeying with their women, their
+children, and their trains of beasts, singing as they pass, and at
+night under the black tents resting to the music of the tom-tom
+and ra&iuml;ta.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Victoria's gaze waded through the shadows that flow over
+the desert at evening, deep and blue and transparent as water.
+She searched the distances for the lives that must be going on
+somewhere, perhaps not far away, though she would never meet
+them. They, and she, were floating spars in a great ocean;
+and it made the ocean more wonderful to know that the spars
+were there, each drifting according to its fate.</p>
+
+<p>The girl drew into her lungs the strong air of the
+desert, born of the winds which bring life or death to its
+children.</p>
+
+<p>The scent of the wild thyme, which she could never again
+disentangle from thoughts of the Sahara, was very sweet, even
+insistent. She knew that it was loved by nomad women;
+and she let pictures rise before her mind of gorgeous dark
+girls on camels, in plumed red bassourahs, going from one
+desert city to another, to dance&mdash;cities teeming with life,
+which she would never see among these spaces that seemed
+empty as the world before creation. She imagined the ghosts
+of these desert beauties crowding round her in the dusk, bringing
+their fragrance with them, the wild thyme they had loved
+in life, crushed in their bosoms; pathetic ghosts, who had
+not learned to rise beyond what they had once desired,
+therefore compelled to haunt the desert, the only world which
+they had known. In the wind that came sighing to her ears
+from the dark ravines of the terrible chebka, she seemed to
+hear battle-songs and groans of desert men who had fought
+and died ages ago, whose bones had crumbled under her feet,
+perhaps, and whose descendants had not changed one whit in
+religion, custom, or thought, or even in dress.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria was glad that Ma&iuml;eddine had let her have these
+desert thoughts alone, for they made her feel at home in the
+strange world her fancy peopled; but the touch of the thyme-scented
+ghosts was cold. It was good to turn back at last
+towards the tents, and see how the camp-fire crimsoned the
+star-dusk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Thou wert happy alone?" Ma&iuml;eddine questioned her
+jealously.</p>
+
+<p>"I was not alone."</p>
+
+<p>He understood. "I know. The desert voices spoke to thee,
+of the desert mystery which they alone can tell; voices we can
+hear only by listening closely."</p>
+
+<p>"That was the thought in my mind. How odd thou shouldst
+put it into words."</p>
+
+<p>"Dost thou think it odd? But I am a man of the desert.
+I held back, for thee to go alone and hear the voices, knowing
+they would teach thee to understand me and my people. I
+knew, too, that the spirits would be kind, and say nothing to
+frighten thee. Besides, thou didst not go to them quite alone,
+for thine own white angel walked on thy right hand, as always."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou makest poetical speeches, Si Ma&iuml;eddine."</p>
+
+<p>"It is no poetry to speak of thy white angel. We believe
+that each one of us has a white angel at his right hand, recording
+his good actions. But ordinary mortals have also their black
+angels, keeping to the left, writing down wicked thoughts and
+deeds. Hast thou not seen men spitting to the left, to show
+despite of their black angels? But because thy soul is never
+soiled by sinful thoughts, there was no need for a black angel,
+and whilst thou wert still a child, Allah discharged him of his
+mission."</p>
+
+<p>"And thou, Si Ma&iuml;eddine, dost thou think, truly, that a
+black angel walks ever at thy left side?"</p>
+
+<p>"I fear so." Ma&iuml;eddine glanced to the left, as if he could
+see a dark figure writing on a slate. Things concerning
+Victoria must have been written on that slate, plans he had
+made, of which neither his white angel nor hers would approve.
+But, he told himself, if they had to be carried out, she would
+be to blame, for driving him to extremes. "Whilst thou art
+near me," he said aloud, "my black angel lags behind, and
+if thou wert to be with me forever, I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Since that cannot be, thou must find a better way to keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>
+him in the background," Victoria broke in lightly. But Si
+Ma&iuml;eddine's compliments were oppressive. She wished it
+were not the Arab way to pay so many. He had been different
+at first; and feeling the change in him with a faint stirring of
+uneasiness, she hurried her steps to join M'Barka.</p>
+
+<p>The invalid reclined on a rug of golden jackal skins, and
+rested a thin elbow on cushions of dyed leather, braided in intricate
+strips by Touareg women. Victoria sat beside her,
+Ma&iuml;eddine opposite, and Fafann waited upon them as they ate.</p>
+
+<p>After supper, while the Bedouin woman saw that everything
+was ready for her mistress and the Roumia, in their tent,
+M'Barka spread out her precious sand from Mecca and the dunes
+round her own Touggourt. She had it tied up in green silk,
+such as is used for the turbans of men who have visited Mecca,
+lined with a very old Arab brocade, purple and gold, like the
+banners that drape the tombs of marabouts. She opened
+the bag carefully, until it lay flat on the ground in front of her
+knees, the sand piled in the middle, as much perhaps as could
+have been heaped on a soup plate.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment she sat gazing at the sand, her lips moving.
+She looked wan as old ivory in the dying firelight, and in the
+hollows of her immense eyes seemed to dream the mysteries of
+all ages. "Take a handful of sand," she said to Victoria.
+"Hold it over thine heart. Now, wish with the whole force of
+thy soul."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria wished to find Saidee safe, and to be able to help
+her, if she needed help.</p>
+
+<p>"Put back the sand, sprinkling it over the rest."</p>
+
+<p>The girl, though not superstitious, could not help being
+interested, even fascinated. It seemed to her that the sand
+had a magical sparkle.</p>
+
+<p>M'Barka's eyes became introspective, as if she waited for
+a message, or saw a vision. She was as strange, as remote from
+modern womanhood as a Cassandra. Presently she started,
+and began trailing her brown fingers lightly over the sand,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>
+pressing them down suddenly now and then, until she had
+made three long, wavy lines, the lower ones rather like telegraphic
+dots and dashes.</p>
+
+<p>"Lay the forefinger of thy left hand on any figure in these
+lines," she commanded. "Now on another&mdash;yet again, for
+the third time. That is all thou hast to do. The rest is for
+me."</p>
+
+<p>She took from some hiding-place in her breast a little old
+note-book, bound in dark leather, glossy from constant use.
+With it came a perfume of sandalwood. Turning the yellow
+leaves of the book, covered with fine Arab lettering, she read in
+a murmuring, indistinct voice, that sounded to Victoria like one
+of those desert voices of which Ma&iuml;eddine had spoken. Also
+she measured spaces between the figures the girl had touched,
+and counted monotonously.</p>
+
+<p>"Thy wish lies a long way from thee," she said at last.
+"A long way! Thou couldst never reach it of thyself&mdash;never,
+not till the end of the world. I see thee&mdash;alone, very
+helpless. Thou prayest. Allah sends thee a man&mdash;a strong
+man, whose brain and heart and arm are at thy service. Allah
+is great!"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell her what the man is like, cousin," Ma&iuml;eddine prompted,
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"He is dark, and young. He is not of thy country, oh Rose
+of the West, but trust him, rely upon him, or thou art undone.
+In thy future, just where thou hast ceased to look for them, I
+see troubles and disappointments, even dangers. That is the
+time, above all others, to let thyself be guided by the man
+Allah has sent to be thy prop. He has ready wit and courage.
+His love for thee is great. It grows and grows. He tells thee
+of it; and thou&mdash;thou seest between him and thee a barrier,
+high and fearful as a wall with sharp knives on top. For
+thine eyes it is impassable. Thine heart is sad; and thy words
+to him will pierce his soul with despair. But think again.
+Be true to thyself and to thy star. Speak another word, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>
+throw down that high barrier, as the wall of Jericho was thrown
+down. Thou canst do it. All will depend on the decision of a
+moment&mdash;thy whole future, the future of the man, and of a
+woman whose face I cannot see."</p>
+
+<p>M'Barka smoothed away the tracings in the sand.</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;is there no more?" asked Ma&iuml;eddine.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it is dark before my eyes now. The light has gone
+from the sand. I can still tell her a few little things, perhaps.
+Such things as the luckiest colours to wear, the best days to
+choose for journeys. But she is different from most girls. I
+do not think she would care for such hints."</p>
+
+<p>"All colours are lucky. All days are good," said Victoria.
+"I thank thee for what thou hast told me, Lella M'Barka."</p>
+
+<p>She did not wish to hear more. What she had heard was more
+than enough. Not that she really believed that M'Barka
+could see into the future; but because of the "dark man."
+Any fortune-teller might introduce a dark man into the picture
+of a fair girl's destiny; but the allusions were so marked that
+Victoria's vague unrestfulness became distress. She tried to
+encourage herself by thinking of Ma&iuml;eddine's dignified attitude,
+from the beginning of their acquaintance until now.
+And even now, he had changed only a little. He was too
+complimentary, that was all; and the difference in his manner
+might arise from knowing her more intimately. Probably Lella
+M'Barka, like many elderly women of other and newer civilizations,
+was over-romantic; and the best thing was to prevent her
+from putting ridiculous ideas into Ma&iuml;eddine's head. Such
+ideas would spoil the rest of the journey for both.</p>
+
+<p>"Remember all I have told thee, when the time comes,"
+M'Barka warned her.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;oh yes, I will remember."</p>
+
+<p>"Now it is my turn. Read the sand for me," said Ma&iuml;eddine.</p>
+
+<p>M'Barka made as if she would wrap the sand in its bag.
+"I can tell thy future better another time. Not now. It would
+not be wise. Besides, I have done enough. I am tired."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Look but a little way along the future, then, and say what
+thou seest. I feel that it will bring good fortune to touch the
+sand where the hand of Our&iuml;eda has touched it."</p>
+
+<p>Always now, he spoke of Victoria, or to her, as "Rose"
+(Our&iuml;eda in Arabic); but as M'Barka gave her that name
+also, the girl could hardly object.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell thee, instead it may bring thee evil."</p>
+
+<p>"For good or evil, I will have the fortune now," Ma&iuml;eddine
+insisted.</p>
+
+<p>"Be it upon thy head, oh cousin, not mine. Take thy
+handful of sand, and make thy wish."</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine took it from the place Victoria had touched,
+and his wish was that, as the grains of sand mingled, so their
+destinies might mingle inseparably, his and hers.</p>
+
+<p>M'Barka traced the three rows of mystic signs, and read her
+notebook, mumbling. But suddenly she let it drop into her
+lap, covering the signs with both thin hands.</p>
+
+<p>"What ails thee?" Ma&iuml;eddine asked, frowning.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw thee stand still and let an opportunity slip by."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not do that."</p>
+
+<p>"The sand has said it. Shall I stop, or go on?"</p>
+
+<p>"Go on."</p>
+
+<p>"I see another chance to grasp thy wish. This time thou
+stretchest out thine hand. I see thee, in a great house&mdash;the
+house of one thou knowest, whose name I may not speak.
+Thou stretchest out thine hand. The chance is given thee&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;I cannot tell thee, what then. Thou must not ask.
+My eyes are clouded with sleep. Come Our&iuml;eda, it is late.
+Let us go to our tent."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Ma&iuml;eddine. "Our&iuml;eda may go, but not
+thou."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria rose quickly and lightly from among the jackal
+skins and Touareg cushions which Ma&iuml;eddine had provided
+for her comfort. She bade him good night, and with all his old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>
+calm courtesy he kissed his hand after it had pressed hers.
+But there was a fire of anger or impatience in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Fafann was in the tent, waiting to put her mistress to bed,
+and to help the Roumia if necessary. The mattresses which
+had come rolled up on the brown mule's back, had been made
+into luxurious looking beds, covered with bright-coloured,
+Arab-woven blankets, beautiful embroidered sheets of linen, and
+cushions slipped into fine pillow-cases. Folding frames draped
+with new mosquito nettings had been arranged to protect the
+sleepers' hands and faces; and there was a folding table on
+which stood French gilt candlesticks and a glass basin and
+water-jug, ornamented with gilded flowers; just such a basin
+and jug as Victoria had seen in the curiosity-shop of Mademoiselle
+Soubise. There were folded towels, too, of silvery
+damask.</p>
+
+<p>"What wonderful things we have!" the girl exclaimed.
+"I don't see how we manage to carry them all. It is like a story
+of the 'Arabian Nights,' where one has but to rub a lamp, and
+a powerful djinn brings everything one wants."</p>
+
+<p>"The Lord Ma&iuml;eddine is the powerful djinn who has
+brought all thou couldst possibly desire, without giving thee
+even the trouble to wish for things," said Fafann, showing her
+white teeth, and glancing sidelong at the Roumia. "These
+are not all. Many of these things thou hast seen already.
+Yet there are more." Eagerly she lifted from the ground,
+which was covered with rugs, a large green earthern jar.
+"It is full of rosewater to bathe thy face, for the water of
+the desert here is brackish, and harsh to the skin, because of
+saltpetre. The Sidi ordered enough rosewater to last till
+Ghardaia, in the M'Zab country. Then he will get thee more."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is for us both&mdash;for Lella M'Barka more than for
+me," protested Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>Fafann laughed. "My mistress no longer spends time in
+thinking of her skin. She prays much instead; and the Sidi
+has given her an amulet which touched the sacred Black Stone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>
+at Mecca. To her, that is worth all the rest; and it is worth
+this great journey, which she takes with so much pain. The
+rosewater, and the perfumes from Tunis, and the softening
+creams made in the tent of the Sidi's mother, are all offered to
+thee."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," the girl persisted, "I am sure they are meant more
+for Lella M'Barka than for me. She is his cousin."</p>
+
+<p>"Hast thou never noticed the caravans, when they have
+passed us in the desert, how it is always the young and beautiful
+women who rest in the bassourahs, while the old ones trot
+after the camels?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have noticed that, and it is very cruel."</p>
+
+<p>"Why cruel, oh Roumia? They have had their day. And
+when a man has but one camel, he puts upon its back his
+treasure, the joy of his heart. A man must be a man, so say
+even the women. And the Sidi is a man, as well as a great lord.
+He is praised by all as a hunter, and for the straightness of his
+aim with a gun. He rides, thou seest, as if he were one with
+his horse, and as he gallops in the desert, so would he gallop to
+battle if need be, for he is brave as the Libyan lion, and strong
+as the heroes of old legends. Yet there is nothing too small for
+him to bend his mind upon, if it be for thy pleasure and comfort.
+Thou shouldst be proud, instead of denying that all the
+Sidi does is for thee. My mistress would tell thee so, and many
+women would be dying of envy, daughters of Aghas and even
+of Bach Aghas. But perhaps, as thou art a Roumia, thou
+hast different feelings."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps," answered Victoria humbly, for she was crushed
+by Fafann's fierce eloquence. And for a moment her heart
+was heavy; but she would not let herself feel a presentiment
+of trouble.</p>
+
+<p>"What harm can happen to me?" she asked. "I haven't
+been guided so far for nothing. Si Ma&iuml;eddine is an Arab, and
+his ways aren't like the ways of men I've known, that's all.
+My sister's husband was his friend&mdash;a great friend, whom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>
+he loved. What he does is more for Cassim's sake than
+mine."</p>
+
+<p>Her cheeks were burning after the long day of sun, and
+because of her thoughts; yet she was not glad to bathe them
+with Si Ma&iuml;eddine's fragrant offering of rosewater, some of
+which Fafann poured into the glass basin.</p>
+
+<p>Not far away Ma&iuml;eddine was still sitting by the fire with
+M'Barka.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me now," he said. "What didst thou see?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing clearly. Another time, cousin. Let me have my
+mind fresh. I am like a squeezed orange."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet I must know, or I shall not sleep. Thou art hiding
+something."</p>
+
+<p>"All was vague&mdash;confused. I saw as through a torn cloud.
+There was the great house. Thou wert there, a guest. Thou
+wert happy, thy desire granted, and then&mdash;by Allah, Ma&iuml;eddine,
+I could not see what happened; but the voice of the sand
+was like a storm in my ears, and the knowledge came to me
+suddenly that thou must not wait too long for thy wish&mdash;the
+wish made with the sand against thine heart."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou couldst not see my wish. Thou art but a woman."</p>
+
+<p>"I saw, because I am a woman, and I have the gift. Thou
+knowest I have the gift. Do not wait too long, or thou mayest
+wait for ever."</p>
+
+<p>"What wouldst thou have me do?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is not for me to advise. As thou saidst, I am but a
+woman. Only&mdash;<i>act</i>! That is the message of the sand.
+And now, unless thou wouldst have my dead body finish the
+journey in the bassour, take me to my tent."</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine took her to the tent. And he asked no more
+questions. But all night he thought of what M'Barka had
+said, and the message of the sand. It was a dangerous message,
+yet the counsel was after his own heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>XXX</h2>
+
+
+<p>In the morning he was still brooding over the message;
+and as they travelled through the black desert on the
+way to Ghardaia and the hidden cities of the M'Zab,
+he fell into long silences. Then, abruptly, he would
+rouse himself to gaiety and animation, telling old legends or
+new tales, strange dramas of the desert, very seldom comedies;
+for there are few comedies in the Sahara, except for the
+children.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes he was in danger of speaking out words which
+said themselves over and over in his head. "If I 'wait too long,
+I may wait for ever.' Then, by Allah, I will not wait." But
+he kept his tongue in control, though his brain was hot as if
+he wore no turban, under the blaze of the sun. "I will leave
+things as they are while we are in this black Gehenna," he
+determined. "What is written is written. Yet who has seen
+the book of the writing? And there is a curse on all this country,
+till the M'Zab is passed."</p>
+
+<p>After Bou-Saada, he had gradually forgotten, or almost forgotten,
+his fears. He had been happy in the consciousness of
+power that came to him from the desert, where he was at home,
+and Europeans were helpless strangers. But now, M'Barka's
+warnings had brought the fears back, like flapping ravens. He
+had planned the little play of the sand-divining, and at first it
+had pleased him. M'Barka's vision of the dark man who
+was not of Victoria's country could not have been better; and
+because he knew that his cousin believed in the sand, he was
+superstitiously impressed by her prophecy and advice. In
+the end, he had forced her to go on when she would have stopped,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>
+yet he was angry with her for putting doubts into his mind,
+doubts of his own wisdom and the way to succeed. With a girl
+of his own people, or indeed with any girl, if he had not loved
+too much, he would have had no doubts. But he did not know
+how it was best to treat Victoria. His love for her was so strong,
+that it was like fear, and in trying to understand her, he changed
+his mind a dozen times a day. He was not used to this uncertainty,
+and hated to think that he could be weak. Would
+she turn from him, if he broke the tacit compact of loyal friendship
+which had made her trust him as a guide? He could not
+tell; though an Arab girl would scorn him for keeping it. "Perhaps
+at heart all women are alike," he thought. "And if,
+now that I am warned, I should risk waiting, I would be no
+man." At last, the only question left in his mind was,
+"When?"</p>
+
+<p>For two days they journeyed through desolation, in a burnt-out
+world where nothing had colour except the sad violet sky
+which at evening flamed with terrible sunsets, cruelly beautiful
+as funeral pyres. The fierce glow set fire to the black rocks
+which pointed up like dragons' teeth, and turned them to glittering
+copper; polishing the dead white chalk of the chebka
+to the dull gleam of dirty silver. Far away there were always
+purple hills, behind which it seemed that hope and beauty
+might come to life again; but travelling from morning to night
+they never appeared any nearer. The evil magic of the black
+desert, which Ma&iuml;eddine called accursed because of the
+M'Zabites, made the beautiful hills recede always, leaving only
+the ugly brown waves of hardened earth, which were disheartening
+to climb, painful to descend.</p>
+
+<p>At last, in the midst of black squalor, they came to an oasis
+like a bright jewel fallen in the trough of swine. It was Berryan,
+the first town of the M'Zabites, people older than the
+Arabs, and hated by them with a hatred more bitter than their
+loathing for Jews.</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine would not pass through the town, since it could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>
+be avoided, because in his eyes the Beni-M'Zab were dogs, and
+in their eyes he, though heir to an agha, would be as carrion.</p>
+
+<p>Sons of ancient Ph&oelig;nicians, merchants of Tyre and Carthage,
+there never had been, never would be, any lust for battle
+in the hearts of the M'Zabites. Their warfare had been waged
+by cunning, and through mercenaries. They had fled before
+Arab warriors, driven from place to place by brave, scornful
+enemies, and now, safely established in their seven holy cities,
+protected by vast distances and the barrier of the black desert,
+they revenged their wrongs with their wits, being rich, and great
+usurers. Though Mussulmans in these days, the schisms with
+which they desecrated the true religion were worse in the eyes
+of Ma&iuml;eddine than the foolish faith of Christians, who, at least,
+were not backsliders. He would not even point out to Victoria
+the strange minaret of the Abadite mosque at Berryan,
+which tapered like a brown obelisk against the shimmering
+sky, for to him its very existence was a disgrace.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not speak of it; do not even look at it," he said to her,
+when she exclaimed at the great Cleopatra Needle. But she
+did look, having none of his prejudices, and he dared not bid
+her let down the curtains of her bassour, as he would if she had
+been a girl of his own blood.</p>
+
+<p>The extraordinary city, whose crowded, queerly-built houses
+were blocks of gold in the sunlight, seemed beautiful to Victoria,
+coming in sight of it suddenly after days in the black
+desert. The other six cities, called holy by the Beni-M'Zab,
+were far away still. She knew this, because Ma&iuml;eddine had
+told her they would not descend into the Wady M'Zab till next
+day. Berryan and Guerrara were on the upper plateau; and
+Victoria could hardly bear to pass by, for Berryan was by far
+the most Eastern-seeming place she had seen. She wondered if,
+should she ask him as a favour, Ma&iuml;eddine would rest there
+that night, instead of camping somewhere farther on, in the
+hideous desert; for already it was late afternoon. But she
+would ask nothing of him now, for he was no longer quite the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>
+trusty friend she had persuaded herself to think him. One
+night, since the sand-divining, she had had a fearful dream
+concerning Ma&iuml;eddine. Outside her tent she had heard a soft
+padding sound, and peeping from under the flap, she had seen
+a splendid, tawny tiger, who looked at her with brilliant topaz
+eyes which fascinated her so that she could not turn away.
+But she knew that the animal was Ma&iuml;eddine; that each night
+he changed himself into a tiger; and that as a tiger he was more
+his real self than when by day he appeared as a man.</p>
+
+<p>They filed past Berryan; the meharis, the white stallion,
+the pack-camel, and the mule, in slow procession, along a rough
+road which wound close to the green oasis. And from among
+the palm trees men and women and little children, gorgeous
+as great tropical birds, in their robes of scarlet, ochre-yellow,
+and emerald, peered at the little caravan with cynical curiosity.
+Victoria looked back longingly, for she knew that the way
+from Berryan to the Wady M'Zab would be grim and toilsome
+under the burning sun. Hill after hill, they mounted and
+descended; hills stony yet sandy, always the same dull colour,
+and so shapeless as to daze the brain with their monotony.
+But towards evening, when the animals had climbed to the crest
+of a hill like a dingy wave, suddenly a white obelisk shot up,
+pale and stiff as a dead man's finger. Tops of tall palms
+were like the dark plumes on the heads of ten thousand dancing
+women of the Sahara, and as a steep descent began, there
+glittered the five hidden cities, like a strange fairyland lost in
+the desert. The whole Wady M'Zab lay under the eyes of the
+travellers, as if they looked down over the rim of an immense
+cup. Here, some who were left of the sons of Tyre and
+Carthage dwelt safe and snug, crouching in the protection of
+the valley they had found and reclaimed from the abomination
+of desolation.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to Victoria that she looked on one of the great sights
+of the world: the five cities, gleaming white, and glowing bronze,
+closely built on their five conical hills, which rose steeply from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>
+the flat bottom of the gold-lined cup&mdash;Ghardaia, Beni-Isguen,
+Bou-Noura, Melika, and El-Ateuf. The top of each hill was
+prolonged to a point by the tapering minaret of one of those
+Abadite mosques which the girl thought the most Eastern of
+all things imported from the East. The oasis which gave
+wealth to the M'Zabites surged round the towns like a green
+sea at ebb tide, sucked back from a strand of gold; and as the
+caravan wound down the wonderful road with which the Beni-M'Zab
+had traced the sheer side of their enchanted cup, the
+groaning of hundreds of well-chains came plaintively up on the
+wind.</p>
+
+<p>The well-stones had the obelisk shape of the minarets, in
+miniature; and Negroes&mdash;freed slaves of the rich M'Zabites&mdash;running
+back and forth in pairs, to draw the water, were mere
+struggling black ants, seen from the cup's rim. The houses
+of the five towns were like bleached skeletons, and the arches
+that spanned the dark, narrow streets were their ribs.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived at the bottom of the cup, it was necessary to pass
+through the longest and only modern street of Ghardaia, the
+capital of the M'Zab. A wind had sprung up, to lift the sand
+which sprinkled the hard-trodden ground with thick powder
+of gold dust, and whirl it westward against the fire of sunset,
+red as a blowing spray of blood. "It is a sign of trouble when
+the sand of the desert turns to blood," muttered Fafann to her
+mistress, quoting a Bedouin proverb.</p>
+
+<p>The men of the M'Zab do not willingly give lodging to
+strangers, least of all to Arabs; and at Beni-Isguen, holy city
+and scene of strange mysteries, no stranger may rest for the
+night. But Ma&iuml;eddine, respected by the ruling power, as by
+his own people, had a friend or two at every Bureau Arabe and
+military station. A French officer stationed at Ghardaia had
+married a beautiful Arab girl of good family distantly related to
+the Agha of the Ouled-Serrin, and being at Algiers on official
+business, his wife away at her father's tent, he had promised to
+lend his house, a few miles out of the town, to Si Ma&iuml;eddine. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>
+was a long, low building of toub, the sun-dried sand-blocks of
+which most houses are made in the ksour, or Sahara villages,
+but it had been whitewashed, and named the Pearl.</p>
+
+<p>There they slept, in the cool shadow of the oasis, and early
+next morning went on.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as they had passed out of this hidden valley, where
+a whole race of men had gathered for refuge and wealth-building,
+Victoria felt, rather than saw, a change in Ma&iuml;eddine. She
+hardly knew how to express it to herself, unless it was that he had
+become more Arab. His courtesies suggested less the modern
+polish learned from the French (in which he could excel when
+he chose) than the almost royal hospitality of some young Bey
+escorting a foreign princess through his dominions. Always
+"<i>tr&egrave;s-m&acirc;le</i>," as Frenchwomen pronounced him admiringly, Si
+Ma&iuml;eddine began to seem masculine in an untamed, tigerish
+way. He was restless, and would not always be contented to
+ride El Biod, beside the tall, white mehari, but would gallop
+far ahead, and then race back to rejoin the little caravan,
+rushing straight at the animals as if he must collide with them,
+then, at the last instant, when Victoria's heart bounded, reining
+in his horse, so that El Biod's forefeet&mdash;shod Arab-fashion&mdash;pawed
+the air, and the animal sat upon his haunches,
+muscles straining and rippling under the creamlike skin.</p>
+
+<p>Or, sometimes, Ma&iuml;eddine would spring from the white stallion's
+back, letting El Biod go free, while his master marched
+beside Guelbi, with that panther walk that the older races,
+untrammelled by the civilization of towns, have kept unspoiled.</p>
+
+<p>The Arab's eyes were more brilliant, never dreamy now, and
+he looked at Victoria often, with disconcerting steadiness, instead
+of lowering his eyelids as men of Islam, accustomed to the
+mystery of the veil, unconsciously do with European women
+whom they respect, though they do not understand.</p>
+
+<p>So they went on, travelling the immeasurable desert; and
+Victoria had not asked again, since Ma&iuml;eddine's refusal, the
+name of the place to which they were bound. M'Barka seemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>
+brighter, as if she looked forward to something, each day closer
+at hand; and her courage would have given Victoria confidence,
+even if the girl had been inclined to forebodings. They were
+going somewhere, Lella M'Barka knew where, and looked
+forward joyously to arriving. The girl fancied that their destination
+was the same, though at first she had not thought so.
+Words that M'Barka let drop inadvertently now and then,
+built up this impression in her mind.</p>
+
+<p>The "habitude du Sud," as Ma&iuml;eddine called it, when occasionally
+they talked French together, was gradually taking
+hold of the girl. Sometimes she resented it, fearing that by
+this time it must have altogether enslaved Saidee, and dreading
+the insidious fascination for herself; sometimes she found
+pleasure and peace in it; but in every mood the influence was
+hard to throw off.</p>
+
+<p>"The desert has taken hold of thee," Ma&iuml;eddine said one
+day, when he had watched her in silence for a while, and seen
+the rapt look in her eyes. "I knew the time would come,
+sooner or later. It has come now."</p>
+
+<p>"No," Victoria answered. "I do not belong to the desert."</p>
+
+<p>"If not to-day, then to-morrow," he finished, as if he had
+not heard.</p>
+
+<p>They were going on towards Ouargla. So much he had told
+her, though he had quickly added, "But we shall not stop there."
+He was waiting still, though they were out of the black desert
+and the accursed land of the renegades. He was not afraid
+of anything or anyone here, in this vastness, where a European
+did not pass once a year, and few Arabs, only the Spahis, carrying
+mails from one Bureau Arabe to another, or tired soldiers
+changing stations. The beautiful country of the golden dunes,
+with its horizon like a stormy sea, was the place of which he
+said in his thoughts, "It shall happen there."</p>
+
+<p>On the other side of Ghardaia, even when Victoria had
+ceased to be actually impatient for her meeting with Saidee,
+she had longed to know the number of days, that she might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>
+count them. But now she had drunk so deep of the colour
+and the silence that, in spite of herself, she was passing beyond
+that phase. What were a few days more, after so many years?
+She wondered how she could have longed to go flying across
+the desert in Nevill Caird's big motor-car; nevertheless, she
+never ceased to wish for Stephen Knight. Her thoughts of
+him and of the desert were inextricably and inexplicably mingled,
+more than ever since the night when she had danced in the
+Agha's tent, and Stephen's face had come before her eyes, as
+if in answer to her call. Constantly she called him now. When
+there was some fleeting, beautiful effect of light or shadow,
+she said, "How I wish he were here to see that!" She never
+named him in her mind. He was "he": that was name enough.
+Yet it did not occur to her that she was "in love" with Knight.
+She had never had time to think about falling in love. There
+had always been Saidee, and dancing; and to Victoria, the
+desire to make money enough to start out and find her sister,
+had taken the place which ideas of love and marriage fill in
+most girls' heads. Therefore she did not know what to make
+of her feeling for Stephen. But when a question floated into
+her brain, she answered it simply by explaining that he was
+different from any other man she had met; and that, though she
+had known him only a few days, from the first he had seemed
+more a friend than Si Ma&iuml;eddine, or any one else whom she
+knew much better than Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>As they travelled, she had many thoughts which pleased her&mdash;thoughts
+which could have come to her nowhere else except in
+the desert, and often she talked to herself, because M'Barka
+could not understand her feelings, and she did not wish to make
+Ma&iuml;eddine understand.</p>
+
+<p>"Burning, burning," was the adjective which she repeated
+oftenest, in an almost awestruck whisper, as her eyes travelled
+over immense spaces; for she thought that the desert might have
+dropped out of the sun. The colour of sand and sky was colour
+on fire, blazing. The whole Sahara throbbed with the un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>imaginable
+fire of creative cosmic force, deep, vital orange,
+needed by the primitive peoples of the earth who had not
+risen high enough yet to deserve or desire the finer vibrations.</p>
+
+<p>As she leaned out of the bassour, the heat of the sun pressed
+on her lightly veiled head, like the golden lid of a golden box.
+She could feel it as an actual weight; and invisible behind it
+a living power which could crush her in an instant, as the paw
+of a lion might crush a flower petal.</p>
+
+<p>Africa itself was this savage power, fierce as fire, ever smouldering,
+sometimes flaming with the revolt of Islam against
+other creeds; but the heart of the fire was the desert. Only
+the shady seguias in the oasis towns cooled it, like children's
+fingers on a madman's forehead; or the sound of a boy's flute
+in a river bed, playing the music of Pan, changeless, monotonous
+yet thrilling, as the music of earth and all Nature.</p>
+
+<p>There were tracts in the desert which colour-blind people
+might have hated; but Victoria grew to think the dreariest
+stretches beautiful; and even the occasional plagues of flies
+which irritated M'Barka beyond endurance, only made Victoria
+laugh.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes came caravans, in this billowing immensity between
+the M'Zab and Ouargla&mdash;city of Solomon, whither
+the Queen of Sheba rode on her mehari: caravans blazing red
+and yellow, which swept like slow lines of flame across the
+desert, going east towards the sunrise, or west where the sunset
+spreads over the sky like a purple fan opening, or the tail of a
+celestial peacock.</p>
+
+<p>What Victoria had once imagined the desert to be of vast
+emptiness, and what she found it to be of teeming life, was like
+the difference between a gold-bright autumn leaf seen by the
+naked eye, and the same leaf swarming under a powerful microscope.</p>
+
+<p>The girl never tired of following with her eyes the vague
+tracks of caravans that she could see dimly sketched upon the
+sand, vanishing in the distance, like lines traced on the water<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>
+by a ship. She would be gazing at an empty horizon when
+suddenly from over the waves of the dunes would appear a dark
+fleet; a procession of laden camels like a flotilla of boats in a
+desolate sea.</p>
+
+<p>They were very effective, as they approached across the
+desert, these silent, solemn beasts, but Victoria pitied them,
+because they were made to work till they fell, and left to die
+in the shifting sand, when no longer useful to their unloving
+masters.</p>
+
+<p>"My poor dears, this is only one phase," she would say to
+them as they plodded past, their feet splashing softly down on
+the sand like big wet sponges, leaving heart-shaped marks
+behind, which looked like violets as the hollows filled up with
+shadow. "Wait till your next chance on earth. I'm sure it
+will make up for everything."</p>
+
+<p>But Ma&iuml;eddine told her there was no need to be sorry for
+the sufferings of camels, since all were deserved. Once, he
+said, they had been men&mdash;a haughty tribe who believed themselves
+better than the rest of the world. They broke off from
+the true religion, and lest their schism spread, Allah turned the
+renegades into camels. He compelled them to bear the weight
+of their sins in the shape of humps, and also to carry on their
+backs the goods of the Faithful, whose beliefs they had trampled
+under foot. While keeping their stubbornness of spirit they
+must kneel to receive their loads, and rise at the word of command.
+Remembering their past, they never failed to protest
+with roarings, against these indignities, nor did their faces
+ever lose the old look of sullen pride. But, in common with
+the once human storks, they had one consolation. Their sins
+expiated, they would reincarnate as men; and some other rebellious
+tribe would take their place as camels.</p>
+
+<p>Five days' journeying from Ghardaia brought the travellers
+to a desert world full of movement and interest. There were
+many caravans going northward. Pretty girls smiled at them
+from swaying red bassourahs, sitting among pots and pans,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>
+and bundles of finery. Little children in nests of scarlet rags,
+on loaded camels, clasped squawking cocks and hens, tied by
+the leg. Splendid Negroes with bare throats like columns of
+black marble sang strange, chanting songs as they strode along.
+White-clad Arabs whose green turbans told that they had been
+to Mecca, walked beside their young wives' camels. Withered
+crones in yellow smocks trudged after the procession, driving
+donkeys weighed down with sheepskins full of oil. Baby
+camels with waggling, tufted humps followed their mothers.
+Slim grey sloughis and Kabyle dogs quarrelled with each other,
+among flocks of black and white goats; and at night, the sky
+pulsed with the fires of desert encampments, rosy as northern
+lights.</p>
+
+<p>Just before the walled city of Ouargla, Victoria saw her
+first mirage, clear as a dream between waking and sleeping.
+It was a salt lake, in which Guelbi and the other animals appeared
+to wade knee-deep in azure waves, though there was
+no water; and the vast, distant oasis hovered so close that the
+girl almost believed she had only to stretch out her hand and
+touch the trunks of the crowding palm trees.</p>
+
+<p>M'Barka was tired, and they rested for two days in the
+strange Ghu&acirc;ra town, the "City of Roses," founded (according
+to legend), by Solomon, King of Jerusalem, and built for him
+by djenoum and angels in a single night. They lived as usual
+in the house of the Ca&iuml;d, whose beautiful twin daughters told
+Victoria many things about the customs of the Ghu&acirc;ra people,
+descendants of the ancient Garamantes. How much happier
+and freer they were than Arab girls, how much purer though
+gayer was the life at Ouargla, Queen of the Oases, than at any
+other less enlightened desert city; how marvellous was the
+moulet-el-rass, the dance cure for headache and diseases of the
+brain; how wonderful were the women soothsayers; and what
+a splendid thing it was to see the bridal processions passing
+through the streets, on the one day of the year when there is
+marrying and giving in marriage in Ouargla.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The name of the prettier twin was Zorah, and she had black
+curls which fell straight down over her brilliant eyes, under
+a scarlet head-dress. "Dost thou love Si Ma&iuml;eddine?" she
+asked the Roumia, with a kind of innocent boldness.</p>
+
+<p>"As a friend who has been very kind," Victoria answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Not as a lover, oh Roumia?" Zorah, like all girls of
+Ouargla, was proud of her knowledge of Arabic.</p>
+
+<p>"No. Not as a lover."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there then one of thine own people whom thou lovest as
+a lover, Rose of the West?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no lover, little white moon."</p>
+
+<p>"Si Ma&iuml;eddine will be thy lover, whether thou desirest him
+or not."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou mistakest, oh Zorah."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not mistake. If thou dost not yet know I am right,
+thou wilt know before many days. When thou findest out all
+that is in his heart for thee, remember our talk to-day, in the
+court of oranges."</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell thee thou wert wrong in this same court of oranges
+when I pass this way again without Si Ma&iuml;eddine."</p>
+
+<p>The Ghu&acirc;ra girl shook her head, until her curls seemed to
+ring like bells of jet. "Something whispers to my spirit that
+thou wilt never again pass this way, oh Roumia; that never
+again will we talk together in this court of oranges."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a>XXXI</h2>
+
+
+<p>If it had not been for Zorah and her twin sister Khadijah,
+Ma&iuml;eddine would have said to himself at Ouargla,
+"Now my hour has come." But though his eyes
+saw not even the shadow of a woman in the Ca&iuml;d's
+house, his ears heard the laughter of young girls, in which
+Victoria's voice mingled; and besides, he knew, as Arabs contrive
+to know everything which concerns others, that his host
+had daughters. He was well aware of the freemasonry existing
+among the wearers of veils, the dwellers behind shut
+doors; and though Victoria was only a Roumia, the Ca&iuml;d's
+daughters would joyfully scheme to help her against a man,
+if she asked their help.</p>
+
+<p>So he put the hour-hand of his patience a little ahead; and
+Victoria and he were outwardly on the same terms as before
+when they left Ouargla, and passed on to the region of the low
+dunes, shaped like the tents of nomads buried under sand, the
+region of beautiful jewelled stones of all colours, and the region
+of the chotts, the desert lakes, like sad, wide-open eyes in a
+dead face.</p>
+
+<p>As they drew near to the Zaou&iuml;a of Temacin, and the great
+oasis city of Touggourt, the dunes increased in size, surging
+along the horizon in turbulent golden billows. M'Barka knew
+that she was close to her old home, the ancient stronghold
+of her royal ancestors, those sultans who had owned no master
+under Allah; for though it was many years since she had come
+this way, she remembered every land-mark which would have
+meant nothing to a stranger. She was excited, and longed
+to point out historic spots to Victoria, of whom she had grown<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>
+fond; but Ma&iuml;eddine had forbidden her to speak. He had
+something to say to the girl before telling her that they were
+approaching another city of the desert. Therefore M'Barka
+kept her thoughts to herself, not chatting even with Fafann;
+for though she loved Victoria, she loved Ma&iuml;eddine better. She
+had forgiven him for bringing her the long way round, sacrificing
+her to his wish for the girl's society, because the journey
+was four-fifths finished, and instead of being worse, her health
+was better. Besides, whatever Ma&iuml;eddine wanted was for
+the Roumia's good, or would be eventually.</p>
+
+<p>When they were only a short march from Touggourt, and
+could have reached there by dark, Ma&iuml;eddine nevertheless
+ordered an early halt. The tents were set up by the Negroes
+among the dunes, where not even the tall spire of Temacin's
+mosque was visible. And he led the little caravan somewhat
+out of the track, where no camels were likely to pass within
+sight, to a place where there were no groups of black tents
+in the yellow sand, and where the desert, in all its beauty,
+appeared lonelier than it was in reality.</p>
+
+<p>By early twilight the camp was made, and the Soudanese
+were preparing dinner. Never once in all the Sahara journey
+had there been a sunset of such magical loveliness, it seemed
+to Ma&iuml;eddine, and he took it as a good omen.</p>
+
+<p>"If thou wilt walk a little way with me, Our&iuml;eda," he said,
+"I will show thee something thou hast never seen yet. When
+my cousin is rested, and it is time for supper, I will bring thee
+back."</p>
+
+<p>Together they mounted and descended the dunes, until they
+could no longer see the camp or the friendly smoke of the fire,
+which rose straight up, a scarf of black gauze, against a sky
+of green and lilac shot with crimson and gold. It was not the
+first time that Victoria had strolled away from the tents at sunset
+with Ma&iuml;eddine, and she could not refuse, yet this evening
+she would gladly have stayed with Lella M'Barka.</p>
+
+<p>The sand was curiously crisp under their feet as they walked,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>
+and the crystallized surface crackled as if they were stepping
+on thin, dry toast. By and by they stood still on the summit
+of a dune, and Ma&iuml;eddine took from the hood of his burnous
+a pair of field-glasses of the most modern make.</p>
+
+<p>"Look round thee," he said. "I have had these with me
+since our start, but I saved them for to-day, to give thee a
+surprise."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria adjusted the glasses, which were very powerful,
+and cried out at what she saw. The turmoil of the dunes became
+a battle of giants. Sand waves as high as the sky rushed
+suddenly towards her, towering far above her head, as if she
+were a fly in the midst of a stormy ocean. The monstrous yellow
+shapes came closing in from all sides, threatening to
+engulf her. She felt like a butterfly in a cage of angry
+lions.</p>
+
+<p>"It is terrible!" she exclaimed, letting the glasses fall from
+her eyes. The cageful of lions sat down, calmed, but now
+that the butterfly had seen them roused, never could they look
+the same again.</p>
+
+<p>The effect upon the girl was exactly what Ma&iuml;eddine had
+wanted. For once Victoria acted as he expected her to do in
+given circumstances. "She is only a woman after all," he
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>"If thou wert alone in this sea of gold, abandoned, to find
+thine own way, with no guide but the stars, then indeed thou
+mightst say 'it is terrible,'" he answered. "For these waves
+roll between thee and the north, whence thou hast come, and
+still higher between thee and the desired end of thy journey.
+So high are they, that to go up and down is like climbing and
+descending mountains, one after another, all day, day after day.
+And beyond, where thou must soon go if thou art to find thy
+sister, there are no tracks such as those we have followed thus
+far. In these shifting sands, not only men and camels, but
+great caravans, and even whole armies have been lost and
+swallowed up for ever. For gravestones, they have only the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>
+dunes, and no man will know where they lie till the world is
+rolled up as a scroll in the hand of Allah."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria grew pale.</p>
+
+<p>"Always before thou hast tried to make me love the desert,"
+she said, slowly. "If there were anything ugly to see, thou
+hast bidden me turn my head the other way, or if I saw something
+dreadful thou wouldst at once begin to chant a song of
+happiness, to make me forget. Why dost thou wish to frighten
+me now?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is not that I mean to give thee pain, Our&iuml;eda." Ma&iuml;eddine's
+voice changed to a tone that was gentle and pleading.
+"It is only that I would have thee see how powerless thou
+wouldst be alone among the dunes, where for days thou mightst
+wander, meeting no man. Or if thou hadst any encounter,
+it might be with a Touareg, masked in blue, with a long knife
+at his belt, and in his breast a heart colder than steel."</p>
+
+<p>"I see well enough that I would be powerless alone," Victoria
+repeated. "Dost thou need to tell me that?"</p>
+
+<p>"It may be not," said Ma&iuml;eddine. "But there is a thing I
+need to tell thee. My need is very sore. Because I have
+kept back the words I have burned to speak, my soul is on
+fire, oh Rose! I love thee. I die for thee. I must have thee
+for mine!"</p>
+
+<p>He snatched both her hands in his, and crushed them against
+his lips. Then, carried away by the flower-like touch of her
+flesh, he let her hands go, and caught her to his heart, folding
+her in his burnous as if he would hide her even from the eye of
+the sun in the west. But she threw herself back, and pushed
+him away, with her palms pressed against his breast. She could
+feel under her hands a great pounding as of a hammer that
+would beat down a yielding wall.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art no true Arab!" she cried at him.</p>
+
+<p>The words struck Ma&iuml;eddine in a vulnerable place; perhaps
+the only one.</p>
+
+<p>He had expected her to exclaim, to protest, to struggle, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>
+to beg that he would let her go. But what she said was a sharp,
+unlooked for stab. Above all things except his manhood,
+he prided himself on being a true Arab. Involuntarily he
+loosened his clasp of her waist, and she seized the chance to
+wrench herself free, panting a little, her eyes dilated. But as
+she twisted herself out of his arms, he caught her by the wrist.
+He did not grasp it tightly enough to hurt, yet the grip of his
+slim brown hand was like a bracelet of iron. She knew that
+she could not escape from it by measuring her strength against
+his, or even by surprising him with some quick movement; for
+she had surprised him once, and he would be on guard not to
+let it happen again. Now she did not even try to struggle, but
+stood still, looking up at him steadily. Yet her heart also was
+like a hammer that beat against a wall; and she thought of the
+endless dunes in whose turmoil she was swallowed up. If
+Stephen Knight were here&mdash;but he was far away; and Ma&iuml;eddine,
+whom she had trusted, was a man who served another
+God than hers. His thoughts of women were not as Stephen's
+thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"Think of thy white angel," she said. "He stands between
+thee and me."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, he gives thee to me," Ma&iuml;eddine answered. "I mean
+no harm to thee, but only good, as long as we both shall live.
+My white angel wills that thou shalt be my wife. Thou shalt
+not say I am no true Arab. I am true to Allah and my own
+manhood when I tell thee I can wait no longer."</p>
+
+<p>"But thou art not true to me when thou wouldst force me
+against my will to be thy wife. We have drunk from the same
+cup. Thou art pledged to loyalty."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it disloyal to love?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thy love is not true love, or thou wouldst think of me
+before thyself."</p>
+
+<p>"I think of thee before all the world. Thou art my world.
+I had meant to wait till thou wert in thy sister's arms; but
+since the night when I saw thee dance, my love grew as a fire<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>
+grows that feeds upon rezin. If I offend thee, thou alone art
+to blame. Thou wert too beautiful that night. I have been
+mad since then. And now thou must give me thy word that
+thou wilt marry me according to the law of Islam. Afterwards,
+when we can find a priest of thine own religion, we will
+stand before him."</p>
+
+<p>"Let my hand go, Si Ma&iuml;eddine, if thou wishest me to talk
+further with thee," Victoria said.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled at her and obeyed; for he knew that she could
+not escape from him, therefore he would humour her a little.
+In a few more moments he meant to have her in his arms again.</p>
+
+<p>His smile gave the girl no hope. She thought of Zorah and
+the court of the oranges.</p>
+
+<p>"What wilt thou do if I say I will not be thy wife?" she
+asked, in a quiet voice; but there was a fluttering in her throat.</p>
+
+<p>A spark lit in his eyes. The moon was rising now, as the
+sun set, and the two lights, silver and rose, touched his face,
+giving it an unreal look, as if he were a statue of bronze which
+had "come alive," Victoria thought, just as she had "come
+alive" in her statue-dance. He had never been so handsome,
+but his dark splendour was dreadful to her, for he did not seem
+like a human man whose heart could be moved to mercy.</p>
+
+<p>For an instant he gave her no answer, but his eyes did not
+leave hers. "Since thou askest me that question, I would
+make thee change thy 'no' into 'yes.' But do not force me to
+be harsh with thee, oh core of my heart, oh soul of my soul!
+I tell thee fate has spoken. The sand has spoken&mdash;sand
+gathered from among these dunes. It is for that reason in
+part that I brought thee here."</p>
+
+<p>"The sand-divining!" Victoria exclaimed. "Lella M'Barka
+told thee&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She told me not to wait. And her counsel was the counsel
+of my own heart. Look, oh Rose, where the moon glitters on
+the sand&mdash;the sand that twined thy life with mine. See how
+the crystals shape themselves like little hands of Fatma; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>
+they point from thee to me, from me to thee. The desert has
+brought us together. The desert gives us to one another. The
+desert will never let us part."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria's eyes followed his pointing gesture. The sand-crystals
+sparkled in the sunset and moonrise, like myriads of
+earthbound fireflies. Their bright facets seemed to twinkle
+at her with cold, fairy eyes, waiting to see what she would do,
+and she did not know. She did not know at all what she
+would do.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXII" id="XXXII"></a>XXXII</h2>
+
+
+<p>"Dost thou wish me to hate thee, Si Ma&iuml;eddine?"
+she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not fear thy hate. When thou belongest to
+me, I will know how to turn it into love."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps if I were a girl of thine own people thou wouldst
+know, but I see now that thy soul and my soul are far apart.
+If thou art so wicked, so treacherous, they will never be
+nearer together."</p>
+
+<p>"The Koran does not teach us to believe that the souls of
+women are as ours."</p>
+
+<p>"I have read. And if there were no other reason than that,
+it would be enough to put a high wall between me and a man
+of thy race."</p>
+
+<p>For the first time Ma&iuml;eddine felt anger against the girl. But
+it did not make him love or want her the less.</p>
+
+<p>"Thy sister did not feel that," he said, almost menacingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then the more do I feel it. Is it wise to use her as an
+argument?"</p>
+
+<p>"I need no argument," he answered, sullenly. "I have told
+thee what is in my mind. Give me thy love, and thou canst
+bend me as thou wilt. Refuse it, and I will break thee. No!
+do not try to run from me. In an instant I should have thee
+in my arms. Even if thou couldst reach M'Barka, of what use
+to grasp her dress and cry to her for help against me? She
+would not give it. My will is law to her, as it must be to thee
+if thou wilt not learn wisdom, and how to hold me by a
+thread of silk, a thread of thy silky hair. No one would
+listen to thee. Not Fafann, not the men of the Soudan. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>
+is as if we two were alone in the desert. Dost thou
+understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast made me understand. I will not try to run.
+Thou hast the power to take me, since thou hast forgotten thy
+bond of honour, and thou art stronger than I. Yet will I not
+live to be thy wife, Si Ma&iuml;eddine. Wouldst thou hold a dead
+girl in thine arms?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would hold thee dead or living. Thou wouldst be living
+at first; and a moment with thine heart beating against mine
+would be worth a lifetime&mdash;perhaps worth eternity."</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldst thou take me if&mdash;if I love another man?"</p>
+
+<p>He caught her by the shoulders, and his hands were hard as
+steel. "Darest thou to tell me that thou lovest a man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I dare," she said. "Kill me if thou wilt. Since I
+have no earthly help against thee, kill my body, and let God
+take my spirit where thou canst never come. I love another
+man."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me his name, that I may find him."</p>
+
+<p>"I will not. Nothing thou canst do will make me tell thee."</p>
+
+<p>"It is that man who was with thee on the boat."</p>
+
+<p>"I said I would not tell thee."</p>
+
+<p>He shook her between his hands, so that the looped-up braids
+of her hair fell down, as they had fallen when she danced, and
+the ends loosened into curls. She looked like a pale child,
+and suddenly a great tenderness for her melted his heart. He
+had never known that feeling before, and it was very strange
+to him; for when he had loved, it had been with passion, not
+with tenderness.</p>
+
+<p>"Little white star," he said, "thou art but a babe, and I
+will not believe that any man has ever touched thy mouth with
+his lips. Am I right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, because he does not love me. It is I who love him,
+that is all," she answered na&iuml;vely. "I only knew how I really
+felt when thou saidst thou wouldst make me love thee, for I
+was so sure that never, never couldst thou do that. And I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>
+shall love the other man all my life, even though I do not see him
+again."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou shalt never see him again. For a moment, oh Rose,
+I hated thee, and I saw thy face through a mist red as thy blood
+and his, which I wished to shed. But thou art so young&mdash;so white&mdash;so
+beautiful. Thou hast come so far with me,
+and thou hast been so sweet. There is a strange pity for thee
+in my breast, such as I have never known for any living thing.
+I think it must be that thou hast magic in thine eyes. It is as if
+thy soul looked out at me through two blue windows, and I
+could fall down and worship, Allah forgive me! I knew no
+man had kissed thee. And the man thou sayest thou lovest
+is but a man in a dream. This is my hour. I must not let my
+chance slip by, M'Barka told me. Yet promise me but one
+thing and I will hold thee sacred&mdash;I swear on the head of
+my father."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the one thing?"</p>
+
+<p>"That if thy sister Lella Sa&iuml;da puts thine hand in mine,
+thou wilt be my wife."</p>
+
+<p>The girl's face brightened, and the great golden dunes, silvering
+now in moonlight, looked no longer like terrible waves
+ready to overwhelm her. She was sure of Saidee, as she was
+sure of herself.</p>
+
+<p>"That I will promise thee," she said.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her thoughtfully. "Thou hast great confidence
+in thy sister."</p>
+
+<p>"Perfect confidence."</p>
+
+<p>"And I&mdash;&mdash;" he did not finish his sentence. "I am glad
+I did not wait longer," he went on instead. "Thou knowest
+now that I love thee, that thou hast by thy side a man and not
+a statue. And I have not let my chance slip by, because I
+have gained thy promise."</p>
+
+<p>"If Saidee puts my hand in thine."</p>
+
+<p>"It is the same thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou dost not know my sister."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But I know&mdash;&mdash;" Again he broke off abruptly. There
+were things it were better not to say, even in the presence of
+one who would never be able to tell of an indiscretion. "It
+is a truce between us?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Forget, then, that I frightened thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou didst not frighten me. I did not know what to do,
+and I thought I might have to die without seeing Saidee. Yet
+I was not afraid, I think&mdash;I hope&mdash;I was not afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou wilt not have to die without seeing thy sister. Now,
+more than before, I shall be in haste to put thee in her charge.
+But thou wilt die without seeing again the face of that man whose
+name, which thou wouldst not speak, shall be as smoke blown
+before the wind. Never shalt thou see him on earth, and if he
+and I meet I will kill him."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria shut her eyes, and pressed her hands over them.
+She felt very desolate, alone with Ma&iuml;eddine among the dunes.
+She would not dare to call Stephen now, lest he should hear and
+come. Nevertheless she could not be wholly unhappy, for it
+was wonderful to have learned what love was. She loved
+Stephen Knight.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou wilt let me go back to M'Barka?" she said to
+Ma&iuml;eddine.</p>
+
+<p>"I will take thee back," he amended. "Because I have thy
+promise."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXIII" id="XXXIII"></a>XXXIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>On a flat white roof, which bubbled up here and there
+in rounded domes, a woman stood looking out over
+interminable waves of yellow sand, a vast golden
+silence which had no end on her side of the horizon,
+east, west, north, or south.</p>
+
+<p>No veil hid her face, but folds of thin woollen stuff beautifully
+woven, and dyed blue, almost as dark as indigo, fell from
+her head nearly to her feet, over a loose robe of orange-red,
+cut low in the neck, with sleeves hiding the elbows. She looked
+towards the west, shading her eyes with her hand: and the sun
+near its setting streamed over her face and hair, chiselling her
+features in marble, brightening her auburn hair to fiery gold,
+giving her brown eyes the yellow tints of a topaz, or of the amber
+beads which hung in a long chain, as far down as her knees.</p>
+
+<p>From the white roof many things could be seen besides the
+immense monotonous dunes along whose ridges orange fire
+seemed to play unceasingly against the sky.</p>
+
+<p>There was the roof of the Zaou&iuml;a mosque, with its low, white
+domes grouped round the minaret, as somewhere below the
+youngest boys of the school grouped round the taleb, or teacher.
+On the roof of the mosque bassourah frames were in the
+making, splendid bassourahs, which, when finished, would be
+the property of the great marabout, greatest of all living marabouts,
+lord of the Zaou&iuml;a, lord of the desert and its people, as
+far as the eye could reach, and farther.</p>
+
+<p>There were other roofs, too, bubbling among the labyrinth
+of square open courts and long, tunnel-like, covered and uncovered
+corridors which formed the immense, rambling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>
+Zaou&iuml;a, or sacred school of Oued Tolga. Things happened
+on these roofs which would have interested a stranger, for there
+was spinning of sheep's wool, making of men's burnouses, fashioning
+of robes for women, and embroidering of saddles; but
+the woman who looked towards the west with the sun in her
+eyes was tired of the life on sun-baked roofs and in shadowed
+courts.</p>
+
+<p>The scent of orange blossoms in her own little high-walled
+garden came up to her; yet she had forgotten that it was sweet,
+for she had never loved it. The hum of the students' voices,
+faintly heard through the open-work of wrought-iron windows,
+rasped her nerves, for she had heard it too often; and she
+knew that the mysterious lessons, the lessons which puzzled
+her, and constantly aroused her curiosity, were never repeated
+aloud by the classes, as were these everlasting chapters of the
+Koran.</p>
+
+<p>Men sleeping on benches in the court of the mosque, under
+arches in the wall, waked and drank water out of bulging
+goatskins, hanging from huge hooks. Pilgrims washed their
+feet in the black marble basin of the trickling fountain, for soon
+it would be time for moghreb, the prayer of the evening.</p>
+
+<p>Far away, eighteen miles distant across the sands, she could
+see the twenty thousand domes of Oued Tolga, the desert city
+which had taken its name from the older Zaou&iuml;a, and the oued
+or river which ran between the sacred edifice on its golden
+hill, and the ugly toub-built village, raised above danger of
+floods on a foundation of palm trunks.</p>
+
+<p>Far away the domes of the desert city shimmered like white
+fire in the strange light that hovers over the Sahara before the
+hour of sunset. Behind those distant, dazzling bubbles of unearthly
+whiteness, the valley-like oases of the southern desert,
+El Souf, dimpled the yellow dunes here and there with basins
+of dark green. Near by, a little to the left of the Zaou&iuml;a hill,
+such an oasis lay, and the woman on the white roof could look
+across a short stretch of sand, down into its green depths.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>
+She could watch the marabout's men repairing the sloping
+sand-walls with palm trunks, which kept them from caving
+in, and saved the precious date-palms from being engulfed in a
+yellow tide. It was the marabout's own private oasis, and
+brought him in a large income every year. But everything was
+the marabout's. The woman on the roof was sick to death of
+his riches, his honours, his importance, for she was the marabout's
+wife; and in these days she loved him as little as she
+loved the orange garden he had given her, and all the things
+that were hers because she was his.</p>
+
+<p>It was very still in the Zaou&iuml;a of Oued Tolga. The only
+sound was the droning of the boys' voices, which came faintly
+from behind iron window-gratings below, and that monotonous
+murmur emphasized the silence, as the humming of bees in a
+hive makes the stillness of a garden in summer more heavy
+and hot.</p>
+
+<p>No noises came from the courts of the women's quarters, or
+those of the marabout's guests, and attendants, and servants;
+not a voice was raised in that more distant part of the Zaou&iuml;a
+where the students lived, and where the poor were lodged and
+fed for charity's sake. No doubt the village, across the narrow
+river in its wide bed, was buzzing with life at this time of day;
+but seldom any sound there was loud enough to break the
+slumberous silence of the great Zaou&iuml;a. And the singing of the
+men in the near oasis who fought the sand, the groaning of the
+well-cords woven of palm fibre which raised the buckets of
+hollowed palm-trunks, was as monotonous as the recitation of
+the Koran. The woman had heard it so often that she had
+long ago ceased to hear it at all.</p>
+
+<p>She looked westward, across the river to the ugly village with
+the dried palm-leaves on its roofs, and far away to the white-domed
+city, the dimpling oases and the mountainous dunes
+that towered against a flaming sky; then eastward, towards
+the two vast desert lakes, or chotts, one of blue water, the other
+of saltpetre, which looked bluer than water, and had pale edges<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>
+that met the sand like snow on gold. Above the lake of water
+suddenly appeared a soaring line of white, spreading and
+mounting higher, then turning from white to vivid rose. It was
+the flamingoes rising and flying over the chott, the one daily
+phenomenon of the desert which the woman on the roof still
+loved to watch. But her love for the rosy line against the blue
+was not entirely because of its beauty, though it was
+startlingly beautiful. It meant something for which she waited
+each evening with a passionate beating of her heart under the
+orange-coloured robe and the chain of amber beads. It meant
+sunset and the coming of a message. But the doves on the
+green tiled minaret of the Zaou&iuml;a mosque had not begun yet
+to dip and wheel. They would not stir from their repose until
+the muezzin climbed the steps to call the hour of evening
+prayer, and until they flew against the sunset the message could
+not come.</p>
+
+<p>She must wait yet awhile. There was nothing to do till the
+time of hope for the message. There was never anything
+else that she cared to do through the long days from sunrise
+to sunset, unless the message gave her an incentive when it came.</p>
+
+<p>In the river-bed, the women and young girls had not
+finished their washing, which was to them not so much labour
+as pleasure, since it gave them their opportunity for an outing
+and a gossip. In the bed of shining sand lay coloured stones
+like jewels, and the women knelt on them, beating wet bundles
+of scarlet and puce with palm branches. The watcher on the
+roof knew that they were laughing and chattering together
+though she could not hear them. She wondered dimly how
+many years it was since she had laughed, and said to herself
+that probably she would never laugh again, although she was
+still young, only twenty-eight. But that was almost old for
+a woman of the East. Those girls over there, wading knee-deep
+in the bright water to fill their goatskins and curious
+white clay jugs, would think her old. But they hardly knew
+of her existence. She had married the great marabout, there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>fore
+she was a marabouta, or woman saint, merely because
+she was fortunate enough to be his wife, and too highly placed
+for them to think of as an earthly woman like themselves.
+What could it matter whether such a radiantly happy being
+were young or old? And she smiled a little as she imagined
+those poor creatures picturing her happiness. She passed
+near them sometimes going to the Moorish baths, but
+the long blue drapery covered her face then, and she was
+guarded by veiled negresses and eunuchs. They looked her
+way reverently, but had never seen her face, perhaps did not
+know who she was, though no doubt they had all heard and
+gossipped about the romantic history of the new wife, the
+beautiful Ouled Na&iuml;l, to whom the marabout had condescended
+because of her far-famed, her marvellous, almost incredible
+loveliness, which made her a consort worthy of a saint.</p>
+
+<p>The river was a mirror this evening, reflecting the sunset
+of crimson and gold, and the young crescent moon fought for
+and devoured, then vomited forth again by strange black cloud-monsters.
+The old brown palm-trunks, on which the village
+was built, were repeated in the still water, and seemed to go
+down and down, as if their roots might reach to the other side
+of the world.</p>
+
+<p>Over the crumbling doorways of the miserable houses
+bleached skulls and bones of animals were nailed for luck.
+The red light of the setting sun stained them as if with blood,
+and they were more than ever disgusting to the watcher on the
+white roof. They were the symbols of superstitions the most
+Eastern and barbaric, ideas which she hated, as she was beginning
+to hate all Eastern things and people.</p>
+
+<p>The streak of rose which meant a flock of flying flamingoes
+had faded out of the sky. The birds seemed to have vanished
+into the sunset, and hardly had they gone when the loud
+crystalline voice of the muezzin began calling the faithful to
+prayer. Work stopped for the day. The men and youths of the
+Zaou&iuml;a climbed the worn stairs to the roof of the mosque,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>
+where, in their white turbans and burnouses, they prostrated
+themselves before Allah, going down on their faces as one man.
+The doves of the minaret&mdash;called Imams, because they never
+leave the mosque or cease to prostrate themselves, flying head
+downwards&mdash;began to wheel and cry plaintively. The
+moment when the message might come was here at last.</p>
+
+<p>The white roof had a wall, which was low in places, in others
+very high, so high that no one standing behind it could be seen.
+This screen of whitewashed toub was arranged to hide persons
+on the roof from those on the roof of the mosque; but window-like
+openings had been made in it, filled in with mashrabeyah
+work of lace-like pattern; an art brought to Africa long ago
+by the Moors, after perfecting it in Granada. And this roof
+was not the only one thus screened and latticed. There was
+another, where watchers could also look down into the court
+of the fountain, at the carved doors taken from the Romans,
+and up to the roof of the mosque with all its little domes.
+From behind those other lace-like windows in the roof-wall,
+sparkled such eyes as only Ouled Na&iuml;l girls can have; but the
+first watcher hated to think of those eyes and their wonderful
+fringe of black lashes. It was an insult to her that they should
+beautify this house, and she ignored their existence, though she
+had heard her negresses whispering about them.</p>
+
+<p>While the faithful prayed, a few of the wheeling doves flew
+across from the mosque to the roof where the woman waited
+for a message. At her feet lay a small covered basket, from
+which she took a handful of grain. The dove Imams forgot
+their saintly manners in an unseemly scramble as the white
+hand scattered the seeds, and while they disputed with one
+another, complaining mournfully, another bird, flying straight
+to the roof from a distance, suddenly joined them. It was
+white, with feet like tiny branches of coral, whereas the doves
+from the mosque were grey, or burnished purple.</p>
+
+<p>The woman had been pale, but when the bird fluttered down
+to rest on the open basket of grain, colour rushed to her face,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span>
+as if she had been struck on each cheek with a rose. None of
+the doves of the mosque were tame enough to sit on the basket,
+which was close to her feet, though they sidled round it wistfully;
+but the white bird let her stroke its back with her fingers
+as it daintily pecked the yellow grains.</p>
+
+<p>Very cautiously she untied a silk thread fastened to a feather
+under the bird's wing. As she did so it fluttered both wings as
+if stretching them in relief, and a tiny folded paper attached to
+the cord fell into the basket. Instantly the woman laid her
+hand over it. Then she looked quickly, without moving her
+head, towards the square opening at a corner of the roof where
+the stairway came up. No one was there. Nobody could see
+her from the roof of the mosque, and her roof was higher than
+any of the others, except that which covered the private rooms
+of the marabout. But the marabout was away, and no one
+ever came out on his roof when he was absent.</p>
+
+<p>She opened the folded bit of white paper, which was little
+more than two inches square, and was covered on one side with
+writing almost microscopically small. The other side was blank,
+but the woman had no doubt that the letter was for her. As
+she read, the carrier-pigeon went on pecking at the seeds in
+the basket, and the doves of the mosque watched it enviously.</p>
+
+<p>The writing was in French, and no name was at the beginning
+or the end.</p>
+
+<p>"Be brave, my beautiful one, and dare to do as your heart
+prompts. Remember, I worship you. Ever since that wonderful
+day when the wind blew aside your veil for an instant
+at the door of the Moorish bath, the whole world has been
+changed for me. I would die a thousand deaths if need be
+for the joy of rescuing you from your prison. Yet I do not
+wish to die. I wish to live, to take you far away and make
+you so happy that you will forget the wretchedness and failure
+of the past. A new life will begin for both of us, if you will
+only trust me, and forget the scruples of which you write&mdash;false
+scruples, believe me. As he had a wife living when he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>
+married you, and has taken another since, surely you cannot
+consider that you are bound by the law of God or man? Let
+me save you from the dragon, as fairy princesses were saved in
+days of old. If I might speak with you, tell you all the arguments
+that constantly suggest themselves to my mind, you
+could not refuse. I have thought of more than one way, but
+dare not put my ideas on paper, lest some unlucky chance
+befall our little messenger. Soon I shall have perfected the
+cypher. Then there will not be the same danger. Perhaps
+to-morrow night I shall be able to send it. But meanwhile,
+for the sake of my love, give me a little hope. If you will try to
+arrange a meeting, to be settled definitely when the cypher
+is ready, twist three of those glorious threads of gold
+which you have for hair round the cord when you send the
+messenger back."</p>
+
+<p>All the rosy colour had died away from the woman's face
+by the time she had finished reading the letter. She folded it
+again into a tiny square even smaller than before, and put it
+into one of the three or four little engraved silver boxes, made
+to hold texts from the Koran, which hung from her long amber
+necklace. Her eyes were very wide open, but she seemed
+to see nothing except some thought printed on her brain like
+a picture.</p>
+
+<p>On the mosque roof a hundred men of the desert knelt praying
+in the sunset, their faces turned towards Mecca. Down in
+the fountain-court, the marabout's lazy tame lion rose from
+sleep and stretched himself, yawning as the clear voice of the
+muezzin chanted from the minaret the prayer of evening,
+"Allah Akbar, Allah il Allah, Mohammed r'soul Allah."</p>
+
+<p>The woman did not know that she heard the prayer, for as
+her eyes saw a picture, so did her ears listen to a voice which
+she had heard only once, but desired beyond all things to hear
+again. To her it was the voice of a saviour-knight; the face
+she saw was glorious with the strength of manhood, and the
+light of love. Only to think of the voice and face made her feel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>
+that she was coming to life again, after lying dead and forgotten
+in a tomb for many years of silence.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, she was alive now, for he had waked her from a sleep
+like death; but she was still in the tomb, and it seemed
+impossible to escape from it, even with the help of a saviour-knight.
+If she said "yes" to what he asked, as she was trying
+to make herself believe she had a moral and legal right to do,
+they would be found out and killed, that was all.</p>
+
+<p>She was not brave. The lassitude which is a kind of spurious
+resignation poisons courage, or quenches it as water quenches
+fire. Although she hated her life, if it could be called life, had
+no pleasure in it, and had almost forgotten how to hope, still
+she was afraid of being violently struck down.</p>
+
+<p>Not long ago a woman in the village had tried to leave her
+husband with a man she loved. The husband found out,
+and having shot the man before her eyes, stabbed her with
+many wounds, one for each traitorous kiss, according to the
+custom of the desert; not one knife-thrust deep enough to kill;
+but by and by she had died from the shock of horror, and loss
+of blood. Nobody blamed the husband. He had done the thing
+which was right and just. And stories like this came often to
+the ears of the woman on the roof through her negresses,
+or from the attendants at the Moorish bath.</p>
+
+<p>The man she loved would not be shot like the wretched
+Bedouin, who was of no importance except to her for whom his
+life was given; but something would happen. He would be
+taken ill with a strange disease, of which he would die after
+dreadful suffering; or at best his career would be ruined;
+for the greatest of all marabouts was a man of immense
+influence. Because of his religious vow to wear a mask always
+like a Touareg, none of the ruling race had ever seen the
+marabout's features, yet his power was known far and wide&mdash;in
+Morocco; all along the caravan route to Tombouctou; in the
+capital of the Touaregs; in Algiers; and even in Paris itself.</p>
+
+<p>She reminded herself of these things, and at one moment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>
+her heart was like ice in her breast; but at the next, it was like
+a ball of fire; and pulling out three long bright hairs from her
+head, she twisted them round the cord which the carrier-pigeon
+had brought. Before tying it under his wing again, she
+scattered more yellow seeds for the dove Imams, because she did
+not want them to fly away until she was ready to let her messenger
+go. Thus there was the less danger that the carrier-pigeon
+would be noticed. Only Noura, her negress, knew of him.
+Noura had smuggled him into the Zaou&iuml;a, and she herself had
+trained him by giving him food that he liked, though his home
+was at Oued Tolga, the town.</p>
+
+<p>The birds from the mosque had waited for their second supply,
+for the same programme had been carried out many times before,
+and they had learned to expect it.</p>
+
+<p>When they finished scrambling for the grain which the white
+pigeon could afford to scorn, they fluttered back to the minaret,
+following a leader. But the carrier flew away straight and far,
+his little body vanishing at last as if swallowed up in the gold
+of the sunset. For he went west, towards the white domes of
+Oued Tolga.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXIV" id="XXXIV"></a>XXXIV</h2>
+
+
+<p>Still the woman stood looking after the bird, but
+the sun had dropped behind the dunes, and she
+no longer needed to shade her eyes with her hand.
+There was nothing more to expect till sunset
+to-morrow, when something might or might not happen. If
+no message came, then there would be only dullness and stagnation
+until the day when the Moorish bath was sacredly kept
+for the great ladies of the marabout's household. There were
+but two of these, yet they never went to the bath together, nor
+had they ever met or spoken to one another. They were escorted
+to the bath by their attendants at different hours of the
+same day; and later their female servants were allowed to go,
+for no one but the women of the saintly house might use the
+baths that day.</p>
+
+<p>The woman on the white roof in the midst of the golden
+silence gazed towards the west, though she looked for no event
+of interest; and her eyes fixed themselves mechanically upon a
+little caravan which moved along the yellow sand like a procession
+of black insects. She was so accustomed to search
+the desert since the days, long ago, when she had actually
+hoped for friends to come and take her away, that she could
+differentiate objects at greater distances than one less trained
+to observation. Hardly thinking of the caravan, she made
+out, nevertheless, that it consisted of two camels, carrying
+bassourahs, a horse and Arab rider, a brown pack camel, and a
+loaded mule, driven by two men who walked.</p>
+
+<p>They had evidently come from Oued Tolga, or at least from
+that direction, therefore it was probable that their destination<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span>
+was the Zaou&iuml;a; otherwise, as it was already late, they would
+have stopped in the city all night. Of course, it was possible
+that they were on their way to the village, but it was a poor
+place, inhabited by very poor people, many of them freed
+Negroes, who worked in the oases and lived mostly upon dates.
+No caravans ever went out from there, because no man, even
+the richest, owned more than one camel or donkey; and nobody
+came to stay, unless some son of the miserable hamlet, who had
+made a little money elsewhere, and returned to see his relatives.
+But on the other hand, numerous caravans arrived at the
+Zaou&iuml;a of Oued Tolga, and hundreds of pilgrims from all parts
+of Islam were entertained as the marabout's guests, or as recipients
+of charity.</p>
+
+<p>Dimly, as she detached her mind from the message she had
+sent, the woman began to wonder about this caravan, because
+of the bassourahs, which meant that there were women among
+the travellers. There were comparatively few women pilgrims
+to the Zaou&iuml;a, except invalids from the town of Oued Tolga,
+or some Sahara encampment, who crawled on foot, or rode
+decrepit donkeys, hoping to be cured of ailments by the magic
+power of the marabout, the power of the Baraka. The woman
+who watched had learned by this time not to expect European
+tourists. She had lived for eight years in the Zaou&iuml;a, and not
+once had she seen from her roof a European, except a French
+government-official or two, and a few&mdash;a very few&mdash;French
+officers. Never had any European women come. Tourists
+were usually satisfied with Touggourt, three or four days nearer
+civilisation. Women did not care to undertake an immense
+and fatiguing journey among the most formidable dunes of
+the desert, where there was nothing but ascending and descending,
+day after day; where camels sometimes broke their
+legs in the deep sand, winding along the fallen side of a
+mountainous dune, and where a horse often had to sit on his
+haunches, and slide with his rider down a sand precipice.</p>
+
+<p>She herself had experienced all these difficulties, so long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>
+ago now that she had half forgotten how she had hated them,
+and the fate to which they were leading her. But she did not
+blame other women for not coming to Oued Tolga.</p>
+
+<p>Occasionally some ca&iuml;d or agha of the far south would bring
+his wife who was ill or childless to be blessed by the marabout;
+and in old days they had been introduced to the marabouta,
+but it was years now since she had been asked, or even allowed,
+to entertain strangers. She thought, without any active interest,
+as she looked at the nodding bassourahs, growing larger and
+larger, that a chief was coming with his women, and that he
+would be disappointed to learn that the marabout was away
+from home. It was rather odd that the stranger had not been
+told in the city, for every one knew that the great man had gone
+a fortnight ago to the province of Oran. Several days must
+pass before he could return, even if, for any reason, he came
+sooner than he was expected. But it did not matter much to
+her, if there were to be visitors who would have the pain of
+waiting. There was plenty of accommodation for guests,
+and there were many servants whose special duty it was to care
+for strangers. She would not see the women in the bassourahs,
+nor hear of them unless some gossip reached her through the talk
+of the negresses.</p>
+
+<p>Still, as there was nothing else which she wished to do, she
+continued to watch the caravan.</p>
+
+<p>By and by it passed out of sight, behind the rising ground
+on which the village huddled, with its crowding brown house-walls
+that narrowed towards the roofs. The woman almost
+forgot it, until it appeared again, to the left of the village, where
+palm logs had been laid in the river bed, making a kind of rough
+bridge, only covered when the river was in flood. It was certain
+now that the travellers were coming to the Zaou&iuml;a.</p>
+
+<p>The flame of the sunset had died, though clouds purple as
+pansies flowered in the west. The gold of the dunes paled to
+silver, and the desert grew sad, as if it mourned for a day that
+would never live again. Far away, near Oued Tolga, where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>
+the white domes of the city and the green domes of the oasis
+palms all blended together in shadow, fires sprang up in the
+camps of nomads, like signals of danger.</p>
+
+<p>The woman on the roof shivered. The chill of the coming
+night cooled her excitement. She was afraid of the future, and
+the sadness which had fallen upon the desert was cold in her
+heart. The caravan was not far from the gate of the Zaou&iuml;a,
+but she was tired of watching it. She turned and went down
+the narrow stairs that led to her rooms, and to the little garden
+where the fragrance of orange blossoms was too sweet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXV" id="XXXV"></a>XXXV</h2>
+
+
+<p>The caravan stopped in front of the Zaou&iuml;a gate.
+There were great iron doors in a high wall of toub,
+which was not much darker in colour than the deep
+gold of the desert sand; and because it was after
+sunset the doors were closed.</p>
+
+<p>One of the Negroes knocked, and called out something inarticulate
+and guttural in a loud voice.</p>
+
+<p>Almost at once the gate opened, and a shadowy figure hovered
+inside. A name was announced, which was instantly shouted
+to a person unseen, and a great chattering began in the dusk.
+Men ran out, and one or two kissed the hand of the rider on
+the white horse. They explained volubly that the lord was
+away, but the newcomer checked them as soon as he could, saying
+that he had heard the news in the city. He had with him
+ladies, one a relative of his own, another who was connected
+with the great lord himself, and they must be entertained as
+the lord would wish, were he not absent.</p>
+
+<p>The gates, or doors, of iron were thrown wide open, and the
+little procession entered a huge open court. On one side was
+accommodation for many animals, as in a caravanserai, with
+a narrow roof sheltering thirty or forty stalls; and here the
+two white meharis were made to kneel, that the women might
+descend from their bassourahs. There were three, all veiled,
+but the arms of one were bare and very brown. She moved
+stiffly, as if cramped by sitting for a long time in one position;
+nevertheless, she supported her companion, whose bassour she
+had shared. The two Soudanese Negroes remained in this
+court with their animals, which the servants of the Zaou&iuml;a,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>
+began helping them to unload; but the master of the expedition,
+with the two ladies of his party and Fafann, was now obliged
+to walk. Several men of the Zaou&iuml;a acted as their guides,
+gesticulating with great respect, but lowering their eyelids, and
+appearing not to see the women.</p>
+
+<p>They passed through another court, very large, though not
+so immense as the first, for no animals were kept there. Instead
+of stalls for camels and horses, there were roughly built
+rooms for pilgrims of the poorer class, with little, roofless, open-sided
+kitchens, where they could cook their own food. Beyond
+was the third court, with lodging for more important persons,
+and then the travellers were led through a labyrinth of corridors,
+some roofed with palm branches, others open to the air,
+and still more covered in with the toub blocks of which the
+walls were built. Along the sides were crumbling benches of
+stucco, on which old men lay rolled up in their burnouses; or
+here and there a door of rotting palm wood hung half open,
+giving a glimpse into a small, dim court, duskily red with the
+fire of cooking in an open-air kitchen. From behind these
+doors came faint sounds of chanting, and spicy smells of burning
+wood and boiling peppers. It was like passing through
+a subterranean village; and little dark children, squatting in
+doorways, or flattening their bodies against palm trunks which
+supported palm roofs, or flitting ahead of the strangers, in the
+thick, musky scented twilight, were like shadowy gnomes.</p>
+
+<p>By and by, as the newcomers penetrated farther into the
+mysterious labyrinth of the vast Zaou&iuml;a, the corridors and
+courts became less ruined in appearance. The walls were
+whitewashed; the palm-wood doors were roughly carved and
+painted in bright colours, which could be seen by the flicker
+of lamps set high in little niches. Each tunnel-like passage
+had a carved archway at the end, and at last they entered one
+which was closed in with beautiful doors of wrought iron.</p>
+
+<p>Through the rich network they could see into a court where
+everything glimmered white in moonlight. They had come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>
+to the court of the mosque, which had on one side an entrance
+to the private house of the marabout, the great Sidi El Hadj
+Mohammed ben Abd-el-Kader.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"Lella Sa&iuml;da, oh light of the young moon, if it please thee,
+thou hast two guests come from very far off," announced an
+old negress to the woman who had been looking out over the
+golden silence of the desert.</p>
+
+<p>It was an hour since she had come down from the roof, and
+having eaten a little bread, with soup, she lay on a divan writing
+in a small book. Several tall copper lamps with open-work
+copper shades, jewelled and fringed with coloured glass, gave
+a soft and beautiful light to the room. It had pure white walls,
+round which, close to the ceiling, ran a frieze of Arab lettering,
+red, and black, and gold. The doors and window-blinds and
+little cupboards were of cedar, so thickly inlaid with mother-o'-pearl,
+that only dark lines of the wood defined the white
+patterning of leaves and flowers.</p>
+
+<p>The woman had thrown off the blue drapery that had covered
+her head, and her auburn hair glittered in the light of the lamp
+by which she wrote. She looked up, vexed.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou knowest, Noura, that for years I have received no
+guests," she said, in a dialect of the Soudan, in which most
+Saharian mistresses of Negro servants learn to talk. "I can see
+no one. The master would not permit me to do so, even if I
+wished it, which I do not."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon, loveliest lady. But this is another matter. A
+friend of our lord brings these visitors to thee. One is kin
+of his. She seeks to be healed of a malady, by the power of
+the Baraka. But the other is a Roumia."</p>
+
+<p>The wife of the great marabout shut the book in which she
+had been writing, and her mind travelled quickly to the sender
+of the carrier-pigeon. A European woman, the first who had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>
+ever come to the Zaou&iuml;a in eight years! It must be that she
+had a message from him. Somehow he had contrived this
+visit. She dared ask no more questions.</p>
+
+<p>"I will see these ladies," she said. "Let them come to me
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"Already the old one is resting in the guest-house," answered
+the negress. "She has her own servant, and she asks to see
+thee no earlier than to-morrow, when she has rested, and is
+able to pay thee her respects. It is the other, the young Roumia,
+who begs to speak with thee to-night."</p>
+
+<p>The wife of the marabout was more certain than ever that
+her visitor must come from the sender of the pigeon. She was
+glad of an excuse to talk with his messenger alone, without
+waiting.</p>
+
+<p>"Go fetch her," she directed. "And when thou hast
+brought her to the door I shall no longer need thee, Noura."</p>
+
+<p>Her heart was beating fast. She dreaded some final
+decision, or the need to make a decision, yet she knew that she
+would be bitterly disappointed if, after all, the European woman
+were not what she thought. She shut up the diary in which
+she wrote each night, and opening one of the wall cupboards
+near her divan, she put it away on a shelf, where there were
+many other small volumes, a dozen perhaps. They contained the
+history of her life during the last nine years, since unhappiness
+had isolated her, and made it necessary to her peace of mind,
+almost to her sanity, to have a confidant. She closed the inlaid
+doors of the cupboard, and locked them with a key which
+hung from a ribbon inside her dress.</p>
+
+<p>Such a precaution was hardly needed, since the writing was
+all in English, and she had recorded the events of the last few
+weeks cautiously and cryptically. Not a soul in the marabout's
+house could read English, except the marabout himself; and it
+was seldom he honoured her with a visit. Nevertheless,
+it had become a habit to lock up the books, and she found a
+secretive pleasure in it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She had only time to slip the ribbon back into her breast,
+and sit down stiffly on the divan, when the door was opened
+again by Noura.</p>
+
+<p>"O Lella Sa&iuml;da, I have brought the Roumia," the negress
+announced.</p>
+
+<p>A slim figure in Arab dress came into the room, unfastening
+a white veil with fingers that trembled with impatience. The
+door shut softly. Noura had obeyed instructions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXVI" id="XXXVI"></a>XXXVI</h2>
+
+
+<p>For ten years Victoria had been waiting for this
+moment, dreaming of it at night, picturing it by
+day. Now it had come.</p>
+
+<p>There was Saidee standing before her, found at
+last. Saidee, well and safe, and lovely as ever, hardly changed
+in feature, and yet&mdash;there was something strange about her,
+something which stopped the joyous beating of the girl's heart.
+It was almost as if she had died and come to Heaven, to find
+that Heaven was not Heaven at all, but a cold place of fear.</p>
+
+<p>She was shocked at the impression, blaming herself. Surely
+Saidee did not know her yet, that was all; or the surprise was too
+great. She wished she had sent word by the negress. Though
+that would have seemed banal, it would have been better than
+to see the blank look on Saidee's face, a look which froze her
+into a marble statue. But it was too late now. The only
+thing left was to make the best of a bad beginning.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, darling!" Victoria cried. "Have I frightened you?
+Dearest&mdash;my beautiful one, it's your little sister. All these
+years I've been waiting&mdash;waiting to find a way. You knew
+I would come some day, didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Tears poured down her face. She tried to believe they were
+tears of joy, such as she had often thought to shed at sight of
+Saidee. She had been sure that she could not keep them
+back, and that she would not try. They should have been
+sweet as summer rain, but they burned her eyes and her cheeks
+as they fell. Saidee was silent. The girl held out her arms,
+running a step or two, then, faltering, she let her arms fall.
+They felt heavy and stiff, as if they had been turned to wood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span>
+Saidee did not move. There was an expression of dismay, even
+of fear on her face.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know me!" Victoria said chokingly. "I've
+grown up, and I must seem like a different person&mdash;but I'm
+just the same, truly. I've loved you so, always. You'll get
+used to seeing me changed. You&mdash;you don't think I'm somebody
+else pretending to be Victoria, do you? I can tell you all
+the things we used to do and say. I haven't forgotten one.
+Oh, Saidee, dearest, I've come such a long way to find you.
+Do be glad to see me&mdash;do!"</p>
+
+<p>Her voice broke. She put out her hands pleadingly&mdash;the
+childish hands that had seemed pathetically pretty to Stephen
+Knight.</p>
+
+<p>A look of intense concentration darkened Saidee's eyes.
+She appeared to question herself, to ask her intelligence what
+was best to do. Then the tense lines of her face softened.
+She forced herself to smile, and leaning towards Victoria, clasped
+the slim white figure in her arms, holding it tightly, in silence.
+But over the girl's shoulder, her eyes still seemed to search an
+answer to their question.</p>
+
+<p>When she had had time to control her voice and expression,
+she spoke, releasing her sister, taking the wistful face between
+her hands, and gazing at it earnestly. Then she kissed lips and
+cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Victoria!" she murmured. "Victoria! I'm not dreaming
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, darling," the girl answered, more hopefully. "No
+wonder you're dazed. This&mdash;finding you, I mean&mdash;has been
+the object of my life, ever since your letters stopped coming,
+and I began to feel I'd lost you. That's why I can't realize
+your being struck dumb with the surprise of it. Somehow,
+I've always felt you'd be expecting me. Weren't you? Didn't
+you know I'd come when I could?"</p>
+
+<p>Saidee shook her head, looking with extraordinary, almost
+feverish, interest at the younger girl, taking in every detail of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>
+feature and complexion, all the exquisite outlines of extreme
+youth, which she had lost.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said slowly. "I thought I was dead to the world.
+I didn't think it would be possible for anyone to find me, even
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;you are glad&mdash;now I'm here?" Victoria faltered.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," Saidee answered unhesitatingly. "I'm delighted&mdash;enchanted&mdash;for
+my own sake. If I'm frightened,
+if you think me strange&mdash;<i>farouche</i>&mdash;it's because I'm so surprised,
+and because&mdash;can you believe it?&mdash;this is the first
+time I've spoken English with any human being for nine
+years&mdash;perhaps more. I almost forget&mdash;it seems a century.
+I talk to myself&mdash;so as not to forget. And every night I write
+down what has happened, or rather what I've thought,
+because things hardly ever do happen here. The words don't
+come easily. They sound so odd in my own ears. And then&mdash;there's
+another reason why I'm afraid. It's on your account.
+I'd better tell you. It wouldn't be fair not to tell. I&mdash;how
+are you going to get away again?"</p>
+
+<p>She almost whispered the last words, and spoke them as if
+she were ashamed. But she watched the girl's face anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria slipped a protecting arm round her waist. "We
+are going away together, dearest," she said. "Unless you're
+too happy and contented. But, my Saidee&mdash;you don't look
+contented."</p>
+
+<p>Saidee flushed faintly. "You mean&mdash;I look old&mdash;haggard?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;no!" the girl protested. "Not that. You've hardly
+changed at all, except&mdash;oh, I hardly know how to put it in
+words. It's your expression. You look sad&mdash;tired of the
+things around you."</p>
+
+<p>"I am tired of the things around me," Saidee said. "Often
+I've felt like a dead body in a grave with no hope of even a
+resurrection. What were those lines of Christina Rossetti's I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span>
+used to say over to myself at first, while it still seemed worth
+while to revolt? Some one was buried, had been buried for
+years, yet could think and feel, and cry out against the doom of
+lying 'under this marble stone, forgotten, alone.' Doesn't it
+sound agonizing&mdash;desperate? It just suited me. But now&mdash;now&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Are things better? Are you happier?" Victoria clasped
+her sister passionately.</p>
+
+<p>"No. Only I'm past caring so much. If you've come here,
+Babe, to take me away, it's no use. I may as well tell you now.
+This is prison. And you must escape, yourself, before the
+gaoler comes back, or it will be a life-sentence for you, too."</p>
+
+<p>It warmed Victoria's heart that her sister should call her
+"Babe"&mdash;the old pet name which brought the past back so
+vividly, that her eyes filled again with tears.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall not be kept in prison!" she exclaimed. "It's
+monstrous&mdash;horrible! I was afraid it would be like this.
+That's why I had to wait and make plenty of money. Dearest,
+I'm rich. Everything's for you. You taught me to dance, and
+it's by dancing I've earned such a lot&mdash;almost a fortune. So
+you see, it's yours. I've got enough to bribe Cassim to let you
+go, if he likes money, and isn't kind to you. Because, if he isn't
+kind, it must be a sign he doesn't love you, really."</p>
+
+<p>Saidee laughed, a very bitter laugh. "He does like money.
+And he doesn't like me at all&mdash;any more."</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;" Victoria's face brightened&mdash;"then he will take
+the ten thousand dollars I've brought, and he'll let you go away
+with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Ten thousand dollars!" Saidee laughed again. "Do you
+know who Cassim&mdash;as you call him&mdash;is?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked puzzled. "Who he is?"</p>
+
+<p>"I see you don't know. The secret's been kept from you,
+somehow, by his friend who brought you here. You'll tell me
+how you came; but first I'll answer your question. The Cassim
+ben Halim you knew, has been dead for eight years."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"They told me so in Algiers. But&mdash;do you mean&mdash;have
+you married again?"</p>
+
+<p>"I said the Cassim ben Halim you knew, is dead. The
+Cassim <i>I</i> knew, and know now, is alive&mdash;and one of the most
+important men in Africa, though we live like this, buried among
+the desert dunes, out of the world&mdash;or what you'd think the
+world."</p>
+
+<p>"My world is where you are," Victoria said.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear little Babe! Mine is a terrible world. You must
+get out of it as soon as you can, or you'll never get out at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Never till I take you with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't say that! I must send you away. I <i>must</i>&mdash;no
+matter how hard it may be to part from you," Saidee insisted.
+"You don't know what you're talking about. How should you?
+I suppose you must have heard <i>something</i>. You must anyhow
+suspect there's a secret?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Si Ma&iuml;eddine told me that. He said, when I talked
+of my sister, and how I was trying to find her, that he'd once
+known Cassim. I had to agree not to ask questions,&mdash;and he
+would never say for certain whether Cassim was dead or not,
+but he promised sacredly to bring me to the place where my
+sister lived. His cousin Lella M'Barka Bent Djellab was
+with us,&mdash;very ill and suffering, but brave. We started from
+Algiers, and he made a mystery even of the way we came,
+though I found out the names of some places we passed, like
+El Aghouat and Ghardaia&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Saidee's eyes widened with a sudden flash. "What, you
+came here by El Aghouat and Ghardaia?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Isn't that the best way?"</p>
+
+<p>"The best, if the longest is the best. I don't know much
+about North Africa geographically. They've taken care I
+shouldn't know! But I&mdash;I've lately found out from&mdash;a
+person who's made the journey, that one can get here from
+Algiers in a week or eight days. Seventeen hours by train
+to Biskra: Biskra to Touggourt two long days in a diligence, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>
+carriage with plenty of horses; Touggourt to Oued Tolga on
+camel or horse, or mule, in three or four days going up and down
+among the great dunes. You must have been weeks travelling."</p>
+
+<p>"We have. I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"How very queer! What could Si Ma&iuml;eddine's reason have
+been? Rich Arabs love going by train whenever they can.
+Men who come from far off to see the marabout always do as
+much of the journey as possible by rail. I hear things about all
+important pilgrims. Then why did Si Ma&iuml;eddine bring you by
+El Aghouat and Ghardaia&mdash;especially when his cousin's an
+invalid? It couldn't have been just because he didn't want
+you to be seen, because, as you're dressed like an Arab girl
+no one could guess he was travelling with a European."</p>
+
+<p>"His father lives near El Aghouat," Victoria reminded her
+sister. And Ma&iuml;eddine had used this fact as one excuse,
+when he admitted that they might have taken a shorter road.
+But in her heart the girl had guessed why the longest way
+had been chosen. She did not wish to hide from Saidee things
+which concerned herself, yet Ma&iuml;eddine's love was his secret,
+not hers, therefore she had not meant to tell of it, and she was
+angry with herself for blushing. She blushed more and more
+deeply, and Saidee understood.</p>
+
+<p>"I see! He's in love with you. That's why he brought
+you here. How <i>clever</i> of him! How like an Arab!"</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Saidee was silent, thinking intently. It could
+not be possible, Victoria told herself, that the idea pleased her
+sister. Yet for an instant the white face lighted up, as if
+Saidee were relieved of heavy anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>She drew Victoria closer, with an arm round her waist.
+"Tell me about it," she said. "How you met him, and
+everything."</p>
+
+<p>The girl knew she would have to tell, since her sister had
+guessed, but there were many other things which it seemed
+more important to say and hear first. She longed to hear all,
+all about Saidee's existence, ever since the letters had stopped;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span>
+why they had stopped; and whether the reason had anything to
+do with the mystery about Cassim. Saidee seemed willing to
+wait, apparently, for details of Victoria's life, since she wanted
+to begin with the time only a few weeks ago, when Ma&iuml;eddine
+had come into it. But the girl would not believe that this
+meant indifference. They must begin somewhere. Why
+should not Saidee be curious to hear the end part first, and go
+back gradually? Saidee's silence had been a torturing mystery
+for years, whereas about her, her simple past, there was no
+mystery to clear up.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she agreed. "But you promised to tell me about
+yourself and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know. Oh, you shall hear the whole story. It will seem
+like a romance to you, I suppose, because you haven't had to
+live it, day by day, year by year. It's sordid reality to me&mdash;oh,
+<i>how</i> sordid!&mdash;most of it. But this about Ma&iuml;eddine
+changes everything. I must hear what's happened&mdash;quickly&mdash;because
+I shall have to make a plan. It's very important&mdash;dreadfully
+important. I'll explain, when you've told me more.
+But there's time to order something for you to eat and drink,
+first, if you're tired and hungry. You must be both, poor child&mdash;poor,
+pretty child! You <i>are</i> pretty&mdash;lovely. No wonder
+Ma&iuml;eddine&mdash;but what will you have. Which among our
+horrid Eastern foods do you hate least?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't hate any of them. But don't make me eat or
+drink now, please, dearest. I couldn't. By and by. We
+rested and lunched this side of the city. I don't feel as if I
+should ever be hungry again. I'm so&mdash;&mdash;" Victoria stopped.
+She could not say: "I am so happy," though she ought to have
+been able to say that. What was she, then, if not happy?
+"I'm so excited," she finished.</p>
+
+<p>Saidee stroked the girl's hand, softly. On hers she wore
+no ring, not even a wedding ring, though Cassim had put one
+on her finger, European fashion, when she was a bride. Victoria
+remembered it very well, among the other rings he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span>
+given during the short engagement. Now all were gone.
+But on the third finger of the left hand was the unmistakable
+mark a ring leaves if worn for many years. The thought passed
+through Victoria's mind that it could not be long since Saidee
+had ceased to wear her wedding ring.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to be cruel, or frighten you, my poor Babe,"
+she said, "but&mdash;you've walked into a trap in coming here,
+and I've got to try and save you. Thank heaven my husband's
+away, but we've no time to lose. Tell me quickly about
+Ma&iuml;eddine. I've heard a good deal of him, from Cassim, in old
+days; but tell me all that concerns him and you. Don't
+skip anything, or I can't judge."</p>
+
+<p>Saidee's manner was feverishly emphatic, but she did not
+look at Victoria. She watched her own hand moving back and
+forth, restlessly, from the girl's finger-tips, up the slender, bare
+wrist, and down again.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria told how she had seen Ma&iuml;eddine on the boat, coming
+to Algiers; how he had appeared later at the hotel, and
+offered to help her, hinting, rather than saying, that he had been
+a friend of Cassim's, and knew where to find Cassim's wife.
+Then she went on to the story of the journey through the desert,
+praising Ma&iuml;eddine, and hesitating only when she came to the
+evening of his confession and threat. But Saidee questioned
+her, and she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"It came out all right, you see," she finished at last. "I
+knew it must, even in those few minutes when I couldn't help
+feeling a little afraid, because I seemed to be in his power. But
+of course I wasn't really. God's power was over his, and he felt
+it. Things always <i>do</i> come out right, if you just <i>know</i> they will."</p>
+
+<p>Saidee shivered a little, though her hand on Victoria's was
+hot. "I wish I could think like that," she half whispered. "If
+I could, I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What, dearest?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should be brave, that's all. I've lost my spirit&mdash;lost
+faith, too&mdash;as I've lost everything else. I used to be quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>
+a good sort of girl; but what can you expect after ten years
+shut up in a Mussulman harem? It's something in my favour
+that they never succeeded in 'converting' me, as they almost
+always do with a European woman when they've shut her up&mdash;just
+by tiring her out. But they only made me sullen and
+stupid. I don't believe in anything now. You talk about
+'God's power.' He's never helped me. I should think 'things
+came right' more because Ma&iuml;eddine felt you couldn't get
+away from him, then and later, and because he didn't want to
+offend the marabout, than because God troubled to interfere.
+Besides, things <i>haven't</i> come right. If it weren't for Ma&iuml;eddine,
+I might smuggle you away somehow, before the marabout
+arrives. But now, Ma&iuml;eddine will be watching us like a
+lynx&mdash;or like an Arab. It's the same thing where women
+are concerned."</p>
+
+<p>"Why should the marabout care what I do?" asked Victoria.
+"He's nothing to us, is he?&mdash;except that I suppose
+Cassim must have some high position in his Zaou&iuml;a."</p>
+
+<p>"A high position! I forgot, you couldn't know&mdash;since
+Ma&iuml;eddine hid everything from you. An Arab man never
+trusts a woman to keep a secret, no matter how much in love
+he may be. He was evidently afraid you'd tell some one the
+great secret on the way. But now you're here, he won't care
+what you find out, because he knows perfectly well that you
+can never get away."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria started, and turned fully round to stare at her sister
+with wide, bright eyes. "I can and I will get away!" she
+exclaimed. "With you. Never without you, of course.
+That's why I came, as I said. To take you away if you are
+unhappy. Not all the marabouts in Islam can keep you, dearest,
+because they have no right over you&mdash;and this is the
+twentieth century, not hundreds of years ago, in the dark ages."</p>
+
+<p>"Hundreds of years in the future, it will still be the dark
+ages in Islam. And this marabout thinks he <i>has</i> a right over
+me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But if you know he hasn't?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm beginning to know it&mdash;beginning to feel it, anyhow.
+To feel that legally and morally I'm free. But law and morals
+can't break down walls."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe they can. And if Cassim&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My poor child, when Cassim ben Halim died&mdash;at a very
+convenient time for himself&mdash;Sidi El Hadj Mohammed ben
+Abd-el-Kadr appeared to claim this maraboutship, left vacant
+by the third marabout in the line, an old, old man whose death
+happened a few weeks before Cassim's. This present marabout
+was his next of kin&mdash;or so everybody believes. And that's
+the way saintships pass on in Islam, just as titles and estates
+do in other countries. Now do you begin to understand the
+mystery?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite. I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You heard in Algiers that Cassim had died in Constantinople?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. The Governor himself said so."</p>
+
+<p>"The Governor believes so. Every one believes&mdash;except
+a wretched hump-backed idiot in Morocco, who sold his inheritance
+to save himself trouble, because he didn't want to leave
+his home, or bother to be a marabout. Perhaps he's dead by
+this time, in one way or another. I shouldn't be surprised. If
+he is, Ma&iuml;eddine and Ma&iuml;eddine's father, and a few other powerful
+friends of Cassim's, are the only ones left who know the
+truth, even a part of it. And the great Sidi El Hadj Mohammed
+himself."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Saidee&mdash;Cassim is the marabout!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sh! Now you know the secret that's kept me a prisoner
+in his house long, long after he'd tired of me, and would have
+got rid of me if he'd dared&mdash;and if he hadn't been afraid in
+his cruel, jealous way, that I might find a little happiness in
+my own country. And worse still, it's the secret that will keep
+you a prisoner, too, unless you make up your mind to do the
+one thing which can possibly help you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What thing?" Victoria could not believe that the answer
+which darted into her mind was the one Saidee really meant
+to give.</p>
+
+<p>Saidee's lips opened, but with the girl's eyes gazing straight
+into hers, it was harder to speak than she had thought. Out
+of them looked a highly sensitive yet brave spirit, so true, so
+loving and loyal, that disloyalty to it was a crime&mdash;even though
+another love demanded it.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I hate to tell you," she stammered. "Only, what can
+I do? If Ma&iuml;eddine hadn't loved you&mdash;but if he hadn't, you
+wouldn't be here. And being here, we&mdash;we must just face the
+facts. The man who calls himself my husband&mdash;I can't think
+of him as being that any more&mdash;is like a king in this country.
+He has even more power than most kings have nowadays.
+He'll give you to Ma&iuml;eddine when he comes home, if Ma&iuml;eddine
+asks him, as of course he will. Ma&iuml;eddine wouldn't have given
+you up, there in the desert, if he hadn't been sure he could bribe
+the marabout to do exactly what he wanted."</p>
+
+<p>"But why can't I bribe him?" Victoria persisted, hopefully.
+"If he's truly tired of you, my money&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He'd laugh at you for offering it, and say you might keep
+it for a <i>dot</i>. He's too rich to be tempted with money, unless it
+was far more than you or I have ever seen. From his oasis
+alone he has an income of thousands and thousands of dollars;
+and presents&mdash;large ones and small ones&mdash;come to him from
+all over North Africa&mdash;from France, even. All the Faithful
+in the desert, for hundreds of miles around, give him their
+first and best dates of the year, their first-born camels, their
+first foals, and lambs, and mules, in return for his blessing on
+their palms and flocks. He has wonderful rugs, and gold
+plate, and jewels, more than he knows what to do with, though
+he's very charitable. He's obliged to be, to keep up his reputation
+and the reputation of the Zaou&iuml;a. Everything depends
+on that&mdash;all his ambitions, which he thinks I hardly know.
+But I do know. And that's why I know that Ma&iuml;eddine will be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span>
+able to bribe him. Not with money: with something Cassim
+wants and values far more than money. You wouldn't understand
+what I mean unless I explained a good many things, and it's
+hardly the time for explaining more now. You must just take
+what I say for granted, until I can tell you everything by and by.
+But there are enormous interests mixed up with the marabout's
+ambitions&mdash;things which concern all Africa. Is it likely
+he'll let you and me go free to tell secrets that would ruin him
+and his hopes for ever?"</p>
+
+<p>"We wouldn't tell."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't I say that an Arab never trusts a woman? He'd
+kill us sooner than let us go. And you've learned nothing about
+Arab men if you think Ma&iuml;eddine will give you up and see you
+walk out of his life after all the trouble he's taken to get you
+tangled up in it. That's why we've got to look facts in the
+face. You meant to help me, dear, but you can't. You can
+only make me miserable, because you've spoiled your happiness
+for my sake. Poor little Babe, you've wandered far, far
+out of the zone of happiness, and you can never get back. All
+you can do is to make the best of a bad bargain."</p>
+
+<p>"I asked you to explain that, but you haven't yet."</p>
+
+<p>"You must&mdash;promise Ma&iuml;eddine what he asks, before Cassim
+comes back from South Oran."</p>
+
+<p>This was the thing Victoria had feared, but could not believe
+Saidee would propose. She shrank a little, and Saidee saw it.
+"Don't misunderstand," the elder woman pleaded in the soft
+voice which pronounced English almost like a foreign language.
+"I tell you, we can't choose what we <i>want</i> to do, you and I.
+If you wait for Cassim to be here, it will come to the same thing,
+but it will be fifty times worse, because then you'll have the
+humiliation of being forced to do what you might seem to do
+now of your own free will."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't be forced to marry Ma&iuml;eddine. Nothing could
+make me do it. He knows that already, unless&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Unless what? Why do you look horrified?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There's one thing I forgot to tell you about our talk in the
+desert. I promised him I would say 'yes' in case something
+happened&mdash;something I thought then couldn't happen."</p>
+
+<p>"But you find now it could?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no&mdash;no, I don't believe it could."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better tell me what it is."</p>
+
+<p>"That you&mdash;I said, I would promise to marry him if <i>you
+wished</i> it. He asked me to promise that, and I did,
+at once."</p>
+
+<p>A slow colour crept over Saidee's face, up to her forehead.
+"You trusted me," she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"And I do now&mdash;with all my heart. Only you've lived
+here, out of the world, alone and sad for so long, that you're
+afraid of things I'm not afraid of."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid because I know what cause there is for fear.
+But you're right. My life has made me a coward. I can't
+help it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you can&mdash;I've come to help you help it."</p>
+
+<p>"How little you understand! They'll use you against me,
+me against you. If you knew I were being tortured, and you
+could save me by marrying Ma&iuml;eddine, what would
+you do?"</p>
+
+<p>Victoria's hand trembled in her sister's, which closed on it
+nervously. "I would marry him that very minute, of course.
+But such things don't happen."</p>
+
+<p>"They do. That's exactly what will happen, unless you tell
+Ma&iuml;eddine you've made up your mind to say 'yes'. You can
+explain that it's by my advice. He'll understand. But he'll
+respect you, and won't be furious at your resistance, and want
+to revenge himself on you in future, as he will if you wait to
+be forced into consenting."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria sprang up and walked away, covering her face with
+her hands. Her sister watched her as if fascinated, and felt
+sick as she saw how the girl shuddered. It was like watching
+a trapped bird bleeding to death. But she too was in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span>
+trap, she reminded herself. Really, there was no way out,
+except through Ma&iuml;eddine. She said this over and over in her
+mind. There was no other way out. It was not that she was
+cruel or selfish. She was thinking of her sister's good.
+There was no doubt of that, she told herself: no doubt
+whatever.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXVII" id="XXXVII"></a>XXXVII</h2>
+
+
+<p>Victoria felt as if all her blood were beating in
+her brain. She could not think, and dimly she
+was glad that Saidee did not speak again. She
+could not have borne more of those hatefully
+specious arguments.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment she stood still, pressing her hands over her
+eyes, and against her temples. Then, without turning, she
+walked almost blindly to a window that opened upon Saidee's
+garden. The little court was a silver cube of moonlight, so
+bright that everything white looked alive with a strange, spiritual
+intelligence. The scent of the orange blossoms was lusciously
+sweet. She shrank back, remembering the orange-court
+at the Ca&iuml;d's house in Ouargla. It was there
+that Zorah had prophesied: "Never wilt thou come this
+way again."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm tired, after all," the girl said dully, turning to Saidee,
+but leaning against the window frame. "I didn't realize
+it before. The perfume&mdash;won't let me think."</p>
+
+<p>"You look dreadfully white!" exclaimed Saidee. "Are you
+going to faint? Lie down here on this divan. I'll send for
+something."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no. Don't send. And I won't faint. But I want to
+think. Can I go out into the air&mdash;not where the orange
+blossoms are?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take you on to the roof," Saidee said. "It's my favourite
+place&mdash;looking over the desert."</p>
+
+<p>She put her arm round Victoria, leading her to the stairway,
+and so to the roof.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Are you better?" she asked, miserably. "What can I do
+for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Let's not speak for a little while, please. I can
+think now. Soon I shall be well. Don't be anxious
+about me, darling."</p>
+
+<p>Very gently she slipped away from Saidee's arm that clasped
+her waist; and the softness of the young voice, which had been
+sharp with pain, touched the elder woman. She knew that the
+girl was thinking more of her, Saidee, than of herself.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria leaned on the white parapet, and looked down over
+the desert, where the sand rippled in silvery lines and waves,
+like water in moonlight.</p>
+
+<p>"The golden silence!" she thought.</p>
+
+<p>It was silver now, not golden; but she knew that this was
+the place of her dream. On a white roof like this, she had
+seen Saidee stand with eyes shaded from the sun in the west;
+waiting for her, calling for her, or so she had believed. Poor
+Saidee! Poor, beautiful Saidee; changed in soul, though so
+little changed in face! Could it be that she had never called
+in spirit to her sister?</p>
+
+<p>Victoria bowed her head, and tears fell from her eyes upon
+her cold bare arms, crossed on the white wall.</p>
+
+<p>Saidee did not want her. Saidee was sorry that she had
+come. Her coming had only made things worse.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish&mdash;" the girl was on the point of saying to herself&mdash;"I
+wish I'd never been born." But before the words shaped
+themselves fully in her mind&mdash;terrible words, because she
+had felt the beauty and sacred meaning of life&mdash;the desert
+spoke to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Saidee does want you," the spirit of the wind and the glimmering
+sands seemed to say. "If she had not wanted you, do
+you think you would have been shown this picture, with your
+sister in it, the picture which brought you half across the world?
+She called once, long ago, and you heard the call. You were
+allowed to hear it. Are you so weak as to believe, just because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span>
+you're hurt and suffering, that such messages between hearts
+mean nothing? Saidee may not know that she wants you, but
+she does, and needs you more than ever before. This is your
+hour of temptation. You thought everything was going to be
+wonderfully easy, almost too easy, and instead, it is difficult,
+that's all. But be brave for Saidee and yourself, now and in
+days to come, for you are here only just in time."</p>
+
+<p>The pure, strong wind blowing over the dunes was a tonic
+to Victoria's soul, and she breathed it eagerly. Catching at
+the robe of faith, she held the spirit fast, and it stayed with her.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she felt at peace, sure as a child that she would be
+taught what to do next. There was her star, floating in the
+blue lake of the sky, like a water lily, where millions of lesser
+lilies blossomed.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear star," she whispered, "thank you for coming. I
+needed you just then."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you better?" asked Saidee in a choked voice.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria turned away from sky and desert to the drooping
+figure of the woman, standing in a pool of shadow, dark as
+fear and treachery.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dearest one, I am well again, and I won't have to
+worry you any more." The girl gently wound two protecting
+arms round her sister.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you decided to do?"</p>
+
+<p>Victoria could feel Saidee's heart beating against her own.</p>
+
+<p>"I've decided to pray about deciding, and then to decide.
+Whatever's best for you, I will do, I promise."</p>
+
+<p>"And for yourself. Don't forget that I'm thinking of you.
+Don't believe it's <i>all</i> cowardice."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe anything but good of my Saidee."</p>
+
+<p>"I envy you, because you think you've got Someone to pray
+to. I've nothing. I'm&mdash;alone in the dark."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria made her look up at the moon which flooded the
+night with a sea of radiance. "There is no dark," she said.
+"We're together&mdash;in the light."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"How hopeful you are!" Saidee murmured. "I've left
+hope so far behind, I've almost forgotten what it's like."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe it's always been hovering just over your shoulder,
+only you forgot to turn and see. It can't be gone, because I
+feel sure that truth and knowledge and hope are all one."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if you'll still feel so when you've married a man
+of another race&mdash;as I have?"</p>
+
+<p>Victoria did not answer. She had to conquer the little cold
+thrill of superstitious fear which crept through her veins, as
+Saidee's words reminded her of M'Barka's sand-divining. She
+had to find courage again from "her star," before she could
+speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me, Babe!" said Saidee, stricken by the look in the
+lifted eyes. "I wish I needn't remind you of anything horrid
+to-night&mdash;your first night with me after all these years. But
+we have so little time. What else can I do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall know by to-morrow what we are to do," Victoria said
+cheerfully. "Because I shall take counsel of the night."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a very odd girl," the woman reflected aloud. "When
+you were a tiny thing, you used to have the weirdest thoughts,
+and do the quaintest things. I was sure you'd grow up to be
+absolutely different from any other human being. And so you
+have, I think. Only an extraordinary sort of girl could ever
+have made her way without help from Potterston, Indiana,
+to Oued Tolga in North Africa."</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>had</i> help&mdash;every minute. Saidee&mdash;did you think of
+me sometimes, when you were standing here on this roof?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course I thought of you often&mdash;only not so often
+lately as at first, because for a long time now I've been numb.
+I haven't thought much or cared much about anything, or&mdash;or
+any one except&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Except&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Except&mdash;except myself, I'm afraid." Saidee's face was
+turned away from Victoria's. She looked toward Oued Tolga,
+the city, whither the carrier-pigeon had flown.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I wondered," she went on hastily, "what had become of you,
+and if you were happy, and whether by this time you'd nearly
+forgotten me. You were such a baby child when I left you!"</p>
+
+<p>"I won't believe you really wondered if I could forget. You,
+and thoughts of you, have made my whole life. I was just
+living for the time when I could earn money enough to search
+for you&mdash;and preparing for it, of course, so as to be ready
+when it came."</p>
+
+<p>Saidee still looked toward Oued Tolga, where the white
+domes shimmered, far away in the moonlight, like a mirage.
+Was love a mirage, too?&mdash;the love that called for her over
+there, the love whose voice made the strings of her heart vibrate,
+though she had thought them broken and silent for ever. Victoria's
+arms round her felt strong and warm, yet they were a
+barrier. She was afraid of the barrier, and afraid of the girl's
+passionate loyalty. She did not deserve it, she knew, and she
+would be more at ease&mdash;she could not say happier, because
+there was no such word as happiness for her&mdash;without it.
+Somehow she could not bear to talk of Victoria's struggle to
+come to her rescue. The thought of all the girl had done
+made her feel unable to live up to it, or be grateful. She did
+not want to be called upon to live up to any standard. She
+wanted&mdash;if she wanted anything&mdash;simply to go on blindly,
+as fate led. But she felt that near her fate hovered, like the
+carrier-pigeon; and some terrible force within herself, which
+frightened her, seemed ready to push away or destroy anything
+that might come between her and that fate. She knew that she
+ought to question Victoria about the past years of their separation,
+one side of her nature was eager to hear the story. But
+the other side, which had gained strength lately, forced her to
+dwell upon less intimate things.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose Mrs. Ray managed to keep most of poor father's
+money?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Ray died when I was fourteen, and after that Mr.
+Potter lost everything in speculation," the girl answered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Everything of yours, too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But it didn't matter, except for the delay. My
+dancing&mdash;<i>your</i> dancing really, dearest, because if it hadn't
+been for you I shouldn't have put my heart into it so&mdash;earned
+me all I needed."</p>
+
+<p>"I said you were extraordinary! But how queer it seems to
+hear those names again. Mrs. Ray. Mr. Potter. They're
+like names in a dream. How wretched I used to think myself,
+with Mrs. Ray in Paris, when she was so jealous and cross!
+But a thousand times since, I've wished myself back in those
+days. I was happy, really. I was free. Life was all before
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Dearest! But surely you weren't miserable from the very
+first, with&mdash;with Cassim?"</p>
+
+<p>"No-o. I suppose I wasn't. I was in love with him. It
+seemed very interesting to be the wife of such a man. Even
+when I found that he meant to make me lead the life of an
+Arab woman, shut up and veiled, I liked him too well to mind
+much. He put it in such a romantic way, telling me how he
+worshipped me, how mad with jealousy he was even to think
+of other men seeing my face, and falling in love with it. He
+thought every one must fall in love! All girls like men to be
+jealous&mdash;till they find out how sordid jealousy can be. And
+I was so young&mdash;a child. I felt as if I were living in a wonderful
+Eastern poem. Cassim used to give me the most gorgeous
+presents, and our house in Algiers was beautiful. My garden
+was a dream&mdash;and how he made love to me in it! Besides, I
+was allowed to go out, veiled. It was rather fun being veiled&mdash;in
+those days, I thought so. It made me feel mysterious, as
+if life were a masquerade ball. And the Arab women Cassim
+let me know&mdash;a very few, wives and sisters of his friends&mdash;envied
+me immensely. I loved that&mdash;I was so silly. And
+they flattered me, asking about my life in Europe. I was like
+a fairy princess among them, until&mdash;one day&mdash;a woman
+told me a thing about Cassim. She told me because she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span>
+spiteful and wanted to make me miserable, of course, for I
+found out afterwards she'd been expressly forbidden to speak,
+on account of my 'prejudices'&mdash;they'd all been forbidden.
+I wouldn't believe at first,&mdash;but it was true&mdash;the others couldn't
+deny it. And to prove what she said, the woman took me to
+see the boy, who was with his grandmother&mdash;an aunt of
+Ma&iuml;eddine's, dead now."</p>
+
+<p>"The boy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I forgot. I haven't explained. The thing she told
+was, that Cassim had a wife living when he married me."</p>
+
+<p>"Saidee!&mdash;how horrible! How horrible!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it was horrible. It broke my heart." Saidee was
+tingling with excitement now. Her stiff, miserable restraint
+was gone in the feverish satisfaction of speaking out those
+things which for years had corroded her mind, like verdigris.
+She had never been able to talk to anyone in this way, and her
+only relief had been in putting her thoughts on paper. Some
+of the books in her locked cupboard she had given to a friend,
+the writer of to-day's letter, because she had seen him only for
+a few minutes at a time, and had been able to say very little,
+on the one occasion when they had spoken a few words to each
+other. She had wanted him to know what a martyrdom her
+life had been. Involuntarily she talked to her sister, now, as
+she would have talked to him, and his face rose clearly
+before her eyes, more clearly almost than Victoria's,
+which her own shadow darkened, and screened from the
+light of the moon as they stood together, clasped in one
+another's arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Cassim thought it all right, of course," she went on. "A
+Mussulman may have four wives at a time if he likes&mdash;though
+men of his rank don't, as a rule, take more than one, because
+they must marry women of high birth, who hate rivals in their
+own house. But he was too clever to give me a hint of his real
+opinions in Paris. He knew I wouldn't have looked at him
+again, if he had&mdash;even if he hadn't told me about the wife<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span>
+herself. She had had this boy, and gone out of her mind afterwards,
+so she wasn't living with Cassim&mdash;that was the excuse
+he made when I taxed him with deceiving me. Her father
+and mother had taken her back. I don't know surely whether
+she's living or dead, but I believe she's dead, and her body
+buried beside the grave supposed to be Cassim's. Anyhow,
+the boy's living, and he's the one thing on earth Cassim loves
+better than himself."</p>
+
+<p>"When did you find out about&mdash;about all this?" Victoria
+asked, almost whispering.</p>
+
+<p>"Eight months after we were married I heard about his wife.
+I think Cassim was true to me, in his way, till that time. But
+we had an awful scene. I told him I'd never live with him again
+as his wife, and I never have. After that day, everything was
+different. No more happiness&mdash;not even an Arab woman's
+idea of happiness. Cassim began to hate me, but with the
+kind of hate that holds and won't let go. He wouldn't listen
+when I begged him to set me free. Instead, he wouldn't let
+me go out at all, or see anyone, or receive or send letters. He
+punished me by flirting outrageously with a pretty woman,
+the wife of a French officer. He took pains that I should hear
+everything, through my servants. But his cruelty was visited
+on his own head, for soon there came a dreadful scandal. The
+woman died suddenly of chloral poisoning, after a quarrel with
+her husband on Cassim's account, and it was thought she'd
+taken too much of the drug on purpose. The day after his
+wife's death, the officer shot himself. I think he was a colonel;
+and every one knew that Cassim was mixed up in the affair.
+He had to leave the army, and it seemed&mdash;he thought so himself&mdash;that
+his career was ruined. He sold his place in Algiers,
+and took me to a farm-house in the country where we lived for
+a while, and he was so lonely and miserable he would have
+been glad to make up, but how could I forgive him? He'd
+deceived me too horribly&mdash;and besides, in my own eyes I
+wasn't his wife. Surely our marriage wouldn't be considered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span>
+legal in any country outside Islam, would it? Even you, a
+child like you, must see that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so," Victoria answered, sadly. "But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There's no 'but.' I thought so then. I think so a hundred
+times more now. My life's been a martyrdom. No one
+could blame me if&mdash;but I was telling you about what happened
+after Algiers. There was a kind of armed truce between us
+in the country, though we lived only like two acquaintances
+under the same roof. For months he had nobody else to talk
+to, so he used to talk with me&mdash;quite freely sometimes, about
+a plan some powerful Arabs, friends of his&mdash;Ma&iuml;eddine and his
+father among others&mdash;were making for him. It sounded like
+a fairy story, and I used to think he must be going mad. But he
+wasn't. It was all true about the plot that was being worked.
+He knew I couldn't betray him, so it was a relief to his mind,
+in his nervous excitement, to confide in me."</p>
+
+<p>"Was it a plot against the French?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indirectly. That was one reason it appealed to Cassim.
+He'd been proud of his position in the army, and being turned
+out, or forced to go&mdash;much the same thing&mdash;made him hate
+France and everything French. He'd have given his life for
+revenge, I'm sure. Probably that's why his friends were so
+anxious to put him in a place of power, for they were men whose
+watchword was 'Islam for Islam.' Their hope was&mdash;and is&mdash;to
+turn France out of North Africa. You wouldn't believe
+how many there are who hope and band themselves together
+for that. These friends of Cassim's persuaded and bribed a
+wretched cripple&mdash;who was next of kin to the last marabout,
+and ought to have inherited&mdash;to let Cassim take his place.
+Secretly, of course. It was a very elaborate plot&mdash;it had to be.
+Three or four rich, important men were in it, and it would have
+meant ruin if they'd been found out.</p>
+
+<p>"Cassim would really have come next in succession if it
+hadn't been for the hunchback, who lived in Morocco, just over
+the border. If he had any conscience, I suppose that thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span>
+soothed it. He told me that the real heir&mdash;the cripple&mdash;had
+epileptic fits, and couldn't live long, anyhow. The way they
+worked their plan out was by Cassim's starting for a pilgrimage
+to Mecca. I had to go away with him, because he was
+afraid to leave me. I knew too much. And it was simpler
+to take me than to put me out of the way."</p>
+
+<p>"Saidee&mdash;he would never have murdered you?" Victoria
+whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"He would if necessary&mdash;I'm sure of it. But it was safer
+not. Besides, I'd often told him I wanted to die, so that was
+an incentive to keep me alive. I didn't go to Mecca. I left
+the farm-house with Cassim, and he took me to South Oran,
+where he is now. I had to stay in the care of a marabouta, a
+terrible old woman, a bigot and a tyrant, a cousin of Cassim's,
+on his mother's side, and a sister of the man who invented the
+whole plot. The idea was that Cassim should seem to be
+drowned in the Bosphorus, while staying at Constantinople with
+friends, after his pilgrimage to Mecca. But luckily for him
+there was a big fire in the hotel where he went to stop for the
+first night, so he just disappeared, and a lot of trouble was
+saved. He told me about the adventure, when he came to Oran.
+The next move was to Morocco. And from Morocco he
+travelled here, in place of the cripple, when the last marabout
+died, and the heir was called to his inheritance. That was
+nearly eight years ago."</p>
+
+<p>"And he's never been found out?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. And he never will be. He's far too clever. Outwardly
+he's hand in glove with the French. High officials
+and officers come here to consult with him, because he's known
+to have immense influence all over the South, and in the West,
+even in Morocco. He's masked, like a Touareg, and the
+French believe it's because of a vow he made in Mecca. No one
+but his most intimate friends, or his own people, have ever
+seen the face of Sidi Mohammed since he inherited the maraboutship,
+and came to Oued Tolga. He must hate wearing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span>
+his mask, for he's as handsome as he ever was, and just as vain.
+But it's worth the sacrifice. Not only is he a great man, with
+everything&mdash;or nearly everything&mdash;he wants in the world,
+but he looks forward to a glorious revenge against the French,
+whose interests he pretends to serve."</p>
+
+<p>"How can he revenge himself? What power has he to do
+that?" the girl asked. She had a strange impression that
+Saidee had forgotten her, that all this talk of the past, and of
+the marabout, was for some one else of whom her sister was
+thinking.</p>
+
+<p>"He has tremendous power," Saidee answered, almost
+angrily, as if she resented the doubt. "All Islam is at his back.
+The French humour him, and let him do whatever he likes, no
+matter how eccentric his ways may be, because he's got them
+to believe he is trying to help the Government in the wildest
+part of Algeria, the province of Oran&mdash;and with the Touaregs
+in the farthest South; and that he promotes French interests
+in Morocco. Really, he's at the head of every religious secret
+society in North Africa, banded together to turn Christians out
+of Mussulman countries. The French have no idea how
+many such secret societies exist, and how rich and powerful
+they are. Their dear friend, the good, wise, polite marabout
+assures them that rumours of that sort are nonsense. But some
+day, when everything's ready&mdash;when Morocco and Oran
+and Algeria and Tunisia will obey the signal, all together, then
+they'll have a surprise&mdash;and Cassim ben Halim will be revenged."</p>
+
+<p>"It sounds like the weavings of a brain in a dream," Victoria
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be a nightmare-dream, no matter how it ends;&mdash;maybe
+a nightmare of blood, and war, and massacre. Haven't
+you ever heard, or read, how the Mussulman people expect a
+saviour, the Moul Saa, as they call him&mdash;the Man of the Hour,
+who will preach a Holy War, and lead it himself, to victory?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I've read that&mdash;&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, Cassim hopes to be the Moul Saa, and deliver Islam
+by the sword. I suppose you wonder how I know such secrets,
+or whether I do really know them at all. But I do. Some
+things Cassim told me himself, because he was bursting with
+vanity, and simply had to speak. Other things I've seen in
+writing&mdash;he would kill me if he found out. And still other
+things I've guessed. Why, the boys here in the Zaou&iuml;a are
+being brought up for the 'great work,' as they call it. Not all
+of them&mdash;but the most important ones among the older boys.
+They have separate classes. Something secret and mysterious
+is taught them. There are boys from Morocco and Oran, and
+sons of Touareg chiefs&mdash;all those who most hate Christians.
+No other zaou&iuml;a is like this. The place seethes with hidden
+treachery and sedition. Now you can see where Si Ma&iuml;eddine's
+power over Cassim comes in. The Agha, his father, is one of
+the few who helped make Cassim what he is, but he's a cautious
+old man, the kind who wants to run with the hare and hunt with
+the hounds. Si Ma&iuml;eddine's cautious too, Cassim has said.
+He approves the doctrines of the secret societies, but he's
+so ambitious that without a very strong incentive to turn against
+them, in act he'd be true to the French. Well, now he has the
+incentive. You."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand," said Victoria. Yet even as she spoke,
+she began to understand.</p>
+
+<p>"He'll offer to give himself, and to influence the Agha and
+the Agha's people&mdash;the Ouled-Sirren&mdash;if Cassim will grant
+his wish. And it's no use saying that Cassim can't force you
+to marry any man. You told me yourself, a little while ago,
+that if you saw harm coming to me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh don't&mdash;don't speak of that again, Saidee!" the girl
+cried, sharply. "I've told you&mdash;yes&mdash;that I'll do anything&mdash;anything
+on earth to save you pain, or more sorrow. But
+let's hope&mdash;let's pray."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no hope. I've forgotten how to pray," Saidee
+answered, "and God has forgotten me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXVIII" id="XXXVIII"></a>XXXVIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>There was no place for a guest in that part of the
+marabout's house which had been allotted to
+Saidee. She had her bedroom and reception-room,
+her roof terrace, and her garden court. On the
+ground floor her negresses lived, and cooked for their mistress
+and themselves. She did not wish to have Victoria with her,
+night and day, and so she had quietly directed Noura to make
+up a bed in the room which would have been her boudoir, if
+she had lived in Europe. When the sisters came down from
+the roof, the bed was ready.</p>
+
+<p>In the old time Victoria had slept with her sister; and her
+greatest happiness as a child had been the "bed-talks," when
+Saidee had whispered her secret joys or troubles, and confided
+in the little girl as if she had been a "grown-up."</p>
+
+<p>Hardly a night had passed since their parting, that Victoria
+had not thought of those talks, and imagined herself again lying
+with her head on Saidee's arm, listening to stories of Saidee's
+life. She had taken it for granted that she would be put in her
+sister's room, and seeing the bed made up, and her luggage unpacked
+in the room adjoining, was a blow. She knew that
+Saidee must have given orders, or these arrangements would
+not have been made, and again she felt the dreadful sinking of
+the heart which had crushed her an hour ago. Saidee did not
+want her. Saidee was sorry she had come, and meant to keep
+her as far off as possible. But the girl encouraged herself once
+more. Saidee might think now that she would rather have
+been left alone. But she was mistaken. By and by she would
+find out the truth, and know that they needed each other.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I thought you'd be more comfortable here, than crowded in
+with me," Saidee explained, blushing faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, thank you, dear," said Victoria quietly. She did not
+show her disappointment, and seemed to take the matter for
+granted, as if she had expected nothing else; but the talk on the
+roof had brought back something into Saidee's heart which she
+could not keep out, though she did not wish to admit it there.
+She was sorry for Victoria, sorry for herself, and more miserable
+than ever. Her nerves were rasped by an intolerable irritation
+as she looked at the girl, and felt that her thoughts were being
+read. She had a hideous feeling, almost an impression, that
+her face had been lifted off like a mask, and that the workings of
+her brain were open to her sister's eyes, like the exposed mechanism
+of a clock.</p>
+
+<p>"Noura has brought some food for you," she went on hastily.
+"You must eat a little, before you go to bed&mdash;to please me."</p>
+
+<p>"I will," Victoria assured her. "You mustn't worry about
+me at all."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll go to sleep, won't you?&mdash;or would you rather talk&mdash;while
+you're eating, perhaps?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked at the woman, and saw that her nerves were
+racked; that she wanted to go, but did not wish her sister to guess.</p>
+
+<p>"You've talked too much already," Victoria said. "The
+surprise of my coming gave you a shock. Now you must
+rest and get over it, so you can be strong for to-morrow. Then
+we'll make up our minds about everything."</p>
+
+<p>"There's only one way to make up our minds," Saidee insisted,
+dully.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria did not protest. She kissed her sister good-night,
+and gently refused help from Noura. Then Saidee went away,
+followed by the negress, who softly closed the door between the
+two rooms. Her mistress had not told her to do this, but when
+it was done, she did not say, "Open the door." Saidee was
+glad that it was shut, because she felt that she could think more
+freely. She could not bear the idea that her thoughts and life<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>
+were open to the criticism of those young, blue eyes, which the
+years since childhood had not clouded. Nevertheless, when
+Noura had undressed her, and she was alone, she saw Victoria's
+eyes looking at her sweetly, sadly, with yearning, yet with no
+reproach. She saw them as clearly as she had seen a man's
+face, a few hours earlier; and now his was dim, as Victoria's
+face had been dim when his was clear.</p>
+
+<p>It was dark in the room, except for the moon-rays which
+streamed through the lacelike open-work of stucco, above the
+shuttered windows, making jewelled patterns on the wall&mdash;pink,
+green, and golden, according to the different colours of
+the glass. There was just enough light to reflect these patterns
+faintly in the mirrors set in the closed door, opposite which
+Saidee lay in bed; and to her imagination it was as if she could
+see through the door, into a lighted place beyond. She wondered
+if Victoria had gone to bed; if she were sleeping, or if she
+were crying softly&mdash;crying her heart out with bitter grief and
+disappointment she would never confess.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria had always been like that, even as a little girl. If
+Saidee did anything to hurt her, she made no moan. Sometimes
+Saidee had teased her on purpose, or tried to make her
+jealous, just for fun.</p>
+
+<p>As memories came crowding back, the woman buried her face
+in the pillow, striving with all her might to shut them out. What
+was the use of making herself wretched? Victoria ought to
+have come long, long ago, or not at all.</p>
+
+<p>But the blue eyes would look at her, even when her own were
+shut; and always there was the faint light in the mirror, which
+seemed to come through the door.</p>
+
+<p>At last Saidee could not longer lie still. She had to get up
+and open the door, to see what her sister was really doing.
+Very softly she turned the handle, for she hoped that by this
+time Victoria was asleep; but as she pulled the door noiselessly
+towards her, and peeped into the next room, she saw that one of
+the lamps was burning. Victoria had not yet gone to bed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span>
+She was kneeling beside it, saying her prayers, with her back
+towards the door.</p>
+
+<p>So absorbed was she in praying, and so little noise had Saidee
+made, that the girl heard nothing. She remained motionless
+on her knees, not knowing that Saidee was looking at her.</p>
+
+<p>A sharp pain shot through the woman's heart. How many
+times had she softly opened their bedroom door, coming home
+late after a dance, to find her little sister praying, a small,
+childish form in a long white nightgown, with quantities of
+curly red hair pouring over its shoulders!</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes Victoria had gone to sleep on her knees, and
+Saidee had waked her up with a kiss.</p>
+
+<p>Just as she had looked then, so she looked now, except that
+the form in the long, white nightgown was that of a young girl,
+not a child. But the thick waves of falling hair made it seem
+childish.</p>
+
+<p>"She is praying for me," Saidee thought; and dared not
+close the door tightly, lest Victoria should hear. By and by
+it could be done, when the light was out, and the girl
+dropped asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, she tiptoed back to her bed, and sat on the edge
+of it, to wait. At last the thread of light, fine as a red-gold hair,
+vanished from the door; but as it disappeared a line of moonlight
+was drawn in silver along the crack. Victoria must have
+left her windows wide open, or there would not have been light
+enough to paint this gleaming streak.</p>
+
+<p>Saidee sat on her bed for nearly half an hour, trying to
+concentrate her thoughts on the present and future, yet unable
+to keep them from flying back to the past, the long-ago past,
+which lately had seemed unreal, as if she had dreamed it; the
+past when she and Victoria had been all the world to each other.</p>
+
+<p>There was no sound in the next room, and when Saidee was
+weary of her strained position, she crossed the floor on tiptoe
+again, to shut the door. But she could not resist a temptation
+to peep in.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was as she had expected. Victoria had left the inlaid
+cedar-wood shutters wide open, and through the lattice of old
+wrought-iron, moonlight streamed. The room was bright with
+a silvery twilight, like a mysterious dawn; but because the bed-linen
+and the embroidered silk coverlet were white, the pale
+radiance focused round the girl, who lay asleep in a halo of
+moonbeams.</p>
+
+<p>"She looks like an angel," Saidee thought, and with a curious
+mingling of reluctance and eagerness, moved softly toward the
+bed, her little velvet slippers from Tunis making no sound on
+the thick rugs.</p>
+
+<p>Very well the older woman remembered an engaging trick of
+the child's, a way of sleeping with her cheek in her hand, and her
+hair spread out like a golden coverlet for the pillow. Just so
+she was lying now; and in the moonlight her face was a child's
+face, the face of the dear, little, loving child of ten years ago.
+Like this Victoria had lain when her sister crept into their bedroom
+in the Paris flat, the night before the wedding, and Saidee
+had waked her by crying on her eyelids. Cassim's unhappy
+wife recalled the clean, sweet, warm smell of the child's hair
+when she had buried her face in it that last night together.
+It had smelled like grape-leaves in the hot sun.</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't come back to me, I'll follow you all across the
+world," the little girl had said. Now, she had kept her promise.
+Here she was&mdash;and the sister to whom she had come, after a
+thousand sacrifices, was wishing her back again at the other
+end of the world, was planning to get rid of her.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, it was as if the beating of Saidee's heart broke a
+tight band of ice which had compressed it. A fountain of tears
+sprang from her eyes. She fell on her knees beside the bed,
+crying bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"Childie, childie, comfort me, forgive me!" she sobbed.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria woke instantly. She opened her eyes, and Saidee's
+wet face was close to hers. The girl said not a word, but
+wrapped her arms round her sister, drawing the bowed head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span>
+on to her breast, and then she crooned lovingly over it, with
+little foolish mumblings, as she used to do in Paris when Mrs.
+Ray's unkindness had made Saidee cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you forgive me?" the woman faltered, between sobs.</p>
+
+<p>"Darling, as if there were anything to forgive!" The clasp
+of the girl's arms tightened. "Now we're truly together again.
+How I love you! How happy I am!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't&mdash;I don't deserve it," Saidee stammered. "Poor
+little Babe! I was cruel to you. And you'd come so far."</p>
+
+<p>"You weren't cruel!" Victoria contradicted her, almost
+fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>"I was. I was jealous&mdash;jealous of you. You're so young
+and beautiful&mdash;just what I was ten years ago, only better
+and prettier. You're what I can never be again&mdash;what I'd
+give the next ten years to be. Everything's over with me.
+I'm old&mdash;old!"</p>
+
+<p>"You're not to say such things," cried Victoria, horrified.
+"You weren't jealous. You&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I was. I am now. But I want to confess. You must let
+me confess, if you're to help me."</p>
+
+<p>"Dearest, tell me anything&mdash;everything you choose, but
+nothing you don't choose. And nothing you say can make me
+love you less&mdash;only more."</p>
+
+<p>"There's a great deal to tell," Saidee said, heavily "And
+I'm tired&mdash;sick at heart. But I can't rest now, till I've told
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't you come into bed?" pleaded Victoria humbly.
+"Then we could talk, the way we used to talk."</p>
+
+<p>Saidee staggered up from her knees, and the girl almost
+lifted her on to the bed. Then she covered her with the thyme-scented
+linen sheet, and the silk coverlet under which she herself
+lay. For a moment they were quite still, Saidee lying with her
+head on Victoria's arm. But at last she said, in a whisper, as
+if her lips were dry: "Did you know I was sorry you'd come?"</p>
+
+<p>"I knew you thought you were sorry," the girl answered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span>
+"Yet I hoped that you'd find out you weren't, really. I prayed
+for you to find out&mdash;soon."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you guess why I was sorry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not&mdash;quite."</p>
+
+<p>"I told you I&mdash;that it was for your sake."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you believe it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;felt there was something else, beside."</p>
+
+<p>"There was!" Saidee confessed. "You know now&mdash;at
+least you know part. I was jealous. I am still&mdash;but I'm
+ashamed of myself. I'm sick with shame. And I do love
+you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course&mdash;of course you do, darling."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;there's somebody else I love. A man. And I
+couldn't bear to think he might see you, because you're so
+much younger and fresher than I."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;Cassim?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Not Cassim."</p>
+
+<p>Silence fell between the two. Victoria did not speak; and
+suddenly Saidee was angry with her for not speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"If you're shocked, I won't go on," she said. "You can't
+help me by preaching."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not shocked," the girl protested. "Only sorry&mdash;so
+sorry. And even if I wanted to preach, I don't know how."</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing to be shocked about," Saidee said, her
+tears dry, her voice hard as it had been at first. "I've seen
+him three times. I've talked with him just once. But we love
+each other. It's the first and only real love of my life. I
+was too young to know, when I met Cassim. That was a
+fascination. I was in love with romance. He carried me
+off my feet, in spite of myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, dearest Saidee, don't let yourself be carried off your
+feet a second time."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" Saidee asked, sharply. "What incentive have
+I to be true to Cassim?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm not thinking about Cassim. I'm thinking of you. All
+one's world goes to pieces so, if one isn't true to oneself."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He</i> says I can't be true to myself if I stay here. He doesn't
+consider that I'm Cassim's wife. I <i>thought</i> myself married,
+but was I, when he had a wife already? Would any lawyer, or
+even clergyman, say it was a legal marriage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps not," Victoria admitted. "But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Just wait, before you go on arguing," Saidee broke in hotly,
+"until I've told you something you haven't heard yet. Cassim
+has another wife now&mdash;a lawful wife, according to his views,
+and the views of his people. He's had her for a year. She's
+a girl of the Ouled Na&iuml;l tribe, brought up to be a dancer. But
+Cassim saw her at Touggourt, where he'd gone on one of his
+mysterious visits. He doesn't dream that I know the whole
+history of the affair, but I do, and have known, since a few days
+after the creature was brought here as his bride. She's as ignorant
+and silly as a kitten, and only a child in years. She told her
+'love story' to one of her negresses, who told Noura&mdash;who
+repeated it to me. Perhaps I oughtn't to have listened, but
+why not?"</p>
+
+<p>Victoria did not answer. The clouds round Saidee and herself
+were dark, but she was trying to see the blue beyond, and
+find the way into it, with her sister.</p>
+
+<p>"She's barely sixteen now, and she's been here a year,"
+Saidee went on. "She hadn't begun to dance yet, when
+Cassim saw her, and took her away from Touggourt. Being
+a great saint is very convenient. A marabout can do what he
+likes, you know. Mussulmans are forbidden to touch alcohol,
+but if a marabout drinks wine, it turns to milk in his throat.
+He can fly, if he wants to. He can even make French cannon
+useless, and withdraw the bullets from French guns, in case of
+war, if the spirit of Allah is with him. So by marrying a girl
+brought up for a dancer, daughter of generations of dancing
+women, he washes all disgrace from her blood, and makes her a
+female saint, worthy to live eternally. The beautiful Miluda's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span>
+a marabouta, if you please, and when her baby is taken out by
+the negress who nurses it, silly, bigoted people kneel and kiss
+its clothing."</p>
+
+<p>"She has a baby!" murmured Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, only a girl, but better than nothing&mdash;and she hopes
+to be more fortunate next time. She isn't jealous of me, because
+I've no children, not even a girl, and because for that reason
+Cassim could repudiate me if he chose. She little knows how
+desperately I wish he would. She believes&mdash;Noura says&mdash;that
+he keeps me here only because I have no people to go to,
+and he's too kind-hearted to turn me out alone in the world,
+when my youth's past. You see&mdash;she thinks me already old&mdash;at
+twenty-eight! Of course the real reason that Cassim shuts
+me up and won't let me go, is because he knows I could ruin
+not only him, but the hopes of his people. Miluda doesn't
+dream that I'm of so much importance in his eyes. The only
+thing she's jealous of is the boy, Mohammed, who's at school
+in the town of Oued Tolga, in charge of an uncle. Cassim
+guesses how Miluda hates the child, and I believe that's the
+reason he daren't have him here. He's afraid something might
+happen, although the excuse he makes is, that he wants his boy
+to learn French, and know something of French ways. That
+pleases the Government&mdash;and as for the Arabs, no doubt he
+tells them it's only a trick to keep French eyes shut to what's
+really going on, and to his secret plans. Now, do you still say
+I ought to consider myself married to Cassim, and refuse to
+take any happiness if I can get it?"</p>
+
+<p>"The thing is, what would make you happy?" Victoria
+said, as if thinking aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"Love, and life. All that women in Europe have, and take
+for granted," Saidee answered passionately.</p>
+
+<p>"How could it come to you?" the girl asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I would go to it, and find it with the man who's ready
+to risk his life to save me from this hateful prison, and carry
+me far away. Now, I've told you everything, exactly as it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span>
+stands. That's why I was sorry you came, just when I was
+almost ready to risk the step. I was sure you'd be horrified
+if you found out, and want to stop me. Besides, if he should
+see you&mdash;but I won't say that again. I know you wouldn't
+try to take him away from me, even if you tried to take me
+from him. I don't know why I've told you, instead of keeping
+the whole thing secret as I made up my mind to do at first.
+Nothing's changed. I can't save you from Ma&iuml;eddine, but&mdash;there's
+one difference. I <i>would</i> save you if I could. Just
+at first, I was so anxious for you to be out of the way of my
+happiness&mdash;the chance of it&mdash;that the only thing I longed for
+was that you should be gone."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria choked back a sob that rose in her throat, but Saidee
+felt, rather than heard it, as she lay with her burning head on
+the girl's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't feel like that now," she said. "I peeped in and saw
+you praying&mdash;perhaps for me&mdash;and you looked just as you
+used, when you were a little girl. Then, when I came in, and
+you were asleep, I&mdash;I couldn't stand it. I broke down. I
+love you, dear little Babe. The ice is gone out of my heart.
+You've melted it. I'm a woman again; but just because I'm
+a woman, I won't give up my other love to please you or any
+one. I tell you that, honestly."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria made no reply for a moment, though Saidee waited
+defiantly, expecting a protest or an argument. Then, at last,
+the girl said: "Will you tell me something about this man?"</p>
+
+<p>Saidee was surprised to receive encouragement. It was a
+joy to speak of the subject that occupied all her thoughts, and
+wonderful to have a confidante.</p>
+
+<p>"He's a captain in the Chasseurs d'Afrique," she said.
+"But he's not with his regiment. He's an expert in making
+desert wells, and draining marshes. That's the business which
+has brought him to the far South, now. He's living at Oued
+Tolga&mdash;the town, I mean; not the Zaou&iuml;a. A well had to be
+sunk in the village, and he was superintending. I watched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span>
+him from my roof, though it was too far off to see his face. I
+don't know exactly what made me do it&mdash;I suppose it was
+Fate, for Cassim says we all have our fate hung round our necks&mdash;but
+when I went to the Moorish bath, between here and the
+village, I let my veil blow away from my face as I passed close
+to him and his party of workers. No one else saw, except he.
+It was only for a second or two, but we looked straight into each
+other's eyes; and there was something in his that seemed to draw
+my soul out of me. It was as if, in that instant, I told him with
+a look the whole tragedy of my life. And his soul sprang to
+mine. There was never anything like it. You can't imagine
+what I felt, Babe."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I&mdash;think I can," Victoria whispered, but Saidee
+hardly heard, so deeply was she absorbed in the one sweet
+memory of many years.</p>
+
+<p>"It was in the morning," the elder woman went on, "but it
+was hot, and the sun was fierce as it beat down on the sand.
+He had been working, and his face was pale from the heat.
+It had a haggard look under brown sunburn. But when
+our eyes met, a flush like a girl's rushed up to his forehead.
+You never saw such a light in human eyes! They were illuminated
+as if a fire from his heart was lit behind them. I knew
+he had fallen in love with me&mdash;that something would happen:
+that my life would never be the same again.</p>
+
+<p>"The next time I went to the bath, he was there; and though
+I held my veil, he looked at me with the same wonderful look,
+as if he could see through it. I felt that he longed to speak,
+but of course he could not. It would have meant my ruin.</p>
+
+<p>"In the baths, there's an old woman named Bakta&mdash;an
+attendant. She always comes to me when I go there. She's
+a great character&mdash;knows everything that happens in every
+house, as if by magic; and loves to talk. But she can keep
+secrets. She is a match-maker for all the neighbourhood. When
+there's a young man of Oued Tolga, or of any village round
+about, who wants a wife, she lets him know which girl who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span>
+comes to the baths is the youngest and most beautiful. Or
+if a wife is in love with some one, Bakta contrives to bring letters
+from him, and smuggle them to the young woman while she's at
+the Moorish bath. Well, that day she gave me a letter&mdash;a
+beautiful letter.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't answer it; but next time I passed, I opened my
+veil and smiled to show that I thanked him. Because he had
+laid his life at my feet. If there was anything he could do for
+me, he would do it, without hope of reward, even if it meant
+death. Then Bakta gave me another letter. I couldn't resist
+answering, and so it's gone on, until I seem to know this man,
+Honor&eacute; Sabine, better than any one in the world; though we've
+only spoken together once."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you manage it?" Victoria asked the question
+mechanically, for she felt that Saidee expected it of her.</p>
+
+<p>"Bakta managed, and Noura helped. He came dressed like
+an Arab woman, and pretended to be old and lame, so that he
+could crouch down and use a stick as he walked, to disguise his
+height. Bakta waited&mdash;and we had no more than ten minutes
+to say everything. Ten hours wouldn't have been enough!&mdash;but
+we were in danger every instant, and he was afraid of
+what might happen to me, if we were spied upon. He begged me
+to go with him then, but I dared not. I couldn't decide. Now
+he writes to me, and he's making a cypher, so that if the letters
+should be intercepted, no one could read them. Then he hopes
+to arrange a way of escape if&mdash;if I say I'll do what he asks."</p>
+
+<p>"Which, of course, you won't," broke in Victoria. "You
+couldn't, even though it were only for his sake alone, if you
+really love him. You'd be too unhappy afterwards, knowing
+that you'd ruined his career in the army."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm more to him than a thousand careers!" Saidee flung
+herself away from the girl's arm. "I see now," she went on
+angrily, "what you were leading up to, when you pretended to
+sympathize. You were waiting for a chance to try and persuade
+me that I'm a selfish wretch. I may be selfish, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span>&mdash;it's
+as much for his happiness as mine. It's just as I thought
+it would be. You're puritanical. You'd rather see me die, or
+go mad in this prison, than have me do a thing that's unconventional,
+according to your schoolgirl ideas."</p>
+
+<p>"I came to take you out of prison," said Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>"And you fell into it yourself!" Saidee retorted quickly.
+"You broke the spring of the door, and it will be harder than
+ever to open. But"&mdash;her voice changed from reproach to
+persuasion&mdash;"Honor&eacute; might save us both. If only you
+wouldn't try to stop my going with him, you might go too.
+Then you wouldn't have to marry Ma&iuml;eddine. There's a
+chance&mdash;just a chance. For heaven's sake do all you can to
+help, not to hinder. Don't you see, now that you're here, there
+are a hundred more reasons why I must say 'yes' to Captain
+Sabine?"</p>
+
+<p>"If I did see that, I'd want to die now, this minute," Victoria
+answered.</p>
+
+<p>"How cruel you are! How cruel a girl can be to a woman.
+You pretend that you came to help me, and the one only thing
+you can do, you refuse to do. You say you want to get me away.
+I tell you that you can't&mdash;and you can't get yourself away. Perhaps
+Honor&eacute; can do what you can't, but you'll try to prevent him."</p>
+
+<p>"If I <i>could</i> get you away, would you give him up&mdash;until
+you were free to go to him without spoiling both your lives?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" Saidee asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Please answer my question."</p>
+
+<p>Saidee thought for a moment. "Yes. I would do that.
+But what's the use of talking about it? You! A poor little
+mouse caught in a trap!"</p>
+
+<p>"A mouse once gnawed a net, and set free a whole lion,"
+said Victoria. "Give me a chance to think, that's all I ask,
+except&mdash;except&mdash;that you love me meanwhile. Oh, darling,
+don't be angry, will you? I can't bear it, if you are."</p>
+
+<p>Saidee laid her head on the girl's arm once more, and they
+kissed each other.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XXXIX" id="XXXIX"></a>XXXIX</h2>
+
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine did not try to see Victoria, or send
+her any message.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of M'Barka's vision in the sand, and
+his own superstition, he was sure now that nothing
+could come between him and his wish. The girl was safe in the
+marabout's house, to which he had brought her, and it was
+impossible for her to get away without his help, even if she were
+willing to go, and leave the sister whom she had come so far to
+find. Ma&iuml;eddine knew what he could offer the marabout, and
+knew that the marabout would willingly pay even a higher price
+than he meant to ask.</p>
+
+<p>He lived in the guest-house, and had news sometimes from
+his cousin Lella M'Barka in her distant quarters. She was
+tired, but not ill, and the two sisters were very kind
+to her.</p>
+
+<p>So three days passed, and the doves circled and moaned
+round the minaret of the Zaou&iuml;a mosque, and were fed at sunset
+on the white roof, by hands hidden from all eyes save eyes
+of birds.</p>
+
+<p>On the third day there was great excitement at Oued Tolga.
+The marabout, Sidi El Hadj Mohammed ben Abd el Kadr,
+came home, and was met on the way by many people from
+the town and the Zaou&iuml;a.</p>
+
+<p>His procession was watched by women on many roofs&mdash;with
+reverent interest by some; with joy by one woman who was
+his wife; with fear and despair by another, who had counted
+on his absence for a few days longer. And Victoria stood
+beside her sister, looking out over the golden silence towards<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span>
+the desert city of Oued Tolga, with a pair of modern field-glasses
+sent to her by Si Ma&iuml;eddine.</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine himself went out to meet the marabout, riding
+El Biod, and conscious of unseen eyes that must be upon him.
+He was a notable figure among the hundreds which poured
+out of town, and villages, and Zaou&iuml;a, in honour of the great
+man's return; the noblest of all the desert men in floating white
+burnouses, who rode or walked, with the sun turning their
+dark faces to bronze, their eyes to gleaming jewels. But even
+Ma&iuml;eddine himself became insignificant as the procession from
+the Zaou&iuml;a was joined by that from the city,&mdash;the glittering
+line in the midst of which Sidi El Hadj Mohammed sat high
+on the back of a grey mehari.</p>
+
+<p>From very far off Victoria saw the meeting, looking through
+the glasses sent by Ma&iuml;eddine, those which he had given her
+once before, bidding her see how the distant dunes leaped
+forward.</p>
+
+<p>Then as she watched, and the procession came nearer,
+rising and falling among the golden sand-billows, she could
+plainly make out the majestic form of the marabout. The sun
+blazed on the silver cross of his saddle, and the spear-heads of the
+banners which waved around him; but he was dressed with
+severe simplicity, in a mantle of green silk, with the green
+turban to which he had earned the right by visiting Mecca.
+The long white veil of many folds, which can be worn only by
+a descendant of the Prophet, flowed over the green cloak; and
+the face below the eyes was hidden completely by a mask of thin
+black woollen stuff, such as has been named "nun's veiling"
+in Europe. He was tall, and no longer slender, as Victoria
+remembered Cassim ben Halim to have been ten years ago; but
+all the more because of his increasing bulk, was his bearing
+majestic as he rode on the grey mehari, towering above the crowd.
+Even the Agha, Si Ma&iuml;eddine's father, had less dignity than that
+of this great saint of the southern desert, returning like a king
+to his people, after carrying through a triumphant mission.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"If only he had been a few days later!" Saidee thought.</p>
+
+<p>And Victoria felt an oppressive sense of the man's power,
+wrapping round her and her sister like a heavy cloak. But she
+looked above and beyond him, into the gold, and with all the
+strength of her spirit she sent out a call to Stephen Knight.</p>
+
+<p>"I love you. Come to me. Save my sister and me. God,
+send him to us. He said he would come, no matter how far.
+Now is the time. Let him come."</p>
+
+<p>The silence of the golden sea was broken by cries of welcome
+to the marabout, praises of Allah and the Prophet who had
+brought him safely back, shouts of men, and wailing "you-yous"
+of women, shrill voices of children, and neighing of horses.</p>
+
+<p>Up the side of the Zaou&iuml;a hill, lame beggars crawled out of
+the river bed, each hurrying to pass the others&mdash;hideous deformities,
+legless, noseless, humpbacked, twisted into strange shapes
+like brown pots rejected by the potter, groaning, whining, eager
+for the marabout's blessing, a supper, and a few coins. Those
+who could afford a copper or two were carried through the
+shallow water on the backs of half-naked, sweating Negroes
+from the village; but those who had nothing except their faith
+to support them, hobbled or crept over the stones, wetting their
+scanty rags; laughed at by black and brown children who feared
+to follow, because of the djinn who lived in a cave of evil yellow
+stones, guarding a hidden spring which gushed into the river.</p>
+
+<p>On Miluda's roof there was music, which could be heard
+from another roof, nearer the minaret where the doves wheeled
+and moaned; and perhaps the marabout himself could hear it,
+as he approached the Zaou&iuml;a; but though it called him with a
+song of love and welcome, he did not answer the call at once.
+First he took Ma&iuml;eddine into his private reception room, where
+he received only the guests whom he most delighted to honour.</p>
+
+<p>There, though the ceiling and walls were decorated in Arab
+fashion, with the words, El Afia el Bakia, "eternal health,"
+inscribed in lettering of gold and red, opposite the door, all the
+furniture was French, gilded, and covered with brocade of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span>
+scarlet and gold. The curtains draped over the inlaid cedar-wood
+shutters of the windows were of the same brocade, and
+the beautiful old rugs from Turkey and Persia could not soften
+its crudeness. The larger reception room from which this
+opened had still more violent decorations, for there the scarlet
+mingled with vivid blue, and there were curiosities enough to
+stock a museum&mdash;presents sent to the marabout from friends
+and admirers all over the world. There were first editions of
+rare books, illuminated missals, dinner services of silver and
+gold, Dresden and S&egrave;vres, and even Royal Worcester; splendid
+crystal cases of spoons and jewellery; watches old and new;
+weapons of many countries, and an astonishing array of clocks,
+all ticking, and pointing to different hours. But the inner
+room, which only the intimate friends of Sidi Mohammed ever
+saw, was littered with no such incongruous collection. On
+the walls were a few fine pictures by well-known French artists
+of the most modern school, mostly representing nude women;
+for though the Prophet forbade the fashioning of graven images,
+he made no mention of painting. There were comfortable
+divans, and little tables, on which were displayed boxes of cigars
+and cigarettes, and egg-shell coffee-cups in filigree gold standards.</p>
+
+<p>In this room, behind shut doors, Ma&iuml;eddine told his errand,
+not forgetting to enumerate in detail the great things he could
+do for the Cause, if his wish were granted. He did not speak
+much of Victoria, or his love for her, but he knew that the
+marabout must reckon her beauty by the price he was prepared
+to pay; and he gave the saint little time to picture her fascinations.
+Nor did Sidi Mohammed talk of the girl, or of her
+relationship to one placed near him; and his face (which he
+unmasked with a sigh of relief when he and his friend were
+alone) did not change as he listened, or asked questions about
+the services Ma&iuml;eddine would render the Cause. At first he
+seemed to doubt the possibility of keeping such promises,
+some of which depended upon the Agha; but Ma&iuml;eddine's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span>
+enthusiasm inspired him with increasing confidence. He
+spoke freely of the great work that was being done by the important
+societies of which he was the head; of what he had
+accomplished in Oran, and had still to accomplish; of the
+arms and ammunition smuggled into the Zaou&iuml;a and many other
+places, from France and Morocco, brought by the "silent
+camels" in rolls of carpets and boxes of dates. But, he added,
+this was only a beginning. Years must pass before all was
+ready, and many more men, working heart and soul, night
+and day, were needed. If Ma&iuml;eddine could help, well and
+good. But would the Agha yield to his influence?</p>
+
+<p>"Not the Agha," Ma&iuml;eddine answered, "but the Agha's
+people. They are my people, too, and they look to me as
+their future head. My father is old. There is nothing I cannot
+make the Ouled-Sirren do, nowhere I cannot bid them go,
+if I lead."</p>
+
+<p>"And wilt thou lead in the right way? If I give thee thy
+desire, wilt thou not forget, when it is already thine?" the
+marabout asked. "When a man wears a jewel on his finger,
+it does not always glitter so brightly as when he saw and coveted
+it first."</p>
+
+<p>"Not always. But in each man's life there is one jewel,
+supreme above others, to possess which he eats the heart, and
+which, when it is his, becomes the star of his life, to be worshipped
+forever. Once he has seen the jewel, the man knows
+that there is nothing more glorious for him this side heaven;
+that it is for him the All of joy, though to others, perhaps, it
+might not seem as bright. And there is nothing he would not
+do to have and to keep it."</p>
+
+<p>The marabout looked intently at Ma&iuml;eddine, searching his
+mind to the depths; and the face of each man was lit by an
+inner flame, which gave nobility to his expression. Each was
+passionately sincere in his way, though the way of one was not
+the way of the other.</p>
+
+<p>In his love Ma&iuml;eddine was true, according to the light his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span>
+religion and the unchanging customs of his race had given
+him. He intended no wrong to Victoria, and as he was sure
+that his love was an honour for her, he saw no shame in taking
+her against what she mistakenly believed to be her wish. Her
+confession of love for another man had shocked him at first,
+but now he had come to feel that it had been but a stroke of
+diplomacy on her part, and he valued her more than ever for
+her subtlety. Though he realized dimly that with years his
+passion for her might cool, it burned so hotly now that the
+world was only a frame for the picture of her beauty. And he
+was sure that never in time to come could he forget the thrill
+of this great passion, or grudge the price he now offered and
+meant to pay.</p>
+
+<p>Cassim ben Halim had begun his crusade under the name
+and banner of the marabout, in the fierce hope of revenge
+against the power which broke him, and with an entirely selfish
+wish for personal aggrandizement. But as the years went on,
+he had converted himself to the fanaticism he professed. Sidi
+El Hadj Mohammed ben Abd el Kadr had created an ideal
+and was true to it. Still a selfish sensualist on one side of his
+nature, there was another side capable of high courage and
+self-sacrifice for the one cause which now seemed worth a
+sacrifice. To the triumph of Islam over usurpers he was ready
+to devote his life, or give his life; but having no mercy upon himself
+if it came to a question between self and the Cause, he had
+still less mercy upon others, with one exception; his son. Unconsciously,
+he put the little boy above all things, all aims, all
+people. But as for Saidee's sister, the child he remembered,
+who had been foolish enough and irritating enough to find her
+way to Oued Tolga, he felt towards her, in listening to the story
+of her coming, as an ardent student might feel towards a persistent
+midge which disturbed his studies. If the girl could be
+used as a pawn in his great game, she had a certain importance,
+otherwise none&mdash;except that her midge-like buzzings must not
+annoy him, or reach ears at a distance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Both men were naturally schemers, and loved scheming for
+its own sake, but never had either pitted his wits against the
+other with less intention of hiding his real mind. Each was
+in earnest, utterly sincere, therefore not ignoble; and the bargain
+was struck between the two with no deliberate villainy on
+either side. The marabout promised his wife's sister to
+Ma&iuml;eddine with as little hesitation as a patriarch of Israel,
+three thousand years ago, would have promised a lamb for the
+sacrificial altar. He stipulated only that before the marriage
+Ma&iuml;eddine should prove, not his willingness, but his ability
+to bring his father's people into the field.</p>
+
+<p>"Go to the douar," he said, "and talk with the chief men.
+Then bring back letters from them, or send if thou wilt, and the
+girl shall be thy wife. I shall indeed be gratified by the connection
+between thine illustrious family and mine."</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine had expected this, though he had hoped that his
+eloquence might persuade the marabout to a more impulsive
+agreement. "I will do what thou askest," he answered,
+"though it means delay, and delay is hard to bear. When I
+passed through the douar, my father's chief ca&iuml;ds were on the
+point of leaving for Algiers, to do honour to the Governor by
+showing themselves at the yearly ball. They will have started
+before I can reach the douar again, by the fastest travelling,
+for as thou knowest, I should be some days on the way."</p>
+
+<p>"Go then to Algiers, and meet them. That is best, and
+will be quicker, since journeying alone, thou canst easily arrive
+at Touggourt in three days from here. In two more, by taking
+a carriage and relays of horses, thou canst be at Biskra; and
+after that, there remains but the seventeen hours of train
+travelling."</p>
+
+<p>"How well thou keepest track of all progress, though things
+were different when thou wast last in the north," Ma&iuml;eddine said.</p>
+
+<p>"It is my business to know all that goes on in my own country,
+north, south, east, and west. When wilt thou start?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-night."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Thou art indeed in earnest! Thou wilt of course pay
+thine own respects to the Governor? I will send him a gift
+by thee, since there is no reason he should not know that we
+have met. The mission on which thou wert ostensibly travelling
+brought thee to the south."</p>
+
+<p>"I will take thy gift and messages with pleasure." Ma&iuml;eddine
+said. "It was expected that I should return for the ball,
+and present myself in place of my father, who is too old now
+for such long journeys; but I intended to make my health an
+excuse for absence. I should have pleaded a touch of the sun,
+and a fever caught in the marshes while carrying out the mission.
+Indeed, it is true that I am subject to fever. However, I will
+go, since thou desirest. The ball, which was delayed, is now
+fixed for a week from to-morrow. I will show myself for some
+moments, and the rest of the night I can devote to a talk with
+the ca&iuml;ds. I know what the result will be. And a fortnight
+from to-morrow thou wilt see me here again with the letters."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe thou wilt not fail," the marabout answered.
+"And neither will I fail thee."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XL" id="XL"></a>XL</h2>
+
+
+<p>On the night of the Governor's ball, it was four weeks
+to the day since Stephen Knight and Nevill Caird
+had inquired for Victoria Ray at the Hotel de la
+Kasbah, and found her gone.</p>
+
+<p>For rather more than a fortnight, they had searched for
+her quietly without applying to the police; but when at the
+end of that time, no letter had come, or news of any kind, the
+police were called into consultation. Several supposed clues
+had been followed, and had led to nothing; but Nevill persuaded
+Stephen to hope something from the ball. If any ca&iuml;ds
+of the south knew that Roumis had a secret reason for questioning
+them, they would pretend to know nothing, or give
+misleading answers; but if they were drawn on to describe their
+own part of the country, and the facilities for travelling through
+it, news of those who had lately passed that way might be
+inadvertently given.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen was no longer in doubt about his feelings for Victoria.
+He knew that he had loved her ever since the day when
+she came to Nevill's house, and they talked together in the lily
+garden. He knew that the one thing worth living for was to
+find her; but he expected no happiness from seeing her again,
+rather the contrary. Margot would soon be coming back to
+England from Canada, and he planned to meet her, and keep
+all his promises. Only, he must be sure first that Victoria
+Ray was safe. He had made up his mind by this time that,
+if necessary, Margot would have to wait for him. He would
+not leave Algeria until Victoria had been found. It did not
+matter whether this decision were right or wrong, he would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span>
+stick to it. Then, he would atone by doing as well as he could
+by Margot. She should have no cause of complaint against him
+in the future, so far as his love for Victoria was concerned;
+but he did not mean to try and kill it. Love for such a girl
+was too sacred to kill, even though it meant unhappiness for
+him. Stephen meant to guard it always in his heart, like a lamp
+to light him over the dark places; and there would be many dark
+places he knew in a life lived with Margot.</p>
+
+<p>Through many anxious days he looked forward to the Governor's
+ball, pinning his faith to Nevill's predictions; but when
+the moment came, his excitement fell like the wind at sunset.
+It did not seem possible that, after weeks of suspense, he
+should have news now, or ever. He went with Nevill to the
+summer palace, feeling dull and depressed. But perhaps the
+depression was partly the effect of a letter from Margot Lorenzi
+in Canada, received that morning. She said that she was longing
+to see him, and "hurrying all she knew," to escape from her
+friends, and get back to "dear London, and her darling White
+Knight."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm an ass to expect anything from coming here," he
+thought, as he saw the entrance gates of the palace park blazing
+with green lights in a trellis of verdure. The drive and all
+the paths that wound through the park were bordered with
+tiny lamps, and Chinese lanterns hung from the trees. There
+was sure to be a crush, and it seemed absurd to hope that even
+Nevill's cajoleries could draw serious information from Arab
+guests in such a scene as this.</p>
+
+<p>The two young men went into the palace, passing through
+a big veranda where French officers were playing bridge, and
+on into a charming court, where Turkish coffee was being
+served. Up from this court a staircase led to the room where
+the Governor was receiving, and at each turn of the stairs stood
+a Spahi in full dress uniform, with a long white ha&iuml;ck. Nevill
+was going on ahead, meaning to introduce Stephen to the Governor
+before beginning his search for acquaintances among the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span>
+Arab chiefs who grouped together over the coffee cups. But,
+turning to speak to Stephen, who had been close behind at
+starting, he found that somehow they had been swept apart.
+He stepped aside to wait for his friend, and let the crowd troop
+past him up the wide staircase. Among the first to go by was
+an extremely handsome Arab wearing a scarlet cloak heavy with
+gold embroidery, thrown over a velvet coat so thickly encrusted
+with gold that its pale-blue colour showed only here and there.
+He held his turbaned head proudly, and, glancing at Caird
+as he passed, seemed not to see him, but rather to see through
+him something more interesting beyond.</p>
+
+<p>Nevill still waited for his friend, but fully two minutes had
+gone before Stephen appeared. "Did you see that fellow in
+the red cloak?" he asked. "That was the Arab of the ship."</p>
+
+<p>"Si Ma&iuml;eddine&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Did you notice a queer brooch that held his cloak
+together? A wheel-like thing, set with jewels?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. He hadn't it on. His cloak was hanging open."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove! You're sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certain. I saw the whole breast of his coat."</p>
+
+<p>"That settles it, then. He did recognize me. Hang it,
+I wish he hadn't."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what's in your mind exactly. But I suppose
+you'll tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"Rather. But no time now. We mustn't lose sight of
+him if we can help it. I wanted to follow him up, on the
+instant, but didn't dare, for I hoped he'd think I hadn't spotted
+him. He can't be sure, anyhow, for I had the presence of
+mind not to stare. Let's go up now. He was on his way to
+pay his respects to the Governor, I suppose. He can't have
+slipped away yet."</p>
+
+<p>"It would seem not," Nevill assented, thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>But a few minutes later, it seemed that he had. And Nevill
+was not surprised, for in the last nine years he had learned never
+to wonder at the quick-witted diplomacy of Arabs. Si Ma&iuml;ed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span>dine
+had made short work of his compliments to the Governor,
+and had passed out of sight by the time that Stephen Knight and
+Nevill Caird escaped from the line of Europeans and gorgeous
+Arabs pressing towards their host. It was not certain, however,
+that he had left the palace. His haste to get on might
+be only a coincidence, Nevill pointed out. "Frenchified Arabs"
+like Si Ma&iuml;eddine, he said, were passionately fond of dancing
+with European women, and very likely Ma&iuml;eddine was anxious
+to secure a waltz with some Frenchwomen of his acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p>The two Englishmen went on as quickly as they could, without
+seeming to hurry, and looked for Ma&iuml;eddine in the gaily
+decorated ball-room where a great number of Europeans and a
+few Arabs were dancing. Ma&iuml;eddine would have been easy to
+find there, for his high-held head in its white turban must have
+towered above most other heads, even those of the tallest
+French officers; but he was not to be seen, and Nevill guided
+Stephen out of the ball-room into a great court decorated with
+palms and banners, and jewelled with hundreds of coloured
+lights that turned the fountain into a spouting rainbow.</p>
+
+<p>Pretty women sat talking with officers in uniforms, and
+watching the dancers as they strolled out arm in arm, to walk
+slowly round the flower-decked fountain. Behind the chatting
+Europeans stood many Arab chiefs of different degree, bach
+aghas, aghas, ca&iuml;ds and adels, looking on silently, or talking
+together in low voices; and compared with these stately, dark
+men in their magnificent costumes blazing with jewels and
+medals, the smartest French officers were reduced to insignificance.
+There were many handsome men, but Si Ma&iuml;eddine
+was not among them.</p>
+
+<p>"We've been told that he's <i>persona grata</i> here," Nevill
+reminded Stephen, "and there are lots of places where he
+may be in the palace, that we can't get to. He's perhaps hob-nobbing
+with some pal, having a private confab, and maybe
+he'll turn up at supper."</p>
+
+<p>"He doesn't look like a man to care about food, I will say<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span>
+that for him," answered Stephen. "He's taken the alarm,
+and sneaked off without giving me time to track him. I'll bet
+anything that's the fact. Hiding the brooch is a proof he
+saw me, I'm afraid. Smart of him! He thought my friend
+would be somewhere about, and he'd better get rid of damaging
+evidence."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't explained the brooch, yet."</p>
+
+<p>"I forgot. It's one <i>she</i> wore on the boat&mdash;and that day
+at your house&mdash;Miss Ray, I mean. She told me about it;
+said it had been a present from Ben Halim to her sister, who
+gave it to her."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure you couldn't mistake it? There's a strong family
+likeness in Arab jewellery."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure. And even if I hadn't been at first, I should
+be now, from that chap's whisking it off the instant he set eyes
+on me. His having it proves a lot. As she wore the thing at
+your house, he must have got it somehow after we saw her.
+Jove, Nevill, I'd like to choke him!"</p>
+
+<p>"If you did, he couldn't tell what he knows."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to find out somehow. Come along, no use wasting
+time here now, trying to get vague information out of Arab
+chiefs. We can learn more by seeing where this brute lives,
+than by catechizing a hundred ca&iuml;ds."</p>
+
+<p>"It's too late for him to get away from Algiers to-night by
+train, anyhow," said Nevill. "Nothing goes anywhere in particular.
+And look here, Legs, if he's really onto us, he won't
+have made himself scarce without leaving some pal he can trust,
+to see what we're up to."</p>
+
+<p>"There were two men close behind who might have been
+with him," Stephen remembered aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you recognize them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;think so. One of the two, anyhow. Very dark,
+hook-nosed, middle-aged chap, pitted with smallpox."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you may be sure he's chosen the less noticeable one.
+No good our trying to find Ma&iuml;eddine himself, if he's left the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span>
+palace; though I hope, by putting our heads and Roslin's
+together, that among the three of us we shall pick him up later.
+But if he's left somebody here to keep an eye on us, our best
+course is to keep an eye on that somebody. They'll have to
+communicate."</p>
+
+<p>"You're right," Stephen admitted. "I'm vague about the
+face, but I'll force myself to recognize it. That's the sort of
+thing Miss Ray would do. She's got some quaint theory about
+controlling your subconscious self. Now I'll take a leaf out of
+her book. By Jove&mdash;there's one of the men now. Don't
+look yet. He doesn't seem to notice us, but who knows? He's
+standing by the door, under a palm. Let's go back into the ball-room,
+and see if he follows."</p>
+
+<p>But to "see if he followed" was more easily said than done.
+The Arab, a melancholy and grizzled but dignified ca&iuml;d of the
+south, contrived to lose himself in a crowd of returning dancers,
+and it was not until later that the friends saw him in the ball-room,
+talking to a French officer and having not at all the air
+of one who spied or followed. Whether he remained because
+they remained was hard to say, for the scene was amusing and
+many Arabs watched it; but he showed no sign of restlessness,
+and it began to seem laughable to Nevill that, if he waited for
+them, they would be forced to wait for him. Eventually they
+made a pretence of eating supper. The ca&iuml;d was at the buffet
+with an Arab acquaintance. The Englishmen lingered so long,
+that in the end he walked away; yet they were at his beck and
+call. They must go after him, if he went before them, and it
+was irritating to see that, when he had taken respectful leave
+of his host, the sad-faced ca&iuml;d proceeded quietly out of the
+palace as if he had nothing to conceal. Perhaps he had nothing
+or else, suspecting the game, he was forcing the hand of the
+enemy. Stephen and Nevill had to follow, if they would keep
+him in sight; and though they walked as far behind as possible,
+passing out of the brilliantly lighted park, they could not be
+sure that he did not guess they were after him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>They had walked the short distance from Djenan el Djouad
+to the Governor's summer palace; and now, outside the gates,
+the ca&iuml;d turned to the left, which was their way home also.
+This was lucky, because, if the man were on the alert, and knew
+where Nevill lived, he would have no reason to suppose they
+took this direction on his account.</p>
+
+<p>But he had not gone a quarter of a mile when he stopped,
+and rang at a gate in a high white wall.</p>
+
+<p>"Djenan el Taleb," mumbled Nevill. "Perhaps Si Ma&iuml;eddine's
+visiting there&mdash;or else this old beggar is."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it an Arab's house?" Stephen wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>"Was once&mdash;long ago as pirate days. Now a Frenchman
+owns it&mdash;Monsieur de Mora&mdash;friend of the Governor's.
+Always puts up several chiefs at the time of the ball."</p>
+
+<p>The gate opened to let the ca&iuml;d in and was shut again.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurrah!&mdash;just thought of a plan," exclaimed Nevill. "I
+don't think De Mora can have got home yet from the palace.
+I saw him having supper. Suppose I dart back, flutter gracefully
+round him, babble 'tile talk' a bit&mdash;he's a tile expert
+after my own heart&mdash;then casually ask what Arabs he's got
+staying with him. If Ma&iuml;eddine's in his house it can't be a
+secret&mdash;incidentally I may find out where the fellow comes
+from and where he's going."</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" said Stephen. "I'll hang about in the shadow
+of some tree and glue my eye to this gate. Is there any other
+way out?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is; but not one a visitor would be likely to take,
+especially if he didn't want to be seen. It opens into a street
+where a lot of people might be standing to peer into the palace
+grounds and hear the music. Now run along, Legs, and find a
+comfortable shadow. I'm off."</p>
+
+<p>He was gone three-quarters of an hour, but nothing happened
+meanwhile. Nobody went in at the gate, or came out,
+and the time dragged for Stephen. He thought of a hundred
+dangers that might be threatening Victoria, and it seemed that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span>
+Caird would never come. But at last he saw the boyish figure,
+hurrying along under the light of a street-lamp.</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't find De Mora at first&mdash;then had to work slowly
+up to the subject," Nevill panted. "But it's all right. Ma&iuml;eddine
+<i>is</i> stopping with him&mdash;leaves to-morrow or day after;
+supposed to have come from El Aghouat, and to be going back
+there. But that isn't to say either supposition's true."</p>
+
+<p>"We must find out where he's going&mdash;have him watched,"
+said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Only, the trouble is, if he's on to the game, it's
+just what he'll expect. But I've been thinking how we may be
+able to bluff&mdash;make him think it was his guilty conscience
+tricked him to imagine our interest in his movements. You
+know I'm giving a dinner to-morrow night to a few people?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Lady MacGregor told me."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, a Mademoiselle Vizet, a niece of De Mora's, is coming,
+so that gave me a chance to mention the dinner to her uncle.
+Ma&iuml;eddine can easily hear about it, if he chooses to inquire
+what's going on at my house. And I said something else to De
+Mora, for the benefit of the same gentleman. I hope you'll
+approve."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure to. What was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I was sorry my friend, Mr. Knight, had got news
+which would call him away from Algiers before the dinner. I
+said you'd be going on board the <i>Charles Quex</i> to-morrow when
+she leaves for Marseilles."</p>
+
+<p>"But Ma&iuml;eddine can find out&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's just what we want. He can find out that your
+ticket's taken, if we do take it. He can see you go on board
+if he likes to watch or send a spy. But he mustn't see you
+sneaking off again with the Arab porters who carry luggage. If
+you think anything of the plan, you'll have to stand the price of
+a berth, and let some luggage you can do without, go to Marseilles.
+I'll see you off, and stop on board till the last minute.
+You'll be in your cabin, putting on the clothes I wear some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span>times
+when I want some fun in the old town&mdash;striped wool
+burnous, hood over your head, full white trousers&mdash;good
+'props,' look a lot the worse for wear&mdash;white stockings like
+my Kabyle servants have; and you can rub a bit of brown grease-paint
+on your legs where the socks leave off. That's what I
+do. Scheme sounds complicated; but so is an Arab's brain.
+You've got to match it. What do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"I say 'done!'" Stephen answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Thought you would. Some fellows'd think it too sensational;
+but you can't be too sensational with Arabs, if you want
+to beat 'em. This ought to put Ma&iuml;eddine off the scent. If he's
+watching, and sees you&mdash;as he thinks&mdash;steam calmly out of
+Algiers harbour, and if he knows I'm entertaining people at my
+house, he won't see why he need go on bothering himself with
+extra precautions."</p>
+
+<p>"Right. But suppose he's off to-morrow morning&mdash;or even
+to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we needn't bother about the boat business. For we
+shall know if he goes. Either you or I must now look up Roslin.
+Perhaps it had better be I, because I can run into Djenan el
+Djouad first, and send my man Saunders to watch De Mora's
+other gate, and make assurance doubly sure."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a brick, Wings," said Stephen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XLI" id="XLI"></a>XLI</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lady MacGregor had sat up in order to hear
+the news, and was delighted with Nevill's plan,
+especially the part which concerned Stephen, and
+his proposed adventure on the <i>Charles Quex</i>.
+Even to hear about it, made her feel young again, she said.
+Nothing ever happened to her or to Nevill when they were
+alone, and they ought to be thankful to Stephen for stirring
+them up. Not one of the three had more than two hours'
+sleep that night, but according to her nephew, Lady MacGregor
+looked sweet sixteen when she appeared at an unusually
+early hour next morning. "No breakfast in bed for me
+to-day, or for days to come," said she. "I'll have my hands
+full every instant getting through what I've got to do, I can
+tell you. Hamish and Angus are worried about my health, but
+I say to them they needn't grudge me a new interest in life.
+It's very good for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what have you got to do?" ventured Nevill, who
+was ready to go with Stephen and buy a berth on board the
+<i>Charles Quex</i> the moment the office opened.</p>
+
+<p>Lady MacGregor looked at him mysteriously. "Being men,
+I suppose neither of you <i>would</i> guess," she replied. "But
+you shall both know after Stephen's adventure is over. I
+hope you'll like the idea. But if you don't I'm sorry to say
+it won't make any difference."</p>
+
+<p>The so-called "adventure" had less of excitement in it than
+had been in the planning. It was faithfully carried out according
+to Nevill's first suggestion, with a few added details,
+but Stephen felt incredibly foolish, rather like a Guy Fawkes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span>
+mummer, or a masked and bedizened guest arriving by mistake
+the night after the ball. So far as he could see, no one
+was watching. All his trouble seemed to be for nothing, and
+he felt that he had made a fool of himself, even when it was
+over, and he had changed into civilized clothing, in a room
+in the old town, taken by Adolphe Roslin, the detective. It
+was arranged for Stephen to wait there, until Roslin could give
+him news of Si Ma&iuml;eddine's movements, lest the Arab should
+be subtle enough to suspect a trick, after all.</p>
+
+<p>Toward evening the news came. Ma&iuml;eddine had taken a
+ticket for Biskra, and a sleeping berth in the train which
+would leave at nine o'clock. Nevertheless, Roslin had a man
+watching Monsieur de Mora's house, in case the buying of the
+ticket were a "bluff," or Si Ma&iuml;eddine should change his
+plans at the last minute.</p>
+
+<p>Nevill had come in, all excitement, having bought cheap
+"antique" jewellery in a shop downstairs, by way of an excuse
+to enter the house. He was with Stephen when Roslin arrived,
+and they consulted together as to what should be done
+next.</p>
+
+<p>"Roslin must buy me a ticket for Biskra, of course," said
+Stephen. "I'll hang about the station in an overcoat with
+my collar turned up and a cap over my eyes. If Ma&iuml;eddine
+gets into the train I'll get in too, at a respectful distance of
+course, and keep an eye open to see what he does at
+each stop."</p>
+
+<p>"There's a change of trains, to-morrow morning," remarked
+Nevill. "There'll be your difficulty, because after
+you're out of one train you have to wait for the other. Easy
+to hide in Algiers station, and make a dash for the end of the
+train when you're sure of your man. But in a little open,
+road-side halting-place, in broad daylight, you'll have to be
+sharp if you don't want him to spot you. Naturally he'll keep
+his eyes as wide open, all along the line, as you will, even
+though he does think you're on the way to Marseilles."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"If you're working up to a burnous and painted legs for me
+again, my dear chap, it's no good," Stephen returned with the
+calmness of desperation. "I've done with that sort of nonsense;
+but I won't trust myself out of the train till I see the
+Arab's back. Then I'll make a bolt for it and dodge him, till
+the new train's run along the platform and he's safely
+in it."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur has confidence in himself as a detective," smiled
+Roslin.</p>
+
+<p>Knight could have given a sarcastic answer, since the young
+man from Marseilles had not made much progress with the
+seemingly simple case put into his hands a month ago. But
+both he and Nevill had come to think that the case was not
+simple, and they were lenient with Roslin. "I hope I'm not
+conceited," Stephen defended himself, "but I do feel that I
+can at least keep my end up against this nigger, anyhow till
+the game's played out so far that he can't stop it."</p>
+
+<p>"And till I'm in it with you," Nevill finished. "By the
+way, that reminds me. Some one else intends to play the
+game with us, whether we like or not."</p>
+
+<p>"Who?" asked Stephen, surprised and half defiant.</p>
+
+<p>"My aunt. That's the mystery she was hinting at. You
+know how unnaturally quiet she was while we arranged that
+you should look after Ma&iuml;eddine, on your own, till the dinner-party
+was over, anyhow, and I could get off, on a wire from you&mdash;wherever
+you might be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. She seemed interested."</p>
+
+<p>"And busy. Her 'great work' was getting herself ready
+to follow you with me, in the car."</p>
+
+<p>"Magnificent!" said Stephen. "And like her. Hurrah
+for Lady MacGregor!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad you take it that way. I wasn't sure you would,
+which might have made things awkward for me; because
+when my aunt wants to do a thing, you know by this time as
+well as I do, it's as good as done."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But it's splendid&mdash;if she can stand the racket. Of
+course her idea is, that if we find Miss Ray she oughtn't to
+come back alone with us, perhaps a long way, from some
+outlandish hole."</p>
+
+<p>"You've got it. That's her argument. Or rather, her
+mandate. And I believe she's quite able to stand the racket.
+Her state of mind is such, that if she looked sixteen in the
+morning, this afternoon she's gone back to fifteen."</p>
+
+<p>"Wonderful old lady! But she's so fragile&mdash;and has
+nervous headaches&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She won't have any in my motor car."</p>
+
+<p>"But Hamish and Angus. Can she get on without them?"</p>
+
+<p>"She intends to have them follow her by train, with luggage.
+She says she has a 'feeling in her bones' that they'll come in
+handy, either for cooking or fighting. And by Jove, she may
+be right. She often is. If you go to Biskra and wire when you
+get there, I'll start at once&mdash;<i>we'll</i> start, I mean. And if
+Ma&iuml;eddine goes on anywhere else, and you follow to keep
+him in sight, I'll probably catch you up with the car, because
+the railway line ends at Biskra, you know; and beyond, there
+are only horses or camels."</p>
+
+<p>"Can motors go farther?"</p>
+
+<p>"They can to Touggourt&mdash;with 'deeficulty,' as the noble
+twins would say."</p>
+
+<p>"Ma&iuml;eddine may take a car."</p>
+
+<p>"Not likely. Though there's just a chance he might get some
+European friend with a motor to give him a lift. In that case,
+you'd be rather stuck."</p>
+
+<p>"Motor cars leave tracks," said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Especially in the desert, where they are quite conspicuous,"
+Nevill agreed. "My aunt will be enchanted with your opinion
+of her and her plan&mdash;but not surprised. She thinks you've
+twice my sense and knowledge of the world."</p>
+
+<p>Nevill usually enjoyed his own dinner-parties, for he was a
+born host, and knew that guests were happy in his house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span>
+That night, however, was an exception. He was absent-minded,
+and pulled his moustache, and saw beautiful things
+in the air over people's heads, so often that not only Lady
+MacGregor but Angus and Hamish glared at him threateningly.
+He then did his best to atone; nevertheless, for once he was
+delighted when every one had gone. At last he was able to
+read for the second time a letter from Roslin, sent in while
+dinner was in progress. There had been only time for a glance
+at it, by begging his friends' indulgence for an instant, while
+he bolted the news that Stephen had followed Ma&iuml;eddine to
+Biskra. Now, Nevill and Lady MacGregor both hugely
+enjoyed the details given by Roslin from the report of an
+employ&eacute;; how cleverly Monsieur had kept out of sight, though
+the Arab had walked up and down the platform, with two
+friends, looking about keenly. How, when Ma&iuml;eddine was
+safely housed in his compartment, his companions looking
+up to his window for a last word, Monsieur Knight had whisked
+himself into a second-class compartment at the other end of
+the train.</p>
+
+<p>Next day, about four o'clock, a telegram was brought to
+Djenan el Djouad. It came from Biskra, and said: "Arrived
+here. Not spotted. He went house of French commandant
+with no attempt at concealment. Am waiting. Will wire
+again soon as have news. Perhaps better not start till you hear."</p>
+
+<p>An hour and a half later a second blue envelope was put into
+Nevill's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"He and an officer leave for Touggourt in private carriage
+three horses relays ordered. Have interviewed livery stable.
+They start at five will travel all night. I follow."</p>
+
+<p>"Probably some officer was going on military business, and
+Ma&iuml;eddine's asked for a lift," Nevill said to Lady MacGregor.
+"Well, it's too late for us to get away now; but we'll be off
+as early as you like to-morrow morning."</p>
+
+<p>"If I weren't going, would you start to-day?" his aunt
+inquired.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I suppose so. But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Then please give orders for the car. I'm ready to leave
+at five minutes' notice, and I can go on as long as you can.
+I'm looking forward to the trip."</p>
+
+<p>"But I've often offered to take you to Biskra."</p>
+
+<p>"That's different. Now I've got an incentive."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XLII" id="XLII"></a>XLII</h2>
+
+
+<p>Just as he came in sight of the great chott between
+Biskra and Touggourt, Stephen heard a sound which
+struck him strangely in the silence of the desert. It
+was the distant teuf-teuf of a powerful motor car,
+labouring heavily through deep sand.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen was travelling in a carriage, which he had hired in
+Biskra, and was keeping as close as he dared to the vehicle in
+front, shared by Ma&iuml;eddine and a French officer. But he
+never let himself come within sight or sound of it. Now, as
+he began to hear the far-off panting of a motor, he saw nothing
+ahead but the vast saltpetre lake, which, viewed from the hill
+his three horses had just climbed, shimmered blue and silver,
+like a magic sea, reaching to the end of the world. There were
+white lines like long ruffles of foam on the edges of azure waves,
+struck still by enchantment while breaking on an unseen
+shore; and far off, along a mystic horizon, little islands floated
+on the gleaming flood. Stephen could hardly believe that
+there was no water, and that his horses could travel the blue
+depths without wetting their feet.</p>
+
+<p>It was just as he was thinking thus, and wondering if Victoria
+had passed this way, when the strange sound came to his
+ears, out of the distance. "Stop," he said in French to his
+Arab driver. "I think friends of mine will be in that car."
+He was right. A few minutes later Nevill and Lady MacGregor
+waved to him, as he stood on the top of a low sand-dune.</p>
+
+<p>Lady MacGregor was more fairylike than ever in a little
+motoring bonnet made for a young girl, but singularly becoming
+to her. They had had a glorious journey, she said. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span>
+supposed some people would consider that she had endured
+hardships, but they were not worth speaking of. She had
+been rather bumped about on the ghastly desert tracks since
+Biskra, but though she was not quite sure if all her bones were
+whole, she did not feel in the least tired; and even if she did, the
+memory of the Gorge of El Kantara would alone be enough
+to make up for it.</p>
+
+<p>"Anything new?" asked Nevill.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," Stephen answered, "except that the driver of the
+carriage ahead let drop at the last bordj that he'd been hired
+by the French officer, who was taking Ma&iuml;eddine with him."</p>
+
+<p>"Just what we thought," Lady MacGregor broke in.</p>
+
+<p>"And the carriage will bring the Frenchman back, later.
+Ma&iuml;eddine's going on. But I haven't found out where."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm! I was in hopes we were close to our journey's end
+at Touggourt," said Nevill. "The car can't get farther, I'm
+afraid. The big dunes begin there."</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever Ma&iuml;eddine does, we can follow his example. I
+mean, I can," Stephen amended.</p>
+
+<p>"So can Nevill. I'm no spoil-sport," snapped the old lady,
+in her childlike voice. "I know what I can do and what I
+can't. I draw the line at camels! Angus and Hamish will take
+care of me, and I'll wait for you at Touggourt. I can amuse
+myself in the market-place, and looking at the Ouled Na&iuml;ls, till
+you find Miss Ray, or&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There won't be an 'or,' Lady MacGregor. We must
+find her. And we must bring her to you," said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>He had slept in the carriage the night before, a little on the
+Biskra side of Chegga, because Ma&iuml;eddine and the French
+officer had rested at Chegga. Nevill and Lady MacGregor
+had started from Biskra at five o'clock that morning, having
+arrived there the evening before. It was now ten, and they
+could make Touggourt that night. But they wished Ma&iuml;eddine
+to reach there first, so they stopped by the chott, and
+lunched from a smartly fitted picnic-basket Lady MacGregor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span>
+had brought. Stephen paid his Arab coachman, told him
+he might go back, and transferred a small suitcase&mdash;his only
+luggage&mdash;from the carriage to the car. They gave Ma&iuml;eddine
+two hours' grace, and having started on, always slowed up
+whenever Nevill's field-glasses showed a slowly trotting vehicle
+on the far horizon. The road, which was hardly a road,
+far exceeded in roughness the desert track Stephen had wondered
+at on the way from Msila to Bou-Saada; but Lady
+MacGregor had the courage, he told her, of a Joan
+of Arc.</p>
+
+<p>They bumped steadily along, through the heat of the day,
+protected from the blazing sun by the raised hood, but they
+were thankful when, after the dinner-halt, darkness began to
+fall. Talking over ways and means, they decided not to drive
+into Touggourt, where an automobile would be a conspicuous
+object since few motors risked springs and tyres by coming so
+far into the desert. The chauffeur should be sent into the
+town while the passengers sat in the car a mile away.</p>
+
+<p>Eventually Paul was instructed to demand oil for his small
+lamps, by way of an excuse for having tramped into town.
+He was to find out what had become of the two men who must
+have arrived about an hour before, in a carriage.</p>
+
+<p>While the chauffeur was gone, Lady MacGregor played
+Patience and insisted on teaching Stephen and Nevill two new
+games. She said that it would be good discipline for their
+souls; and so perhaps it was. But Stephen never ceased calculating
+how long Paul ought to be away. Twenty minutes
+to walk a mile&mdash;or thirty minutes in desert sand; forty minutes
+to make inquiries; surely it needn't take longer! And
+thirty minutes back. But an hour and a half dragged on, before
+there was any sign of the absentee; then at last, Stephen's
+eye, roving wistfully from the cards, saw a moving spark at
+about the right height above the ground to be a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>A few yards away from the car, the spark vanished decorously,
+and Paul was recognizable, in the light of the inside<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span>
+electric lamp, the only illumination they allowed themselves,
+lest the stranded car prove attractive to neighbouring nomads.</p>
+
+<p>The French officer was at the hotel for the night; the Arab
+was dining with him, but instead of resting, would go on with
+his horse and a Negro servant who, it seemed, had been waiting
+for several days, since their master had passed through Touggourt
+on the way to Algiers.</p>
+
+<p>"Then he didn't come from El Aghouat," said Nevill.
+"Where is he going? Did you find out that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not for certain. But an Arab servant who talks French,
+says he believes they're bound for a place called Oued Tolga,"
+Paul replied, delighted with the confidence reposed in him, and
+with the whole adventure.</p>
+
+<p>"That means three days in the dunes for us!" said Nevill.
+"Aunt Charlotte, you can practice Patience, in Touggourt."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall invent a new game, and call it Hope," returned Lady
+MacGregor. "Or if it's a good one, I'll name it Victoria Ray,
+which is better than Miss Millikens. It will just be done in
+time to teach that poor child when you bring her back to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Hope wouldn't be a bad name for the game we've all been
+playing, and have got to go on playing," mumbled Nevill.
+"We'll give Ma&iuml;eddine just time to turn his back on Touggourt,
+before we show our noses there. Then you and I, Legs, will
+engage horses and a guide."</p>
+
+<p>"You deserve your name, Wings," said Stephen. And he
+wondered how Josette Soubise could hold out against Caird.
+He wondered also what she thought of this quest; for her
+sister Jeanne was in the secret. No doubt she had written
+Josette more fully than Nevill had, even if he had dared to
+write at all. And if, as long ago as the visit to Tlemcen, she had
+been slightly depressed by her friend's interest in another girl,
+she must by this time see the affair in a more serious light.
+Stephen was cruel enough to hope that she was unhappy.
+He had heard women say that no cure for a woman's obstinacy
+was as sure as jealousy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When they arrived at the hotel, and ordered all in the same
+breath, a room for a lady, two horses and a guide, only the first
+demand could be granted. It would be impossible, said the
+landlady and her son, to produce horses on the instant. There
+were some to be had, it was true, but they had come in after a
+hard day's work, and must have several hours' rest. The
+gentlemen might get off at dawn, if they wished, but not before.</p>
+
+<p>"After all, it doesn't much matter," Nevill said to Stephen.
+"Even an Arab must have some sleep. We'll have ours now,
+and catch up with Ma&iuml;eddine while he's taking his. Don't
+worry. Suppose the worst&mdash;that he isn't really going to Oued
+Tolga. We shall get on his track, with an Arab guide to
+pilot us. There are several stopping places where we can
+inquire. He'll be seen passing them, even if he goes by."</p>
+
+<p>"But you say Arabs never betray each other to white men."</p>
+
+<p>"This won't be a question of betrayal. Watch and see
+how ingenuous, as well as ingenious, I'll be in all my inquiries."</p>
+
+<p>"I never heard of Oued Tolga," Stephen said, half to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't confess that to an Arab. It would be like telling
+a Frenchman you'd never heard of Bordeaux. It's a desert
+city, bigger than Touggourt, I believe, and&mdash;by Jove, yes,
+there's a tremendously important Zaou&iuml;a of the same name.
+Great marabout hangs out there&mdash;kind of Mussulman pope
+of the desert. I hope to goodness&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What?" Stephen asked, as Nevill broke off suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nothing to fash yourself about, as the twins would say.
+Only&mdash;it would be awkward if she's there. Harder to get
+her out. However&mdash;time to cross the stile when we come
+to it."</p>
+
+<p>But Stephen crossed a great many stiles with his mind before
+that darkest hour before the dawn, when he was called to get
+ready for the last stage of the journey.</p>
+
+<p>Lady MacGregor was up to see them off, and never had her
+cap been more elaborate, or her hair been dressed more daintily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You'll wire me from the end of the world, won't you?"
+she asked briskly. "Paul and I (and Hamish and Angus if
+necessary) will be ready to rush you all three back to civilization
+the instant you arrive with Miss Ray. Give her my love.
+Tell her I've brought clothes for her. They mayn't be what
+she'd choose, but I dare say she won't be sorry to see them. And
+by the way, if there are telegrams&mdash;you know I told the servants
+to send them on from home&mdash;shall I wire them on to
+Oued Tolga?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. We're tramps, with no address," laughed Nevill.
+"Anything that comes can wait till we get back."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen could not have told why, for he was not thinking
+of Margot, but suddenly he was convinced that a telegram from
+her was on the way, fixing the exact date when she might be
+expected in England.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XLIII" id="XLIII"></a>XLIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>Since the day when Victoria had called Stephen to
+her help, always she had expected him. She
+had great faith, for, in her favourite way, she had
+"made a picture of him," riding up and down
+among the dunes, with the "knightly" look on his face which
+had first drawn her thoughts to him. Always her pictures
+had materialized sooner or later, since she was a little girl,
+and had first begun painting them with her mind, on a golden
+background.</p>
+
+<p>She spent hours on the roof, with Saidee or alone, looking
+out over the desert, through the field-glasses which Ma&iuml;eddine
+had sent to her. Very often Saidee would remain below, for
+Victoria's prayers were not her prayers, nor were Victoria's
+wishes her wishes. But invariably the older woman would
+come up to the roof just before sunset, to feed the doves that
+lived in the minaret.</p>
+
+<p>At first Victoria had not known that her sister had any special
+reason for liking to feed the doves, but she was an observant,
+though not a sophisticated girl; and when she had lived with
+Saidee for a few days, she saw birds of a different colour among
+the doves. It was to those birds, she could not help noticing,
+that Saidee devoted herself. The first that appeared, arrived
+suddenly, while Victoria looked in another direction. But
+when the girl saw one alight, she guessed it had come from a
+distance. It fluttered down heavily on the roof, as if tired, and
+Saidee hid it from Victoria by spreading out her skirt as she
+scattered its food.</p>
+
+<p>Then it was easy to understand how Saidee and Captain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span>
+Sabine had managed to exchange letters; but she could not
+bear to let her sister know by word or even look that she suspected
+the secret. If Saidee wished to hide something from
+her she had a right to hide it. Only&mdash;it was very sad.</p>
+
+<p>For days neither of the sisters spoke of the pigeons, though
+they came often, and the girl could not tell what plans might be
+in the making, unknown to her. She feared that, if she had not
+come to Oued Tolga, by this time Saidee would have gone away,
+or tried to go away, with Captain Sabine; and though, since
+the night of her arrival, when Saidee had opened her heart,
+they had been on terms of closest affection, there was a dreadful
+doubt in Victoria's mind that the confidences were half
+repented. But when the girl had been rather more than a
+week in the Zaou&iuml;a, Saidee spoke out.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you've guessed why I come up on the roof at
+sunset," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Victoria answered.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so, by your face. Babe, if you'd accused me
+of anything, or reproached me, I'd have brazened it out with
+you. But you've never said a word, and your eyes&mdash;I don't
+know what they've been like, unless violets after rain. They
+made me feel a beast&mdash;a thousand times worse than I would
+if you'd put on an injured air. Last night I dreamed that you
+died of grief, and I buried you under the sand. But I was
+sorry, and tore all the sand away with my fingers till I found
+you again&mdash;and you were alive after all. It seemed like
+an allegory. I'm going to dig you up again, you little loving
+thing!"</p>
+
+<p>"That means you'll give me back your confidence, doesn't
+it?" Victoria asked, smiling in a way that would have bewitched
+a man who loved her.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and something else. I'm going to tell you a thing
+you'll like to hear. I've written to <i>him</i> about you&mdash;our
+cypher's ready now&mdash;and said that you'd had the most curious
+effect on me. I'd tried to resist you, but I couldn't, not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span>
+even to please him&mdash;or myself. I told him I'd promised to
+wait for you to help me; and though I didn't see what you could
+possibly do, still, your faith was contagious. I said that in
+spite of myself I felt some vague stirrings of hope now and then.
+There! does that please you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh Saidee, I <i>am</i> so happy!" cried the girl, flinging both
+arms round her sister. "Then I did come at the right time,
+after all."</p>
+
+<p>"The right time to keep me from happiness in this world, perhaps.
+That's the way I feel about it sometimes. But I can't
+be sorry you're here, Babe, as I was at first. You're
+too sweet&mdash;too like the child who used to be my one
+comfort."</p>
+
+<p>"I could almost die of happiness, when you say that!"
+Victoria answered, with tears in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"What a baby you are! I'm sure you haven't much more
+than I have, to be happy about. Cassim has promised Ma&iuml;eddine
+that you shall marry him, whether you say 'yes' or 'no'.
+And it's horrible when an Arab girl won't consent to marry the
+man to whom her people have promised her. I know what
+they do. She&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't tell me about it. I'd hate to hear!" Victoria broke
+in, and covered her ears with her hands. So Saidee said no
+more. But in black hours of the night, when the girl could
+not sleep, dreadful imaginings crept into her mind, and it was
+almost more than she could do to chase them away by making
+her "good pictures." "I won't be afraid&mdash;I won't, I won't!"
+she would repeat to herself. "I've called him, and my thoughts
+are stronger than the carrier pigeons. They fly faster and
+farther. They travel like the light, so they must have got to
+him long ago; and he <i>said</i> he'd come, no matter when or where.
+By this time he is on the way."</p>
+
+<p>So she looked for Stephen, searching the desert; and at last,
+one afternoon long before sunset, she saw a man riding toward
+the Zaou&iuml;a from the direction of the city, far away. She could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span>
+not see his face, but he seemed to be tall and slim; and his
+clothes were European.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God!" she said to herself. For she did not doubt
+that it was Stephen Knight.</p>
+
+<p>Soon she would call Saidee; but she must have a little time
+to herself, for silent rejoicing, before she tried to explain.
+There was no great hurry. He was far off, still.</p>
+
+<p>She kept her eyes to Ma&iuml;eddine's glasses, and felt it a strange
+thing that they should have come to her from him. It was
+almost as if he gave her to Stephen, against his will. She
+was so happy that she seemed to hear the world singing. "I
+knew&mdash;I knew, through it all!" she told herself, with a sob of
+joy in her throat. "It had to come right." And she thought
+that she could hear a voice saying: "It is love that has brought
+him. He loves you, as much as you love him."</p>
+
+<p>To her mind, especially in this mood, it was not extraordinary
+that each should love the other after so short an acquaintance.
+She was even ready to believe of herself that, unconsciously,
+she had fallen in love with Stephen the first time
+she met him on the Channel boat. He had interested her.
+She had remembered his face, and had been sorry to think that
+she would never see it again. On the ship, going out from
+Marseilles, she had been so glad when he came on deck that
+her heart had begun to beat quickly. She had scolded herself at
+the time, for being silly, and school-girlishly romantic; but
+now she realized that her soul had known its mate. It could
+scarcely be real love, she fancied, that was not born in the
+first moment, when spirit spoke to spirit. And her love could
+not have drawn a man hundreds of miles across the desert,
+if it had not met and clasped hands with his love for her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how happy I am!" she thought. "And the glory of it
+is, that it's <i>not</i> strange&mdash;only wonderful. The most wonderful
+thing that ever happened or could happen."</p>
+
+<p>Then she remembered the sand-divining, and how M'Barka
+had said that "her wish was far from her, but that Allah would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span>
+send a strong man, young and dark, of another country than
+her own; a man whose brain, and heart, and arm would be at
+her service, and in whom she might trust." Victoria recalled
+these words, and did not try to bring back to her mind what
+remained of the prophecy.</p>
+
+<p>Almost, she had been foolish enough to be superstitious, and
+afraid of Ma&iuml;eddine's influence upon her life, since that night;
+and of course she had known that it was of Ma&iuml;eddine M'Barka
+had thought, whether she sincerely believed in her own predictions
+or no. Now, it pleased Victoria to feel that, not only
+had she been foolish, but stupid. She might have been happy in
+her childish superstition, instead of unhappy, because the
+description of the man applied to Stephen as well as to Ma&iuml;eddine.</p>
+
+<p>For the moment, she did not ask herself how Stephen Knight
+was going to take her and Saidee away from Ma&iuml;eddine and
+Cassim, for she was so sure he had not come across miles of
+desert in vain, that she took the rest for granted in her first joy.
+She was certain that Saidee's troubles and hers were over, and
+that by and by, like the prince and princess in the fairy stories,
+she and Stephen would be married and "live happily ever
+after." In these magic moments of rapture, while his face and
+figure grew more clear to her eyes, it seemed to the girl that
+love and happiness were one, and that all obstacles had fallen
+down in the path of her lover, like the walls of Jericho that
+crumbled at the blast of the trumpet.</p>
+
+<p>When she had looked through the glass until she could distinctly
+see Stephen, and an Arab who rode at a short distance
+behind him, she called her sister.</p>
+
+<p>Saidee came up to the roof, almost at once, for there was
+a thrill of excitement in Victoria's voice that roused her
+curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>She thought of Captain Sabine, and wondered if he were
+riding toward the Zaou&iuml;a. He had come, before his first encounter
+with her, to pay his respects to the marabout. That<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span>
+was long ago now, yet there might be a reason, connected with
+her, for a second visit. But the moment she saw Victoria's face,
+even before she took the glasses the girl held out, she guessed
+that, though there was news, it was not of Captain Sabine.</p>
+
+<p>"You might have been to heaven and back since I saw you;
+you're so radiant!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been to heaven. But I haven't come back. I'm
+there now," Victoria answered. "Look&mdash;and tell me what you
+see."</p>
+
+<p>Saidee put the glasses to her eyes. "I see a man in European
+clothes," she said. "I can see that he's young. I should
+think he's a gentleman, and good looking&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he is!" broke in Victoria, childishly.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've been praying and longing for him to find me, and
+save us. He's an Englishman. His name is Stephen Knight.
+He promised to come if I called, and I have. Oh, <i>how</i> I've
+called, day and night, night and day!"</p>
+
+<p>"You never told me."</p>
+
+<p>"I waited. Somehow I&mdash;couldn't speak of him, even to
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"I've told <i>you</i> everything."</p>
+
+<p>"But I had nothing to tell, really&mdash;nothing I could have
+put into words. And you might only have laughed if I'd said
+'There's a man I know in Algiers who hasn't any idea where
+I am, but I think he'll come here, and take us both away.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you engaged to each other?" Saidee asked, curiously,
+even enviously.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no! But&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But what? Do you mean you will be&mdash;if you ever get
+away from this place?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so," the girl answered bravely, with a deep blush.
+"He has never asked me. We haven't known each other long&mdash;a
+very little while, only since the night I left London for
+Paris. Yet he's the first man I ever cared about, and I think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span>
+of him all the time. Perhaps he thinks of me in the same
+way."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he must, Babe, if he's really come to search for
+you," Saidee said, looking at her young sister affectionately.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you a hundred times for saying that, dearest! I
+do <i>hope</i> so!" Victoria exclaimed, hugging the elder woman
+impulsively, as she used when she was a little child.</p>
+
+<p>But Saidee's joy, caught from her sister's, died down suddenly,
+like a flame quenched with salt. "What good will it
+do you&mdash;or us&mdash;that he is coming?" she asked bitterly.
+"He can ask for the marabout, and perhaps see him. Any
+traveller can do that. But he will be no nearer to us, than if
+we were dead and in our graves. Does Ma&iuml;eddine know about
+him?"</p>
+
+<p>"They saw each other on the ship, coming to Algiers&mdash;and
+again just as we landed."</p>
+
+<p>"But has Ma&iuml;eddine any idea that you care about each
+other?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had to tell him one day in the desert (the day Si Ma&iuml;eddine
+said he loved me, and I promised to consent if <i>you</i> put my
+hand in his) that&mdash;that there was a man I loved. But I
+didn't say who. Perhaps he suspects, though I don't see why
+he should. I might have meant some one in America."</p>
+
+<p>"You may be pretty sure he suspects. People of the old, old
+races, like the Arabs, have the most wonderful intuitions.
+They seem to <i>know</i> things without being told. I suppose
+they've kept nearer nature than more civilized peoples."</p>
+
+<p>"If he does suspect, I can't help it."</p>
+
+<p>"No. Only it's still more sure that your Englishman won't
+be able to do us any good. Not that he could, anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>"But Si Ma&iuml;eddine's been very ill since he came back,
+M'Barka says. Mr. Knight will ask for the marabout."</p>
+
+<p>"Ma&iuml;eddine will hear of him. Not five Europeans in five
+years come to Oued Tolga. If only Ma&iuml;eddine hadn't got
+back! This man may have been following him, from Algiers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span>
+It looks like it, as Ma&iuml;eddine arrived only yesterday. Now,
+here's this Englishman! Could he have found out in any
+way, that you were acquainted with Ma&iuml;eddine?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, but he might have guessed," said Victoria.
+"I wonder&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What? Have you thought of something?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's just an idea. You know, I told you that on the journey,
+when Si Ma&iuml;eddine was being very kind to me&mdash;before
+I knew he cared&mdash;I made him a present of the African brooch
+you gave me in Paris. I hated to take so many favours of him,
+and give nothing in return; so I thought, as I was on my way
+to you and would soon see you, I might part with that brooch,
+which he admired. If Si Ma&iuml;eddine wore it in Algiers, and
+Mr. Knight saw&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Would he be likely to recognize it, do you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"He noticed it on the boat, and I told him you gave it to me."</p>
+
+<p>"If he would come all the way from Algiers on the strength
+of a brooch which might have been yours, and you <i>might</i> have
+given to Ma&iuml;eddine, then he's a man who knows what he wants,
+and deserves to get it," Saidee said. "If he <i>could</i> help us!
+I should feel rewarded for telling Honor&eacute; I wouldn't go with
+him; because some day I may be free, and then perhaps I
+shall be glad I waited&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You will be glad. Whatever happens, you'll be glad,"
+Victoria insisted.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe. But now&mdash;what are we to do? We can see him,
+and you can recognize him with the field-glass, but unless he has
+a glass too, he can't see who you are&mdash;he can't see at all,
+because by the time he rides near enough, the ground dips
+down so that even our heads will be hidden from him by the
+wall round the roof. And he'll be hidden from us, too. If he
+asks for you, he'll be answered only by stares of surprise.
+Cassim will pretend not to know what he's talking about.
+And presently he'll have to go away without finding out anything."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He'll come back," said Victoria, firmly. But her eyes
+were not as bright with the certainty of happiness as they had
+been.</p>
+
+<p>"What if he does? Or it may be that he'll try to come back,
+and an accident will happen to him. I hate to frighten you.
+But Arabs are jealous&mdash;and Ma&iuml;eddine's a true Arab. He
+looks upon you almost as his wife now. In a week or two you
+will be, unless&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Unless&mdash;<i>unless</i>!" echoed Victoria. "Don't lose
+hope, Saidee, for I shan't. Let's think of something to do.
+He's near enough now, maybe, to notice if we wave our handkerchiefs."</p>
+
+<p>"Many women on roofs in Africa wave to men who will
+never see their faces. He won't know who waves."</p>
+
+<p>"He will <i>feel</i>. Besides, he's searching for me. At this very
+minute, perhaps, he's thinking of the golden silence I talked
+about, and looking up to the white roofs."</p>
+
+<p>Instantly they began to wave their handkerchiefs of embroidered
+silk, such as Arab ladies use. But there came no answering
+signal. Evidently, if the rider were looking at a white roof,
+he had chosen one which was not theirs. And soon he would
+be descending the slope of the Zaou&iuml;a hill. After that they
+would lose sight of each other, more and more surely, the closer
+he came to the gates.</p>
+
+<p>"If only you had something to throw him!" Saidee sighed.
+"What a pity you gave the brooch to Ma&iuml;eddine. He might
+have recognized that."</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't a pity if he traced me by it," said Victoria. "But
+wait. I'll think of something."</p>
+
+<p>"He's riding down the dip. In a minute it will be too late,"
+Saidee warned her.</p>
+
+<p>The girl lifted over her head the long string of amber beads
+she had bought in the curiosity shop of Jeanne Soubise. Wrapping
+it in her handkerchief, she began to tie the silken ends together.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Stephen was so close to the Zaou&iuml;a now that they could no
+longer see him.</p>
+
+<p>"Throw&mdash;throw! He'll be at the gates."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria threw the small but heavy parcel over the wall which
+hid the dwellers on the roof.</p>
+
+<p>Where it fell, they could not see, and no sound came up
+from the sand-dune far below. Some beggar or servant of the
+Zaou&iuml;a might have found and snatched the packet, for all that
+they could tell.</p>
+
+<p>For a time which seemed long, they waited, hoping that something
+would happen. They did not speak at all. Each heard
+her own heart beating, and imagined that she could hear the
+heart of the other.</p>
+
+<p>At last there were steps on the stairs which led from Saidee's
+rooms to the roof. Noura came up. "O twin stars, forgive
+me for darkening the brightness of thy sky," she said, "but I
+have here a letter, given to me to put into the hands of Lella
+Sa&iuml;da."</p>
+
+<p>She held out a folded bit of paper, that had no envelope.</p>
+
+<p>Saidee, pale and large-eyed, took it in silence. She read,
+and then handed the paper to Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>A few lines were scrawled on it in English, in a very foreign
+handwriting. The language, known to none in this house except
+the marabout, Ma&iuml;eddine, Saidee and Victoria, was as
+safe as a cypher, therefore no envelope had been needed.</p>
+
+<p>"Descend into thy garden immediately, and bring with thee
+thy sister," the letter said. And it was signed "Thy husband,
+Mohammed."</p>
+
+<p>"What can it mean?" asked Victoria, giving back the paper
+to Saidee.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. But we shall soon see&mdash;for we must obey.
+If we didn't go down of our own accord, we'd soon be forced
+to go."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps Cassim will let me talk to Mr. Knight," said the
+girl.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He is more likely to throw you to his lion, in the court,"
+Saidee answered, with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>They went down into the garden, and remained there alone.
+Nothing happened except that, after a while, they heard a
+noise of pounding. It seemed to come from above, in Saidee's
+rooms.</p>
+
+<p>Listening intently, her eyes flashed, and a bright colour rushed
+to her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Now I know why we were told to come into the garden!"
+she exclaimed, her voice quivering with anger. "They're nailing
+up the door of my room that leads to the roof!"</p>
+
+<p>"Saidee!" To Victoria the thing seemed too monstrous to
+believe.</p>
+
+<p>"Cassim threatened to do it once before&mdash;a long time ago&mdash;but
+he didn't. Now he has. That's his answer to your Mr.
+Knight."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you're wrong. How could any one have got into
+your rooms without our seeing them pass through the garden?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've always thought there was a sliding door at the back of
+one of my wall cupboards. There generally is one leading
+into the harem rooms in old houses like this. Thank goodness
+I've hidden my diaries in a new place lately!"</p>
+
+<p>"Let's go up and make sure," whispered Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>Still the pounding went on.</p>
+
+<p>"They'll have locked us out."</p>
+
+<p>"We can try."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria went ahead, running quickly up the steep, narrow
+flight of steps that led to the upper rooms which she and Saidee
+shared. Saidee had been right. The door of the outer room
+was locked. Standing at the top of the stairs, the pounding
+sounded much louder than before.</p>
+
+<p>Saidee laughed faintly and bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"They're determined to make a good job of it," she said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XLIV" id="XLIV"></a>XLIV</h2>
+
+
+<p>Stephen rode back with his Arab companion, to the
+desert city where Nevill waited. He had gone to
+the Zaou&iuml;a alone with the guide, because Nevill
+had thought it well, in case of emergencies, that
+he should be able to say: "I have a friend in Oued Tolga who
+knows where I am, and is expecting me." Now he was coming
+away, thwarted for the moment, but far from hopeless.</p>
+
+<p>It is a four hours' ride among the dunes, between the Zaou&iuml;a
+and the town, for the sand is heavy and the distance is about
+seventeen miles. The red wine of sunset was drained from
+the cups of the sand-hollows, and the shadows were cool when
+Stephen saw the minaret of the town mosque and the crown of
+an old watch-tower, pointing up like a thumb and finger of a
+buried hand. Soon after, he passed through the belt of black
+tents which at all seasons encircles Oued Tolga as a girdle
+encircles the waist of an Ouled Na&iuml;l, and so he rode into the
+strange city. The houses were crowded together, two with one
+wall between, like Siamese twins, and they had the pale yellow-brown
+colour of honeycomb, in the evening light. The roughness
+of the old, old bricks, made of baked sand, gave an effect
+of many little cells; so that the honeycomb effect was intensified;
+and the sand which flowed in small rippling waves round
+the city, and through streets narrow and broad, was of the same
+honey-yellow as the houses, except that it glittered with gypsum
+under the kindling stars. Among the bubbly domes, and low
+square towers, vague in the dimming light, bunches of palms
+in hidden gardens nodded over crumbling walls, like dark
+plumes on the crowns of the dancing-women.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In the market-place was the little hotel, newly built; the only
+French thing in Oued Tolga, except the military barracks, the
+Bureau Arabe, and a gurgling artesian well which a French
+officer had lately completed. But before Stephen could reach
+the market-place and the hotel, he had to pass through the
+quarter of the dancing-girls.</p>
+
+<p>It was a narrow street, which had low houses on either side,
+with a balcony for every mean window. Dark women leaned
+their elbows on the palm-wood railings, and looked down,
+smoking cigarettes, and calling across to each other. Other
+girls sat in lighted doorways below, each with a candle guttering
+on a steep step of her bare staircase; and in the street walked
+silent men with black or brown faces, whose white burnouses
+flowed round their tall figures like blowing clouds. Among
+them were a few soldiers, whose uniforms glowed red in the
+twilight, like the cigarette ends pulsing between the painted
+lips of the Ouled Na&iuml;ls. All that quarter reeked with the
+sweet, wicked smell of the East; and in the Moorish caf&eacute; at
+the far end, the dancing-music had begun to throb and whine,
+mingling cries of love and death, with the passion of both.
+But there was no dancing yet, for the audience was not large
+enough. The brilliant spiders crouched in their webs, awaiting
+more flies; for caravans were coming in across that desert sea
+which poured its yellow billows into the narrow street; and in
+the market-place, camel-drivers only just arrived were cooking
+their suppers. They would all come a little later into this
+quarter to drink many cups of coffee, and to spend their money
+on the dancers.</p>
+
+<p>As Stephen went by on horseback, the girls on the balconies
+and in the doorways looked at him steadily without smiling,
+but their eyes sparkled under their golden crowns, or scarlet
+headkerchiefs and glittering veils. Behind him and his guide,
+followed a procession of boys and old men, with donkeys
+loaded with dead palm-branches from the neighbouring oasis,
+and the dry fronds made a loud swishing sound; but the dancers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span>
+paid no attention, and appeared to look through the old men
+and children as if they did not exist.</p>
+
+<p>In the market-place were the tired camels, kneeling down,
+looking gloomily at their masters busy cooking supper on the
+sand. Negro sellers of fruit and fly-embroidered lumps of
+meat, or brilliant-coloured pottery, and cheap, bright stuffs,
+were rolling up their wares for the night, in red and purple
+rags or tattered matting. Beggars lingered, hoping for a
+stray dried date, or a coin before crawling off to secret dens;
+and two deformed dwarfs in enormous turbans and blue coats,
+claimed power as marabouts, chanting their own praises and
+the praises of Allah, in high, cracked voices.</p>
+
+<p>As Stephen rode to the hotel, and stopped in front of the
+arcade which shaded the ground floor, Nevill and another
+man sprang up from chairs pushed back against the white
+house-wall.</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, Legs, I'm glad to see you!" Nevill exclaimed,
+heartily, "What news?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing very great so far, I'm sorry to say. Much as we
+expected," Stephen answered. And as he spoke, he glanced
+at the stranger, as if surprised that Nevill should speak out
+before him. The man wore the smart uniform of the Chasseurs
+d'Afrique. He was quite young, not over thirty-four,
+and had a keen, brave face, as Stephen could see by the crude
+light of a lamp that was fixed in the wall. But the large grey
+eyes, somewhat pale in contrast with deep sunburn, were the
+eyes of a poet rather than those of a born soldier.</p>
+
+<p>"I must introduce you and Captain Sabine to each other,"
+Nevill went on, in French, as Stephen got off his horse and it
+was led away by the Arab. "He's staying at the hotel. He
+and I've been talking about the Zaou&iuml;a and&mdash;the marabout.
+The upshot of our conversation will astonish you. I feel sure,
+when you hear it, you will think we can talk freely about our
+business to Captain Sabine."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen said something polite and vague. He was interested,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span>
+of course, but would have preferred to tell his adventure to
+Nevill alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur Caird and I made acquaintance, and have been
+chatting all the afternoon," volunteered Sabine. "To begin
+with, we find we have many friends in common, in Algiers.
+Also he knows relations of mine, who have spoken of me to him,
+so it is almost as if we had known each other longer. He
+tells me that you and he are searching for a young lady who
+has disappeared. That you have followed here a man who
+must know where she is; that in the city, you lost track of the
+man but heard he had gone on to the Zaou&iuml;a; that this made
+you hope the young lady was there with her sister, whose husband
+might perhaps have some position under the marabout."</p>
+
+<p>"I told him these things, because I thought, as Captain
+Sabine's been sinking an artesian well near the Zaou&iuml;a, he
+might have seen Miss Ray, if she were there. No such luck.
+He hasn't seen her; however, he's given me a piece of information
+which makes it just about as sure she <i>is</i> there, as if he had.
+You shall have it from him. But first let me ask you one
+question. Did you get any news of her?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I heard nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Does that mean you saw&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I'll tell you later. But anyhow, I went into the
+Zaou&iuml;a, almost certain she was there, and that she'd seen me
+coming. That was a good start, because of course I'd had very
+little to go on. There was only a vague hope. I asked for the
+marabout, and they made me send a visiting-card&mdash;quaint
+in the desert. Then they kept me moving about a while, and
+insisted on showing me the mosque. At last they took me to
+a hideous reception room, with a lot of good and vile things in
+it, mixed up together. The marabout came in, wearing the
+black mask we'd heard about&mdash;a fellow with a splendid bearing,
+and fine eyes that looked at me very hard over the mask.
+They were never off my face. We complimented each other
+in French. Then I said I was looking for a Miss Ray, an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span>
+American girl who had disappeared from Algiers, and had been
+traced to the Zaou&iuml;a, where I had reason to believe she was
+staying with a relative from her own country, a lady married
+to some member of his staff. I couldn't give him the best
+reason I had for being sure she <i>was</i> there, as you'll see when I
+tell you what it was. But he said gravely that no European
+lady was married to any one in the Zaou&iuml;a; that no American
+or any other foreign person, male or female, was there. In
+the guest-house were one or two Arab ladies, he admitted, who
+had come to be cured of maladies by virtue of his power; but
+no one else. His denial showed me that he was in the plot to
+hide Miss Ray. That was one thing I wanted to know; so
+I saw that the best thing for her, would be for me to pretend
+to be satisfied. If it hadn't been for what happened before
+I got to the Zaou&iuml;a gates, I should almost have been taken in
+by him, perhaps, he had such an air of noble, impeccable
+sincerity. But just as I dipped down into a kind of hollow,
+on the Zaou&iuml;a side of the river, something was thrown from
+somewhere. Unluckily I couldn't be sure where. I'd been
+looking up at the roofs behind the walls, but I must have had
+my eyes on the wrong one, if this thing fell from a roof, as I
+believe it did. It was a little bundle, done up in a handkerchief,
+and I saw it only as it touched the ground, about a dozen
+yards in front. Then I hurried on, you may be sure, hoping
+it was meant for me, to grab the thing before any one else could
+appear and lay hands on it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Luckily I'd outridden the guide. I made him think afterward
+that I'd jumped off my horse to pick up the whip, which
+I dropped for a blind, in case of spying eyes. Tied up in the
+silk handkerchief&mdash;an Arab-looking handkerchief&mdash;was a
+string of amber beads. Do you remember the beads Miss Ray
+bought of Miss Soubise, and wore to your house?"</p>
+
+<p>"I remember she had a handsome string of old prayer-beads."</p>
+
+<p>"Is this the one?" Stephen took the handkerchief and its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span>
+contents from his pocket, and Nevill examined the large,
+round lumps of gleaming amber, which were somewhat irregular
+in shape. Captain Sabine looked on with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't be sure," Nevill said reluctantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I can," Stephen answered with confidence. "She
+showed it to me, in your garden. I remember a fly in the
+biggest bead, which was clear, with a brown spot, and a clouded
+bead on either side of it. I had the necklace in my hand.
+Besides, even if I weren't as certain as I am, who would throw
+a string of amber beads at my feet, if it weren't some one
+trying to attract my attention, in the only way possible? It
+was as much as to say, 'I know you've come looking for me.
+If you're told I'm not here, it's false.' I was a good long way
+from the gates; but much nearer to a lot of white roofs grouped
+behind the high wall of the Zaou&iuml;a, than I would have been
+in riding on, closer to the gates. Unfortunately there are high
+parapets to screen any one standing on the roofs. And anyhow,
+by the time the beads were thrown, I was too low down
+in the hollow to see even a waved hand or handkerchief. Still,
+with that necklace in my pocket, I knew pretty well what I
+was about, in talking with the marabout."</p>
+
+<p>"You thought you did," said Nevill. "But you'd have
+known a lot more if only you could have made Captain Sabine's
+acquaintance before you started."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen looked questioningly at the Frenchman.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it would be better to speak in English," suggested
+Sabine. "I have not much, but I get on. And the kitchen
+windows are not far away. Our good landlord and his wife do
+not cook with their ears. I was telling your friend that the
+marabout himself has a European wife&mdash;who is said to be a
+great beauty. These things get out. I have heard that she
+has red hair and skin as white as cream. That is also the
+description which Mr. Caird gave me of the young lady seeking
+a sister. It makes one put two and two together, does it not?"</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!" exclaimed Stephen. He and Nevill looked at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span>
+each other, but Nevill raised his eyebrows slightly. He had
+not thought it best, at present, to give the mystery of Cassim
+ben Halim, as he now deciphered it, into a French officer's
+keeping. It was a secret in which France would be deeply,
+perhaps inconveniently, interested. A little later, the interference
+of the French might be welcome, but it would be just
+as well not to bring it in prematurely, or separately from their
+own personal interests. "I wish to heaven," Stephen went on,
+"I'd known this when I was talking to the fellow! And yet&mdash;I'm
+not sure it would have made much difference. We were
+deadly polite to each other, but I hinted in a veiled way that,
+if he were concealing any secret from me, the French authorities
+might have something to say to him. I was obsequious about
+the great power of Islam in general, and his in particular, but I
+suggested that France was the upper dog just now. Maybe his
+guilty conscience made him think I knew more than I did. I
+hope he expects to have the whole power of France down on
+him, as well as the United States, which I waved over his head,
+Miss Ray being an American. Of course I remembered your
+advice, Nevill, and was tactful&mdash;for her sake, for fear anything
+should be visited on her. I didn't say I thought he was hiding
+her in the Zaou&iuml;a. I put it as if I wanted his help in finding
+her. But naturally he expects me back again; and we must
+make our plans to storm the fortress and reduce it to subjection.
+There isn't an hour to waste, either, since this necklace,
+and Captain Sabine's knowledge, have proved to us
+that she's there. Too bad we didn't know it earlier, as we
+might have done something decisive in the beginning. But
+now we do know, with Captain Sabine's good will and introduction
+we may get the military element here to lend a hand in
+the negotiations. A European girl can't be shut up with
+impunity, I should think, even in this part of the world. And
+the marabout has every reason not to get in the bad books of
+the French."</p>
+
+<p>"He is in their very best books at present," said Sabine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span>
+"He is thought much of. The peace of the southern desert
+is largely in his hands. My country would not be easily persuaded
+to offend him. It might be said in his defence that he
+is not compelled to tell strangers if he has a European wife, and
+her sister arrives to pay her a visit. Arab ideas are peculiar;
+and we have to respect them."</p>
+
+<p>"I think my friend and I must talk the whole matter over,"
+said Stephen, "and then, perhaps, we can make up our minds to
+a plan of action we couldn't have taken if it weren't for what
+you've told us&mdash;about the marabout and his European wife."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad if I have helped," Sabine answered. "And"&mdash;rather
+wistfully&mdash;"I should like to help further."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XLV" id="XLV"></a>XLV</h2>
+
+
+<p>"Oh Lella Sa&iuml;da, there is a message, of which I
+hardly dare to speak," whispered Noura to her mistress,
+when she brought supper for the two sisters, the
+night when the way to the roof had been closed up.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me what it is, and do not be foolish," Saidee said
+sharply. Her nerves were keyed to the breaking point, and
+she had no patience left. It was almost a pleasure to visit
+her misery upon some one else. She hated everybody and
+everything, because all hope was gone now. The door to the
+roof was nailed shut; and she and Victoria were buried alive.</p>
+
+<p>"But one sends the message who must not be named; and
+it is not even for thee, lady. It is for the Little Rose, thy sister."</p>
+
+<p>"If thou dost not speak out instantly, I will strike thee!"
+Saidee exclaimed, on the verge of hysterical tears.</p>
+
+<p>"And if I speak, still thou wilt strike! Be this upon thine
+own head, my mistress. The Ouled Na&iuml;l has dared send her
+woman, saying that if the Little Rose will visit her house after
+supper, it will be for the good of all concerned, since she has
+a thing to tell of great importance. At first I would have
+refused even to take the message, but her woman, Hadda, is
+my cousin, and she feared to go back without some answer.
+The Ouled Na&iuml;l is a demon when in a temper, and she would
+thrust pins into Hadda's arms and thighs."</p>
+
+<p>Saidee blushed with anger, disgustful words tingling on
+her tongue; but she remained silent, her lips parted.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I won't go," said Victoria, shocked. The very
+existence of Miluda was to her a dreadful mystery upon which
+she could not bear to let her mind dwell.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm not sure," Saidee murmured. "Let me think. This
+means something very curious, I can't think what. But I
+should like to know. It can't make things worse for us if you
+accept her invitation. It may make them better. Will you
+go and see what the creature wants?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Saidee, how can I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I ask it," Saidee answered, the girl's opposition
+deciding her doubts. "She can't eat you."</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't that I'm afraid&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know! It's because of your loyalty to me. But if I
+send you, Babe, you needn't mind. It will be for my sake."</p>
+
+<p>"Hadda is waiting for an answer," Noura hinted.</p>
+
+<p>"My sister will go. Is the woman ready to take her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will find out, lady."</p>
+
+<p>In a moment the negress came back. "Hadda will lead the
+Little Rose to her mistress. She is glad that it is to be now,
+and not later."</p>
+
+<p>"Be very careful what you say, and forget nothing that <i>she</i>
+says," was Saidee's last advice. And it sounded very Eastern
+to Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>She hated her errand, but undertook it without further
+protest, since it was for Saidee's sake.</p>
+
+<p>Hadda was old and ugly. She and Noura had been born
+in the quarter of the freed Negroes, in the village across the
+river, and knew nothing of any world beyond; yet all the
+wiliness and wisdom of female things, since Eve&mdash;woman,
+cat and snake&mdash;glittered under their slanting eyelids.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria had not been out of her sister's rooms and garden,
+except to visit M'Barka in the women's guest-house, since
+the night when Ma&iuml;eddine brought her to the Zaou&iuml;a; and
+when she had time to think of her bodily needs, she realized
+that she longed desperately for exercise. Physically it was a
+relief to walk even the short distance between Saidee's house
+and Miluda's; but her cheeks tingled with some emotion
+she could hardly understand when she saw that the Ouled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span>
+Na&iuml;l's garden-court was larger and more beautiful than
+Saidee's.</p>
+
+<p>Miluda, however, was not waiting for her in the garden.
+The girl was escorted upstairs, perhaps to show her how
+much more important was the favourite wife of the marabout
+than a mere Roumia, an unmarried maiden.</p>
+
+<p>A meal had been cleared away, in a room larger and better
+furnished than Saidee's and on the floor stood a large copper
+incense-burner, a thin blue smoke filtering through the perforations,
+clouding the atmosphere and loading it with heavy
+perfume. Behind the mist Victoria saw a divan, spread with
+trailing folds of purple velvet, stamped with gold; and something
+lay curled up on a huge tiger-skin, flung over pillows.</p>
+
+<p>As the blue incense wreaths floated aside the curled thing
+on the tiger skin moved, and the light from a copper lamp
+like Saidee's, streamed through huge coloured lumps of glass,
+into a pair of brilliant eyes. A delicate brown hand, ringed
+on each finger, waved away the smoke of a cigarette it held,
+and Victoria saw a small face, which was like the face of a
+perfectly beautiful doll. Never had she imagined anything
+so utterly pagan; yet the creature was childlike, even innocent
+in its expression, as a baby tigress might be innocent.</p>
+
+<p>Having sat up, the little heathen goddess squatted in her
+shrine, only bestirring herself to show the Roumia how beautiful
+she was, and what wonderful jewellery she had. She
+thought, that without doubt, the girl would run back jealously
+to the sister (whom Miluda despised) to pour out floods of
+description. She herself had heard much of Lella Sa&iuml;da,
+and supposed that unfortunate woman had as eagerly collected
+information about her; but it was especially piquant
+that further details of enviable magnificence should be carried
+back by the forlorn wife's sister.</p>
+
+<p>The Ouled Na&iuml;l tinkled at the slightest movement, even
+with the heaving of her bosom, as she breathed, making music
+with many necklaces, and long earrings that clinked against<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span>
+them. Dozens of old silver cases, tubes, and little jewelled
+boxes containing holy relics; hairs of Mohammed's beard;
+a bit of web spun by the sacred spider which saved his life;
+moles' feet blessed by marabouts, and texts from the Koran;
+all these hung over Miluda's breast, on chains of turquoise
+and amber beads. They rattled metallically, and her bracelets
+and anklets tinkled. Some luscious perfume hung about
+her, intoxicatingly sweet. A thick, braided clump of hair was
+looped on each side of the small face painted white as ivory,
+and her eyes, under lashes half an inch long, were bright and
+unhuman as those of an untamed gazelle.</p>
+
+<p>"Wilt thou sit down?" she asked, waving the hand with
+the cigarette towards a French chair, upholstered in red brocade.
+"The Sidi gave me that seat because I asked for it.
+He gives me all I ask for."</p>
+
+<p>"I will stand," answered Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it is true, then, thou speakest Arab! I had heard so.
+I have heard much of thee and of thy youth and beauty. I
+see that my women did not lie. But perhaps thou art not as
+young as I am, though I have been a wife for a year, and have
+borne a beautiful babe. I am not yet sixteen."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria did not answer, and the Ouled Na&iuml;l gazed at her
+unwinkingly, as a child gazes.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast travelled much, even more than the marabout
+himself, hast thou not?" she inquired, graciously. "I have
+heard that thou hast been to England. Are there many
+Arab villages there, and is it true that the King was
+deposed when the Sultan, the head of our faith, lost his
+throne?"</p>
+
+<p>"There are no Arab villages, and the King still reigns,"
+said Victoria. "But I think thou didst not send for me to
+ask these questions?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art right. Yet there is no harm in asking them.
+I sent for thee, for three reasons. One is, that I wished to see
+thee, to know if indeed thou wert as beautiful as I; another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span>
+is, that I had a thing to give thee, and before I tell thee my
+third reason, thou shalt have the gift."</p>
+
+<p>She fumbled in the tawny folds of the tiger-skin on which
+she lay, and presently held out a bracelet, made of
+flexible squares of gold, like scales, jewelled with different
+stones.</p>
+
+<p>"It is thy wedding present from me," she said. "I wish
+to give it, because it is not long since I myself was married,
+and because we are both young. Besides, Si Ma&iuml;eddine is a
+good friend of the marabout. I have heard that he is brave
+and handsome, all that a young girl can most desire in a husband."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not going to marry Si Ma&iuml;eddine," said Victoria.
+"I thank thee; but thou must keep thy gift for his bride when
+he finds one."</p>
+
+<p>"He has found her in thee. The marriage will be a week
+from to-morrow, if Allah wills, and he will take thee away to
+his home. The marabout himself has told me this, though
+he does not know that I have sent for thee, and that thou art
+with me now."</p>
+
+<p>"Allah does not will," said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps not, since thy bridegroom-to-be lies ill with marsh
+fever, so Hadda has told me. He came back from Algiers
+with the sickness heavy upon him, caught in the saltpetre
+marshes that stretch between Biskra and Touggourt. I
+know those marshes, for I was in Biskra with my mother when
+she danced there; but she was careful, and we did not lie at
+night in the dangerous regions where the great mosquitoes
+are. Men are never careful, though they do not like to be ill,
+and thy bridegroom is fretting. But he will be better in a few
+days if he takes the draughts which the marabout has blessed
+for him; and if the wedding is not in a week, it will be a few
+days later. It is in Allah's hands."</p>
+
+<p>"I tell thee, it will be never," Victoria persisted. "And
+I believe thou but sayest these things to torture me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Dost thou not love Si Ma&iuml;eddine?" Miluda asked innocently.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it must be that thou lovest some other man. Dost
+thou, Roumia?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast no right to ask such questions."</p>
+
+<p>"Be not angry, Roumia, for we are coming now to the great
+reason why I sent for thee. It is to help thee. I wish to know
+whether there is a man of thine own people thou preferest to
+Si Ma&iuml;eddine."</p>
+
+<p>"Why shouldst thou wish to help me? Thou hast never
+seen me till now."</p>
+
+<p>"I will speak the truth with thee," said Miluda, "because
+thy face pleases me, though I prefer my own. Thine is pure and
+good, like the face of the white angel that is ever at our right
+hand; and even if I should speak falsely, I think thou wouldst
+not be deceived. Before I saw thee, I did not care whether
+thou wert happy or sad. It was nothing to me; but I saw a
+way of getting thee and thy sister out of my husband's house,
+and for a long time I have wished thy sister gone. Not that
+I am jealous of her. I have not seen her face, but I know
+she is already old, and if she were not friendless in our land, the
+Sidi would have put her away at the time of my marriage to
+him, since long ago he has ceased to care whether she lives or
+dies. But his heart is great, and he has kept her under his
+roof for kindness' sake, though she has given him no child, and
+is no longer a wife to him. I alone fill his life."</p>
+
+<p>She paused, hoping perhaps that Victoria would answer;
+but the girl was silent, biting her lip, her eyes cast down. So
+Miluda talked on, more quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a wise woman in the city, who brings me perfumes
+and silks which have come to Oued Tolga by caravan from
+Tunis. She has told me that thy sister has ill-wished me, and
+that I shall never have a boy&mdash;a real child&mdash;while Lella
+Sa&iuml;da breathes the same air with me. That is the reason I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span>
+want her to be gone. I will not help thee to go, unless thou
+takest her with thee."</p>
+
+<p>"I will never, never leave this place unless we go together,"
+Victoria answered, deeply interested and excited now.</p>
+
+<p>"That is well. And if she loves thee also, she would not
+go alone; so my wish is to do what I can for both."</p>
+
+<p>"What canst thou do?" the girl asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell thee. But first there is something to make
+clear. I was on my roof to-day, when a young Roumi rode
+up to the Zaou&iuml;a on the road from Oued Tolga. He looked
+towards the roofs, and I wondered. From mine, I cannot see
+much of thy sister's roof, but I watched, and I saw an arm
+outstretched, to throw a packet. Then I said to myself that
+he had come for thee. And later I was sure, because my
+women told me that while he talked with the marabout, the
+door which leads to thy sister's roof was nailed up hastily, by
+command of the master. Some order must have gone from
+him, unknown to the Roumi, while the two men were together.
+I could coax nothing of the story from the Sidi when he came
+to me, but he was vexed, and his brows drew together over
+eyes which for the first time did not seem to look at me with
+pleasure."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast guessed aright," Victoria admitted, thankful
+that Miluda's suspicions concerned her affairs only, and not
+Saidee's. "The man who came here was my friend. I
+care for him more than for any one in the world, except my
+sister; and if I cannot marry him, I will die rather than marry
+Si Ma&iuml;eddine or any other."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, unless I help thee, thou wilt have to die, for nothing
+which thou alone, or thy sister can do, will open the gates for
+thee to go out, except as Si Ma&iuml;eddine's wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Then help me," said Victoria, boldly, "and thou wilt be
+rid of us both forever."</p>
+
+<p>"It is with our wits we must work, not with our hands,"
+replied the Ouled Na&iuml;l. "The power of the marabout is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span>
+great. He has many men to serve him, and the gates are strong,
+while women are very, very weak. Yet I have seen into the
+master's heart, and I can give thee a key which will unlock
+the gates. Only it had better be done soon, for when Si Ma&iuml;eddine
+is well, he will fight for thee; and if thou goest forth free,
+he will follow, and take thee in the dunes."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria shivered, for the picture was vivid before her eyes,
+as Miluda painted it. "Give me the key," she said in a low
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"The key of the master's heart is his son," the other answered,
+in a tone that kept down anger and humiliation. "Even
+me he would sacrifice to his boy. I know it well, and I hate the
+child. I pray for one of my own, for because the Sidi loves me,
+and did not love the boy's mother, he would care ten thousand
+times more for a child of mine. The wise woman says so, and I
+believe it. When thy sister is gone, I shall have a boy, and nothing
+left to wish for on earth. Send a message to thy lover,
+saying that the marabout's only son is at school in Oued
+Tolga, the city. Tell him to steal the child and hide it, making
+a bargain with the marabout that he shall have it safely back,
+if he will let thee and thy sister go; otherwise he shall never
+see it again."</p>
+
+<p>"That would be a cruel thing to do, and my sister could not
+consent," said Victoria, "even if we were able to send a message."</p>
+
+<p>"Hadda would send the message. A friend from the village
+is coming to see her, and the master has no suspicion of me at
+present, as he has of thee. We could send a letter, and Hadda
+would manage everything. But there is not much time, for
+now while my husband is with Si Ma&iuml;eddine, treating him
+for his fever, is our only chance, to-night. We have perhaps
+an hour in which to decide and arrange everything. After that,
+his coming may be announced to me. And no harm would
+happen to the child. The master would suffer in his mind
+for a short time, till he decided to make terms, that is all.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span>
+As for me, have no fear of my betraying thee. Thou
+needst but revenge thyself by letting the master know how
+I plotted for the stealing of his boy, for him to put me out
+of his heart and house forever. Then I should have to kill
+myself with a knife, or with poison; and I am young and
+happy, and do not desire to die yet. Go now, and tell thy
+sister what I have said. Let her answer for thee, for she
+knows this land and the people of it, and she is wiser than thou."</p>
+
+<p>Without another word or look at the beautiful pagan face,
+Victoria went out of the room, and found Hadda waiting to
+hurry her away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XLVI" id="XLVI"></a>XLVI</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was after one o'clock when Stephen and Nevill
+bade each other good night, after a stroll out of the
+town into the desert. They had built up plans and
+torn them down again, and no satisfactory decision
+had been reached, for both feared that, if they attempted to
+threaten the marabout with their knowledge of his past, he
+would defy them to do their worst. Without Saidee and
+Victoria, they could bring forward no definite and visible proof
+that the great marabout, Sidi El Hadj Mohammed Abd el
+Kadr, and the disgraced Captain Cassim ben Halim were one.
+And the supreme difficulty was to produce Saidee and Victoria
+as witnesses. It was not even certain, if the marabout were
+threatened and thought himself in danger, that he might
+not cause the sisters to disappear. That thought prevented
+the two men from coming easily to any decision. Sabine had
+not told them that he knew Saidee, or that he had actually
+heard of the girl's arrival in the Zaou&iuml;a. He longed to tell and
+join with them in their quest; but it would have seemed a
+disloyalty to the woman he loved. It needed a still greater incentive
+to make him speak out; while as for the Englishmen,
+though they would gladly have taken his advice, they hesitated
+to give away the secret of Saidee Ray's husband to a representative
+of Ben Halim's stern judge, France.</p>
+
+<p>Various plans for action had been discussed, yet Stephen
+and Nevill both felt that all were subject to modification.
+Each had the hope that the silent hours would bring inspiration,
+and so they parted at last. But Stephen had not been in
+his room ten minutes when there came a gentle tap at his door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span>
+He thought that it must be Nevill, returning to announce the
+birth of a new idea; but in the dark corridor stood a shadowy
+Arab, he who did most of the work in the hotel outside the
+kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>"A person has come with a letter for Monsieur," the man
+mumbled in bad French, his voice so sleepy as to be almost
+inarticulate. "He would not give it to me, the foolish one.
+He insists on putting it into the hand of Monsieur. No doubt
+it is a pourboire he wants. He has followed me to the head of
+the stairs, and he has no French."</p>
+
+<p>"Where does he come from?" asked Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"He will not say. But he is a Negro whom I have never
+seen in the city."</p>
+
+<p>"Call him," Stephen said. And in a moment a thin young
+Negro, dusted all over with sand, came into the square of light
+made by the open door. His legs were bare, and over his body
+he appeared to have no other garment but a ragged, striped
+gandourah. In a purple-black hand he held a folded piece of
+paper, and Stephen's heart jumped at sight of his own name
+written in a clear handwriting. It was not unlike Victoria's
+but it was not hers.</p>
+
+<p>"The man says he cannot take a letter back," explained the
+Arab servant. "But if Monsieur will choose a word to answer,
+he will repeat it over and over until he has it by heart. Then
+he will pass it on in the same way."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen was reading his letter and scarcely heard. It
+was Victoria's sister who wrote. She signed herself at the
+bottom of the bit of paper&mdash;a leaf torn from a copy book&mdash;"Saidee
+Ray," as though she had never been married. She
+had evidently written in great haste, but the thing she proposed
+was clearly set forth, as if in desperation. Victoria did not
+approve, she said, and hoped some other plan might be found;
+but in Saidee's opinion there was no other plan which offered
+any real chance of success. In their situation, they could not
+afford to stick at trifles, and neither could Mr. Knight, if he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span>
+wished to save Victoria from being married against her will to
+an Arab. There was no time to lose if anything were to be
+done; and if Mr. Knight were willing to take the way suggested,
+would he say the word "yes," very distinctly, to the messenger,
+as it would not be safe to try and smuggle a letter into the
+Zaou&iuml;a.</p>
+
+<p>It was a strange, even a detestable plot, which Saidee suggested;
+yet when Stephen had turned it over in his mind for a
+moment he said the word "yes" with the utmost distinctness.
+The sand-covered Negro imitated him several times, and having
+achieved success, was given more money than he had ever seen
+in his life. He would not tell the Arab, who escorted him
+downstairs again, whence he had come, but it was a long distance
+and he had walked. He must return on foot, and if
+he were to be back by early morning, he ought to get off at
+once. Stephen made no effort to keep him, though he would
+have liked Saidee's messenger to be seen by Caird.</p>
+
+<p>Nevill had not begun to undress, when Stephen knocked at
+his door. He was about to begin one of his occasional letters
+to Josette, with his writing materials arranged abjectly round
+one tallow candle, on a washhand stand.</p>
+
+<p>"That beast of a Cassim! He's going to try and marry the
+poor child off to his friend Ma&iuml;eddine!" Nevill growled, reading
+the letter. "Stick at trifles indeed! I should think not.
+This is Providential&mdash;just when we couldn't quite make up
+our minds what to do next."</p>
+
+<p>"You're not complimentary to Providence," said Stephen.
+"Seems to me a horrid sort of thing to do, though I'm not prepared
+to say I won't do it. <i>She</i> doesn't approve, her sister
+says, you see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Who knows the man better, his wife or the girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"That goes without saying. Well, I'm swallowing my
+scruples as fast as I can get them down, though they're a lump
+in my throat. However, we wouldn't hurt the little chap, and
+if the father adores him, as she says, we'd have Ben Halim<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span>
+pretty well under our thumbs, to squeeze him as we chose.
+Knowing his secret as we do, he wouldn't dare apply to the
+French for help, for fear we'd give him away. We must make
+it clear that we well know who he is, and that if he squeals, the
+fat's in the fire!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's the right spirit. We'll make him shake in his
+boots for fear we give not only the secret, but the boy, over
+to the tender mercies of the authorities. For it's perfectly
+true that if the Government knew what a trick had been played
+on them, they'd oust the false marabout in favour of the rightful
+man, whoever he may be, clap the usurper into prison, and make
+the child a kind of&mdash;er&mdash;ward in chancery, or whatever the
+equivalent is in France. Oh, I can tell you, my boy, this idea
+is the inspiration of a genius! The man will see we're making
+no idle threat, that we can't carry out. He'll have to hand
+over the ladies, or he'll spend some of his best years in prison,
+and never see his beloved boy again."</p>
+
+<p>"First we've got to catch our hare. But there Sabine could
+help us, if we called him in."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And we couldn't do better than have him with us,
+I think, Legs, now we've come to this turn in the road."</p>
+
+<p>"I agree so far. Still, let's keep Ben Halim's secret to
+ourselves. We must have it to play with. I believe Sabine's
+a man to trust; but he's a French officer; and a plot of that sort
+he might feel it his duty to make known."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. We'll keep back that part of the business.
+It isn't necessary to give it away. But otherwise Sabine's
+the man for us. He's a romantic sort of chap, not unlike me
+in that; it's what appealed to me in him the minute we began
+to draw each other out. He'll snap at an adventure to help
+a pretty girl even though he's never seen her; and he knows
+the marabout's boy and the guardian-uncle. He was talking
+to me about them this afternoon. Let's go and rout him
+out. I bet he'll have a plan to propose."</p>
+
+<p>"Rather cheek, to rouse him up in the middle of the night.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span>
+We might wait till morning, since I don't see that we can do
+anything useful before."</p>
+
+<p>"He only got in from seeing some friend in barracks, about
+one. He doesn't look like a sleepy-head. Besides, if I'm
+not mistaken, I smell his cigarettes. He's probably lying
+on his bed, reading a novel."</p>
+
+<p>But Sabine was reading something to him far more interesting
+than any novel written by the greatest genius of all ages;
+a collection of Saidee's letters, which he invariably read through,
+from first to last, every night before even trying to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>The chance to be in the game of rescue was new life to him.
+He grudged Saidee's handwriting to another man, even though
+he felt that, somehow, she had hoped that he would see it, and
+that he would work with the others. He laughed at the idea
+that the adventure would be more dangerous for him as a
+French officer, if anything leaked out, than for two travelling
+Englishmen.</p>
+
+<p>"I would give my soul to be in this!" he exclaimed, before
+he knew what he was saying, or what meaning might be read
+into his words. But both faces spoke surprise. He was
+abashed, yet eager. The impulse of his excitement led him
+on, and he began stammering out the story he had not meant to
+tell.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say the things you ought to know, without the things
+that no one ought to know," he explained in his halting English,
+plunging back now and then inadvertently into fluent
+French. "It is wrong not to confess that all the time I know
+that young lady is there&mdash;in the Zaou&iuml;a. But there is a reason
+I feel it not right to confess. Now it will be different because
+of this letter that has come. You must hear all and you can
+judge me."</p>
+
+<p>So the story was poured out: the romance of that wonderful
+day when, while he worked at the desert well in the hot sun, a
+lady went by, with her servants, to the Moorish baths. How
+her veil had fallen aside, and he had seen her face&mdash;oh, but the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span>
+face of a houri, an angel. Yet so sad&mdash;tragedy in the beautiful
+eyes. In all his life he had not seen such beauty or felt his
+heart so stirred. Through an attendant at the baths he had
+found out that the lovely lady was the wife of the marabout,
+a Roumia, said not to be happy. From that moment he would
+have sacrificed his hopes of heaven to set her free. He had
+written&mdash;he had laid his life at her feet. She had answered.
+He had written again. Then the sister had arrived. He had
+been told in a letter of her coming. At first he had thought it
+impossible to confide a secret concerning another&mdash;that other
+a woman&mdash;even to her sister's friends. But now there was
+no other way. They must all work together. Some day he
+hoped that the dear prisoner would be free to give herself to
+him as his wife. Till then, she was sacred, even in his thoughts.
+Even her sister could find no fault with his love. And would
+the new friends shake his hand wishing him joy in future.</p>
+
+<p>So all three shook hands with great heartiness; and perhaps
+Sabine would have become still more expansive had he not
+been brought up to credit Englishmen stolid fellows at best
+with a favourite motto: "Deeds, not words."</p>
+
+<p>As Sabine told his story, Stephen's brain had been busily
+weaving. He did not like the thing they had to do, but if it
+must be done, the only hope lay in doing it well and thoroughly.
+Sabine's acquaintance with the boy and his guardian would be
+a great help.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been thinking how we can best carry out this business,"
+he said, when the pact of friendship had been sealed by clasp
+of hands. "We can't afford to have any row or scandal. It
+must somehow be managed without noise, for the sake of&mdash;the
+ladies, most of all, and next, for the sake of Captain Sabine.
+As a Frenchman and an officer, it would certainly be a lot worse
+for him than for us, if we landed him in any mess with the
+authorities."</p>
+
+<p>"I care nothing for myself." Sabine broke in, hotly.</p>
+
+<p>"All the more reason for us to keep our heads cool if we can,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span>
+and look after you. We must get the boy to go away of his
+own accord."</p>
+
+<p>"That is more easy to propose than to do," said Sabine,
+with a shrug of the shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, an idea has come into my head. There may be something
+in it&mdash;if you can help us work it. We couldn't do it
+without you. Do you know the child and his uncle so well
+that it wouldn't seem queer to invite them to the hotel for a
+meal&mdash;say luncheon to-morrow, or rather to-day&mdash;for
+it's morning now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I could do that. And they would come. It would
+be an amusement for them. Life is dull here," Sabine eagerly
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Good. Does the child speak French?"</p>
+
+<p>"A little. He is learning in the school."</p>
+
+<p>"That's lucky, for I don't know a dozen words of Arab, and
+even my friend Caird can't be eloquent in it. Wings, do you
+think you could work up the boy to a wild desire for a tour
+in a motor-car?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would bet on myself to do that. I could make him a
+motor fiend, between the <i>hors d'&oelig;uvres</i> and fruit."</p>
+
+<p>"Our great stumbling block, then, is the uncle. I suppose
+he's a sort of watch-dog, who couldn't be persuaded to leave
+the boy alone a minute?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not sure of that," said Sabine. "It is true he is a
+watch-dog; but I could throw him a bone I think would tempt
+him to desert his post&mdash;if he had no suspicion of a trap.
+What you want, I begin to see, is to get him out of the way,
+so that Monsieur Caird could induce the little Mohammed to
+go away willingly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Eh bien!</i> It is as good as done. I see the way. Hassan
+ben Saad, the respectable uncle, has a secret weakness which I
+have found out. He has lost his head for the prettiest and
+youngest dancer in the quarter of the Ouled Na&iuml;ls. She is a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span>
+great favourite, Nedjma, and she will not look at him. He is
+too old and dry. Besides, he has no money except what the
+marabout gives him as guardian to the boy at school. Hassan
+sends Nedjma such presents as he can afford, and she laughs
+at them with the other girls, though she keeps them, of course.
+To please me, she will write a letter to Ben Saad, telling him
+that if he comes to her at once, without waiting a moment, he
+may find her heart soft for him. This letter shall be brought to
+our table, at the hotel, while Hassan finishes his <i>d&eacute;jeuner</i> with
+us. He will make a thousand apologies and tell a thousand lies,
+saying it is a call of business. Probably he will pretend that
+it concerns the marabout, of whom he boasts always as his
+relative. Then he will go, in a great hurry, leaving the child,
+because we will kindly invite him to do so; and he will promise
+to return soon for his nephew. But Nedjma will be so sweet
+that he will not return soon. He will be a long time away&mdash;hours.
+He will forget the boy, and everything but his hope
+that at last Nedjma will love him. Does that plan of mine fit
+in with yours, Monsieur?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly," said Knight. "What do you think, Wings?"</p>
+
+<p>"As you do. You're both geniuses. And I'll try to keep
+my end up by fascinating the child. He shall be mine, body
+and soul, by the end of lunch. When he finds that we're
+leaving Oued Tolga, instantly, and that he must be sent ignominiously
+home, he shall be ready to howl with grief. Then
+I'll ask him suddenly, how he'd like to go on a little trip, just
+far enough to meet my motor-car, and have a ride in it. He'll
+say yes, like a shot, if he's a normal boy. And if the uncle's
+away, it will be nobody's business even if they see the marabout's
+son having a ride behind me on my horse, as he might
+with his own father. Trust me to lure the imp on with us
+afterward, step by step, in a dream of happiness. I was always
+a born lurer&mdash;except when I wanted a thing or person
+for myself."</p>
+
+<p>"You say, lure him on with 'us'" Stephen cut in. "But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span>
+it will have to be you alone. I must stay at this end of the line,
+and when the time comes, give the marabout our ultimatum.
+The delay will be almost intolerable, but of course the only
+thing is to lie low until you're so far on the way to Touggourt
+with the child, that a rescue scheme would be no good.
+Touggourt's a bit on the outskirts of the marabout's zone of influence,
+let's hope. Besides, he wouldn't dare attack you
+there, in the shadow of the French barracks. It's his business
+to help keep peace in the desert, and knowing what we know
+of his past, I think with the child out of his reach he'll be
+pretty well at our mercy."</p>
+
+<p>"When Hassan ben Saad finds the boy gone, he will be very
+sick," said Sabine. "But I shall be polite and sympathetic,
+and will give him good advice. He is in deadly awe of the
+marabout, and I will say that, if the child's father hears
+what has happened, there will be no forgiveness&mdash;nothing
+but ruin. Waiting is the game to play, I will counsel Hassan.
+I shall remind him that, being Friday, no questions will be
+asked at school till Monday, and I shall raise his hopes that
+little Mohammed will be back soon after that, if not before.
+At worst, I will say, he can pretend the child is shut up in the
+house with a cough. I shall assure him that Monsieur Caird
+is a man of honour and great riches; that no harm can come
+to little Mohammed in his care. I will explain how the boy
+pleaded to go, and make Hassan happy with the expectation
+that in a few days Monsieur Caird is coming back to fetch
+his friend; that certainly Mohammed will be with him, safe
+and sound; and that, if he would not lose his position, he
+must say nothing of what has happened to any one who might
+tell the marabout."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think you can persuade him to keep a still tongue
+in his head till it suits us to have him speak, or write a letter
+for me to take?" asked Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure of it. Hassan is a coward, and you have but to
+look him in the face to see he has no self-reliance. He must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span>
+lean on some one else. He shall lean on me. And Nedjma
+shall console him, so that time will pass, and he shall hardly
+know how it is going. He will speak when we want him to
+speak or write, not before."</p>
+
+<p>The three men talked on in Stephen's room till dawn,
+deciding details which cropped up for instant settlement. At
+last it was arranged&mdash;taking the success of their plan for
+granted&mdash;that Stephen should wait a day and a half after the
+departure of Nevill's little caravan. By that time, it should
+have got half-way to Touggourt; but there was one bordj
+where it would come in touch with the telegraph. Stephen
+would then start for the Zaou&iuml;a, for an interview with the marabout,
+who, no doubt, was already wondering why he did not
+follow up his first attempt by a second. He would hire or buy
+in the city a racing camel fitted with a bassour large enough for
+two, and this he would take with him to the Zaou&iuml;a, ready to
+bring away both sisters. No allusion to Saidee would be made
+in words. The "ultimatum" would concern Victoria only, as
+the elder sister was wife to the marabout, and no outsider
+could assume to have jurisdiction over her. But as it was
+certain that Victoria would not stir without Saidee, a demand
+for one was equivalent to a demand for the other.</p>
+
+<p>This part of the plan was to be subject to modification, in
+case Stephen saw Victoria, and she proposed any course of
+action concerning her sister. As for Sabine, having helped
+to make the plot he was to hold himself ready at Oued Tolga,
+the city, for Stephen's return from the Zaou&iuml;a. And the rest
+was on the knees of the gods.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XLVII" id="XLVII"></a>XLVII</h2>
+
+
+<p>For the second time Stephen entered by the great
+gates of the Zaou&iuml;a. The lounging Negro, who had
+let him in before, stared at the grey mehari with
+the red-curtained bassour, whose imposing height
+dwarfed the Roumi's horse. No doubt the man wondered
+why it was there, since only women or invalids travelled in a
+bassour;&mdash;and his eyes dwelt with interest on the two Arabs
+from the town of Oued Tolga. Perhaps he thought that they
+would satisfy his curiosity, when the visitor had gone inside.
+But Stephen thought differently. The Arabs would tell nothing,
+because they knew nothing which could explain the mystery.</p>
+
+<p>The Negro had no French, and either did not understand
+or pretended not to understand the Roumi's request to see the
+marabout. This looked ominous, because Stephen had been
+let in without difficulty the first time; and the Negro seemed
+intelligent enough to be stupid in accordance with instructions.
+Great insistance, however, and the production of documents
+(ordinary letters, but effective to impress the uneducated
+intelligence) persuaded the big gate-keeper to send for an
+interpreter.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen waited with outward patience, though a loud voice
+seemed crying in his ears, "What will happen next? What
+will the end be&mdash;success, or a sudden fluke that will mean
+failure?" He barred his mind against misgivings, but he had
+hoped for some sign of life when he rode in sight of the white
+roofs; and there had been no sign.</p>
+
+<p>For many minutes he waited; and then came an old man
+who had showed him to the marabout's reception room on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span>
+his first visit. Stephen was glad to see this person, because he
+could speak a little French, and because he had a mild air,
+as if he might easily be browbeaten.</p>
+
+<p>"I must see Sidi Mohammed on important business,"
+Stephen said.</p>
+
+<p>The old man was greatly grieved, but Sidi Mohammed
+was indisposed and not able to speak with any one. Would
+Monsieur care to visit the mosque again, and would he drink
+coffee?</p>
+
+<p>So this was the game! Stephen was not surprised. His
+face flushed and his jaw squared. He would not drink coffee,
+and he would not give himself the pleasure of seeing the mosque;
+but would trouble the interpreter with a message to the marabout;
+and would await an answer. Then Stephen wrote on
+one of his visiting cards, in English. "I have important news
+of your son, which you would regret not hearing. And it can
+be told to no one but yourself."</p>
+
+<p>In less than ten minutes the messenger came back. The
+marabout, though not well, would receive Monsieur. Stephen
+was led through the remembered labyrinth of covered passages,
+dim and cool, though outside the desert sand flamed under the
+afternoon sun; and as he walked he was aware of softly padding
+footsteps behind him. Once, he turned his head quickly,
+and saw that he was followed by a group of three tall Negroes.
+They looked away when they met his eyes, as if they were on
+his heels by accident; but he guessed that they had been told
+to watch him, and took the caution as a compliment. Yet he
+realized that he ran some risk in coming to this place on such
+an errand as his. Already the marabout looked upon him as
+an enemy, no doubt; and it was not impossible that news of
+the boy's disappearance had by this time reached the Zaou&iuml;a,
+in spite of his guardian's selfish cowardice. If so, and if
+the father connected the kidnapping of his son with to-day's
+visitor, he might let his desire for revenge overcome prudence.
+To prove his power by murdering an Englishman, his guest,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span>
+would do the desert potentate more harm than good in the end;
+yet men of mighty passions do not always stop to think of
+consequences, and Stephen was not blind to his own danger.
+If the marabout lost his temper, not a man in the Zaou&iuml;a but
+would be ready to obey a word or gesture, and short work
+might be made of Victoria Ray's only champion. However,
+Stephen counted a good deal on Ben Halim's caution, and on
+the fact that his presence in the Zaou&iuml;a was known outside. He
+meant to acquaint his host with that fact as a preface to their
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"The marabout will come presently," the mild interpreter
+announced, when he had brought Stephen once more to the
+reception room adjoining the mosque. So saying, he bowed
+himself away, and shut the door; but Stephen opened it almost
+instantly, to look out. It was as he expected. The tall
+Negroes stood lazily on guard. They scarcely showed surprise
+at being caught, yet their fixed stare was somewhat strained.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if there's to be a signal?" thought Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>It was very still in the reception-room of Sidi Mohammed.
+The young man sat down opposite the door of that inner room
+from which the marabout had come to greet him the other day,
+but he did not turn his back fully upon the door behind which
+were the watchers. Minutes passed on. Nothing happened,
+and there was no sound. Stephen grew impatient. He knew,
+from what he had heard of the great Zaou&iuml;a, that manifold and
+strenuous lives were being lived all around him in this enormous
+hive, which was university, hospice, mosque, and walled
+village in one. Yet there was no hum of men talking, of women
+chatting over their work, or children laughing at play. The
+silence was so profound that it was emphasized to his ears by
+the droning of a fly in one of the high, iron-barred windows;
+and in spite of himself he started when it was suddenly and
+ferociously broken by a melancholy roar like the thunderous
+yawn of a bored lion. But still the marabout did not appear.
+Evidently he intended to show the persistent Roumi that he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span>
+not to be intimidated or browbeaten, or else he did not really
+mean to come at all.</p>
+
+<p>The thought that perhaps, while he waited, he had been
+quietly made a prisoner, brought Stephen to his feet. He
+was on the point of trying the inner door, when it opened,
+and the masked marabout stood looking at him, with
+keen eyes which the black veil seemed to darken and make
+sinister.</p>
+
+<p>Without speaking, the Arab closed, but did not latch, the
+door behind him; and standing still he spoke in the deep
+voice that was slightly muffled by the thin band of woollen
+stuff over the lower part of his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast sent me an urgent summons to hear tidings of
+my son," he said in his correct, measured French. "What
+canst thou know, which I do not know already?"</p>
+
+<p>"I began to think you were not very desirous to hear my
+news," replied Stephen, "as I have been compelled to wait so
+long that my friends in Oued Tolga will be wondering what
+detains me in the Zaou&iuml;a, or whether any accident has befallen
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"As thou wert doubtless informed, I am not well, and was
+not prepared to receive guests. I have made an exception in
+thy favour, because of the message thou sent. Pray, do not
+keep me in suspense, if harm has come to my son." Sidi
+Mohammed did not invite his guest to sit down.</p>
+
+<p>"No harm has come to the boy," Stephen reassured him.
+"He is in good hands."</p>
+
+<p>"In charge of his uncle, whom I have appointed his
+guardian," the marabout broke in.</p>
+
+<p>"He doesn't know anything yet," Stephen said to himself,
+quickly. Then, aloud: "At present, he is not in charge of
+his uncle, but is with a friend of mine. He will be sent back
+safe and well to Oued Tolga, when you have discovered
+the whereabouts of Miss Ray&mdash;the young lady of whom
+you knew nothing the other day&mdash;and when you have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span>
+produced her. I know now, with absolute certainty, that
+she is here in the Zaou&iuml;a. When she leaves it, with me
+and the escort I have brought, to join her friends, you will
+see your son again, but not before; and never unless Miss Ray
+is given up."</p>
+
+<p>The marabout's dark hands clenched themselves, and he
+took a step forward, but stopped and stood still, tall and rigid,
+within arm's-length of the Englishman.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou darest to come here and threaten me!" he said.
+"Thou art a fool. If thou and thy friends have stolen my
+child, all will be punished, not by me, but by the power which
+is set above me to rule this land&mdash;France."</p>
+
+<p>"We have no fear of such punishment, or any other," Stephen
+answered. "We have 'dared' to take the boy; and I have
+dared, as you say, to come here and threaten, but not idly.
+We have not only your son, but your secret, in our possession;
+and if Miss Ray is not allowed to go, or if anything happens to
+me, you will never see your boy again, because France herself
+will come between you and him. You will be sent to prison as
+a fraudulent pretender, and the boy will become a ward of the
+nation. He will no longer have a father."</p>
+
+<p>The dark eyes blazed above the mask, though still the
+marabout did not move. "Thou art a liar and a madman,"
+he said. "I do not understand thy ravings, for they have no
+meaning."</p>
+
+<p>"They will have a fatal meaning for Cassim ben Halim if
+they reach the ears of the French authorities, who believe him
+dead," said Stephen, quietly. "Ben Halim was only a disgraced
+officer, not a criminal, until he conspired against the
+Government, and stole a great position which belonged to another
+man. Since then, prison doors are open for him if
+his plottings are found out."</p>
+
+<p>Unwittingly Stephen chose words which were as daggers in
+the breast of the Arab. Although made without knowledge of
+the secret work to which the marabout had vowed himself and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span>
+all that was his, the young man's threat sounded like a hint
+so terrible in its meaning that Ben Halim's heart turned suddenly
+to water. He saw himself exposed, defeated, hand and foot
+in the enemy's power. How this Roumi had wormed out the
+hidden truth he could not conceive; but he realized on the
+instant that the situation was desperate, and his brain seemed
+to him to become a delicate and intricate piece of mechanism,
+moving with oiled wheels. All the genius of a great soldier
+and a great diplomat were needed at one and the same time,
+and if he could not call such inspiration to his aid he was lost.
+He had been tempted for one volcanic second to stab Stephen
+with the dagger which he always carried under his burnous
+and embroidered vest, but a lightning-flash of reason bade
+him hold his hand. There were other ways&mdash;there must be
+other ways. Fortunately Ma&iuml;eddine had not been told of the
+Roumi's presence in the Zaou&iuml;a, and need not learn anything
+concerning him or his proposals until the time came when a
+friend could be of use and not a hindrance. Even in this moment,
+when he saw before his eyes a fiery picture of ruin, Ben
+Halim realized that Ma&iuml;eddine's passion for Victoria Ray
+might be utilized by and by, for the second time.</p>
+
+<p>Not once did the dark eyes falter or turn from the enemy's,
+and Stephen could not help admiring the Arab's splendid
+self-control. It was impossible to feel contempt for Ben
+Halim, even for Ben Halim trapped. Stephen had talked
+with an air of cool indifference, his hands in his pockets, but
+in one pocket was a revolver, and he kept his fingers on it as
+the marabout stood facing him silently after the ultimatum.</p>
+
+<p>"I have listened to the end," the Arab said at last, "because
+I wished to hear what strange folly thou hadst got in thy brain.
+But now, when thou hast finished apparently, I cannot make
+head or tail of thy accusations. Of a man named Cassim
+ben Halim I may have heard, but he is dead. Thou canst
+hardly believe in truth that he and I are one; but even if thou
+dost believe it, I care little, for if thou wert unwise enough to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span>
+go with such a story to my masters and friends the French, they
+could bring a hundred proofs that thy tale was false, and they
+would laugh thee to scorn. I have no fear of anything thou
+canst do against me; but if it is true that thou and thy friend
+have stolen my son, rather than harm should come to him who
+is my all on earth, I may be weak enough to treat with thee."</p>
+
+<p>"I have brought proof that the boy is gone," returned
+Stephen. For the moment, he tacitly accepted the attitude
+which the marabout chose to take up. "Let the fellow save
+his face by pretending to yield entirely for the boy's sake,"
+he said to himself. "What can it matter so long as he does
+yield?"</p>
+
+<p>In the pocket with the revolver was a letter which Sabine
+had induced Hassan ben Saad to write, and now Stephen produced
+it. The writing was in Arabic, of course; but Sabine,
+who knew the language well, had translated every word for
+him before he started from Oued Tolga. Stephen knew,
+therefore, that the boy's uncle, without confessing how he had
+strayed from duty, admitted that, "by an incredible misfortune,"
+the young Mohammed had been enticed away from
+him. He feared, Hassan ben Saad added, to make a
+disturbance, as an influential friend&mdash;Captain Sabine&mdash;advised
+him to inform the marabout of what had happened before
+taking public action which the child's father might disapprove.</p>
+
+<p>The Arab frowned as he read on, not wholly because of his
+anger with the boy's guardian, though that burned in his
+heart, hot as a new-kindled fire, and could be extinguished only
+by revenge.</p>
+
+<p>"This Captain Sabine," he said slowly, "I know slightly.
+He called upon me at a time when he made a well in the
+neighbourhood. Was it he who put into thine head these
+ridiculous notions concerning a dead man? I warn thee to
+answer truly if thou wouldst gain anything from me."</p>
+
+<p>"My countrymen don't, as a rule, transact business by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span>
+telling diplomatic lies," said Stephen smiling, as he felt that
+he could now afford to smile. "Captain Sabine did not put
+the notion into my head."</p>
+
+<p>"Hast thou spoken of it to him?"</p>
+
+<p>Stephen shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I do not see
+that I'm called upon to answer that question. All I will
+say is, you need have no fear of Captain Sabine or of any one
+else, once Miss Ray is safely out of this place."</p>
+
+<p>The marabout turned this answer over quickly in his mind.
+He knew that, if Sabine or any Frenchman suspected his identity
+and his plans for the future, he was irretrievably lost. No
+private consideration would induce a French officer to spare
+him, if aware that he hoped eventually to overthrow the rule
+of France in North Africa. This being the case (and
+believing that Knight had learned of the plot), he reflected that
+Sabine could not have been taken into the secret, otherwise the
+Englishman dare not make promises. He saw too, that it
+would have been impolitic for Knight to take Sabine
+into his confidence. A Frenchman in the secret would have
+ruined this <i>coup d'&eacute;tat</i>; and, beginning to respect Stephen
+as an enemy, he decided that he was too clever to be in
+real partnership with the officer. Ben Halim's growing
+conviction was that his wife, Saidee, had told Victoria all she
+knew and all she suspected, and that the girl had somehow
+contrived to smuggle a letter out of the Zaou&iuml;a to her English
+lover.</p>
+
+<p>The distrust and dislike he had long felt for Saidee suddenly
+burst into a flame of hatred. He longed to crush under his
+foot the face he had once loved, to grind out its beauty with
+a spurred heel. And he hated the girl, too, though he could
+not punish her as he could punish Saidee, for he must have
+Ma&iuml;eddine's help presently, and Ma&iuml;eddine would insist that
+she should be protected, whatever might happen to others.
+But he was beginning to see light ahead, if he might
+take it for granted that his secret was suspected by no more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span>
+than four persons&mdash;Saidee, Victoria, and the two Englishmen
+who were acting for the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"I see by this letter from my brother-in-law that it is even
+as thou sayest; thou and thy friend together have committed
+the cruel wrong of which thou boastest," Ben Halim said at
+last. "A father robbed of his one son is as a stag pinned to
+earth with a spear through his heart. He is in the hands of
+the hunter, his courage ebbing with his life-blood. Had this
+thing been done when thou wert here before, I should have
+been powerless to pay the tribute, for the lady over whom
+thou claimst a right was not within my gates. Now, I admit,
+she has come. If she wish to go with thee, she is free to do so.
+But I will send with her men of my own, to travel by her side,
+and refuse to surrender her until my child is given into their
+hands."</p>
+
+<p>"That is easy to arrange," Stephen agreed. "I will telegraph
+to my friend, who is by this time&mdash;as you can see by
+your letter&mdash;two days' journey away or more. He will
+return with your son, and an escort, but only a certain distance.
+I will meet him at some place appointed, and we will hand the
+boy over to your men."</p>
+
+<p>"It will be better that the exchange should be made here,"
+said the marabout.</p>
+
+<p>"I can see why it might be so from your point of view, but
+that view is not ours. You have too much power here, and
+frankly, I don't trust you. You'll admit that I'd be a fool
+if I did! The meeting must be at some distance from your
+Zaou&iuml;a."</p>
+
+<p>The marabout raised his eyebrows superciliously. They
+said&mdash;"So thou art afraid!" But Stephen was not to be taunted
+into an imprudence where Victoria's safety was at stake.</p>
+
+<p>"Those are our terms," he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, I accept," said the Arab. "Thou mayest send
+a message to the lady, inviting her to leave my house with thee;
+and I assure thee, that in any case I would have no wish to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span>
+keep her, other than the desire of hospitality. Thou canst
+take her at once, if she will go; and passing through the city,
+with her and my men, thou canst send thy telegram. Appoint
+as a meeting place the Bordj of Toudja, one day's march from
+the town of Oued Tolga. When my men have the child in
+their keeping, thou wilt be free to go in peace with the girl and
+thy friend."</p>
+
+<p>"I should be glad if thou wouldst send for her, and let me
+talk with her here," Stephen suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"No, that cannot be," the marabout answered decidedly.
+"When she is out of my house, I wash my hands of her; but
+while she is under my roof it would be shameful that she
+should speak, even in my presence, with a strange man."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen was ready to concede a point, if he could get his
+wish in another way. "Give me paper, then, and I will write
+to the lady," he said. "There will be an answer, and it must
+be brought to me quickly, for already I have stopped longer than
+I expected, and Captain Sabine, who knows I have come to
+call upon you and fetch a friend, may be anxious."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke his last words with a certain emphasis, knowing
+that Ben Halim would understand the scarcely veiled threat.</p>
+
+<p>The marabout went into the next room, and got some French
+writing paper. Stephen wrote a hasty note, begging Victoria
+to leave the Zaou&iuml;a under his care. He would take her, he
+said, to Lady MacGregor, who had come to Touggourt on
+purpose to be at hand if wanted. He wrote in English, but
+because he was sure that Ben Halim knew the language, he
+said nothing to Victoria about her sister. Only he mentioned,
+as if carelessly, that he had brought a good camel with a comfortable
+bassour large enough for two.</p>
+
+<p>When the letter was in an envelope, addressed to Miss Ray,
+the marabout took it from Stephen and handed it to somebody
+outside the door, no doubt one of the three watchers.
+There were mumbled instructions in Arabic, and ten minutes
+later an answer came back. Stephen could have shouted for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span>
+joy at sight of Victoria's handwriting. There were only a few
+lines, in pencil, but he knew that he would keep them always,
+with her first letter.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how glad I am that you're here!" she wrote. "By
+and by I hope to thank you&mdash;but of course I can't come without
+my sister. She is wretched, and wants to leave the man
+who seems to her no longer a husband, but she thinks he
+will not want to let her go. Tell him that it must be both of
+us, or neither. Or if you feel it would be better, give him this
+to read, and ask him to send an answer."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen guessed why the girl had written in French. She
+had fancied that the marabout would not choose to admit his
+knowledge of English, and he admired the quickness of her
+wit in a sudden emergency.</p>
+
+<p>As he handed the letter to the Arab, Stephen would have
+given a great deal to see the face under the black mask. He
+could read nothing of the man's mind through the downcast
+eyelids, with their long black fringe of close-set lashes. And
+he knew that Ben Halim must have finished the short
+letter at least sixty seconds before he chose to look up from the
+paper.</p>
+
+<p>"It is best," the marabout said slowly, "that the two sisters
+go together. A man of Islam has the right to repudiate a woman
+who gives him no children, but I have been merciful. Now
+an opportunity has come to rid myself of a burden, without
+turning adrift one who is helpless and friendless. For my
+son's sake I have granted thy request; for my own sake I
+grant the girl's request: but both, only on one condition&mdash;that
+thou swearest in the name of thy God, and upon the head of
+thy father, never to breathe with thy lips, or put with thy hand
+upon paper, the malicious story about me, at which thou hast
+to-day hinted; that thou enforce upon the two sisters the same
+silence, which, before going, they must promise me to guard
+for ever. Though there is no foundation for the wicked fabrication,
+and no persons of intelligence who know me would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448]</a></span>
+believe it, even if I had no proof, still for a man who holds a
+place of spiritual eminence, evil gossip is a disgrace."</p>
+
+<p>"I promise for myself, for my friend, and for both the ladies,
+silence on that subject, so long as we may live. I swear before
+my God, and on the head of my dead father, that I will keep
+my word, if you keep yours to me," said Stephen, who knew
+only half the secret. Yet he was astonished at gaining his
+point so easily. He had expected more trouble. Nevertheless,
+he did not see how the marabout could manage to play him false,
+if he wanted to get his boy and hide the truth about himself.</p>
+
+<p>"I am content," said the Arab. "And thou shouldst be
+content, since thou hast driven a successful bargain, and it
+is as if the contract between us were signed in my heart's
+blood. Now, I will leave thee. When the ladies are ready,
+thou shalt be called by one of the men who will be of their escort.
+It is not necessary that thou and I meet again, since we have,
+I hope, finished our business together, once and for ever."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"Why is it that he lets me go, without even trying to make
+me swear never to tell what I know?" Saidee asked Victoria,
+while all in haste and in confusion they put together a few
+things for the long journey. Saidee packed the little volumes
+of her diary, with trembling fingers, and looked a frightened
+question at her sister.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm thankful that he doesn't ask us," Victoria answered,
+"for we couldn't promise not to tell, unless he would vow
+never to do the dreadful things you say he plans&mdash;lead a
+great rising, and massacre the French. Even to escape, one
+couldn't make a promise which might cost thousands of lives."</p>
+
+<p>"We could perhaps evade a promise, yet seem to do what
+he asked," said Saidee, who had learned subtle ways in a
+school of subtlety. "I'm terrified that he <i>doesn't</i> ask. Why
+isn't he afraid to let us go, without any assurances?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He knows that because you've been his wife, we wouldn't
+betray him unless we were forced to, in order to prevent massacres,"
+Victoria tried to reassure her sister. "And perhaps
+for the sake of getting his boy back, he's willing to renounce all
+his horrible plans."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps&mdash;since he worships the child," Saidee half agreed.
+"Yet&mdash;it doesn't seem like Cassim to be so easily cowed, and
+to give up the whole ambition of his life, with scarcely a struggle,
+even for his child."</p>
+
+<p>"You said, when you told me how you had written to Mr.
+Knight, that Cassim would be forced to yield, if they took the
+boy, and so the end would justify the means."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. It was a great card to play. But&mdash;but I expected
+him to make me take a solemn oath never to tell what I
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't let's think of it," said Victoria. "Let's just be
+thankful that we're going, and get ready as quickly as we can,
+lest he should change his mind at the last moment."</p>
+
+<p>"Or lest Ma&iuml;eddine should find out," Saidee added. "But,
+if Cassim really means us to go, he won't let Ma&iuml;eddine find out.
+He will thank Allah and the Prophet for sending the fever
+that keeps Ma&iuml;eddine in his bedroom."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Ma&iuml;eddine!" Victoria half whispered. In her heart
+lurked kindness for the man who had so desperately loved her,
+even though love had driven him to the verge of treachery.
+"I hope he'll forget all about me and be happy," she said.
+And then, because she was happy herself, and the future seemed
+bright, she forgot Ma&iuml;eddine, and thought only of another.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XLVIII" id="XLVIII"></a>XLVIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>"That must be the bordj of Toudja, at last," Victoria
+said, looking out between the curtains of her
+bassour. "Aren't you thankful, Saidee? You'll
+feel happier and freer, when Cassim's men have
+gone back to the Zaou&iuml;a, and our ransom has been paid by the
+return of the little boy. That volume of your life will be closed
+for ever and ever, and you can begin the next."</p>
+
+<p>Saidee was silent. She did not want to think that the volume
+was closed for ever, because in it there was one chapter which,
+unless it could be added to the new volume, would leave the
+rest of the book without interest for her. Half involuntarily
+she touched the basket which Honor&eacute; Sabine had given her
+when they parted in the desert city of Oued Tolga early that
+morning. In the basket were two carrier pigeons. She had
+promised to send one from the Bordj of Toudja, and another
+at the end of the next day's journey. After that she would
+be within reach of the telegraph. Her reason told her it was
+well that Sabine was not with her now, yet she wished for him,
+and could not be glad of his absence. Perhaps she would never
+see him again. Who could tell? It would have been unwise
+for Sabine, as an officer and as a man, to leave his duty to
+travel with her: she could see that, yet she was secretly angry
+with Victoria, because Victoria, happy herself, seemed to
+have little sympathy with her sister's hopes. The girl did not
+like to talk about Sabine, or discuss any connection he might
+possibly have with Saidee's future; and because Victoria was
+silent on that subject, Saidee revenged herself by being reticent
+on others. Victoria guessed the reason, and her heart yearned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451]</a></span>
+over Saidee; but this was something of which they could not
+talk. Some day, perhaps, Saidee would understand, and they
+would be drawn together again more closely than before.</p>
+
+<p>"There's Toudja," Stephen said, as the girl looked out again
+from the bassour. Whenever he saw her face, framed thus by
+the dark red curtains, his heart beat, as if her beauty were new
+to him, seen that instant for the first time. This was the flood-tide
+of his life, now when they travelled through the desert
+together, he and she, and she depended upon his help and
+protection. For to-day, and the few more days until the desert
+journey should come to an end at Biskra, the tide would be at
+flood: then it would ebb, never to rise again, because at Algiers
+they must part, she to go her way, he to go his; and his way
+would lead him to Margot Lorenzi. After Algiers there would
+be no more happiness for him, and he did not hope for it; but,
+right or wrong, he was living passionately in every moment now.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria smiled down from the high bassour at the dark,
+sunburnt face of the rider. How different it was from the dark
+face of another rider who had looked up at her, between her
+curtains, when she had passed that way before! There was
+only one point of resemblance between the two: the light of
+love in the eyes. Victoria could not help recognizing that likeness.
+She could not help being sure that Stephen loved her,
+and the thought made her feel safe, as well as happy. There
+had been a sense of danger in the knowledge of Ma&iuml;eddine's
+love.</p>
+
+<p>"The tower in the bordj is ruined," she said, looking across
+the waving sea of dunes to a tall black object like the crooked
+finger of a giant pointing up out of the gold into the blue. "It
+wasn't so when I passed before."</p>
+
+<p>"No," Stephen answered, welcoming any excuse for talk
+with her. "But it was when we came from Touggourt. Sabine
+told me there'd been a tremendous storm in the south just before
+we left Algiers, and the heliograph tower at Toudja was struck
+by lightning. They'll build it up again soon, for all these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452]</a></span>
+heliograph stations are supposed to be kept in order, in case
+of any revolt; for the first thing a rebellious tribe does is to cut
+the telegraph wires. If that happened, the only way of communication
+would be by heliograph; and Sabine says that from
+Touggourt to Tombouctou this chain of towers has been arranged
+always on elevations, so that signals can be seen across great
+stretches of desert; and inside the walls of a bordj whenever possible,
+for defence. But the South is so contented and peaceful
+now, I don't suppose the Government will get out of breath
+in its hurry to restore the damage here."</p>
+
+<p>At the sound of Sabine's name Saidee had instantly roused
+to attention, and as Stephen spoke calmly of the peace and
+content in the South, she smiled. Then suddenly her face
+grew eager.</p>
+
+<p>"Did the marabout appoint Toudja as the place to make
+the exchange, or was it you?" she asked, over Victoria's
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"The marabout," said Stephen. "I fell in with the idea
+because I'd already made objections to several, and I could see
+none to Toudja. It's a day's journey farther north than the
+Zaou&iuml;a, and I remembered the bordj being kept by two Frenchmen,
+who would be of use if&mdash;&mdash;" He checked himself, not wishing
+to hint that it might be necessary to guard against treason.
+"If we had to stop for the night," he amended, "no doubt the
+bordj would be better kept than some others. And we shall
+have to stop, you know, because my friend, Caird, can't arrive
+from Touggourt with the boy till late, at best."</p>
+
+<p>"Did&mdash;the marabout seem bent on making this bordj the
+rendezvous?" Saidee asked.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen's eyes met hers in a quick, involuntary glance,
+then turned to the ruined tower. He saw it against the northern sky
+as they came from the south, and, blackened by the
+lightning, it accentuated the desolation of the dunes. In itself,
+it looked sinister as a broken gibbet. "If the marabout had
+a strong preference for the place, he didn't betray it," was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453]</a></span>
+the only answer he could make. "Have you a special reason
+for asking?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," Saidee echoed. "No special reason."</p>
+
+<p>But Stephen and Victoria both guessed what was in her
+mind. As they looked at the tower all three thought of the
+Arabs who formed their caravan. There were six, sent out
+from the Zaou&iuml;a to take back the little Mohammed. They
+belonged body and soul to the marabout. At the town of
+Oued Tolga, Stephen had added a third to his escort of two;
+but though they were good guides, brave, upstanding fellows, he
+knew they would turn from him if there were any question
+between Roumis and men of their own religion. If an accident
+had happened to the child on the way back from Touggourt,
+or if any other difficulty arose, in which their interest
+clashed with his, he would have nine Arabs against him. He
+and Caird, with the two Highlanders, if they came, would be
+alone, no matter how large might be Nevill's Arab escort.
+Stephen hardly knew why these thoughts pressed upon him suddenly,
+with new insistence, as he saw the tower rise dark against
+the sky, jagged as if it had been hacked with a huge, dull knife.
+He had known from the first what risks they ran. Nevill and
+he and Sabine had talked them all over, and decided that,
+on the whole, there was no great danger of treachery from the
+marabout, who stood to lose too much, to gain too little, by
+breaking faith. As for Ma&iuml;eddine, he was ill with fever, so
+the sisters said, and Saidee and Victoria believed that he had
+been kept in ignorance of the marabout's bargain. Altogether,
+circumstances seemed to have combined in their favour. Ben
+Halim's wife was naturally suspicious and fearful, after her
+long martyrdom, but there was no new reason for uneasiness.
+Only, Stephen reminded himself, he must not neglect the
+slightest wavering of the weather-vane. And in every shadow
+he must look for a sign.</p>
+
+<p>They had not made a hurried march from the desert city, for
+Stephen and Sabine had calculated the hour at which Nevill<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454]</a></span>
+might have received the summons, and the time he would take
+on the return journey. It was possible, Lady MacGregor being
+what she was, that she might have rewired the telegram to a
+certain bordj, the only telegraph station between Touggourt
+and Oued Tolga. If she had done this, and the message had
+caught Nevill, many hours would be saved. Instead of getting
+to the bordj about midnight, tired out with a long, quick march,
+he might be expected before dark. Even so, Stephen would be
+well ahead, for, as the caravan came to the gate of the bordj,
+it was only six o'clock, blazing afternoon still, and hot as midday,
+with the fierce, golden heat of the desert towards the end
+of May.</p>
+
+<p>The big iron gates were wide open, and nothing stirred in
+the quadrangle inside; but as Stephen rode in, one of the Frenchmen
+he remembered slouched out of a room where the wooden
+shutters of the window were closed for coolness. His face
+was red, and he yawned as he came forward, rubbing his eyes
+as if he had been asleep. But he welcomed Stephen politely,
+and seeing that a good profit might be expected from so large
+a party, he roused himself to look pleased.</p>
+
+<p>"I must have a room for two ladies," said Stephen, "and I
+am expecting a friend with a small caravan, to arrive from the
+north. However, six of my Arabs will go back when he comes.
+You must do the best you can for us, but nothing is of any importance
+compared to the ladies' comfort."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, I will do my best," the keeper of the bordj assured
+him. "But as you see, our accommodation is humble. It
+is strained when we have four or five officers for the night, and
+though I and my brother have been in this God-forsaken place&mdash;worse
+luck!&mdash;for nine years, we have never yet had to put
+up ladies. Unfortunately, too, my brother is away, gone to
+Touggourt to buy stores, and I have only one Arab to help me.
+Still, though I have forgotten many useful things in this banishment,
+I have not forgotten how to cook, as more than one French
+officer could tell you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"One has told me," said Stephen. "Captain Sabine, of
+the Chasseurs d'Afrique."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, ce beau sabreur! He stopped with me on his way to
+Oued Tolga, for the well-making. If he has recommended
+me, I shall be on my mettle, Monsieur."</p>
+
+<p>The heavy face brightened; but there were bags under the
+bloodshot eyes, and the man's breath reeked of alcohol. Stephen
+was sorry the brother was away. He had been the more
+alert and prepossessing of the two.</p>
+
+<p>As they talked, the quadrangle of the bordj&mdash;which was
+but an inferior caravanserai&mdash;had waked to animation. The
+landlord's one Arab servant had appeared, like a rat out of a
+hole, to help the new arrivals with their horses and camels.
+The caravans had filed in, and the marabout's men and Stephen's
+guides had dismounted.</p>
+
+<p>None of these had seen the place since the visitation of the
+storm, and one or two from the Zaou&iuml;a had perhaps never been
+so far north before, yet they looked at the broken tower with
+grave interest rather than curiosity. Stephen wondered whether
+they had been primed with knowledge before starting, or if
+their lack of emotion were but Arab stoicism.</p>
+
+<p>As usual in a caravanserai or large bordj, all round the square
+courtyard were series of rooms: a few along one wall for the
+accommodation of French officers and rich Arabs, furnished with
+elementary European comforts; opposite, a dining-room and
+kitchen; to the left, the quarters of the two landlords and their
+servants; along the fourth wall, on either side of the great iron
+gate, sheds for animals, untidily littered with straw and refuse,
+infested with flies. Further disorder was added by the d&eacute;bris
+from the broken heliograph-tower which had been only partially
+cleared away since the storm. Other towers there were,
+also; three of them, all very low and squat, jutting out from
+each corner of the high, flat-topped wall, and loopholed as usual,
+so that men stationed inside could defend against an escalade.
+These small towers were intact, though the roof of one was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456]</a></span>
+covered with rubbish from the ruined shell rising above; and
+looking up at this, Stephen saw that much had fallen away
+since he passed with Nevill, going to Oued Tolga. One entire
+wall had been sliced off, leaving the inside of the tower, with
+the upper chamber, visible from below. It was like looking
+into a half-dissected body, and the effect was depressing.</p>
+
+<p>"If we should be raided by Arabs now," said the landlord,
+laughing, as he saw Stephen glance at the tower, "we should
+have to pray for help: there would be no other means of getting
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't seem to worry much," replied Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"No, for the Arabs in these parts are sheep nowadays," said
+the Frenchman. "Like sheep, they might follow a leader; but
+where is the leader? It is different among the Touaregs, where
+I spent some time before I came here. They are warriors by
+nature, but even they are quiet of late."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you ever see any here?" Stephen asked.</p>
+
+<p>"A few occasionally, going to Touggourt, but seldom. They
+are formidable-looking fellows, in their indigo-coloured masks,
+which stain their skin blue, but they are tractable enough if one
+does not offend them."</p>
+
+<p>There was only one room which could be made passably
+habitable for Saidee and Victoria, and they went into it, out of
+the hot sun, as soon as it could be prepared. The little luggage
+they had brought went with them, and the basket containing
+the two carrier pigeons. Saidee fed the birds, and
+scribbled a few words on a scrap of paper, to tell Sabine that
+they had arrived safely at Toudja. On second thoughts, she
+added a postscript, while Victoria unpacked what they needed
+for the night. "<i>He</i> chose the rendezvous," Saidee wrote. "I
+suppose I'm too superstitious, but I can't help wondering if
+his choice had anything to do with the ruined tower? Don't
+be anxious, though. You will probably receive another line
+to-morrow night, to say that we've reached the next stage, and
+all's well."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you think I'm doing wrong to write to him?" she
+said to Victoria, as she took one of the pigeons out of its basket.</p>
+
+<p>"No," the girl answered. "Why shouldn't you write to say
+you're safe? He's your friend, and you're going far away."</p>
+
+<p>Saidee almost wished that Victoria had scolded her. Without
+speaking again, she began to fasten her letter under the
+bird's wing, but gave a little cry, for there was blood on her
+fingers. "Oh, he's hurt himself somehow!" she exclaimed.
+"He won't be able to fly, I'm afraid. What shall I do? I
+must send the other one. And yet&mdash;if I do, there'll be nothing
+for to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you wait until after Mr. Caird has come, and you
+can tell about the little boy?" Victoria suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"He mayn't arrive till very late, and&mdash;I promised Captain
+Sabine that he should hear to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"But think how quickly a pigeon flies! Surely it can go in
+less than half the time we would take, riding up and down
+among the dunes."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, much less than half! Captain Sabine said that from
+the bordj of Toudja the pigeon would come to him in an hour
+and a half, or two at most."</p>
+
+<p>"Then wait a little longer. Somehow I feel you'll be glad
+if you do."</p>
+
+<p>Saidee looked quickly at the girl. "You make me superstitious,"
+she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"With your 'feelings' about things. They're almost always
+right. I'm afraid of them. I shouldn't dare send the pigeon
+now, for fear&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"For fear of what?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hardly know. I told you that you made me superstitious."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen stood between the open gates of the bordj, looking
+north, whence Nevill should come. The desert was empty, a
+great, waving stretch of gold, but a caravan might be engulfed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458]</a></span>
+among the dunes. Any moment horses or camels might come
+in sight; and he was not anxious about Nevill or the boy. It
+was impossible that they could have been cut off by an attacking
+party from the Zaou&iuml;a. Captain Sabine and he, Stephen,
+had kept too keen a watch for that to happen, for the Zaou&iuml;a
+lay south of Oued Tolga the city.</p>
+
+<p>Others besides himself were searching the sea of sand. One
+of his own guides was standing outside the gates, talking with
+two of the marabout's men, and looking into the distance. But
+rather oddly, it seemed to him, their faces were turned southward,
+until the guide said something to the others. Then,
+slowly, they faced towards the north. Stephen remembered
+how he had told himself to neglect no sign. Had he just seen
+a sign?</p>
+
+<p>For some moments he did not look at the Arabs. Then,
+glancing quickly at the group, he saw that the head man sent
+by the marabout was talking emphatically to the guide from
+Oued Tolga, the city. Again, their eyes flashed to the Roumi,
+before he had time to turn away, and without hesitation the
+head man from the Zaou&iuml;a came a few steps towards him. "Sidi,
+we see horses," he said, in broken French. "The caravan
+thou dost expect is there," and he pointed.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen had very good eyesight, but he saw nothing, and said
+so.</p>
+
+<p>"We Arabs are used to looking across great distances," the
+man answered. "Keep thy gaze steadily upon the spot where
+I point, and presently thou wilt see."</p>
+
+<p>It was as he prophesied. Out of a blot of shadow among
+the tawny dunes crawled some dark specks, which might have
+been particles of the shadow itself. They moved, and gradually
+increased in size. By and by Stephen could count seven separate
+specks. It must be Nevill and the boy, and Stephen wondered
+if he had added two more Arabs to the pair who had gone
+back with him from Oued Tolga, towards Touggourt.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurrah for Lady MacGregor!" the watcher said under his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[Pg 459]</a></span>
+breath. "She wired on my telegram, and caught him before
+he'd passed the last station. I might have known she would,
+the glorious old darling!" He hurried inside the bordj
+to knock at the ladies' door, and tell the news. "They're in
+sight!" he cried. "Would you like to come outside the gate
+and look?"</p>
+
+<p>Instantly the door opened, and the sisters appeared. Victoria
+looked flushed and happy, but Saidee was pale, almost
+haggard in comparison with the younger girl. Both were in
+Arab dress still, having nothing else, even if they had wished
+to change; and as she came out, Saidee mechanically drew the
+long blue folds of her veil closely over her face. Custom had
+made this a habit which it would be hard to break.</p>
+
+<p>All three went out together, and the Arabs, standing in a
+group, turned at the sound of their voices. Again they had
+been looking southward. Stephen looked also, but the dazzle
+of the declining sun was in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't seem to notice anything," said Saidee in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>"What is there to notice?" he asked in the same tone.</p>
+
+<p>"A big caravan coming from the south. Can't you see it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I see nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't stared at the desert for eight years, as I have.
+There must be eighteen or twenty men."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think they're from the Zaou&iuml;a?" asked Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>"Who can tell? We can't know till they're very close, and
+then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nevill Caird will get here first," Stephen said, half to himself.
+"You can see five horses and two camels plainly now.
+They're travelling fast."</p>
+
+<p>"Those Arabs have seen the others," Saidee murmured.
+"But they don't want us to know they're thinking about them."</p>
+
+<p>"Even if men are coming from the Zaou&iuml;a," said Stephen,
+"it may easily be that they've only been sent as an extra escort
+for the boy, owing to his father's anxiety."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it may be only that," Saidee admitted. "Still, I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[Pg 460]</a></span>
+glad&mdash;&mdash;" She did not finish her sentence. But she was
+thinking about the carrier pigeon, and Victoria's advice.</p>
+
+<p>All three looked northward, watching the seven figures on
+horseback, in the far distance; but now and then, when they
+could hope to do so without being noticed by the Arabs, they
+stole a hasty glance in the other direction. "The caravan has
+stopped," Saidee declared at last. "In the shadow of a big
+dune."</p>
+
+<p>"I see, now," said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"And I," added Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps after all, it's just an ordinary caravan," Saidee
+said more hopefully. "Many nomads come north at this time
+of year. They may be making their camp now. Anyway,
+its certain they haven't moved for some time."</p>
+
+<p>And still they had not moved, when Nevill Caird was close
+enough to the bordj for a shout of greeting to be heard.</p>
+
+<p>"There are two of the strangest-looking creatures with him!"
+cried Saidee. "What can they be&mdash;on camels!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why," exclaimed Victoria, "it's those men in kilts, who
+waited on the table at Mr. Caird's house!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hurrah for Lady MacGregor again!" laughed Stephen.
+"It's the twins, Angus and Hamish." He pulled off his panama
+hat and waved it, shouting to his friend in joy. "We're a
+regiment!" he exclaimed gaily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[Pg 461]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XLIX" id="XLIX"></a>XLIX</h2>
+
+
+<p>The boy Mohammed was proud and very happy. He
+had not been in a motor-car, for he had not got to
+Touggourt; but it was glorious to have travelled far
+north, almost out of the dunes, and not only to have
+seen giant women in short skirts with bare legs, but not to be
+afraid of them, as the grown-up Arabs were. The giant women
+were Hamish and Angus, and it was a great thing to know them,
+and to be able to explain them to his father's men from the Zaou&iuml;a.</p>
+
+<p>He was a handsome little fellow, with a face no darker than
+old ivory, and heavily lashed, expressive eyes, like those which
+looked over the marabout's mask. His dress was that of a
+miniature man; a white silk burnous, embroidered with gold,
+over a pale blue vest, stitched in many colours; a splendid red
+cloak, whose embroidery of stiff gold stood out like a bas-relief;
+a turban and chechia of thin white muslin; and red-legged
+boots finer than those of the Spahis. Though he was
+but eleven years old, and had travelled hard for days, he sat his
+horse with a princely air, worthy the son of a desert potentate;
+and like a prince he received the homage of the marabout's
+men who rushed to him with guttural cries, kissing the toes of
+his boots, in their short stirrups, and fighting for an end of his
+cloak to touch with their lips. He did not know that he had
+been "kidnapped." His impression was that he had deigned
+to favour a rather agreeable Roumi with his company. Now
+he was returning to his own people, and would bid his Roumi
+friend good-bye with the cordiality of one gentleman to another,
+though with a certain royal condescension fitted to the difference
+in their positions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[Pg 462]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Nevill was in wild spirits, though pale with heat and fatigue.
+He had nothing to say of himself, but much of his aunt and of
+the boy Mohammed. "Ripping little chap," he exclaimed,
+when Saidee had gone indoors. "You never saw such pluck.
+He'd die sooner than admit he was tired. I shall be quite sorry
+to part from him. He was jolly good company, a sort of living
+book of Arab history. And what do you say to our surprise,&mdash;the
+twins? My aunt sent them off at the same time with the
+telegram, but of course they put in an appearance much later.
+They caught me up this morning, riding like devils on racing
+camels, with one guide. No horses could be got big enough
+for them. They've frightened every Arab they've met&mdash;but
+they're used to that and vain of it. They've got rifles&mdash;and
+bagpipes too, for all I know. They're capable of them."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, Wings," said
+Stephen, "and only a little less glad to see those big fellows with
+their brave faces." Then he mentioned to Nevill the apparition
+of that mysterious caravan which had appeared, and
+vanished. Also he described the behaviour of the Zaou&iuml;a men
+when they had looked south, instead of north.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's all right, I'll bet," exclaimed Nevill, exuberant
+with the joy of success, and in the hope of coolness, food and
+rest. "Might have been any old caravan, on its own business&mdash;nothing
+to do with us. That's the most likely thing. But
+if the marabout's mixed up with it, I should say it's only
+because he couldn't bear to stop at home and wait in suspense,
+and I don't blame him, now I've made acquaintance with the
+kid. He'd be too proud to parade his anxiety under our noses,
+but would lurk in the distance, out of our sight, he probably
+flatters himself, to welcome his son, and take him back to Oued
+Tolga. Not unnatural&mdash;and in spite of all, I can't help
+being a little sorry for the man. We've humiliated and got
+the better of him, because we happen to have his secret. It's
+a bit like draining a chap's blood, and then challenging him
+to fight. He's got all he can expect now, in receiving the child<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[Pg 463]</a></span>
+back and if I can judge him by myself, he'll be so happy, that
+he'll be only too thankful to see our backs for the last time."</p>
+
+<p>"He might feel safer to stick a knife in them."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, lord, I'm too hot to worry!" laughed Nevill. "Let's
+bid the boy Godspeed, or the Mussulman equivalent, which is
+a lot more elaborate, and then turn our thoughts to a bath of
+sorts and a dinner of sorts. I think Providence has been good
+to us so far, and we can afford to trust It. I'm sure Miss Ray
+would agree with me there." And Nevill glanced with kind
+blue eyes toward the shut door behind which Victoria had disappeared
+with her sister.</p>
+
+<p>When at last the little Mohammed had been despatched with
+great ceremony of politeness, as well as a present of Stephen's
+gold watch, the two Englishmen watched him fade out of sight
+with his cavalcade of men from the Zaou&iuml;a, and saw that
+nothing moved in the southern distance.</p>
+
+<p>"All's right with the world, and now for a wash and food!"
+cried Nevill, turning in with a sigh of relief at the gate of the
+bordj. "But oh, by the way&mdash;Hamish has got a letter for
+you&mdash;or is it Angus? Anyhow, it's from my fairy aunt, which
+I would envy you, if she hadn't sent me on something better&mdash;a
+post-card from Tlemcen. My tyrant goddess thinks letters
+likely to give undue encouragement, but once in a while she
+sheds the light of a post-card on me. Small favours thankfully
+received&mdash;from that source!"</p>
+
+<p>Inside the courtyard, the Highlanders were watching the
+three Arabs who had travelled with them and their master,
+attending to the horses and camels. These newcomers were
+being shown the ropes by the one servant of the bordj, Stephen's
+men helping with grave good-nature. They all seemed very
+friendly together, as is the way of Arabs, unless they inhabit
+rival districts.</p>
+
+<p>Hamish had the letter, and gave it to Stephen, who retired
+a few steps to read it, and Nevill, seeing that the twins left all
+work to the Arabs, ordered them to put his luggage into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[Pg 464]</a></span>
+musty-smelling room which he was to share with Stephen, and
+to get him some kind of bath, if it were only a tin pan.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen did not listen to these directions, nor did he hear
+or see anything that went on in the courtyard, for the next
+ten minutes. There was, indeed, a short and characteristic
+letter from Lady MacGregor, but it was only to say that she
+had finished and named the new game of Patience for Victoria
+Ray, and that, after all, she enclosed him a telegram, forwarded
+from Algiers to Touggourt. "I know Nevill told me that
+everything could wait till you got back," she explained, "but
+as I am sending the twins, they might as well take this. It
+may be of importance; and I'm afraid by the time you get it,
+the news will be several days old already."</p>
+
+<p>He guessed, before he looked, whence the telegram came;
+and he dreaded to make sure. For an instant, he was tempted
+to put the folded bit of paper in his pocket, unread until Touggourt,
+or even Biskra. "Why shouldn't I keep these few days
+unspoiled by thoughts of what's to come, since they're the only
+happy days I shall ever have?" he asked himself. But it would
+be weak to put off the evil moment, and he would not yield.
+He opened the telegram.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"Sailing on Virginian. Hope you can meet me Liverpool
+May 22nd. Love and longing. Margot."</p></div>
+
+<p>To-day was the 25th.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>When he looked up, the courtyard was empty, and quiet,
+save for the quacking of two or three forlorn ducks. Nevill
+had gone inside, and the Highlanders were waiting upon him,
+no doubt&mdash;for Nevill liked a good deal of waiting upon. The
+Arabs had left the animals peacefully feeding, and had disappeared
+into the kitchen, or perhaps to have a last look at the
+vanishing escort of the marabout's sacred son.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[Pg 465]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Stephen was suddenly conscious of fatigue, and a depression
+as of great weariness. He envied Nevill, whose boyish laugh
+he heard. The girl Nevill loved had refused to marry him, but
+she smiled when she saw him, and sent him post-cards when he
+was absent. There was hope for Nevill. For him there was
+none; although&mdash;and it was as if a fierce hand seized and
+wrenched his heart&mdash;sometimes it had seemed, in the last few
+hours, that in Victoria Ray's smile for him there was the same
+lovely, mysterious light which made the eyes of Josette Soubise
+wonderful when she looked at Nevill. If it were not for
+Margot&mdash;but there was no use thinking of that. He could not
+ask Margot to set him free, after all that had passed, and even if
+he should ask, she would refuse. Shuddering disgustfully, the
+thought of a new family scandal shot through his mind: a
+breach-of-promise case begun by Margot against him, if he tried
+to escape. It was the sort of thing she would do, he could not
+help recognizing. Another <i>cause c&eacute;l&egrave;bre</i>, more vulgar than the
+fight for his brother's title! How Victoria would turn in shocked
+revulsion from the hero of such a coarse tragi-comedy. But he
+would never be that hero. He would keep his word and stick to
+Margot. When he should come to the desert telegraph station
+between Toudja and Touggourt, he would wire to the Carlton,
+where she thought of returning, and explain as well as he could
+that, not expecting her quite yet, he had stayed on in Africa,
+but would see her as soon as possible.</p>
+
+<p>"Better hurry up and get ready for dinner!" shouted Nevill,
+through a crack of their bedroom door. "I warn you, I'm
+starving!"</p>
+
+<p>By this time the Highlanders were out in the courtyard
+again&mdash;two gigantic figures, grotesque and even fearful in the
+eyes of Arabs; but there were no Arabs to stare at them now.
+All had gone about their business in one direction or other.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen said nothing to his friend about the enclosure in
+Lady MacGregor's letter, mentioning merely the new game of
+cards named in honour of Miss Ray, at which they both laughed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[Pg 466]</a></span>
+And it seemed rather odd to Stephen just then, to hear himself
+laugh.</p>
+
+<p>The quick-falling twilight had now given sudden coolness and
+peace to the desert. The flies had ceased their persecutions.
+The whole air was blue as the light seen through a pale star-sapphire,
+for the western sky was veiled with a film of cloud
+floating up out of the sunset like the smoke of its fire, and there
+was no glow of red.</p>
+
+<p>As the two friends made themselves ready for dinner, and
+talked of such adventures as each had just passed through,
+they heard the voice of the landlord, impatiently calling,
+"Abdallah! Abdallah!"</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply, and again he roared the name of his
+servant, from the kitchen and from the courtyard, into which
+he rushed with a huge ladle in his hand; then from farther
+off, outside the gate, which remained wide open. Still there
+came no answer; and presently Stephen, looking from his bedroom,
+saw the Frenchman, hot and red-faced, slowly crossing
+the courtyard, mumbling to himself.</p>
+
+<p>Nevill had not quite finished his toilet, for he had a kind
+of boyish vanity, and wished to show how well and smart he
+could look after the long, tiresome journey. But Stephen was
+ready, and he stepped out, closing the door behind him.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you find your servant?" he asked the keeper of the
+bordj.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the man, adding some epithets singularly
+unflattering to the absent one and his ancestors. "He has
+vanished as if his father, the devil, had dragged him down to
+hell."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are the others?" inquired Stephen. "My men and
+my friend's men? Are they still standing outside the gates,
+watching the boy and his caravan?"</p>
+
+<p>"I saw them nowhere," returned the Frenchman. "It is bad
+enough to keep one Arab in order. I do not run after others.
+Would that the whole nation might die like flies in a frost! I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467]</a></span>
+hate them. What am I to do for my dinner, and ladies in the
+bordj for the first time? It is just my luck. I cannot leave
+the kitchen, and that brute Abdallah has not laid the table!
+When I catch him I will wring his neck as if he were a hen."</p>
+
+<p>He trotted back to the kitchen, swearing, and an instant later
+he was visible through the open door, drinking something out
+of a bottle.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen went to the door of the third and last guest-room of
+the bordj. It was larger than the others, and had no furniture
+except a number of thick blue and red rugs spread one on top
+of the other, on the floor. This was the place where those
+who paid least were accommodated, eight or ten at a time if
+necessary; and it was expected that Hamish and Angus would
+have to share the room with the Arab guides of both parties.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen looked in at the twins, as they scornfully inspected
+their quarters.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are the Arabs?" he asked, as he had asked the
+landlord.</p>
+
+<p>"We dinna ken whaur they've ta'en theirsel's," replied
+Angus. "All we ken is, we wull not lie in the hoose wi' 'em.
+Her leddyship wadna expect it, whateffer. We prefair t' sleep
+in th' open."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen retired from the argument, and mounted a steep,
+rough stairway, close to the gate, which led to the flat top of
+the wall, and had formerly been connected by a platform with
+the ruined heliograph tower. The wall was perhaps two feet
+thick, and though the top was rough and somewhat broken,
+it was easy to walk upon it. Once it had been defended by a
+row of nails and bits of glass, but most of these were gone. It
+was an ancient bordj, and many years of peace had passed since
+it was built in the old days of raids and razzias.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen looked out over the desert, through the blue veil of
+twilight, but could see no sign of life anywhere. Then, coming
+down, he mounted into each squat tower in turn, and peered
+out, so that he might spy in all directions, but there was nothing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468]</a></span>
+to spy save the shadowy dunes, more than ever like waves of
+the sea, in this violet light. He was not reassured, however,
+by the appearance of a vast peace and emptiness. Behind
+those billowing dunes that surged away toward the horizon,
+north, south, east, and west, there was hiding-place for an
+army.</p>
+
+<p>As he came down from the last of the four towers, his friend
+sauntered out from his bedroom. "I hope the missing Abdallah's
+turned up, and dinner's ready," said Nevill gaily.</p>
+
+<p>Then Stephen told him what had happened, and Nevill's
+cheerful face settled into gravity.</p>
+
+<p>"Looks as if they'd got a tip from the marabout's men,"
+he said slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"It can be nothing else," Stephen agreed.</p>
+
+<p>"I blame myself for calling the twins inside to help me,"
+said Nevill. "If I'd left them to moon about the courtyard,
+they'd have seen those sneaks creeping away, and reported."</p>
+
+<p>"They wouldn't have thought it strange that the Arabs stood
+outside, watching the boy go. You're not to blame, because
+you didn't see the sly look in my fellows' faces. I had the sign,
+and neglected it, in spite of my resolutions. But after all, if
+we're in for trouble, I don't know that it isn't as well those
+cowards have taken French leave. If they'd stayed, we'd
+only have had an enemy inside the gates, as well as out. And
+that reminds me, we must have the gates shut at once. Thank
+heaven we brought those French army rifles and plenty of
+cartridges from Algiers, when we didn't know what we might
+be in for. Now we <i>do</i> know; and all are likely to come handy.
+Also our revolvers."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank heaven and my aunt for the twins, too," said Nevill.
+"They might be better servants, but I'll bet on them as fighters.
+And perhaps you noticed the rifles her 'leddyship' provided
+them with at Touggourt?"</p>
+
+<p>"I saw the muzzles glitter as they rode along on camel-back,"
+Stephen answered. "I was glad even then, but now&mdash;&mdash;" He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469]</a></span>
+did not need to finish the sentence. "We'd better have a word
+with our host," he said.</p>
+
+<p>To reach the dining-room, where the landlord was busy,
+furiously clattering dishes, they had to pass the door of the
+room occupied by the sisters. It was half open, and as they
+went by, Victoria came out.</p>
+
+<p>"Please tell me things," she said. "I'm sure you're anxious.
+When we heard the landlord call his servant and nobody answered,
+Saidee was afraid there was something wrong. You
+know, from the first she thought that her&mdash;that Cassim didn't
+mean to keep his word. Have the Arabs all gone?"</p>
+
+<p>Nevill was silent, to let Stephen take the responsibility. He
+was not sure whether or no his friend meant to try and hide
+their anxiety from the women. But Stephen answered frankly.
+"Yes, they've gone. It may be that nothing will happen, but
+we're going to shut the gates at once, and make every possible
+preparation."</p>
+
+<p>"In case of an attack?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But we have a good place for defence here. It
+would be something to worry about if we were out in the open
+desert."</p>
+
+<p>"There are five men, counting your Highlanders," said Victoria,
+turning to Nevill. "I think they are brave, and I know
+well already what you both are." Her eyes flashed to Stephen's
+with a beautiful look, all for him. "And Saidee and I aren't
+cowards. Our greatest grief is that we've brought you into this
+danger. It's for our sakes. If it weren't for us, you'd be safe
+and happy in Algiers."</p>
+
+<p>Both men laughed. "We'd rather be here, thank you," said
+Stephen. "If you're not frightened, that's all we want. We're
+as safe as in a fort, and shall enjoy the adventure, if we
+have any."</p>
+
+<p>"It's like you to say that," Victoria answered. "But there's
+no use pretending, is there? Cassim will bring a good many
+men, and Si Ma&iuml;eddine will be with them, I think. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[Pg 470]</a></span>
+couldn't afford to try, and fail. If they come, they'll have to&mdash;make
+thorough work."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet, on the other hand, they wouldn't want to take too many
+into their secret," Stephen tried to reassure her.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we may soon know," she said. "But what I came
+out to say, is this. My sister has two carrier pigeons with
+her. One has hurt its wing and is no use. But the other
+is well, and&mdash;he comes from Oued Tolga. Not the Zaou&iuml;a,
+but the city. We've been thinking, she and I, since the Arab
+servant didn't answer, that it would be a good thing to send a
+letter to&mdash;to Captain Sabine, telling him we expected an
+attack."</p>
+
+<p>"It would be rather a sell if he got the message, and acted
+on it&mdash;and then nothing happened after all," suggested Nevill.</p>
+
+<p>"I think we'll send the message," said Stephen. "It would
+be different if we were all men here, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Victoria turned, and ran back to the open door.</p>
+
+<p>"The pigeon shall go in five minutes," she called over her
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen and Nevill went to the dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>The landlord was there, drunk, talking to himself. He had
+broken a dish, and was kicking the fragments under the table.
+He laughed at first when the two Englishmen tried to impress
+upon him the gravity of the situation; at last, however, they
+made him understand that this was no joke, but deadly earnest.
+They helped him close and bar the heavy iron gates; and as they
+looked about for material with which to build up a barrier if
+necessary, they saw the sisters come to the door. Saidee had a
+pigeon in her hands, and opening them suddenly, she let it go.
+It rose, fluttered, circling in the air, and flew southward. Victoria
+ran up the dilapidated stairway by the gate, to see it go,
+but already the tiny form was muffled from sight in the blue
+folds of the twilight.</p>
+
+<p>"In less than two hours it will be at Oued Tolga," the girl
+cried, coming down the steep steps.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[Pg 471]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At that instant, far away, there was the dry bark of a gun.</p>
+
+<p>They looked at each other, and said nothing, but the same
+doubt was in the minds of all.</p>
+
+<p>It might be that the message would never reach Oued Tolga.</p>
+
+<p>Then another thought flashed into Stephen's brain. He
+asked himself whether it would be possible to climb up into the
+broken tower. If he could reach the top, he might be able
+to call for help if they should be hard-pressed; for some years
+before he had, more for amusement than anything else, taken
+a commission in a volunteer battalion and among many other
+things which he considered more or less useless, had learned signalling.
+He had not entirely forgotten the accomplishment,
+and it might serve him very well now, only&mdash;and he looked
+up critically at the jagged wall&mdash;it would be difficult to get
+into that upper chamber, a shell of which remained. In any
+case, he would not think of so extreme a measure, until he was
+sure that, if he gave an alarm, it would not be a false one.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's have dinner," said Nevill. "If we have fighting to
+do, I vote we start with ammunition in our stomachs as well as
+in our pockets."</p>
+
+<p>Saidee had gone part way up the steps, and was looking over
+the wall.</p>
+
+<p>"I see something dark, that moves," she said. "It's far
+away, but I am sure. My eyes haven't been trained in the
+desert for nothing. It's a caravan&mdash;quite a big caravan, and
+it's coming this way. That's where the shot came from. If
+they killed the pigeon, or winged it, we're all lost. It would
+only be childish to hope. We must look our fate in the face.
+The men will be killed, and I, too. Victoria will be saved, but
+I think she'd rather die with the rest of us, for Ma&iuml;eddine will
+take her."</p>
+
+<p>"It's never childish to hope, it seems to me," said Nevill.
+"This little fort of ours isn't to be conquered in an hour, or
+many hours, I assure you."</p>
+
+<p>"And we have no intention of letting you be killed, or Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[Pg 472]</a></span>
+Ray carried off, or of dying ourselves, at the hands of a few
+Arabs," Knight added. "Have confidence."</p>
+
+<p>"In our star," Victoria half whispered, looking at Stephen.
+They both remembered, and their eyes spoke, in a language
+they had never used before.</p>
+
+<p>In England, Margot Lorenzi was wondering why Stephen
+Knight had not come to meet her, and angrily making up her
+mind that she would find out the reason.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[Pg 473]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="L" id="L"></a>L</h2>
+
+
+<p>Somehow, they all contrived to take a little food,
+three watching from the wall-towers while the others
+ate; and Saidee prepared strong, delicious coffee,
+such as had never been tasted in the bordj of Toudja.</p>
+
+<p>When they had dined after a fashion, each making a five-minute
+meal, there was still time to arrange the defence, for
+the attacking party&mdash;if such it were&mdash;could not reach the
+bordj in less than an hour, marching as fast as horses and
+camels could travel among the dunes.</p>
+
+<p>The landlord was drunk. There was no disguising that,
+but though he was past planning, he was not past fighting.
+He had a French army rifle and bayonet. Each of the five
+men had a revolver, and there was another in the bordj,
+belonging to the absent brother. This Saidee asked for, and it
+was given her. There were plenty of cartridges for each
+weapon, enough at all events to last out a hot fight of several
+hours. After that&mdash;but it was best not to send thoughts too
+far ahead.</p>
+
+<p>The Frenchman had served long ago in the Chasseurs
+d'Afrique, and had risen, he said, to the rank of sergeant;
+but the fumes of absinthe clouded his brain, and he could only
+swagger and boast of old exploits as a soldier, crying from time
+to time "Vive l'entente cordiale," and assuring the Englishmen
+that they could trust him to the death. It was Stephen who,
+by virtue of his amateur soldiering experience, had to take
+the lead. He posted the Highlanders in opposite watch-towers,
+placing Nevill in one which commanded the two rear
+walls of the bordj. The next step was the building of bon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[Pg 474]</a></span>fires,
+one at each corner of the roof, so that when the time for
+fighting came, the defenders might confound the enemy by
+lighting the surrounding desert, making a surprise impossible.
+Old barrels were broken up, therefore, and saturated
+with oil. The spiked double gates of iron, though apparently
+strong, Stephen judged incapable of holding out long
+against battering rams, but he knew heavy baulks of wood to
+be rare in the desert, far from the palms of the oases. What he
+feared most was gunpowder; and though he was ignorant of
+the marabout's secret ambitions and warlike preparations,
+he thought it not improbable that a store of gunpowder might
+be kept in the Zaou&iuml;a. True, the French Government forbade
+Arabs to have more than a small supply in their possession;
+but the marabout was greatly trusted, and was perhaps allowed
+to deal out a certain amount of the coveted treasure for "powder
+play" on religious f&ecirc;te days. To prevent the bordj falling into
+the hands of the Arabs if the gate were blown down, Stephen
+and his small force built up at the further corner of the yard, in
+front of the dining-room door, a barrier of mangers, barrels,
+wooden troughs, iron bedsteads and mattresses from the
+guest-rooms. Also they reinforced the gates against pressure
+from the outside, using the shafts of an old cart to make struts,
+which they secured against the side walls or frame of the gateway.
+These formed buttresses of considerable strength;
+and the landlord, instead of grumbling at the damage which
+might be done to his bordj, and the danger which threatened
+himself, was maudlin with delight at the prospect of killing a
+few detested Arabs.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what your quarrel's about, unless it's the
+ladies," he said, breathing vengeance and absinthe, "but
+whatever it is, I'll make it mine, whether you compensate me
+or not. Depend upon me, <i>mon capitaine</i>. Depend on an
+old soldier."</p>
+
+<p>But Stephen dared not depend upon him to man one of the
+watch-towers. Eye and hand were too unsteady to do good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[Pg 475]</a></span>
+service in picking off escaladers. The ex-soldier was brave
+enough for any feat, however, and was delighted when the
+Englishman suggested, rather than gave orders, that his should
+be the duty of lighting the bonfires. That done, he was to
+take his stand in the courtyard, and shoot any man who escaped
+the rifles in the wall-towers.</p>
+
+<p>It was agreed among all five men that the gate was to be
+held as long as possible; that if it fell, a second stand should
+be made behind the crescent-shaped barricade outside the
+dining-room door; that, should this defence fall also, all must
+retreat into the dining-room, where the two sisters must
+remain throughout the attack; and this would be the last
+stand.</p>
+
+<p>Everything being settled, and the watch-towers well supplied
+with food for the rifles, Stephen went to call Saidee and Victoria,
+who were in their almost dismantled room. The
+bedstead, washstand, chairs and table had ceased to be furniture,
+and had become part of the barricade.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me carry your things into the dining-room now," he
+said. "And your bed covering. We can make up a sort of
+couch there, for you may as well be comfortable if you can.
+And you know, it's on the cards that all our fuss is in vain.
+Nothing whatever may happen."</p>
+
+<p>They obeyed, without objection; but Saidee's look as she
+laid a pair of Arab blankets over Stephen's arm, told how
+little rest she expected. She gathered up a few things of her
+own, however, to take from the bedroom to the dining-room,
+and as she walked ahead, Stephen asked Victoria if, in the
+handbag she had brought from the Zaou&iuml;a there was a mirror.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she answered. "There's quite a good-sized one,
+which I used to have on my dressing-table in the theatre.
+How far away that time seems now!"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you lend the mirror to me&mdash;or do you value it too
+much to risk having it smashed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I'll lend it. But&mdash;&mdash;" she looked up at him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[Pg 476]</a></span>
+anxiously, in the blue star-dusk. "What are you going
+to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing particular, unless we've reason to believe that an
+attack will be made; that is, if a lot of Arabs come near the
+bordj. In that case, I want to try and get up into the tower,
+and do some signalling&mdash;for fear the shot we heard hit your
+sister's messenger. I used to be rather a nailer at that sort of
+thing, when I played at soldiering a few years ago."</p>
+
+<p>"But no one could climb the tower now!" the girl exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I almost flatter myself that I could. I've
+done the Dent Blanche twice, and a Welsh mountain or two.
+To be sure, I must be my own guide now, but I think I can
+bring it off all right. I've been searching about for a mirror
+and reflector, in case I try the experiment; for the heliographing
+apparatus was spoilt in the general wreckage of things by
+the storm. I've got a reflector off a lamp in the kitchen, but
+couldn't find a looking-glass anywhere, and I saw there was
+only a broken bit in your room. My one hope was in you."</p>
+
+<p>As he said this, he felt that the words meant a great deal
+more than he wished her to understand.</p>
+
+<p>"I hate being afraid of things," said Victoria. "But I am
+afraid to have you go up in the tower. It's only a shell, that
+looks as if it might blow down in another storm. It could fall
+with you, even if you got up safely to the signalling place.
+And besides, if Cassim's men were near, they might see you
+and shoot. Oh, I don't think I could bear to have you go!"</p>
+
+<p>"You care&mdash;a little&mdash;what becomes of me?" Stephen
+had stammered before he had time to forbid himself the question.</p>
+
+<p>"I care a great deal&mdash;what becomes of you."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you for telling me that," he said, warmly. "I&mdash;"
+but he knew he must not go on. "I shan't be in danger," he
+finished. "I'll be up and back before any one gets near enough
+to see what I'm at, and pot at me."</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, the sound of a strange, wild singing came to
+them, with the desert wind that blew from the south.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[Pg 477]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That's a Touareg song," exclaimed Saidee, turning. "It
+isn't Arab. I've heard Touaregs sing it, coming to the
+Zaou&iuml;a."</p>
+
+<p>"Madame is right," said the landlord. "I, too, have heard
+Touaregs sing it, in their own country, and also when they
+have passed here, in small bands. Perhaps we have deceived
+ourselves. Perhaps we are not to enjoy the pleasure of a fight.
+I feared it was too good to be true."</p>
+
+<p>"I can see a caravan," cried Nevill, from his cell in a wall-tower.
+"There seem to be a lot of men."</p>
+
+<p>"Would they come like that, if they wanted to fight?"
+asked the girl. "Wouldn't they spread out, and hope to surprise
+us?"</p>
+
+<p>"They'll either try to rush the gate, or else they'll pretend
+to be a peaceful caravan," said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"I see! Get the landlord to let their leaders in, and then....
+That's why they sing the Touareg song, perhaps,
+to put us off our guard."</p>
+
+<p>"Into the dining-room, both of you, and have courage!
+Whatever happens, don't come out. Will you give me the
+mirror?"</p>
+
+<p>"Must you go?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Be quick, please."</p>
+
+<p>On the threshold of the dining-room Victoria opened her bag,
+and gave him a mirror framed in silver. It had been a present
+from an enthusiastic millionairess in New York, who admired
+her dancing. That seemed very odd now. The girl's hand
+trembled as for an instant it touched Stephen's. He pressed
+her fingers, and was gone.</p>
+
+<p>"Babe, I think this will be the last night of my life," said
+Saidee, standing behind the girl, in the doorway, and pressing
+against her. "Cassim will kill me, when he kills the men,
+because I know his secret and because he hates me. If I could
+only have had a little happiness! I don't want to die. I'm
+afraid. And it's horrible to be killed."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[Pg 478]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I love being alive, but I want to know what happens next,"
+said Victoria. "Sometimes I want it so much, that I almost
+long to die. And probably one feels brave when the minute
+comes. One always does, when the great things arrive.
+Besides, we're sure it must be glorious as soon as we're out of
+our bodies. Don't you know, when you're going to jump into
+a cold bath, you shiver and hesitate a little, though you know
+perfectly well it will be splendid in an instant. Thinking of
+death's rather like that."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't got to think of it for yourself to-night. Ma&iuml;eddine
+will&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No," the girl broke in. "I won't go with Ma&iuml;eddine."</p>
+
+<p>"If they take this place&mdash;as they must, if they've brought
+many men, you'll have to go, unless&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; 'unless.' That's what I mean. But don't ask me
+any more. I&mdash;I can't think of ourselves now."</p>
+
+<p>"You're thinking of some one you love better than you do
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, not better. Only&mdash;&mdash;" Victoria's voice broke.
+The two clung to each other. Saidee could feel how the girl's
+heart was beating, and how the sobs rose in her throat, and were
+choked back.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria watched the tower, that looked like a jagged black
+tear in the star-strewn blue fabric of the sky. And she listened.
+It seemed as if her very soul were listening.</p>
+
+<p>The wild Touareg chant was louder now, but she hardly
+heard it, because her ears strained for some sound which the
+singing might cover: the sound of rubble crumbling under a
+foot that climbed and sought a holding-place.</p>
+
+<p>From far away came the barking of Kabyle dogs, in distant
+camps of nomads. In stalls of the bordj, where the animals
+rested, a horse stamped now and then, or a camel grunted.
+Each slightest noise made Victoria start and tremble. She
+could be brave for herself, but it was harder to be brave for one
+she loved, in great danger.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[Pg 479]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"They'll be here in ten minutes," shouted Nevill. "Legs,
+where are you?"</p>
+
+<p>There was no answer; but Victoria thought she heard the
+patter of falling sand. At least, the ruin stood firm so far.
+By this time Stephen might have nearly reached the top. He
+had told her not to leave the dining-room, and she had not
+meant to disobey; but she had made no promise, and she
+could bear her suspense no longer. Where she stood, she
+could not see into the shell of the broken tower. She must
+see!</p>
+
+<p>Running out, she darted across the courtyard, pausing near
+the Frenchman, Pierre Rostafel, who wandered unsteadily up
+and down the quadrangle, his torch of alfa grass ready in his
+hand. He did not know that one of the Englishmen was trying
+to climb the tower, and would not for an instant have believed
+that any human being could reach the upper chamber, if suddenly
+a light had not flashed out, at the top, seventy feet above
+his head.</p>
+
+<p>Dazed already with absinthe, fantastic ideas beat stupidly
+upon his brain, like bats that blunder against a lamp and
+extinguish it with foolish, flapping wings. He thought that
+somehow the enemy must have stolen a march upon the defenders:
+that the hated Arabs had got into the tower, from a
+ladder raised outside the wall, and that soon they would be
+pouring down in a swarm. Before he knew what he was doing,
+he had stumbled up the stairs on to the flat wall by the gate.
+Scrambling along with his torch, he got on to the bordj roof, and
+lit bonfire after bonfire, though Victoria called on him to
+stop, crying that it was too soon&mdash;that the men outside would
+shoot and kill him who would save them all.</p>
+
+<p>The sweet silence of the starry evening was crashed upon with
+lights and jarring sounds.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen, who had climbed the tower with a lantern and a
+kitchen lamp-reflector slung in a table-cover, on his back, had
+just got his makeshift apparatus in order, and standing on a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[Pg 480]</a></span>
+narrow shelf of floor which overhung a well-like abyss, had
+begun his signalling to the northward.</p>
+
+<p>Too late he realized that, for all the need of haste, he ought
+to have waited long enough to warn the drunken Frenchman
+what he meant to do. If he had, this contretemps would not
+have happened. His telegraphic flashes, long and short, must
+have told the enemy what was going on in the tower, but they
+could not have seen him standing there, exposed like a target
+to their fire, if Rostafel had not lit the bonfires.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a chorus of yells broke out, strange yells that
+sprang from savage hearts; and one sidewise glance down
+showed Stephen the desert illuminated with red fire. He
+went on with his work, not stopping to count the men on horses
+and camels who rode fast towards the bordj, though not yet
+at the foot of that swelling sand hill on which it stood. But a
+picture&mdash;of uplifted dark faces and pointing rifles&mdash;was stamped
+upon his brain in that one swift look, clear as an impression
+of a seal in hot wax. He had even time to see that those faces
+were half enveloped in masks such as he had noticed in photographs
+of Touaregs, yet he was sure that the twenty or thirty
+men were not Touaregs. When close to the bordj all flung
+themselves from their animals, which were led away, while
+the riders took cover by throwing themselves flat on the sand.
+Then they began shooting, but he looked no more. He was
+determined to keep on signalling till he got an answer or was
+shot dead.</p>
+
+<p>There were others, however, who looked and saw the faces,
+and the rifles aimed at the broken tower. The bonfires which
+showed the figure in the ruined heliographing-room, to the
+enemy, also showed the enemy to the watchers in the wall-towers,
+on opposite sides of the gates.</p>
+
+<p>The Highlanders open fire. Their skill as marksmen,
+gained in the glens and mountains of Sutherlandshire, was
+equally effective on different game, in the desert of the Sahara.
+One shot brought a white mehari to its knees. Another caused<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[Pg 481]</a></span>
+a masked man in a striped gandourah to wring his hand and
+squeal.</p>
+
+<p>The whole order of things was changed by the sudden
+flashes from the height of the dark ruin, and the lighting of the
+bonfires on the bordj roof.</p>
+
+<p>Two of the masked men riding on a little in advance of the
+other twenty had planned, as Stephen guessed, to demand
+admittance to the bordj, declaring themselves leaders of a
+Touareg caravan on its way to Touggourt. If they could have
+induced an unsuspecting landlord to open the gates, so much the
+better for them. If not, a parley would have given the band
+time to act upon instructions already understood. But Cassim
+ben Halim, an old soldier, and Ma&iuml;eddine, whose soul was in
+this venture, were not the men to meet an emergency unprepared.
+They had calculated on a check, and were ready for
+surprises.</p>
+
+<p>It was Ma&iuml;eddine's camel that went down, shot in the neck.
+He had been keeping El Biod in reserve, when the splendid
+stallion might be needed for two to ride away in haste&mdash;his
+master and a woman. As the mehari fell, Ma&iuml;eddine escaped
+from the saddle and alighted on his feet, his blue Touareg veil
+disarranged by the shock. His face uncovered, he bounded
+up the slope with the bullets of Angus and Hamish pattering
+around him in the sand.</p>
+
+<p>"She's bewitched, whateffer!" the twins mumbled, each in
+his watch-tower, as the tall figure sailed on like a war-cloud, untouched.
+And they wished for silver bullets, to break the
+charm woven round the "fanatic" by a wicked spirit.</p>
+
+<p>Over Ma&iuml;eddine's head his leader was shooting at Stephen in
+the tower, while Hamish returned his fire, leaving the running
+man to Angus. But suddenly Angus wheeled after a shot,
+to yell through the tower door into the courtyard. "Oot o'
+the way, wimmen! He's putten gunpowder to the gate if I
+canna stop him." Then, he wheeled into place, and was entranced
+to see that the next bullet found its billet under the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[Pg 482]</a></span>
+Arab's turban. In the orange light of the bonfires, Angus
+could see a spout of crimson gush down the bronze forehead
+and over the glittering eyes. But the wounded Arab did not
+fall back an inch or drop a burden which he carried carefully.
+Now he was sheltering behind the high, jutting gate-post. In
+another minute it would be too late to save the gate.</p>
+
+<p>But Angus did not think of Victoria. Nor did Victoria
+stop to think of herself. Something seemed to say in her heart,
+"Ma&iuml;eddine won't let them blow up the gate, if it means your
+death, and so, maybe, you can save them all."</p>
+
+<p>This was not a thought, since she had no time for thought.
+It was but a murmur in her brain, as she ran up the steep
+stairway close to the gate, and climbed on to the wall.</p>
+
+<p>Ma&iuml;eddine, streaming with blood, was sheltering in the narrow
+angle of the gate-post where the firing from the towers
+struck the wall instead of his body. He had suspended a
+cylinder of gunpowder against the gate, and, his hands full of
+powder to sprinkle a trail, he was ready to make a dash for
+life when a voice cried his name.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria stood on the high white wall of the bordj, just above
+the gate, on the side where he had hung the gunpowder.
+A few seconds more&mdash;his soul sickened at the thought. He
+forgot his own danger, in thinking of hers, and how he
+might have destroyed her, blotting out the light of his own
+life.</p>
+
+<p>"Ma&iuml;eddine!" she called, before she knew who had been
+ready to lay the fuse, and that, instead of crying to a man in
+the distance, she spoke to one at her feet. He stared up at
+her through a haze of blood. In the red light of the fire, she
+was more beautiful even than when she had danced in his
+father's tent, and he had told himself that if need be he would
+throw away the world for her. She recognized him as she
+looked down, and started back with an impulse to escape,
+he seemed so near and so formidable. But she feared that,
+if the gate were blown up, the ruined tower might be shaken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[Pg 483]</a></span>
+down by the explosion. She must stay, and save the gate,
+until Stephen had reached the ground.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou!" exclaimed Ma&iuml;eddine. "Come to me, heart of
+my life, thou who art mine forever, and thy friends shall be
+spared, I promise thee."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not thine, nor ever can be," Victoria answered him.
+"Go thou, or thou wilt be shot with many bullets. They fire
+at thee and I cannot stop them. I do not wish to see thee
+die."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou knowest that while thou art on the wall I cannot do
+what I came to do," Ma&iuml;eddine said. "If they kill me here,
+my death will be on thy head, for I will not go without thee.
+Yet if thou hidest from me, I will blow up the gate."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria did not answer, but looked at the ruined tower.
+One of its walls and part of another stood firm, and she could
+not see Stephen in the heliographing-chamber at the top.
+But through a crack between the adobe bricks she caught a
+gleam of light, which moved. It was Stephen's lantern, she
+knew. He was still there. Farther down, the crack widened.
+On his way back, he would see her, if she were still on the wall
+above the gate. She wished that he need not learn she was
+there, lest he lose his nerve in making that terrible descent.
+But every one else knew that she was trying to save the gate,
+and that while she remained, the fuse would not be lighted.
+Saidee, who had come out from the dining-room into the
+courtyard, could see her on the wall, and Rostafel was babbling
+that she was "une petite lionne, une merveille de courage et de
+finesse." The Highlanders knew, too, and were doing their
+best to rid her of Ma&iuml;eddine, but, perhaps because of the superstition
+which made them doubt the power of their bullets
+against a charmed life, they could not kill him, though his
+cloak was pierced, and his face burned by a bullet which had
+grazed his cheek. Suddenly, however, to the girl's surprise
+and joy, Ma&iuml;eddine turned and ran like a deer toward the
+firing line of the Arabs. Then, as the bullets of Hamish and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[Pg 484]</a></span>
+Angus spattered round him, he wheeled again abruptly and
+came back towards the bordj as if borne on by a whirlwind.
+With a run, he threw himself towards the gate, and leaping
+up caught at the spikes for handhold. He grasped them
+firmly, though his fingers bled, got a knee on the wall, and
+freeing a hand snatched at Victoria's dress.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[Pg 485]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="LI" id="LI"></a>LI</h2>
+
+
+<p>Saidee, down in the courtyard, shrieked as she saw
+her sister's danger. "Fire!&mdash;wound him&mdash;make
+him fall!" she screamed to Rostafel. But to
+fire would be at risk of the girl's life, and the
+Frenchman danced about aimlessly, yelling to the men in the
+watch-towers.</p>
+
+<p>In the tower, Stephen heard a woman's cry and thought the
+voice was Victoria's. His work was done. He had signalled
+for help, and, though this apparatus was a battered stable
+lantern, a kitchen-lamp reflector, and a hand-mirror, he had
+got an answer. Away to the north, a man whom perhaps he
+would never see, had flashed him back a message. He could
+not understand all, for it is easier to send than to receive
+signals; but there was something about soldiers at Bordj
+Azzouz, changing garrison, and Stephen believed that they
+meant marching to the rescue. Now, his left arm wounded,
+his head cut, and eyes half blinded with a rain of rubble
+brought down by an Arab bullet, he had made part of the
+descent when Saidee screamed her high-pitched scream of
+terror.</p>
+
+<p>He was still far above the remnant of stairway, broken off
+thirty feet above ground level. But, knowing that the descent
+would be more difficult than the climb, he had torn into strips
+the stout tablecloth which had wrapped his heliographing
+apparatus. Knotting the lengths together, he had fastened one
+end round a horn of shattered adobe, and tied the other in a
+slip-noose under his arms. Now, he was thankful for this
+precaution. Instead of picking his way, from foothold to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[Pg 486]</a></span>
+foothold, at the sound of the cry he lowered himself rapidly,
+like a man who goes down a well on the chain of a bucket, and
+dropped on a pile of bricks which blocked the corkscrew steps.
+In a second he was free of the stretched rope, and, half running,
+half falling down the rubbish-blocked stairway, he found himself,
+giddy and panting, at the bottom. A rush took him
+across the courtyard to the gate; snatching Rostafel's rifle
+and springing up the wall stairway, a bullet from Ma&iuml;eddine's
+revolver struck him in the shoulder. For the space of a heart-beat
+his brain was in confusion. He knew that the Arab had
+a knee on the wall, and that he had pulled Victoria to him
+by her dress, which was smeared with blood. But he did
+not know whether the blood was the girl's or Ma&iuml;eddine's,
+and the doubt, and her danger, and the rage of his wound
+drove him mad. It was not a sane man who crashed down
+Rostafel's rifle on Ma&iuml;eddine's head, and laughed as he struck.
+The Arab dropped over the wall and fell on the ground outside
+the gate, like a dead man, his body rolling a little way down
+the slope. There it lay still, in a crumpled heap, but the
+marabout and two of his men made a dash to the rescue,
+dragging the limp form out of rifle range. It was a heroic act,
+and the Highlanders admired it while they fired at the heroes.
+One fell, to rise no more, and already two masked corpses had
+fallen from the wall into the courtyard, daring climbers shot
+by Rostafel as they tried to drop. Sickened by the sight of
+blood, dazed by shots and the sharp "ping" of bullets, frenzied
+with horror at the sight of Victoria struggling in the grasp of
+Ma&iuml;eddine, Saidee sank down unconscious as Stephen beat
+the Arab off the wall.</p>
+
+<p>"Darling, precious one, for God's sake say you're not hurt!"
+he stammered, as he caught Victoria in his arms, holding her
+against his heart, as he carried her down. He was still a madman,
+mad with fear for her, and love for her&mdash;love made terrible
+by the dread of loss. It was new life to hold her so, to
+know that she was safe, to bow his forehead on her hair. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[Pg 487]</a></span>
+was no Margot or any other woman in existence. Only this
+girl and he, created for each other, alone in the world.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria clung to him thankfully, sure of his love already,
+and glad of his words.</p>
+
+<p>"No, my dearest, I'm not hurt," she answered. "But you&mdash;you
+are wounded!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. If I am, I don't feel it," said Stephen.
+"Nothing matters except you."</p>
+
+<p>"I saw him shoot you. I&mdash;I thought you were killed.
+Put me down. I want to look at you."</p>
+
+<p>She struggled in his arms, as they reached the foot of the
+stairs, and gently he put her down. But her nerves had
+suffered more than she knew. Strength failed her, and she
+reached out to him for help. Then he put his arm round
+her again, supporting her against his wounded shoulder. So
+they looked at each other, in the light of the bonfires, their
+hearts in their eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"There's blood in your hair and on your face," she said.
+"Oh, and on your coat. Ma&iuml;eddine shot you."</p>
+
+<p>"It's nothing," he said. "I feel no pain. Nothing but
+rapture that you're safe. I thought the blood on your dress
+might be&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It was his, not mine. His hands were bleeding. Oh,
+poor Ma&iuml;eddine&mdash;I can't help pitying him. What if he is
+killed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't think of him. If he's dead, I killed him, not you,
+and I don't repent. I'd do it again. He deserved to die."</p>
+
+<p>"He tried to kill you!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean for that reason. But come, darling. You
+must go into the house, I have to take my turn in the fighting
+now&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You've done more than any one else!" she cried, proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it was little enough. And there's the wall to defend.
+I&mdash;but look, your sister's fainting."</p>
+
+<p>"My Saidee! And I didn't see her lying there!" The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[Pg 488]</a></span>
+girl fell on her knees beside the white bundle on the ground.
+"Oh, help me get her into the house."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll carry her."</p>
+
+<p>But Victoria would help him. Together they lifted Saidee,
+and Stephen carried her across the courtyard, making a d&eacute;tour
+to avoid passing the two dead Arabs. But Victoria saw, and,
+shuddering, was speechless.</p>
+
+<p>"This time you'll promise to stay indoors!" Stephen said,
+when he had laid Saidee on the pile of blankets in a corner of
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;I promise!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl gave him both hands. He kissed them, and then,
+without turning, went out and shut the door. It was only at
+this moment that he remembered Margot, remembered her with
+anguish, because of the echo of Victoria's voice in his ears as
+she named him her "dearest."</p>
+
+<p>As Stephen came from behind the barricade which screened
+the dining-room from the courtyard, he found Rostafel shooting
+right and left at men who tried to climb the rear wall, having
+been missed by Nevill's fire. Rostafel had recovered the
+rifle snatched by Stephen in his stampede to the stairway, and,
+sobered by the fight, was making good use of it. Stephen had
+now armed himself with his own, left for safety behind the
+barrier while he signalled in the tower; and together the two
+men had hot work in the quadrangle. Here and there an
+escalader escaped the fire from the watch-towers, and hung
+half over the wall, but dropped alive into the courtyard, only
+to be bayoneted by the Frenchman. The signalling-tower
+gave little shelter against the enemy, as most of the outer wall
+had fallen above the height of twenty feet from the ground;
+but, as without it only three sides of the quadrangle could be
+fully defended, once again Stephen scrambled up the choked
+and broken stairway. Screening himself as best he could behind
+a jagged ledge of adobe, he fired through a crack at three or four
+Arabs who made a human ladder for a comrade to mount the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[Pg 489]</a></span>
+wall. The man at the top fell. The next mounted, to be shot
+by Nevill from a watch-tower. The bullet pierced the fellow's
+leg, which was what Nevill wished, for he, who hated to rob
+even an insect of its life, aimed now invariably at arms or legs,
+never at any vital part. "All we want," he thought half
+guiltily, "is to disable the poor brutes. They must obey the
+marabout. We've no spite against 'em!"</p>
+
+<p>But every one knew that it was a question of moments only
+before some Arab, quicker or luckier than the rest, would
+succeed in firing the trail of gunpowder already laid. The
+gate would be blown up. Then would follow a rush of the
+enemy and the second stand of the defenders behind the
+barricade. Last of all, the retreat to the dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>Among the first precautions Stephen had taken was that of
+locking the doors of all rooms except the dining-room, and
+pulling out the keys, so that, when the enemy got into the quadrangle,
+they would find themselves forced to stay in the open,
+or take shelter in the watch-towers vacated by the defenders.
+From the doorways of these, they could not do much harm to
+the men behind the barricade. But there was one thing they
+might do, against which Stephen had not guarded. The idea
+flashed into his head now, too late. There were the stalls
+where the animals were tied. The Arabs could use the beasts
+for a living barricade, firing over their backs. Stephen
+grudged this advantage, and was puzzling his brain how to
+prevent the enemy from taking it, when a great light blazed
+into the sky, followed by the roar of an explosion.</p>
+
+<p>The tower shook, and Stephen was thrown off his feet. For
+half a second he was dazed, but came to himself in the act of
+tumbling down stairs, still grasping his rifle.</p>
+
+<p>A huge hole yawned where the gate had stood. The iron
+had shrivelled and curled like so much cardboard, and the
+gap was filled with circling wreaths of smoke and a crowd
+of Arabs. Mad with fear, the camels and horses tethered in
+the stables of the bordj broke their halters and plunged wildly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[Pg 490]</a></span>
+about the courtyard, looming like strange monsters in the red
+light and belching smoke. As if to serve the defenders, they
+galloped toward the gate, cannoning against each other in the
+struggle to escape, and thus checked the first rush of the
+enemy. Nearly all were shot down by the Arabs, but a few
+moments were gained for the Europeans. Firing as he ran,
+Stephen made a dash for the barricade, where he found Rostafel,
+and as the enemy swarmed into the quadrangle, pouring
+over dead and dying camels, the two Highlanders burst with
+yells like the slogans of their fighting ancestors, out from the
+watch-towers nearest the gateway.</p>
+
+<p>The sudden apparition of these gigantic twin figures, bare-legged,
+dressed in kilts, appalled the Arabs. Some, who had
+got farthest into the courtyard, were taken in the rear by Angus
+and Hamish; and as the Highlanders laid about them with
+clubbed rifles, the superstitious Easterners wavered. Imagining
+themselves assailed by giant women with the strength of devils,
+they fell back dismayed, and for some wild seconds the twins
+were masters of the quadrangle. They broke heads with
+crushing blows, and smashed ribs with trampling feet, yelling
+their fearsome yells which seemed the cries of death and war.
+But it was the triumph of a moment only, and then the Arabs&mdash;save
+those who would fight no more&mdash;rallied round their
+leader, a tall, stout man with a majestic presence. Once he
+had got his men in hand&mdash;thirteen or fourteen he had left&mdash;the
+open courtyard was too hot a place even for the Highland
+men. They retreated, shoulder to shoulder, towards the
+barricade, and soon were firing viciously from behind its shelter.
+If they lived through this night, never again, it would seem,
+could they be satisfied with the daily round of preparing an
+old lady's bath, and pressing upon her dishes which she did
+not want. And yet&mdash;their mistress was an exceptional old
+lady.</p>
+
+<p>Now, all the towers were vacant, except the one defended by
+Nevill, and it had been agreed from the first that he was to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[Pg 491]</a></span>
+stick to his post until time for the last stand. The reason
+of this was that the door of his tower was screened by the
+barricade, and the two rear walls of the bordj (meeting in a
+triangle at this corner) must be defended while the barricade
+was held. These walls unguarded, the enemy could climb
+them from outside and fire down on the backs of the Europeans,
+behind the barrier. Those who attempted to climb from the
+courtyard (the gate-stairway being destroyed by the explosion)
+must face the fire of the defenders, who could also see and
+protect themselves against any one mounting the wall to pass
+over the scattered d&eacute;bris of the ruined signal-tower. Thus
+every contingency was provided for, as well as might be by
+five men, against three times their number; and the
+Europeans meant to make a stubborn fight before that last resort&mdash;the
+dining-room. Nevertheless, it occurred to Stephen
+that perhaps, after all, he need not greatly repent the
+confession of love he had made to Victoria. He had had no right
+to speak, but if there were to be no future for either in this world,
+fate need not grudge him an hour's happiness. And he was
+conscious of a sudden lightness of spirit, as of an exile nearing
+home.</p>
+
+<p>The Arabs, sheltering behind the camels and horses they had
+shot, fired continuously in the hope of destroying a weak part
+of the barricade or killing some one behind it. Gradually
+they formed of the dead animals a barricade of their own, and
+now that the bonfires were dying it was difficult for the Europeans
+to touch the enemy behind cover. Consulting together,
+however, and calculating how many dead each might put to
+his credit, the defenders agreed that they must have killed or
+disabled more than a dozen. The marabout, whose figure
+in one flashing glimpse Stephen fancied he recognized, was still
+apparently unhurt. It was he who seemed to be conducting
+operations, but of Si Ma&iuml;eddine nothing had been seen since
+his unconscious or dead body was dragged down the slope
+by his friends. Precisely how many Arabs remained to fight,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[Pg 492]</a></span>
+the Europeans were not sure, but they believed that over a
+dozen were left, counting the leader.</p>
+
+<p>By and by the dying fires flickered out, leaving only a dull
+red glow on the roofs. The pale light of the stars seemed dim
+after the blaze which had lit the quadrangle, and in the semi-darkness,
+when each side watched the other as a cat spies at a
+rat-hole, the siege grew wearisome. Yet the Europeans felt
+that each moment's respite meant sixty seconds of new hope
+for them. Ammunition was running low, and soon they must
+fall back upon the small supply kept by Rostafel, which had
+already been placed in the dining-room; but matters were
+not quite desperate, since each minute brought the soldiers
+from Bordj Azzouz nearer, even if the carrier pigeon had
+failed.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do they not blow us up?" asked the Frenchman, sober
+now, and extremely pessimistic. "They could do it. Or
+is it the women they are after?"</p>
+
+<p>Stephen was not inclined to be confidential. "No doubt they
+have their own reasons," he answered. "What they are,
+can't matter to us."</p>
+
+<p>"It matters that they are concocting some plan, and that we
+do not know what it is," said Rostafel.</p>
+
+<p>"To get on to the roof over our heads is what they'd like
+best, no doubt," said Stephen. "But my friend in the tower
+here is saving us from that at the back, and they can't do much
+in front of our noses."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not sure they cannot. They will think of something,"
+grumbled the landlord. "We are in a bad situation. I do
+not believe any of us will see to-morrow. I only hope my
+brother will have the spirit to revenge me. But even that is
+not my luck."</p>
+
+<p>He was right. The Arabs had thought of something&mdash;"a
+something" which they must have prepared before their start.
+Suddenly, behind the mound of dead animals arose a fitful
+light, and while the Europeans wondered at its meaning, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[Pg 493]</a></span>
+shower of burning projectiles flew through the air at the barricade.
+All four fired a volley in answer, hoping to wing the
+throwers, but the Arab scheme was a success. Tins of blazing
+pitch were rolling about the courtyard, close to the barrier,
+but before falling they had struck the piled mattresses and
+furniture, splashing fire and trickles of flame poured over the
+old bedticking, and upholstered chairs from the dining-room.
+At the same instant Nevill called from the door of his tower:
+"More cartridges, quick! I'm all out, and there are two chaps
+trying to shin up the wall. Ma&iuml;eddine's not dead. He's
+there, directing 'em."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen gave Nevill his own rifle, just reloaded. "Fetch
+the cartridges stored in the dining-room," he said to Rostafel,
+"while we beat the fire out with our coats." But there was no
+need for the Frenchman to leave his post. "Here are the
+cartridges," said Victoria's voice, surprising them. She had been
+at the door, which she held ajar, and behind this screen had
+heard and seen all that passed. As Stephen took the box
+of cartridges, she caught up the large pail of water which early
+in the evening had been placed in the dining-room in case of
+need. "Take this and put out the fire," she cried to Hamish,
+who snatched the bucket without a word, and dashed its
+contents over the barricade.</p>
+
+<p>Then she went back to Saidee, who sat on the blankets in a
+far corner, shivering with cold, though the night was hot, and the
+room, with its barred wooden shutters, close almost beyond
+bearing. They had kept but one tallow candle lighted, that
+Victoria might more safely peep out from time to time, to see
+how the fight was going.</p>
+
+<p>"What if our men are all killed," Saidee whispered, as the
+girl stole back to her, "and nobody's left to defend us? Cassim
+and Ma&iuml;eddine will open the door, over their dead bodies,
+and then&mdash;then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You have a revolver," said Victoria, almost angrily. "Not
+for them, I don't mean that. Only&mdash;they mustn't take us.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">[Pg 494]</a></span>
+But I'm not afraid. Our men are brave, and splendid. They
+have no thought of giving up. And if Captain Sabine got our
+message, he'll be here by dawn."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't forget the shot we heard."</p>
+
+<p>"No. But the pigeon isn't our only hope. The signals!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who knows if an answer came?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know, because I know Stephen. He wouldn't have come
+down alive unless he'd got an answer."</p>
+
+<p>Saidee said no more, and they sat together in silence, Victoria
+holding her sister's icy hand in hers, which was scarcely warmer,
+though it tingled with the throbbing of many tiny pulses. So
+they listened to the firing outside, until suddenly it sounded
+different to Victoria's ears. She straightened herself with a
+start, listening even more intensely.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter? What do you hear?" Saidee stammered,
+dry-lipped.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not sure. But&mdash;I think they've used up all the
+cartridges I took them. And there are no more."</p>
+
+<p>"But they're firing still."</p>
+
+<p>"With their revolvers."</p>
+
+<p>"God help us, then! It can't last long," the older woman
+whispered, and covered her face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>Victoria did not stop for words of comfort. She jumped up
+from the couch of blankets and ran to the door, which Stephen
+had shut. It must be kept wide open, now, in case the defenders
+were obliged to rush in for the last stand. She pressed
+close to it, convulsively grasping the handle with her cold fingers.</p>
+
+<p>Then the end came soon, for the enemy had not been slow to
+detect the difference between rifle and revolver shots. They
+knew, even before Victoria guessed, exactly what had happened.
+It was the event they had been awaiting. With a rush, the
+dozen men dashed over the mound of carcasses and charged
+the burning barricade.</p>
+
+<p>"Quick, Wings," shouted Stephen, defending the way his
+friend must take. The distance was short from the door of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[Pg 495]</a></span>
+the watch-tower to the door of the dining-room, but it was
+just too long for safety. As Nevill ran across, an Arab close
+to the barricade shot him in the side, and he would have fallen
+if Stephen had not caught him round the waist, and flung him
+to Hamish, who carried him to shelter.</p>
+
+<p>A second more, and they were all in the dining-room. Stephen
+and Angus had barred the heavy door, and already Hamish
+and Rostafel were firing through the two round ventilating
+holes in the window shutters. There were two more such holes
+in the door, and Stephen took one, Angus the other. But
+the enemy had already sheltered on the other side of the barricade,
+which would now serve them as well as it had served the
+Europeans. The water dashed on to the flames had not extinguished
+all, but the wet mattresses and furniture burned
+slowly, and the Arabs began beating out the fire with their
+gandourahs.</p>
+
+<p>Again there was a deadlock. For the moment neither side
+could harm the other: but there was little doubt in the minds
+of the besieged as to the next move of the besiegers. The
+Arabs were at last free to climb the wall, beyond reach of the
+loopholes in door or window, and could make a hole in the roof
+of the dining-room. It would take them some time, but they
+could do it, and meanwhile the seven prisoners were almost as
+helpless as trapped rats.</p>
+
+<p>Of the five men, not one was unwounded, and Stephen began
+to fear that Nevill was badly hurt. He could not breathe without
+pain, and though he tried to laugh, he was deadly pale in
+the wan candlelight. "Don't mind me. I'm all right," he
+said when Victoria and Saidee began tearing up their Arab
+veils for bandages. "Not worth the bother!" But the
+sisters would not listen, and Victoria told him with pretended
+cheerfulness what a good nurse she was; how she had learned
+"first aid" at the school at Potterston, and taken a prize for
+efficiency.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his protest, Nevill was made to lie down on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">[Pg 496]</a></span>
+blankets in the corner, while the two sisters played doctor;
+and as the firing of the Arabs slackened, Stephen left the twins
+to guard door and window, while he and Rostafel built a screen
+to serve when the breaking of the roof should begin. The
+only furniture left in the dining-room consisted of one large
+table (which Stephen had not added to the barricade because
+he had thought of this contingency) and in addition a
+rough unpainted cupboard, fastened to the wall. They tore
+off the doors of this cupboard, and with them and the table
+made a kind of penthouse to protect the corner where Nevill
+lay.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," said Stephen, "if they dig a hole in the roof they'll
+find&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Flag o' truce, sir," announced Hamish at the door. And
+Stephen remembered that for three minutes at least there had
+been no firing. As he worked at the screen, he had hardly
+noticed the silence.</p>
+
+<p>He hurried to join Hamish at the door, and, peeping out,
+saw a tall man, with a bloodstained bandage wrapped round
+his head, advancing from the other side of the barricade, with a
+white handkerchief hanging from the barrel of his rifle. It
+was Ma&iuml;eddine, and somehow Stephen was glad that the Arab's
+death did not lie at his door. His anger had cooled, now,
+and he wondered at the murderous rage which had passed.</p>
+
+<p>As Ma&iuml;eddine came forward, fearlessly, he limped in spite of
+an effort to hide the fact that he was almost disabled.</p>
+
+<p>"I have to say that, if the ladies are given up to us, no harm
+shall come to them or to the others," he announced in French,
+in a clear, loud voice. "We will take the women with us, and
+leave the men to go their own way. We will even provide them
+with animals in place of those we have killed, that they may
+ride to the north."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not believe him!" cried Saidee. "Traitors once, they'll
+be traitors again. If Victoria and I should consent to go with
+them, to save all your lives, they wouldn't spare you really.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[Pg 497]</a></span>
+As soon as we were in their hands, they'd burn the house or
+blow it up."</p>
+
+<p>"There can be no question of our allowing you to go, in
+any case," said Stephen. "Our answer is," he replied to
+Ma&iuml;eddine, "that the ladies prefer to remain with us, and we
+expect to be able to protect them."</p>
+
+<p>"Then all will die together, except one, who is my promised
+wife," returned the Arab. "Tell that one that by coming with
+me she can save her sister, whom she once seemed to love more
+than herself, more than all the world. If she stays, not only
+will her eyes behold the death of the men who failed to guard
+her, but the death of her sister. One who has a right to decide
+the lady's fate, has decided that she must die in punishment of
+her obstinacy, unless she gives herself up."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell Si Ma&iuml;eddine that before he or the marabout can come
+near us, we shall be dead," Victoria said, in a low voice. "I
+know Saidee and I can trust you," she went on, "to shoot us
+both straight through the heart rather than they should take
+us. That's what you wish, too, isn't it, Saidee?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;yes, if I have courage or heart enough to wish
+anything," her sister faltered.</p>
+
+<p>But Stephen could not or would not give that message to
+Ma&iuml;eddine. "Go," he said, the fire of his old rage flaming
+again. "Go, you Arab dog!"</p>
+
+<p>Forgetting the flag of truce in his fury at the insult, Ma&iuml;eddine
+lifted his rifle and fired; then, remembering that he had
+sinned against a code of honour he respected, he stood still,
+waiting for an answering shot, as if he and his rival were
+engaged in a strange duel. But Stephen did not shoot, and
+with a quick word forbade the others to fire. Then Ma&iuml;eddine
+moved away slowly and was lost to sight behind the barricade.</p>
+
+<p>As he disappeared, a candle which Victoria had placed near
+Nevill's couch on the floor, flickered and dropped its wick in a
+pool of grease. There was only one other left, and the lamp
+had been forgotten in the kitchen: but already the early dawn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[Pg 498]</a></span>
+was drinking the starlight. It was three o'clock, and soon it
+would be day.</p>
+
+<p>For some minutes there was no more firing. Stillness had
+fallen in the quadrangle. There was no sound except the faint
+moaning of some wounded animal that lived and suffered.
+Then came a pounding on the roof, not in one, but in two or
+three places. It was as if men worked furiously, with pickaxes;
+and somehow Stephen was sure that Ma&iuml;eddine, despite
+his wounds, was among them. He would wish to be the first to
+see Victoria's face, to save her from death, perhaps, and keep
+her for himself. Still, Stephen was glad he had not killed the
+Arab, and he felt, though they said nothing of it to each other,
+that Victoria, too, was glad.</p>
+
+<p>They must have help soon now, if it were to come in time.
+The knocking on the roof was loud.</p>
+
+<p>"How long before they can break through?" Victoria asked,
+leaving Nevill to come to Stephen, who guarded the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there are several layers of thick adobe," he said,
+cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Will it be ten minutes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, more than that. Much more than that," Stephen
+assured her.</p>
+
+<p>"Please tell me what you truly think. I have a reason for
+asking. Will it be half an hour?"</p>
+
+<p>"At least that," he said, with a tone of grave sincerity which
+she no longer doubted.</p>
+
+<p>"Half an hour. And then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Even then we can keep you safe for a little while, behind
+the screen. And help may come."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you given up hope, in your heart?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. One doesn't give up hope."</p>
+
+<p>"I feel the same. I never give up hope. And yet&mdash;we
+may have to die, all of us, and for myself, I'm not afraid, only
+very solemn, for death must be wonderful. But for you&mdash;to
+have you give your life for ours&mdash;&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">[Pg 499]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I would give it joyfully, a hundred times for you."</p>
+
+<p>"I know. And I for you. That's one thing I wanted to
+tell you, in case&mdash;we never have a chance to speak to each
+other again. That, and just this beside: one reason I'm not
+afraid, is because I'm with you. If I die, or live, I shall be
+with you. And whichever it's to be, I shall find it sweet.
+One will be the same as the other, really, for death's only a new
+life."</p>
+
+<p>"And I have something to tell you," Stephen said. "I
+worship you, and to have known you, has made it worth while
+to have existed, though I haven't always been happy. Why,
+just this moment alone is worth all the rest of my life. So
+come what may, I have lived."</p>
+
+<p>The pounding on the roof grew louder. The sound of the
+picks with which the men worked could be heard more clearly.
+They were rapidly getting through those layers of adobe, of
+whose thickness Stephen had spoken.</p>
+
+<p>"It won't be half an hour now," Victoria murmured, looking
+up.</p>
+
+<p>"No. Promise me you'll go to your sister and Nevill Caird
+behind the screen, when I tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"I promise, if&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The pounding ceased. In the courtyard there was a certain
+confusion&mdash;the sound of running feet, and murmur of excited
+voices, though eyes that looked through the holes in the door
+and window could not see past the barricade.</p>
+
+<p>Then, suddenly, the pounding began again, more furiously
+than ever. It was as if demons had taken the place of men.</p>
+
+<p>"It is Ma&iuml;eddine, I'm sure!" cried Victoria. "I seem to
+know what is in his mind. Something has made him desperate."</p>
+
+<p>"There's a chance for us," said Stephen. "What I believe
+has happened, is this. They must have stationed a sentinel or
+two outside the bordj in case of surprise. The raised voices
+we heard, and the stopping of the work on the roof for a minute,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">[Pg 500]</a></span>
+may have meant that a sentinel ran in with news&mdash;good news
+for us, bad news for the Arabs."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;would they have begun to work again, if soldiers
+were coming?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, if help were so far off that the Arabs might hope to reach
+us before it came, and get away in time. Ben Halim's one hope
+is to make an end of&mdash;some of us. It was well enough to
+disguise the whole band as Touaregs, in case they were seen by
+nomads, or the landlord here should escape, and tell of the
+attack. But he'd risk anything to silence us men, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He cares nothing for Saidee's life or mine. It's only
+Ma&iuml;eddine who cares," the girl broke in. "I suppose they've
+horses and meharis waiting for them outside the bordj?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Probably they're being got ready now. The animals
+have had a night's rest."</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, the first bit of ceiling fell in, rough plaster
+dropping with a patter like rain on the hard clay floor.</p>
+
+<p>Saidee cried out faintly in her corner, where Nevill had
+fallen into semi-unconsciousness behind the screen. Rostafel
+grumbled a "sapriste!" under his breath, but the Highlanders
+were silent.</p>
+
+<p>Down poured more plaster, and put out the last candle.
+Though a faint dawn-light stole through the holes in door and
+window, the room was dim, almost dark, and with the smell
+of gunpowder mingled the stench of hot tallow.</p>
+
+<p>"Go now, dearest, to your sister," Stephen said to the girl, in
+a low voice that was for her alone.</p>
+
+<p>"You will come?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Soon. But the door and window must be guarded.
+We can't have them breaking in two ways at once."</p>
+
+<p>"Give me your hand," she said.</p>
+
+<p>He took one of hers, instead, but she raised his to her lips
+and kissed it. Then she went back to her sister, and the two
+clung together in silence, listening to the patter of broken adobe
+on the floor. At first it was but as a heavy shower of rain; then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">[Pg 501]</a></span>
+it increased in violence like the rattle of hail. They could hear
+men speaking on the roof, and a gleam of daylight silvered a
+crack, as Stephen looked up, a finger on the trigger of his revolver.</p>
+
+<p>"Five minutes more," were the words which repeated themselves
+in his mind, like the ticking of a watch. "Four minutes.
+Three. Can I keep my promise to her, when the time comes!"</p>
+
+<p>A shout broke the question short, like a snapped thread.</p>
+
+<p>He remembered the voice of the marabout, and knew that
+the sisters must recognize it also.</p>
+
+<p>"What does he say?" Stephen called across the room to
+Victoria, speaking loudly to be heard over voices which answered
+the summons, whatever it might be.</p>
+
+<p>"He's ordering Ma&iuml;eddine to come down from the roof.
+He says five seconds' delay and it will be too late&mdash;they'll
+both be ruined. I can't hear what Ma&iuml;eddine answers. But
+he goes on working still&mdash;he won't obey."</p>
+
+<p>"Fool&mdash;traitor! For thy sentimental folly wilt thou
+sacrifice thy people's future and ruin my son and me?" Cassim
+shouted, as the girl stood still to listen. "Thou canst never
+have her now. Stay, and thou canst do naught but kill thyself.
+Come, and we may all be saved. I command thee,
+in the name of Allah and His Prophet, that thou obey me."</p>
+
+<p>The pounding stopped. There was a rushing, sliding sound
+on the roof. Then all was quiet above and in the courtyard.</p>
+
+<p>Saidee broke into hysterical sobbing, crying that they were
+rescued, that Honor&eacute; Sabine was on his way to save them.
+And Victoria thought that Stephen would come to her, but he
+did not. They were to live, not to die, and the barrier that
+had been broken down was raised again.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"What if it's only a trap?" Saidee asked, as Stephen opened
+the door. "What if they're behind the barricade, watching?"</p>
+
+<p>"Listen! Don't you hear shots?" Victoria cried.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">[Pg 502]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes. There are shots&mdash;far away," Stephen answered.
+"That settles it. There's no ambush. Either Sabine or the
+soldiers marching from Azzouz are after them. They didn't
+go an instant too soon to save their skins."</p>
+
+<p>"And ours," murmured Nevill, roused from his stupor.
+"Queer, how natural it seems that we should be all right after
+all." Then his mind wandered a little, leading him back to a
+feverish dream. "Ask Sabine, when he comes&mdash;if he's got
+a letter for me&mdash;from Josette."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen opened the door, and let in the fresh air and morning
+light, but the sight in the quadrangle was too ugly for the eyes
+of women. "Don't come out!" he called sharply over his
+shoulder as he turned past the barricade, with Rostafel at his
+back.</p>
+
+<p>The courtyard was hideous as a slaughter-house. Only
+the sky of rose and gold reminded him of the world's
+beauty and the glory of morning, after that dark nightmare
+which wrapped his spirit like the choking folds of a black
+snake.</p>
+
+<p>Outside the broken gate, in the desert, there were more
+traces of the night's work; blood-stains in the sand, and in a
+shadowy hollow here and there a huddled form which seemed
+a denser shadow. But it would not move when other shadows
+crept away before the sun.</p>
+
+<p>Far in the distance, as Stephen strained his eyes through
+the brightening dawn, he saw flying figures of men on camels
+and horses; and sounds of shooting came faintly to his ears.
+At last it ceased altogether. Some of the figures had vanished.
+Others halted. Then it seemed to Stephen that these last
+were coming back, towards the bordj. They were riding fast,
+and all together, as if under discipline. Soldiers, certainly:
+but were they from the north or south? Stephen could not
+tell; but as his eyes searched the horizon, the doubt was solved.
+Another party of men were riding southward, toward Toudja,
+from the north.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">[Pg 503]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It's Sabine who has chased the Arabs. The others are
+just too late," he thought. And he saw that the rescuers
+from Oued Tolga must reach the bordj half an hour in advance
+of the men from Azzouz.</p>
+
+<p>He was anxious to know what news Sabine had, and the
+eagerness he felt to hear details soothed the pain and shame
+which weighed upon his heart.</p>
+
+<p>"How am I to explain&mdash;to beg her forgiveness?" was the
+question that asked itself in his mind; but he had no answer
+to give. Only this he could see: after last night, he was hers,
+if she would take him. But he believed that she would send
+him away, that she would despise him when she had heard
+the whole story of his entanglement. She would say that he
+belonged to the other woman, not to her. And though he
+was sure she would not reproach him, he thought there were
+some words, some looks which, if she could not forget, it would
+be hard for even her sweet nature to forgive.</p>
+
+<p>He went back to the dining-room with the news of what he
+had seen. And as there was no longer any need of protection
+for the women, the Highlanders came out with him and Rostafel.
+All four stood at the gate of the bordj as the party of
+twelve soldiers rode up, on tired horses; but Stephen was in
+advance, and it was he who answered Sabine's first breathless
+question.</p>
+
+<p>"She's safe. They're both safe, thank God. So are we all,
+except poor Caird, who's damaged a good deal worse than any
+of us. But not dangerously, I hope."</p>
+
+<p>"I brought our surgeon," said Sabine, eagerly. "He wanted
+to be in this with me. I had to ask for the command, because
+you know I'm on special duty at Tolga. But I had no trouble
+with Major Duprez when I told him how friends of mine
+were attacked by Arab robbers, and how I had got the
+message."</p>
+
+<p>"So that's what you told him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I didn't want a scandal in the Zaou&iuml;a, for <i>her</i> sake.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">[Pg 504]</a></span>
+Nobody knows that the marabout is for anything in this
+business. But, of course, if you've killed him&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We haven't. He's got clear away. Unless your men have
+nabbed him and his friend Ma&iuml;eddine."</p>
+
+<p>"Not we. I'm not sure I cared to&mdash;unless we could kill
+him. But we did honestly try&mdash;to do both. There were
+six we chased&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Only six. Then we must have polished off more than we
+thought."</p>
+
+<p>"We can find out later how many. But the last six didn't
+get off without a scratch, I assure you. They must have had a
+sentinel watching. We saw no one, but as we were hoping to
+surprise the bordj these six men, who looked from a distance
+like Touaregs, rushed out, mounted horses and camels and
+dashed away, striking westward."</p>
+
+<p>"They dared not go north. I'd been signalling&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"From the broken tower?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. As you came, you must have sighted the men from
+Azzouz. But tell me the rest."</p>
+
+<p>"There's little to tell, and I want your news more than you can
+want mine. The Arabs' animals were fresh, and ours tired,
+for I'd given them no rest. The brutes had a good start of
+us and made the best of it, but at first I thought we were gaining.
+We got within gunshot, and fired after them. Two at
+least were hit. We came on traces of fresh blood afterward,
+but the birds themselves were flown. In any case, it was to
+bring help I came, not to make captures. Do you think <i>she</i>
+would like me to see her now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come with me and try, before the other rescue party arrives.
+I'm glad the surgeon's with you. I'm worried about Caird,
+and we're all a bit dilapidated. How we're to get him and
+the ladies away from this place, I don't know. Our animals
+are dead or dying."</p>
+
+<p>"You will probably find that the enemy has been generous
+in spite of himself and left you some&mdash;all that couldn't be taken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">[Pg 505]</a></span>
+away. Strange how those men looked like Touaregs! You
+are sure of what they really were?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure. But since no one else knows, why should the secret
+leak out? Better for the ladies if the Touareg disguise should
+hide the truth, as it was meant to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not indeed? Since we weren't lucky enough to rid
+his wife&mdash;and the world of the marabout."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we're agreed: unless something happens to change
+our minds, we were attacked by Touaregs."</p>
+
+<p>Sabine smiled grimly. "Duprez bet," he answered, "that
+I should find they were not Arabs, but Touaregs. He will
+enjoy saying 'I told you so.'"</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>That night, and for many nights to come, there was wailing
+in the Zaou&iuml;a. The marabout had gone out to meet his son,
+who had been away from school on a pilgrimage, and returning
+at dark, to avoid the great heat of the day, had been bitten by a
+viper. Thus, at least, pronounced the learned Arab physician.
+It was of the viper bite he died, so it was said, and no one
+outside the Zaou&iuml;a knew of the great man's death until days
+afterwards, when he was already buried. Even in the Zaou&iuml;a it
+was not known by many that he had gone away or returned
+from a journey, or that he lay ill. In spite of this secrecy and
+mystery, however, there was no gossip, but only wild wailing,
+of mourners who refused to be comforted. And if certain
+persons, to the number of twenty or more, were missing from
+their places in the Zaou&iuml;a, nothing was said, after Si Ma&iuml;eddine
+had talked with the holy men of the mosque. If these missing
+ones were away, and even if they should never come back,
+it was because they were needed to carry out the marabout's
+wishes, at a vast distance. But now, the dearest wishes of
+Sidi Mohammed would never be fulfilled. That poignant
+knowledge was a knife in every man's heart; for men of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[Pg 506]</a></span>
+ripe age or wisdom in the Zaou&iuml;a knew what these wishes were,
+and how some day they were to have come true through blood
+and fire.</p>
+
+<p>All were sad, though no tongue spoke of any other reason
+for sadness, except the inestimable loss of the Saint. And
+sadder than the saddest was Si Ma&iuml;eddine, who seemed to
+have lost his youth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">[Pg 507]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="LII" id="LII"></a>LII</h2>
+
+
+<p>It is a long cry from the bordj of Toudja among the dunes
+of the southern desert, to Algiers, yet Nevill begged that
+he might be taken home. "You know why," he said to
+Stephen, and his eyes explained, if Stephen needed explanations.
+Nevill thought there might be some chance of
+seeing Josette in Algiers, if he were dying. But the army surgeon
+from Oued Tolga pronounced it unsafe to take him so far.</p>
+
+<p>Yet away from Toudja he must go, since it was impossible
+to care for him properly there, and the bullet which had
+wounded him was still in his side.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately the enemy had left plenty of camels. They had
+untethered all, hoping that the animals might wander away,
+too far to be caught by the Europeans, but more than were
+needed remained in the neighbourhood of Toudja, and Rostafel
+took possession of half a dozen good meharis, which would help
+recoup him for his losses in the bordj. Not one animal had
+any mark upon it which could identify the attackers, and saddles
+and accoutrements were of Touareg make. The dead
+men, too, were impossible to identify, and it was not likely that
+much trouble would be taken in prosecuting inquiries. Among
+those whose duty it is to govern Algeria, there is a proverb which,
+for various good reasons, has come to be much esteemed: "Let
+sleeping dogs lie."</p>
+
+<p>Not a man of the five who defended the bordj but had at
+least one wound to show for his night's work. Always, however,
+it is those who attack, in a short siege, who suffer most;
+and the Europeans were not proud of the many corpses they
+had to their credit. There was some patching for the surgeon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">[Pg 508]</a></span>
+to do for all, but Nevill's was the only serious case. The
+French doctor, De Vigne, did not try to hide the truth from
+the wounded man's friend; there was danger. The best thing
+would have been to get Nevill to Algiers, but since that was
+impossible, he must travel in a bassour, by easy stages, to
+Touggourt. Instead of two days' journey they must make it
+three, or more if necessary, and he&mdash;De Vigne&mdash;would go
+with them to put his patient into the hands of the army surgeon
+at Touggourt.</p>
+
+<p>They had only the one bassour; that in which Saidee and
+Victoria had come to Toudja from Oued Tolga, but Nevill
+was delirious more often than not, and had no idea that a
+sacrifice was being made for him. Blankets, and two of the
+mattresses least damaged by fire in the barricade, were fastened
+on to camels for the ladies, after the fashion in use for Bedouin
+women of the poorest class, or Ouled Na&iuml;ls who have
+not yet made their fortune as dancers; and so the journey began
+again.</p>
+
+<p>There was never a time during the three days it lasted, for
+Stephen to confess to Victoria. Possibly she did not wish him
+to take advantage of a situation created as if by accident at
+Toudja. Or perhaps she thought, now that the common
+danger which had drawn them together, was over, it would be
+best to wait until anxiety for Nevill had passed, before talking
+of their own affairs.</p>
+
+<p>At Azzouz, where they passed a night full of suffering for
+Nevill, they had news of the marabout's death. It came by
+telegraph to the operator, just before the party was ready to
+start on; yet Saidee was sure that Sabine had caused it to be
+sent just at that time. He had been obliged to march back
+with his men&mdash;the penalty of commanding the force for which
+he had asked; but a letter would surely come to Touggourt, and
+Saidee could imagine all that it would say. She had no regrets
+for Ben Halim, and said frankly to Victoria that it was difficult
+not to be indecently glad of her freedom. At last she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">[Pg 509]</a></span>
+waked up from a black dream of horror, and now that it was
+over, it hardly seemed real. "I shall forget," she said. "I
+shall put my whole soul to forgetting everything that's happened
+to me in the last ten years, and every one I've known in the
+south&mdash;except one. But to have met him and to have him
+love me, I'd live it all over again&mdash;all."</p>
+
+<p>She kept Victoria with her continually, and in the physical
+weakness and nervous excitement which followed the strain
+she had gone through, she seemed to have forgotten her interest
+in Victoria's affairs. She did not know that her sister and
+Stephen had talked of love, for at Toudja after the fight began
+she had thought of nothing but the danger they shared.</p>
+
+<p>Altogether, everything combined to delay explanations between
+Stephen and Victoria. He tried to regret this, yet could
+not be as sorry as he was repentant. It was not quite heaven,
+but it was almost paradise to have her near him, though they
+had a chance for only a few words occasionally, within earshot
+of Saidee, or De Vigne, or the twins, who watched over Nevill
+like two well-trained nurses. She loved him, since a word from
+her meant more than vows from other women. Nothing had
+happened yet to disturb her love, so these few days belonged
+to Stephen. He could not feel that he had stolen them. At
+Touggourt he would find a time and place to speak, and then
+it would be over forever. But one joy he had, which never
+could have come to him, if it had not been for the peril at Toudja.
+They knew each other's hearts. Nothing could change
+that. One day, no doubt, she would learn to care for some other
+man, but perhaps never quite in the same way she had cared
+for him, because Stephen was sure that this was her first love.
+And though she might be happy in another love&mdash;he tried
+to hope it, but did not succeed sincerely&mdash;he would always
+have it to remember, until the day of his death, that once she
+had loved him.</p>
+
+<p>As far out from Touggourt as Temacin, Lady MacGregor
+came to meet them, in a ramshackle carriage, filled with rugs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">[Pg 510]</a></span>
+and pillows in case Nevill wished to change. But he was not in
+a state to wish for anything, and De Vigne decided for him.
+He was to go on in the bassour, to the villa which had been let
+to Lady MacGregor by an officer of the garrison. It was there
+the little Mohammed was to have been kept and guarded by
+the Highlanders, if the great scheme had not been suddenly
+changed in some of its details. Now, the child had inherited
+his father's high place. Already the news had reached the
+marabout of Temacin, and flashed on to Touggourt. But no
+one suspected that the viper which had bitten the Saint had
+taken the form of a French bullet. Perhaps, had all been
+known to the Government, it would have seemed poetical
+justice that the arch plotter had met his death thus. But his
+plots had died with him; and if Islam mourned because the
+Moul Saa they hoped for had been snatched from them, they
+mourned in secret. For above other sects and nations, Islam
+knows how to be silent.</p>
+
+<p>When they were settled in the villa near the oasis (Saidee
+and Victoria too, for they needed no urging to wait till it was
+known whether Nevill Caird would live or die) Lady MacGregor
+said with her usual briskness to Stephen: "Of course
+I've telegraphed to that <i>creature</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen looked at her blankly.</p>
+
+<p>"That hard-hearted little beast, Josette Soubise," the fairy
+aunt explained.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen could hardly help laughing, though he had seldom
+felt less merry. But that the tiny Lady MacGregor should
+refer to tall Josette, who was nearly twice her height, as a
+"little beast," struck him as somewhat funny. Besides, her
+toy-terrier snappishness was comic.</p>
+
+<p>"I've nothing <i>against</i> the girl," Lady MacGregor felt it
+right to go on, "except that she's an idiot to bite off her nose
+to spite her own face&mdash;and Nevill's too. I don't approve of
+her at all as a wife for him, you must understand. Nevill could
+marry a <i>princess</i>, and she's nothing but a little school-teacher<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">[Pg 511]</a></span>
+with a dimple or two, whose mother and father were less than
+<i>nobody</i>. Still, as Nevill wants her, she might have the grace
+to show appreciation of the honour, by not spoiling his life.
+He's never been the same since he went and fell in love with her,
+and she refused him."</p>
+
+<p>"You've telegraphed to Tlemcen that Nevill is ill?" Stephen
+ventured.</p>
+
+<p>"I've telegraphed to the creature that she'd better come
+here at once, if she wants to see him alive," replied Lady MacGregor.
+"I suppose she loves him in her French-Algerian
+way, and she must have saved up enough money for the fare.
+Anyhow, if Nevill doesn't live, I happen to know he's left her
+nearly everything, except what the poor boy imagines I ought
+to have. That's pouring coals of fire on her head!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't think of his not living!" exclaimed Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Honestly I believe he won't live unless that idiot of a girl
+comes and purrs and promises to marry him, deathbed or no
+deathbed."</p>
+
+<p>Again Stephen smiled faintly. "You're a matchmaker,
+Lady MacGregor," he said. "You are one of the most subtle
+persons I ever saw."</p>
+
+<p>The old lady took this as a compliment. "I haven't lived
+among Arabs, goodness knows how many years, for nothing,"
+she retorted. "I telegraphed for her about five minutes after
+you wired from Azzouz. In fact, my telegram went back by
+the boy who brought yours."</p>
+
+<p>"She may be here day after to-morrow, if she started at
+once," Stephen reflected aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"She did, and she will," said Lady MacGregor, drily.</p>
+
+<p>"You've heard?"</p>
+
+<p>"The day I wired."</p>
+
+<p>"You have quite a nice way of breaking things to people,
+you dear little ladyship," said Stephen. And for some reason
+which he could not in the least understand, this speech caused
+Nevill's aunt to break into tears.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">[Pg 512]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>That evening, the two surgeons extracted the bullet from
+Nevill's side. Afterwards, he was extremely weak, and took
+as little interest as possible in things, until Stephen was allowed
+to speak to him for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>Most men, if told that they had just sixty seconds to spend
+at the bedside of a dear friend, would have been at a loss what
+to say in a space of time so small yet valuable. But Stephen
+knew what he wished to say, and said it, as soon as Nevill let
+him speak; but Nevill began first.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe&mdash;going to&mdash;deserve name of Wings," he muttered.
+"Shouldn't wonder. Don't care much."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there any one thing in this world you want above everything
+else?" asked Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Sight of&mdash;Josette. One thing I&mdash;can't have."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you can," said Stephen quietly. "She's coming.
+She started the minute she heard you were ill, and she'll be in
+Touggourt day after to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"You're not&mdash;pulling my leg?"</p>
+
+<p>"To do that would be very injurious. But I thought good
+news would be better than medicine."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Legs. You're a great doctor," was all that
+Nevill answered. But his temperature began to go down
+within the hour.</p>
+
+<p>"He'll get the girl, of course," remarked Lady MacGregor,
+when Stephen told her. "That is, if he lives."</p>
+
+<p>"He will live, with this hope to buoy him up," said Stephen.
+"And she can't hold out against him for a minute when she
+sees him as he is. Indeed, I rather fancy she's been in a mood
+to change her mind this last month."</p>
+
+<p>"Why this last month?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I think she misunderstood Nevill's interest in Miss
+Ray, and that helped her to understand herself. When she
+finds out that it's for her he still cares, not some one else, she'll
+do anything he asks." Afterwards it proved that he was right.</p>
+
+<p>The day after the arrival at Touggourt, the house in its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[Pg 513]</a></span>
+garden near the oasis was very quiet. The Arab servants,
+whom Lady MacGregor had taken with the place, moved silently,
+and for Nevill's sake voices were lowered. There was
+a brooding stillness of summer heat over the one little patch of
+flowery peace and perfumed shade in the midst of the fierce
+golden desert. Yet to the five members of the oddly assembled
+family it was as if the atmosphere tingled with electricity.
+There was a curious, even oppressive sense of suspense, of
+waiting for something to happen.</p>
+
+<p>They did not speak of this feeling, yet they could see it in
+each other's eyes, if they dare to look.</p>
+
+<p>It was with them as with people who wait to hear a clock
+begin striking an hour which will bring news of some great
+change in their lives, for good or evil.</p>
+
+<p>The tension increased as the day went on; still, no one had said
+to another, "What is there so strange about to-day? Do you
+feel it? Is it only our imagination&mdash;a reaction after strain, or
+is it that a presentiment of something to happen hangs over us?"</p>
+
+<p>Stephen had not yet had any talk with Victoria. They had
+seen each other alone for scarcely more than a moment since
+the night at Toudja; but now that Nevill was better, and the
+surgeons said that if all went well, danger was past, it seemed
+to Stephen that the hour had come.</p>
+
+<p>After they had lunched in the dim, cool dining-room, and
+Lady MacGregor had proposed a siesta for all sensible people,
+Stephen stopped the girl on her way upstairs as she followed her
+sister.</p>
+
+<p>"May I talk to you for a little while this afternoon?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>Voice and eyes were wistful, and Victoria wondered why,
+because she was so happy that she felt as if life had been set to
+music. She had hoped that he would be happy too, when Nevill's
+danger was over, and he had time to think of himself&mdash;perhaps,
+too, of her.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "let's talk in the garden, when it's cooler.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[Pg 514]</a></span>
+I love being in gardens, don't you? Everything that happens
+seems more beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen remembered how lovely he had thought her in the
+lily garden at Algiers. He was almost glad that they were not
+to have this talk there; for the memory of it was too perfect
+to mar with sadness.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to put Saidee to sleep," she went on. "You may
+laugh, but truly I can. When I was a little girl, she used to like
+me to stroke her hair if her head ached, and she would always
+fall asleep. And once she's asleep I shan't dare move, or
+she'll wake up. She has such happy dreams now, and they're
+sure to come true. Shall I come to you about half-past five?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be waiting," said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>It was the usual garden of a villa in the neighbourhood of a
+desert town, but Stephen had never seen one like it, except that
+of the Ca&iuml;d, in Bou-Saada. There were the rounded paths of
+hard sand, the colour of pinkish gold in the dappling shadows
+of date palms and magnolias, and there were rills of running
+water that whispered and gurgled as they bathed the dark roots
+of the trees. No grass grew in the garden, and the flowers were
+not planted in beds or borders. Plants and trees sprang out of
+the sand, and such flowers as there were&mdash;roses, and pomegranate
+blossoms, hibiscus, and passion flowers&mdash;climbed, and
+rambled, and pushed, and hung in heavy drapery, as best they
+could without attention or guidance. But one of the principal
+paths led to a kind of arbour, or temple, where long ago palms
+had been planted in a ring, and had formed a high green dome,
+through which, even at noon, the light filtered as if through a
+dome of emerald. Underneath, the pavement of gold was
+hard and smooth, and in the centre whispered a tiny fountain
+ornamented with old Algerian tiles. It trickled rather than
+played, but its delicate music was soothing and sweet as a
+murmured lullaby; and from the shaded seat beside it there
+was a glimpse between tree trunks of the burning desert gold.</p>
+
+<p>On this wooden seat by the fountain Stephen waited for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[Pg 515]</a></span>
+Victoria, and saw her coming to him, along the straight path
+that led to the round point. She wore a white dress which
+Lady MacGregor had brought her, and as she walked, the embroidery
+of light and shadow made it look like lace of a lovely
+pattern. She stopped on the way, and, gathering a red rose
+with a long stem, slipped it into her belt. It looked like a spot
+of blood over her heart, as if a sword had been driven in and
+drawn out. Stephen could not bear to see it there. It was
+like a symbol of the wound that he was waiting to inflict.</p>
+
+<p>She came to him smiling, looking very young, like a child
+who expects happiness.</p>
+
+<p>"Have I kept you waiting long?" she asked. Her blue eyes,
+with the shadow of the trees darkening them, had a wonderful
+colour, almost purple. A desperate longing to take her in his
+arms swept over Stephen like a wave. He drew in his breath
+sharply and shut his teeth. He could not answer. Hardly
+knowing what he did, he held out his hands, and very quietly
+and sweetly she laid hers in them.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't trust me&mdash;don't be kind to me," he said, crushing
+her hands for an instant, then putting them away.</p>
+
+<p>She looked up in surprise, as he stood by the fountain, very
+tall and pale, and suddenly rather grim, it seemed to her, his
+expression out of tune with the peace of the garden and the
+mood in which she had come.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter?" she asked, simply.</p>
+
+<p>"Everything. I hardly know how to begin to tell you. Yet
+I must. Perhaps you'll think I shouldn't have waited till now.
+But there's been no chance&mdash;at least, I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, there's been no chance for us to talk, or even to think
+very much about ourselves," Victoria tried to reassure him.
+"Begin just as you like. Whatever you say, whatever you
+have to tell, I won't misunderstand."</p>
+
+<p>"First of all, then," Stephen said, "you know I love you.
+Only you don't know how much. I couldn't tell you that, any
+more than I could tell how much water there is in the ocean.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[Pg 516]</a></span>
+I didn't know myself that it was possible to love like this, and
+such a love might turn the world into heaven. But because I
+am what I am, and because I've done what I have done, it's
+making mine hell. Wait&mdash;you said you wouldn't misunderstand!
+The man who loves you ought to offer some sort of
+spiritual gold and diamonds, but I've got only a life half spoiled
+to offer you, if you'll take it. And before I can even ask you
+to take it, I'll have to explain how it's spoiled."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria did not speak, but still looked at him with that
+look of an expectant, anxious child, which made him long to
+snatch her up and turn his back forever on the world where there
+was a Margot Lorenzi, and gossiping people, and newspapers.</p>
+
+<p>But he had to go on. "There's a woman," he said, "who&mdash;perhaps
+she cares for me&mdash;I don't know. Anyhow, she'd
+suffered through our family. I felt sorry for her. I&mdash;I suppose
+I admired her. She's handsome&mdash;or people think so.
+I can hardly tell how it came about, but I&mdash;asked her to marry
+me, and she said yes. That was&mdash;late last winter&mdash;or the
+beginning of spring. Then she had to go to Canada, where
+she'd been brought up&mdash;her father died in England, a few
+months ago, and her mother, when she was a child; but she
+had friends she wanted to see, before&mdash;before she married.
+So she went, and I came to Algiers, to visit Nevill. Good
+heavens, how banal it sounds! How&mdash;how different from the
+way I feel! There aren't words&mdash;I don't see how to make
+you understand, without being a cad. But I must tell you that
+I didn't love her, even at first. It was a wish&mdash;a foolish,
+mistaken wish, I see now&mdash;and I saw long ago, the moment it
+was too late&mdash;to make up for things. She was unhappy, and&mdash;no,
+I give it up! I can't explain. But it doesn't change
+things between us&mdash;you and me. I'm yours, body and soul.
+If you can forgive me for&mdash;for trying to make you care, when
+I had no right&mdash;if, after knowing the truth, you'll take me
+as I am, I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean, you'd break off your engagement?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[Pg 517]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Perhaps it was partly the effect of the green shadows, but
+the girl looked very pale. Except for her eyes and hair, and the
+red rose that was like a wound over her heart, there was no
+colour about her.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I would. And I believe it would be right to break it,"
+Stephen said, forcefully. "It's abominable to marry some one
+you don't love, and a crime if you love some one else."</p>
+
+<p>"But you must have cared for her once," said Victoria.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, cared! I cared in a way, as a man cares for a pretty
+woman who's had very hard luck. You see&mdash;her father
+made a fight for a title that's in our family, and claimed the
+right to it. He lost his case, and his money was spent. Then
+he killed himself, and his daughter was left alone, without a
+penny and hardly any friends&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Poor, poor girl! I don't wonder you were sorry for her&mdash;so
+sorry that you thought your pity was love. You couldn't
+throw her over now, you know in your heart you couldn't. It
+would be cruel."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I couldn't, till I met you," Stephen answered
+frankly. "Since then, I've thought&mdash;no, I haven't exactly
+thought. I've only felt. That night at Toudja, I knew it
+would be worse than death to have to keep my word to her. I
+wouldn't have been sorry if they'd killed me then, after you
+said&mdash;that is, after I had the memory of a moment or two of
+happiness to take to the next world."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that's because I let you see I loved you," Victoria explained
+softly, and a little shyly. "I told you I wouldn't misunderstand,
+and I don't. Just for a minute I was hurt&mdash;my
+heart felt sick, because I couldn't bear to think&mdash;to think less
+highly of you. But it was only for a minute. Then I began to
+understand&mdash;so well! And I think you are even better than
+I thought before&mdash;more generous, and chivalrous. You were
+sorry for <i>her</i> in those days of her trouble, and then you were
+engaged, and you meant to marry her and make her happy.
+But at Toudja I showed you what was in my heart&mdash;even now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[Pg 518]</a></span>
+I'm not ashamed that I did, because I knew you cared for
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"I worshipped you, only less than I do now," Stephen broke
+in. "Every day I love you more&mdash;and will to the end of my
+life. You can't send me away. You can't send me to another
+woman."</p>
+
+<p>"I can, for my sake and yours both, because if I kept you,
+feeling that I was wronging some one, neither of us could be
+happy. But I want you to know I understand that you have
+<i>me</i> to be sorry for now, as well as her, and that you're torn
+between us both, hardly seeing which way honour lies. I'm sure
+you would have kept true to her, if you hadn't hated to make
+me unhappy. And instead of needing to forgive you, I will ask
+you to forgive me, for making things harder."</p>
+
+<p>"You've given me the only real happiness I've ever known
+since I was a boy," Stephen said.</p>
+
+<p>"If that's true&mdash;and it must be, since you say it&mdash;neither
+of us is to be pitied. I shall be happy always because you loved
+me enough to be made happy by my love. And you must be
+happy because you've done right, and made me love you more.
+I don't think there'll be any harm in our not trying to forget,
+do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I could as easily forget to breathe."</p>
+
+<p>"So could I. Ever since the first night I met you, you have
+seemed different to me from any other man I ever knew, except
+an ideal man who used to live in the back of my mind. Soon,
+that man and you grew to be one. You wouldn't have me
+separate you from him, would you?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you mean that you'll separate me from your ideal unless
+I marry Margot Lorenzi, then divide me from that cold perfection
+forever. I'm not cold, and I'm far from perfect. But
+I can't feel it a decent thing for a man to marry one woman,
+promising to love and cherish her, if his whole being belongs
+to another. Even you can't&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I used to believe it wrong to marry a person one didn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[Pg 519]</a></span>
+love," Victoria broke in, quickly. "But it's so different when
+one talks of an imaginary case. This poor girl loves you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose she thinks she does."</p>
+
+<p>"She's poor?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And she depends upon you."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course she counts on me. I always expected to keep
+my word."</p>
+
+<p>"And now you'd break it&mdash;for me! Oh, no, I couldn't let
+you do it. Were you&mdash;does she expect to be married
+soon?"</p>
+
+<p>Stephen's face grew red, as if it had been struck. "Yes,"
+he answered, in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you mind&mdash;telling me how soon?"</p>
+
+<p>"As soon as she gets back from Canada."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria's bosom rose and fell quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!&mdash;and when&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"At once. Almost at once."</p>
+
+<p>"She's coming back immediately?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I&mdash;I'm afraid she's in England now."</p>
+
+<p>"How dreadful! Poor girl, hoping to see you&mdash;to have
+you meet her, maybe, and&mdash;you're here. You're planning
+to break her heart. It breaks mine to think of it. I <i>couldn't</i>
+have you fail."</p>
+
+<p>"For God's sake don't send me away from you. I can't go.
+I won't."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, if I beg you to go. And I do. You must stand by
+this poor girl, alone in the world except for you. I see from
+what you tell me, that she needs you and appeals to your chivalry
+by lacking everything except what comes from you. It can't
+be wrong to protect her, after giving your promise, even though
+you mayn't love her in the way you once thought you did: but
+it <i>would</i> be wrong to abandon her now&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A rustling in the long path made Stephen turn. Some one
+was coming. It was Margot Lorenzi.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[Pg 520]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He could not believe that it was really she, and stared stupidly,
+thinking the figure he saw an optical illusion.</p>
+
+<p>She had on a grey travelling dress, and a grey hat trimmed
+with black ribbon, which, Stephen noted idly, was powdered
+with dust. Her black hair was dusty, too, and her face slightly
+flushed with heat, nevertheless she was beautiful, with the
+luscious beauty of those women who make a strong physical
+appeal to men.</p>
+
+<p>Behind her was an Arab servant, whom she had passed in
+her eagerness. He looked somewhat troubled, but seeing
+Stephen he threw up his hands in apology, throwing off all
+responsibility. Then he turned and went back towards the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>Margot, too, had seen Stephen. Her eyes flashed from him
+to the figure of the girl, which she saw in profile. She did not
+speak, but walked faster; and Victoria, realizing that their talk
+was to be interrupted by somebody, looked round, expecting
+Lady MacGregor or Saidee.</p>
+
+<p>"It is Miss Lorenzi," Stephen said, in a low voice. "I don't
+know how&mdash;or why&mdash;she has come here. But for your
+sake&mdash;it will be better if you go now, at once, and let me talk
+to her."</p>
+
+<p>There was another path by which Victoria could reach the
+house. She might have gone, thinking that Stephen knew best,
+and that she had no more right than wish to stay, but the tall
+young woman in grey began to walk very fast, when she saw
+that the girl with Stephen was going.</p>
+
+<p>"Be kind enough to stop where you are, Miss Ray. I
+know you must be Miss Ray," Margot called out in a loud,
+sharp voice. She spoke as if Victoria were an inferior, whom
+she had a right to command.</p>
+
+<p>Surprised and hurt by the tone, the girl hesitated, looking
+from the newcomer to Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>At first glance and at a little distance, she had thought
+the young woman perfectly beautiful, perhaps the most beau<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_521" id="Page_521">[Pg 521]</a></span>tiful
+creature she had ever seen&mdash;even more glorious than
+Saidee. But when Miss Lorenzi came nearer, undisguisedly
+angry and excited, the best part of her beauty was gone,
+wiped away, as a face in a picture may be smeared before the
+paint is dry. Her features were faultless, her hair and eyes
+magnificent. Her dress was pretty, and exquisitely made,
+if too elaborate for desert travelling; her figure charming, though
+some day it would be too stout; yet in spite of all she looked
+common and cruel. The thought that Stephen Knight had
+doomed himself to marry this woman made Victoria shiver, as
+if she had heard him condemned to imprisonment for life.</p>
+
+<p>She had thought before seeing Miss Lorenzi that she understood
+the situation, and how it had come about. She had
+said to Stephen, "I understand." Now, it seemed to her
+that she had boasted in a silly, childish way. She had not
+understood. She had not begun to understand.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the girl felt very old and experienced, and miserably
+wise in the ways of the world. It was as if in some
+other incarnation she had known women like this, and their
+influence over men: how, if they tried, they could beguile
+chivalrous men into being sorry for them, and doing almost
+anything which they wished to be done.</p>
+
+<p>A little while ago Victoria had been thinking and speaking
+of Margot Lorenzi as "poor girl," and urging Stephen to be
+true to her for his own sake as well as hers. But now, in a
+moment, everything had changed. A strange flash of soul-lightning
+had shown her the real Margot, unworthy of Stephen
+at her best, crushing to his individuality and aspirations at
+her worst. Victoria did not know what to think, what to do.
+In place of the sad and lonely girl she had pictured, here stood
+a woman already selfish and heartless, who might become
+cruel and terrible. No one had ever looked at Victoria Ray
+as Miss Lorenzi was looking now, not even Miluda, the Ouled
+Na&iuml;l, who had stared her out of countenance, curiously and
+maliciously at the same time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_522" id="Page_522">[Pg 522]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I have heard a great deal about Miss Ray in
+Algiers," Margot went on. "And I think&mdash;you will <i>both</i>
+understand why I made this long, tiresome journey to
+Touggourt."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no reason why Miss Ray should understand,"
+said Stephen quickly. "It can't concern her in the least.
+On your own account it would have been better if you had
+waited for me in London. But it's too late to think of that
+now. I will go with you into the house."</p>
+
+<p>"No," Margot answered. "Not yet. And you're not
+to put on such a tone with me&mdash;as if I'd done something
+wrong. I haven't! We're engaged, and I have a perfect
+right to come here, and find out what you've been doing while
+I was at the other side of the world. You promised to meet
+me at Liverpool&mdash;and instead, you were here&mdash;with <i>her</i>.
+You never even sent me word. Yet you're surprised that I
+came on to Algiers. Of course, when I was <i>there</i>, I heard
+everything&mdash;or what I didn't hear, I guessed. You hadn't
+bothered to hide your tracks. I don't suppose you so much
+as thought of me&mdash;poor me, who went to Canada for your
+sake really. Yes! I'll tell you why I went now. I was afraid
+if I didn't go, a man who was in love with me there&mdash;he's
+in love with me now and always will be, for that matter!&mdash;would
+come and kill you. He used to threaten that he'd
+shoot any one I might marry, if I dared throw him over; and
+he's the kind who keeps his word. So I didn't want to throw
+him over. I went myself, and stayed in his mother's house,
+and argued and pleaded with him, till he'd promised to be
+good and let me be happy. So you see&mdash;the journey was
+for you&mdash;to save you. I didn't want to see him again for
+myself, though <i>his</i> is real love. You're cold as ice. I don't
+believe you know what love is. But all the same I can't be
+jilted by you&mdash;for another woman. I won't have it, Stephen&mdash;after
+all I've gone through. If you try to break your
+solemn word to me, I'll sue you. There'll be another case<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_523" id="Page_523">[Pg 523]</a></span>
+that will drag your name before the public again, and not
+only yours&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Be still, Margot," said Stephen.</p>
+
+<p>She grew deadly pale. "I will not be still," she panted.
+"I <i>will</i> have justice. No one shall take you away from me."</p>
+
+<p>"No one wishes to take me away," Stephen flung at her
+hotly. "Miss Ray has just refused me. You've spared me
+the trouble of taking her advice&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What was it?" Margot looked suddenly anxious, and at
+the same time self-assertive.</p>
+
+<p>"That I should go at once to England&mdash;and to you."</p>
+
+<p>Victoria took a step forward, then paused, pale and trembling.
+"Oh, Stephen!" she cried. "I take back that advice.
+I&mdash;I've changed my mind. You can't&mdash;you can't do it.
+You would be so miserable that she'd be wretched, too. I
+see now, it's not right to urge people to do things, especially
+when&mdash;one only <i>thinks</i> one understands. She doesn't love
+you really. I feel almost sure she cares more for some one
+else, if&mdash;if it were not for things you have, which she wants.
+If you're rich, as I suppose you must be, don't make this sacrifice,
+which would crush your soul, but give her half of all you
+have in the world, so that she can be happy in her own way,
+and set you free gladly."</p>
+
+<p>As Victoria said these things, she remembered M'Barka,
+and the prophecy of the sand; a sudden decision to be made
+in an instant, which would change her whole life.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll gladly give Miss Lorenzi more than half my money,"
+said Stephen. "I should be happy to think she had it. But
+even if you begged me to marry her, Victoria, I would not
+now. It's gone beyond that. Her ways and mine must be
+separate forever."</p>
+
+<p>Margot's face grew eager, and her eyes flamed.</p>
+
+<p>"What I want and insist on," she said, "is that I must
+have my rights. After all I've hoped for and expected, I
+<i>won't</i> be thrown over, and go back to the old, dull life of turn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_524" id="Page_524">[Pg 524]</a></span>ing
+and twisting every shilling. If you'll settle thirty thousand
+pounds on me, you are free, so far as I care. I wouldn't
+marry a man who hated me, when there's one who adores me
+as if I were a saint&mdash;and I like him better than ever I did
+you&mdash;a lot better. I realize that more than I did before."</p>
+
+<p>The suggestion of Margot Lorenzi as a saint might have
+made a looker-on smile, but Victoria and Stephen passed it
+by, scarcely hearing.</p>
+
+<p>"If I give you thirty thousand pounds, it will leave me a
+poor man," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>do</i> give her the money and be a poor man," Victoria
+implored. "I shall be so happy if we are poor&mdash;a thousand
+times happier than she could be with millions."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen caught the hand that half unconsciously the girl
+held out to him, and pressed it hard. "If you will go back
+to your hotel now," he said to Margot, in a quiet voice, "I
+will call on you there almost at once, and we can settle our
+business affairs. I promise that you shall be satisfied."</p>
+
+<p>Margot looked at them both for a few seconds, without
+speaking. "I'll go, and send a telegram to Montreal
+which will make somebody there happier than any other
+man in Canada," she answered. "And I'll expect you in
+an hour."</p>
+
+<p>When she had gone, they forgot her.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really mean, when you say we&mdash;<i>we</i> shall be happy
+poor, that you'll marry me in spite of all?" Stephen asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, if you want me still," Victoria said.</p>
+
+<p>"Does a man want Heaven!" He took her in his arms and
+held her close, closer than he had held her the night at Toudja,
+when he had thought that death might soon part them.
+"You've brought me up out of the depths."</p>
+
+<p>"Not I," the girl said. "Your star."</p>
+
+<p>"Your star. You gave me half yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Now I give it to you all," she told him. "And all myself,
+too. Oh, isn't it wonderful to be so happy&mdash;in the light<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_525" id="Page_525">[Pg 525]</a></span>
+of our star&mdash;and to know that the others we love will be
+happy, too&mdash;my Saidee, and your Mr. Caird&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Stephen answered. "But just at this moment I
+can't think much about any one except ourselves, not even
+your sister and my best friend. You fill the universe for me."</p>
+
+<p>"It's filled with love&mdash;and it <i>is</i> love," said Victoria. "The
+music is sweeter for us, though, because we know it's sweet
+for others. I <i>couldn't</i> let her spoil your life, Stephen."</p>
+
+<p>"My life!" he echoed. "I didn't know what life was or
+might be till this moment. Now I know."</p>
+
+<p>"Now we both know," she finished.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_END" id="THE_END"></a>THE END</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 640px;">
+<img src="images/endpaper.jpg" width="640" height="469" alt="Endpaper"/>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="TRANSCRIBERS_NOTES" id="TRANSCRIBERS_NOTES"></a>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES</h2>
+
+
+<p>Page and line numbers in these notes refer to the original printed text.</p>
+
+<p>Obvious punctuation corrections have been applied silently where applicable.</p>
+
+<p>As much as possible, the original spelling in the book has been preserved.
+The authors commonly use different hyphenation for several words throughout
+(for example, "note-book" on <a href="#Page_283">page 283</a>, line 9, as opposed to "notebook" on <a href="#Page_285">page 285</a>, line 16).
+There are mixes of English, American, and French spelling.
+The spelling of some names that appear only once or twice is ambiguous
+(for example, "Cheikh" on <a href="#Page_55">page 55</a>, line 27, and "Cheik" on <a href="#Page_143">page 143</a>, line 5).
+In cases like these, the text has been left as in the printed version.</p>
+
+<p>The following appear to be typographical errors and have been corrected in this text.</p>
+
+<p>
+<a href="#Page_40">Page 40</a>, line 20: "Christo" (Cristo).<br/>
+<a href="#Page_62">Page 62</a>, line 1: "dribge" (bridge).<br/>
+<a href="#Page_77">Page 77</a>, line 4: "hautes" (hauts).<br/>
+<a href="#Page_92">Page 92</a>, line 20: "filagree" (filigree).<br/>
+<a href="#Page_99">Page 99</a>, line 9: "ècole" (école).<br/>
+<a href="#Page_184">Page 184</a>, line 8: "khol" (kohl).<br/>
+<a href="#Page_217">Page 217</a>, line 1: "Michèlet" (Michélet).<br/>
+<a href="#Page_235">Page 235</a>, line 16: "Neville's" (Nevill's).<br/>
+<a href="#Page_235">Page 235</a>, line 34: "Neville" (Nevill).<br/>
+<a href="#Page_425">Page 425</a>, line 26: "massage" (message).<br/>
+<a href="#Page_430">Page 430</a>, line 11: "usuper" (usurper).<br/>
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Silence, by 
+C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Silence, by
+C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Golden Silence
+
+Author: C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson
+
+Illustrator: George Brehm
+
+Release Date: August 23, 2006 [EBook #19108]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN SILENCE ***
+
+
+
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+                           THE GOLDEN SILENCE
+
+
+
+
+                                BOOKS BY
+
+                       C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON
+
+
+                    THE MOTOR MAID
+                    LORD LOVELAND DISCOVERS AMERICA
+                    SET IN SILVER
+                    THE LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR
+                    THE PRINCESS PASSES
+                    MY FRIEND THE CHAUFFEUR
+                    LADY BETTY ACROSS THE WATER
+                    ROSEMARY IN SEARCH OF A FATHER
+                    THE PRINCESS VIRGINIA
+                    THE CAR OF DESTINY
+                    THE CHAPERON
+
+
+
+
+                             [Illustration]
+          "'Allah sends thee a man--a strong man, whose brain
+                 and heart and arm are at thy service'"
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                                GOLDEN
+                                SILENCE
+
+                                   by
+
+                              C.N. & A.M.
+                              WILLIAMSON
+
+                             [Illustration]
+
+                      Illustrated by GEORGE BREHM
+
+
+
+
+                         GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK
+                       DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
+                                  1911
+
+           ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
+           INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
+
+              COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY C. N. & A. M. WILLIAMSON
+
+
+
+
+                                   TO
+
+                               _Effendi_
+
+                                HIS BOOK
+
+
+
+
+
+THE GOLDEN SILENCE
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+Stephen Knight was very angry, though he meant to be kind and patient
+with Margot. Perhaps, after all, she had not given the interview to the
+newspaper reporter. It might be what she herself would call a "fake."
+But as for her coming to stop at a big, fashionable hotel like the
+Carlton, in the circumstances she could hardly have done anything in
+worse taste.
+
+He hated to think that she was capable of taking so false a step. He
+hated to think that it was exactly like her to take it. He hated to be
+obliged to call on her in the hotel; and he hated himself for hating it.
+
+Knight was of the world that is inclined to regard servants as automata;
+but he was absurdly self-conscious as he saw his card on a silver tray,
+in the hand of an expressionless, liveried youth who probably had the
+famous interview in his pocket. If not there, it was only because the
+paper would not fit in. The footman had certainly read the interview,
+and followed the "Northmorland Case" with passionate interest, for
+months, from the time it began with melodrama, and turned violently to
+tragedy, up to the present moment when (as the journalists neatly
+crammed the news into a nutshell) "it bade fair to end with
+marriage-bells."
+
+Many servants and small tradespeople in London had taken shares, Stephen
+had heard, as a speculative investment, in the scheme originated to
+provide capital for the "other side," which was to return a hundred per
+cent. in case of success. Probably the expressionless youth was
+inwardly reviling the Northmorland family because he had lost his money
+and would be obliged to carry silver trays all the rest of his life,
+instead of starting a green grocery business. Stephen hoped that his own
+face was as expressionless, as he waited to receive the unwelcome
+message that Miss Lorenzi was at home.
+
+It came very quickly, and in a worse form than Stephen had expected.
+Miss Lorenzi was in the Palm Court, and would Mr. Knight please come to
+her there?
+
+Of course he had to obey; but it was harder than ever to remain
+expressionless.
+
+There were a good many people in the Palm Court, and they all looked at
+Stephen Knight as he threaded his intricate way among chairs and little
+tables and palms, toward a corner where a young woman in black crape sat
+on a pink sofa. Her hat was very large, and a palm with enormous
+fan-leaves drooped above it like a sympathetic weeping willow on a
+mourning brooch. But under the hat was a splendidly beautiful dark face.
+
+"Looks as if he were on his way to be shot," a man who knew all about
+the great case said to a woman who had lunched with him.
+
+"Looks more as if he were on his way to shoot," she laughed, as one does
+laugh at other people's troubles, which are apt to be ridiculous. "He's
+simply glaring."
+
+"Poor beggar!" Her companion found pleasure in pitying Lord
+Northmorland's brother, whom he had never succeeded in getting to know.
+"Which is he, fool or hero?"
+
+"Both. A fool to have proposed to the girl. A hero to stick to her, now
+he has proposed. He must be awfully sick about the interview. I do think
+it's excuse enough to throw her over."
+
+"I don't know. It's the sort of business a man can't very well chuck,
+once he's let himself in for it. Every one blames him now for having
+anything to do with Miss Lorenzi. They'd blame him a lot more for
+throwing her over."
+
+"Women wouldn't."
+
+"No. Because he happens to be young and good-looking. But all his
+popularity won't make the women who like him receive his wife. She isn't
+a woman's woman."
+
+"I should think not, indeed! We're too clever to be taken in by that
+sort, all eyes and melodrama. They say Lord Northmorland warned his
+brother against her, and prophesied she'd get hold of him, if he didn't
+let her alone. The Duchess of Amidon told Lady Peggy Lynch--whom I know
+a little--that immediately after Lorenzi committed suicide, this Margot
+girl wrote to Stephen Knight and implored him to help her. I can quite
+believe she would. Fancy the daughter of the unsuccessful claimant to
+his brother's title writing begging letters to a young man like Stephen
+Knight! It appeals to one's sense of humour."
+
+"What a pity Knight didn't see it in that light--what?"
+
+"Yet he has a sense of humour, I believe. It's supposed to be one of his
+charms. But the sense of humour often fails where one's own affairs are
+concerned. You know he's celebrated for his quaint ideas about life.
+They say he has socialistic views, or something rather like them. His
+brother and he are as different from one another as light is from
+darkness. Stephen gives away a lot of money, and Lady Peggy says that
+nobody ever asks him for anything in vain. He can't stand seeing people
+unhappy, if he can do anything to help. Probably, after he'd been kind
+to the Lorenzi girl, against his brother's advice, and gone to see her a
+few times, she grovelled at his feet and told him she was all alone in
+the world, and would die if he didn't love her. He's just young enough
+and romantic enough to be caught in that way!"
+
+"He's no boy. He must be nearly thirty."
+
+"All nice, normal men are boys until after thirty. Lady Peggy's new name
+for this poor child is the Martyr Knight."
+
+"St. Stephen the Second is the last thing I heard. Stephen the First was
+a martyr too, wasn't he? Stoned to death or something."
+
+"I believe so," hastily returned the lady, who was not learned in
+martyrology. "He will be stoned, too, if he tries to force Miss Lorenzi
+on his family, or even on his friends. He'll find that he'll have to
+take her abroad."
+
+"That might be a good working plan. Foreigners wouldn't shudder at her
+accent. And she's certainly one of the most gorgeously beautiful
+creatures I ever saw."
+
+"Yes, that's just the right expression. Gorgeous. And--a _creature_."
+
+They both laughed, and fell to talking again of the interview.
+
+Stephen Knight's ears were burning. He could not hear any of the things
+people were saying; but he had a lively imagination, and, always
+sensitive, he had grown morbidly so since the beginning of the
+Northmorland-Lorenzi case, when all the failings and eccentricities of
+the family had been reviewed before the public eye, like a succession of
+cinematograph pictures. It did not occur to Stephen that he was an
+object of pity, but he felt that through his own folly and that of
+another, he had become a kind of scarecrow, a figure of fun: and because
+until now the world had laughed with instead of at him, he would rather
+have faced a shower of bullets than a ripple of ridicule.
+
+"How do you do?" he inquired stiffly, and shook Miss Lorenzi's hand as
+she gave it without rising from the pink sofa. She gazed up at him with
+immense, yellowish brown eyes, then fluttered her long black lashes in a
+way she had, which was thrilling--the first time you saw it. But Stephen
+had seen it often.
+
+"I am glad you've come, my White Knight!" she said in her contralto
+voice, which would have been charming but for a crude accent. "I was so
+afraid you were cross."
+
+"I'm not cross, only extremely ang--vexed if you really did talk to that
+journalist fellow," Stephen answered, trying not to speak sharply, and
+keeping his tone low. "Only, for Heaven's sake, Margot, don't call
+me--what you did call me--anywhere, but especially here, where we might
+as well be on the stage of a theatre."
+
+"Nobody can hear us," she defended herself. "You ought to like that dear
+little name I made up because you came to my rescue, and saved me from
+following my father--came into my life as if you'd been a modern St.
+George. Calling you my 'White Knight' shows you how I feel--how I
+appreciate you and everything. If you just _would_ realize that, you
+couldn't scold me."
+
+"I'm not scolding you," he said desperately. "But couldn't you have
+stopped in your sitting-room--I suppose you have one--and let me see you
+there? It's loathsome making a show of ourselves----"
+
+"I _haven't_ a private sitting-room. It would have been too
+extravagant," returned Miss Lorenzi. "Please sit down--by me."
+
+Stephen sat down, biting his lip. He must not begin to lecture her, or
+even to ask why she had exchanged her quiet lodgings for the Carlton
+Hotel, because if he once began, he knew that he would be carried on to
+unsafe depths. Besides, he was foolish enough to hate hurting a woman's
+feelings, even when she most deserved to have them hurt.
+
+"Very well. It can't be helped now. Let us talk," said Stephen. "The
+first thing is, what to do with this newspaper chap, if you didn't give
+him the interview----"
+
+"Oh, I did give it--in a way," she admitted, looking rather frightened,
+and very beautiful. "You mustn't do anything to him. But--of course it
+was only because I thought it would be better to tell him the truth.
+Surely it was?"
+
+"Surely it wasn't. You oughtn't to have received him."
+
+"Then do you mind so dreadfully having people know you've asked me to
+marry you, and that I've said 'yes'?"
+
+Margot Lorenzi's expression of pathetic reproach was as effective as her
+eyelash play, when seen for the first time, as Stephen knew to his
+sorrow. But he had seen the one as often as the other.
+
+"You must know I didn't mean anything of the sort. Oh, Margot, if you
+don't understand, I'm afraid you're hopeless."
+
+"If you speak like that to me, I shall simply end everything as my
+father did," murmured the young woman, in a stifled, breaking voice. But
+her eyes were blazing.
+
+It almost burst from Stephen to order her not to threaten him again, to
+tell her that he was sick of melodrama, sick to the soul; but he kept
+silence. She was a passionate woman, and perhaps in a moment of madness
+she might carry out her threat. He had done a great deal to save her
+life--or, as he thought, to save it. After going so far he must not fail
+now in forbearance. And worse than having to live with beautiful,
+dramatic Margot, would it be to live without her if she killed herself
+because of him.
+
+"Forgive me. I didn't mean to hurt you," he said when he could control
+his voice.
+
+She smiled. "No, of course you didn't. It was stupid of me to fly out. I
+ought to know that you're always good. But I _don't_ see what harm the
+interview could do you, or me, or any one. It lets all the world know
+how gloriously you've made up to me for the loss of the case, and the
+loss of my father; and how you came into my life just in time to save me
+from killing myself, because I was utterly alone, defeated, without
+money or hope."
+
+She spoke with the curiously thrilling emphasis she knew how to give her
+words sometimes, and Stephen could not help thinking she did credit to
+her training. She had been preparing for the stage in Canada, the
+country of the Lorenzis' adoption, before her father brought her to
+England, whither he came with a flourish of trumpets to contest Lord
+Northmorland's rights to the title.
+
+"The world knew too much about our affairs already," Stephen said
+aloud. "And when you wished our engagement to be announced in _The
+Morning Post_, I had it put in at once. Wasn't that enough?"
+
+"Every one in the world doesn't read _The Morning Post_. But I should
+think every one in the world has read that interview, or will soon,"
+retorted Margot. "It appeared only yesterday morning, and was copied in
+all the evening papers; in this morning's ones too; and they say it's
+been cabled word for word to the big Canadian and American dailies."
+
+Stephen had his gloves in his hand, and he tore a slit across the palm
+of one, without knowing it. But Margot saw. He was thinking of the
+heading in big black print at the top of the interview: "Romantic Climax
+to the Northmorland-Lorenzi Case. Only Brother of Lord Northmorland to
+Marry the Daughter of Dead Canadian Claimant. Wedding Bells Relieve Note
+of Tragedy."
+
+"We've nothing to be ashamed of--everything to be proud of," Miss
+Lorenzi went on. "You, of your own noble behaviour to me, which, as I
+said to the reporter, must be making my poor father happy in another
+world. Me, because I have won You, _far_ more than because some day I
+shall have gained all that father failed to win for me and himself. His
+heart was broken, and he took his own life. My heart would have been
+broken too, and but for you I----"
+
+"Don't, please," Stephen broke in. "We won't talk any more about the
+interview. I'd like to forget it. I should have called here yesterday,
+as I wired in answer to your telegram saying you were at the Carlton,
+but being at my brother's place in Cumberland, I couldn't get back
+till----"
+
+"Oh, I understand," Margot cut in. Then she laughed a sly little laugh.
+"I think I understand too why you went to Cumberland. Now tell me.
+Confession's good for the soul. Didn't your brother wire for you the
+minute he saw that announcement in _The Morning Post_, day before
+yesterday?"
+
+"He did wire. Or rather the Duchess did, asking me to go at once to
+Cumberland, on important business. I found your telegram, forwarded from
+my flat, when I got to Northmorland Hall. If I'd known you were moving,
+I wouldn't have gone till to-day."
+
+"You mean, dear, you wouldn't have let me move? Now, do you think
+there's any harm in a girl of my age being alone in a hotel? If you do,
+it's dreadfully old-fashioned of you. I'm twenty-four."
+
+During the progress of the case, it had been mentioned in court that the
+claimant's daughter was twenty-nine (exactly Stephen Knight's age); but
+Margot ignored this unfortunate slip, and hoped that Stephen and others
+had forgotten.
+
+"No actual harm. But in the circumstances, why be conspicuous? Weren't
+you comfortable with Mrs. Middleton? She seemed a miraculously nice old
+body for a lodging-house keeper, and fussed over you no end----"
+
+"It was for your sake that I wanted to be in a good hotel, now our
+engagement has been announced," explained Miss Lorenzi. "I didn't think
+it suitable for the Honourable Stephen Knight's future wife to go on
+living in stuffy lodgings. And as you've insisted on my accepting an
+income of eighty pounds a month till we're married, I'm able to afford a
+little luxury, dearest. I can tell you it's a pleasure, after all I've
+suffered!--and I felt I owed you something in return for your
+generosity. I wanted your _fiancee_ to do you credit in the eyes of the
+world."
+
+Stephen bit his lip. "I see," he said slowly.
+
+Yet what he saw most clearly was a very different picture. Margot as she
+had seemed the day he met her first, in the despised South Kensington
+lodgings, whither he had been implored to come in haste, if he wished to
+save a wretched, starving girl from following her father out of a cruel
+world. Of course, he had seen her in court, and had reluctantly
+encountered her photograph several times before he had given up looking
+at illustrated papers for fear of what he might find in them. But
+Margot's tragic beauty, as presented by photographers, or as seen from
+a distance, loyally seated at the claimant's side, was as nothing to the
+dark splendour of her despair when the claimant was in his new-made
+grave. It was the day after the burial that she had sent for Stephen;
+and her letter had arrived, as it happened, when he was thinking of the
+girl, wondering whether she had friends who would stand by her, or
+whether a member of his family might, without being guilty of bad taste,
+dare offer help.
+
+Her tear-blotted letter had settled that doubt, and it had been so
+despairing, so suggestive of frenzy in its wording, that Stephen had
+impulsively rushed off to South Kensington at once, without stopping to
+think whether it would not be better to send a representative combining
+the gentleness of the dove with the wisdom of the serpent, and armed for
+emergencies with a blank cheque.
+
+Margot's hair, so charmingly dressed now, folding in soft dark waves on
+either side her face, almost hiding the pink-tipped ears, had been
+tumbled, that gloomy afternoon six weeks ago, with curls escaping here
+and there; and in the course of their talk a great coil had fallen down
+over her shoulders. It was the sort of thing that happens to the heroine
+of a melodrama, if she has plenty of hair; but Stephen did not think of
+that then. He thought of nothing except his sympathy for a beautiful
+girl brought, through no fault of her own, to the verge of starvation
+and despair, and of how he could best set about helping her.
+
+She had not even money enough to buy mourning. Lorenzi had left debts
+which she could not pay. She had no friends. She did not know what was
+to become of her. She had not slept for many nights. She had made up her
+mind to die as her father had died, because it seemed the only thing to
+do, when suddenly the thought of Stephen had flashed into her mind, as
+if sent there by her guardian angel. She had heard that he was good and
+charitable to everybody, and once she had seen him looking at her
+kindly, in court, as if he were sorry for her, and could read something
+of what was in her heart. She had imagined it perhaps. But would he
+forgive her for writing to him? Would he help her, and save her life?
+
+Any one who knew Stephen could have prophesied what his answer would be.
+He had hated it when she snatched his hand to kiss at the end of their
+interview; but he would scarcely have been a human young man if he had
+not felt a sudden tingle of the blood at the touch of such lips as
+Margot Lorenzi's. Never had she seemed so beautiful to him since that
+first day; but he had called again and again, against his brother's
+urgent advice (when he had confessed the first visit); and the story
+that the Duchess of Amidon was telling her friends, though founded
+entirely on her own imagination of the scene which had brought about
+Stephen's undoing, was not very far from the truth.
+
+Now, he saw a picture of Margot as he had seen her in the lodgings she
+hated; and he wished to heaven that he might think of her as he had
+thought of her then.
+
+"I've got something important to say to you," the girl went on, when she
+realized that Stephen intended to dismiss the subject of the hotel, as
+he had dismissed the subject of the interview. "That's the reason I
+wired. But I won't speak a word till you've told me what your brother
+and the Duchess of Amidon think about you and me."
+
+"There's nothing to tell," Stephen answered almost sullenly. And indeed
+there was no news of his Cumberland visit which it would be pleasant or
+wise to retail.
+
+Margot Lorenzi's complexion was not one of her greatest beauties. It was
+slightly sallow, so she made artistic use of a white cosmetic, which
+gave her skin the clearness of a camellia petal. But she had been
+putting on rather more than usual since her father's death, because it
+was suitable as well as becoming to be pale when one was in deep
+mourning. Consequently Margot could not turn perceptibly whiter, but she
+felt the blood go ebbing away from her face back upon her heart.
+
+"Stephen! Don't they mean to receive me, when we're married?" she
+stammered.
+
+"I don't think they've much use for either of us," Stephen hedged, to
+save her feelings. "Northmorland and I have never been great pals, you
+know. He's twenty years older than I am; and since he married the
+Duchess of Amidon----"
+
+"And her money! Oh, it's no use beating about the bush. I hate them
+both. Lord Northmorland has a fiendish, vindictive nature."
+
+"Come, you mustn't say that, Margot. He has nothing of the sort. He's a
+curious mixture. A man of the world, and a bit of a Puritan----"
+
+"So are you a Puritan, at heart," she broke in.
+
+Stephen laughed. "No one ever accused me of Puritanism before."
+
+"Maybe you've never shown any one else that side of you, as you show it
+to me. You're always being shocked at what I do and say."
+
+For that, it was hardly necessary to be a Puritan. But Stephen shrugged
+his shoulders instead of answering.
+
+"Your brother is a cold-hearted tyrant, and his wife is a snob. If she
+weren't, she wouldn't hang on to her duchess-hood after marrying again.
+It would be good enough for _me_ to call myself Lady Northmorland, and I
+hope I shall some day."
+
+Stephen's sensitive nostrils quivered. He understood in that moment how
+a man might actually wish to strike a nagging virago of a woman, no
+matter how beautiful. And he wondered with a sickening heaviness of
+heart how he was to go on with the wretched business of his engagement.
+But he pushed the question out of his mind, fiercely. He was in for this
+thing now. He _must_ go on.
+
+"Let all that alone, won't you?" he said, in a well-controlled tone.
+
+"I can't," Margot exclaimed. "I hate your brother. He killed my
+father."
+
+"Because he defended the honour of our grandfather, and upheld his own
+rights, when Mr. Lorenzi came to England to dispute them?"
+
+"Who knows if they _were_ his rights, or my father's? My father believed
+they were his, or he wouldn't have crossed the ocean and spent all his
+money in the hope of stepping into your brother's shoes."
+
+There were those--and Lord Northmorland and the Duchess of Amidon were
+among them--who did not admit that Lorenzi had believed in his "rights."
+And as for the money he had spent in trying to establish a legal claim
+to the Northmorland title and estates, it had not been his own, but lent
+him by people he had hypnotized with his plausible eloquence.
+
+"That question was decided in court----"
+
+"It would be harder for a foreigner to get an English nobleman's title
+away than for a camel to go through the eye of the tiniest needle in the
+world. But never mind. All that's buried in his grave, and you're giving
+me everything father wanted me to have. I wish I could keep my horrid
+temper better in hand, and I'd never make you look so cross. But I
+inherited my emotional nature from Margherita Lorenzi, I suppose. What
+can you expect of a girl who had an Italian prima donna for a
+grandmother? And I oughtn't to quarrel with the fair Margherita for
+leaving me her temper, since she left me her face too, and I'm fairly
+well satisfied with that. Everybody says I'm the image of my
+grandmother. And you ought to know, after seeing her picture in dozens
+of illustrated papers, as well as in that pamphlet poor father
+published."
+
+"If you want me to tell you that you are one of the handsomest women who
+ever lived, I'll do so at once," said Stephen.
+
+Margot smiled. "You really mean it?"
+
+"There couldn't be two opinions on that subject."
+
+"Then, if you think I'm so beautiful, don't let your brother and his
+snobbish Duchess spoil my life."
+
+"They can't spoil it."
+
+"Yes, they can. They can keep me from being a success in their set, your
+set--the _only_ set."
+
+"Perhaps they can do that. But England isn't the only country, anyhow.
+I've been thinking that when--by and by--we might take a long trip round
+the world----"
+
+"_Hang_ the world! England's my world. I've always looked forward to
+England, ever since I was a little thing, before mamma died, and I used
+to hear father repeating the romantic family story--how, if he could
+only find his mother's letters that she'd tried to tell him about when
+she was dying, perhaps he might make a legal claim to a title and a
+fortune. He used to turn to me and say: 'Maybe you'll be a great lady
+when you grow up, Margot, and I shall be an English viscount.' Then,
+when he did find the letters, behind the secret partition in
+grandmother's big old-fashioned sandal-wood fan-box, of which you've
+heard so much----"
+
+"Too much, please, Margot."
+
+"I _beg_ your pardon! But anyway, you see why I want to live in England.
+My life and soul are bound up in my success here. And I could have a
+success. You know I could. I am beautiful. I haven't seen any woman
+whose face I'd change for mine. I won't be cheated out of my
+happiness----"
+
+"Very well, we'll live in England, then. That's settled," said Stephen,
+hastily. "And you shall have all the success, all the happiness, that I
+can possibly give you. But we shall have to get on without any help from
+my brother and sister-in-law, and perhaps without a good many other
+people you might like to have for friends. It may seem hard, but you
+must make up your mind to it, Margot. Luckily, there'll be enough money
+to do pleasant things with; and people don't matter so immensely, once
+you've got used to----"
+
+"They do, they do! The right people. I _shall_ know them."
+
+"You must have patience. Everybody is rather tired of our names just
+now. Things may change some day. I'm ready to begin the experiment
+whenever you are."
+
+"You are a dear," said Margot. And Stephen did not even shiver. "That
+brings me to what I had to tell you. It's this: after all, we can't be
+married quite as soon as we expected."
+
+"Can't we?" he echoed the words blankly. Was this to be a reprieve? But
+he was not sure that he wanted a reprieve. He thought, the sooner the
+plunge was made, the better, maybe. Looking forward to it had become
+almost unbearable.
+
+"No, I _must_ run over to Canada first, Stephen. I've just begun to see
+that. You might say, I could go there with you after we were married,
+but it wouldn't be the same thing at all. I ought to stay with some of
+my old friends while I'm still Margot Lorenzi. A lot of people were
+awfully good to father, and I must show my gratitude. The sooner I sail
+the better, now the news of our engagement has got ahead of me. I
+needn't stop away very long. Seven or eight weeks--or nine at most,
+going and coming."
+
+"Would you like to be married in Canada?" Stephen asked; perhaps partly
+to please her, but probably more to disguise the fact that he had no
+impatient objections to raise against her plan. "If you wished, I could
+go whenever----"
+
+"Oh no, no!" she exclaimed quickly. "I wouldn't have you come there for
+anything in the world. That is. I mean----" she corrected herself with
+an anxious, almost frightened side glance at him--"I must fight it out
+alone. No, I don't mean that either. What a stupid way of putting it!
+But it would bore you dreadfully to take such a journey, and it would be
+nicer anyhow to be married in England--perhaps at St. George's. That
+used to be my dream, when I was a romantic little girl, and loved to
+stuff my head full of English novels. I should adore a wedding at St.
+George's. And oh, Stephen, you won't change your mind while I'm gone? It
+would kill me if you jilted me after all. I shouldn't live a single day,
+if you weren't true."
+
+"Don't talk nonsense, my dear girl. Of course I'm not going to change
+my mind," said Stephen. "When do you want to sail?"
+
+"The end of this week. You're sure you won't let your brother and that
+cruel Duchess talk you over? I----"
+
+"There's not the slightest chance of their talking to me at all,"
+Stephen answered sharply. "We've definitely quarrelled."
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+When he had dutifully seen Miss Lorenzi off at the ship, leaving her
+with as many flowers, novels, and sweets as even she could wish, Stephen
+expected to feel a sense of relief. But somehow, in a subtle way, he was
+more feverishly wretched than when Margot was near, and while planning
+to hurry on the marriage. He had been buoyed up with a rather youthful
+sense of defiance of the world, a hot desire to "get everything over."
+The flatness of the reaction which he felt on finding himself free, at
+least of Margot's society, was a surprise; and yet Stephen vaguely
+understood its real meaning. To be free, yet not free, was an
+aggravation. And besides, he did not know what to do or where to go, now
+that old friends and old haunts had lost much of their attraction.
+
+Since the announcement of his engagement to Miss Lorenzi, and especially
+since the famous interview, copied in all the papers, he disliked
+meeting people he knew well, lest they should offer good advice, or let
+him see that they were dying to do so.
+
+If it had been weak to say, "Be my wife, if you think I can make you
+happy," one day when Margot Lorenzi had tearfully confessed her love for
+him, it would be doubly weak--worse than weak, Stephen thought--to throw
+her over now. It would look to the world as if he were a coward, and it
+would look to himself the same--which would be more painful in the end.
+So he could listen to no advice, and he wished to hear none. Fortunately
+he was not in love with any other woman. But then, if he had loved
+somebody else, he would not have made the foolish mistake of saying
+those unlucky, irrevocable words to Margot.
+
+Stephen would have liked to get away from England for a while, but he
+hardly knew where to look for a haven. Since making a dash through
+France and Italy just after leaving Oxford, he had been too busy amusing
+himself in his own country to find time for any other, with the
+exception of an occasional run over to Paris. Now, if he stopped in
+England it would be difficult to evade officious friends, and soon
+everybody would be gossiping about his quarrel with Northmorland. The
+Duchess was not reticent.
+
+Stephen had not yet made up his mind what to do, or whether to do
+anything at all in his brief interval of freedom, when a letter came, to
+the flat near Albert Gate, where he had shut himself up after the
+sailing of Margot. The letter was post-marked Algiers, and it was a long
+time since he had seen the writing on the envelope--but not so long that
+he had forgotten it.
+
+"Nevill Caird!" he said to himself as he broke the neat seal which was
+characteristic of the writer. And he wondered, as he slowly, almost
+reluctantly, unfolded the letter, whether Nevill Caird had been reminded
+of him by reading the interview with Margot. Once, he and Caird had been
+very good friends, almost inseparable during one year at Oxford. Stephen
+had been twenty then, and Nevill Caird about twenty-three. That would
+make him thirty-two now--and Stephen could hardly imagine what "Wings"
+would have developed into at thirty-two. They had not met since
+Stephen's last year at Oxford, for Caird had gone to live abroad, and if
+he came back to England sometimes, he had never made any sign of wishing
+to pick up the old friendship where it had dropped. But here was this
+letter.
+
+Stephen knew that Caird had inherited a good deal of money, and a house
+in Paris, from an uncle or some other near relative; and a common friend
+had told him that there was also an Arab palace, very ancient and very
+beautiful, in or near Algiers. Several years had passed since Nevill
+Caird's name had been mentioned in his hearing, and lately it had not
+even echoed in his mind; but now, the handwriting and the neat seal on
+this envelope brought vividly before him the image of his friend: small,
+slight, boyish in face and figure, with a bright, yet dreamy smile, and
+blue-grey eyes which had the look of seeing beautiful things that nobody
+else could see.
+
+     "DEAR LEGS,"
+
+began the letter ("Legs" being the name which Stephen's skill as a
+runner, as well as the length of his limbs, had given him in
+undergraduate days).
+
+     "Dear Legs,
+
+     "I've often thought about you in the last nine years, and hope
+     you've occasionally thought of me, though somehow or other we
+     haven't written. I don't know whether you've travelled much, or
+     whether England has absorbed all your interests. Anyhow, can't you
+     come out here and make me a visit--the longer it is, the more I
+     shall be pleased. This country is interesting if you don't know it,
+     and fascinating if you do. My place is rather nice, and I should
+     like you to see it. Still better, I should like to see you. Do come
+     if you can, and come soon. I should enjoy showing you my garden at
+     its best. It's one of the things I care for most, but there are
+     other things. Do let me introduce you to them all. You can be as
+     quiet as you wish, if you wish. I'm a quiet sort myself, as you may
+     remember, and North Africa suits me better than London or Paris. I
+     haven't changed for the worse I hope, and I'm sure you haven't, in
+     any way.
+
+     "You can hardly realize how much pleasure it will give me if you'll
+     say 'yes' to my proposal.
+
+                                          "Yours as ever
+
+                                          "NEVILL CAIRD, alias 'Wings,'"
+
+Not a word of "the case," though, of course, he must know all about
+it--even in Algiers. Stephen's gratitude went out to his old friend,
+and his heart felt warmer because of the letter and the invitation. Many
+people, even with the best intentions, would have contrived to say the
+wrong thing in these awkward circumstances. There would have been some
+veiled allusion to the engagement; either silly, well-meant
+congratulations and good wishes, or else a stupid hint of advice to get
+out of a bad business while there was time. But Caird wrote as he might
+have written if there had been no case, and no entanglement; and acting
+on his first impulse, Stephen telegraphed an acceptance, saying that he
+would start for Algiers in two or three days. Afterwards, when he had
+given himself time to think, he did not regret his decision. Indeed, he
+was glad of it, and glad that he had made it so soon.
+
+A few weeks ago, a sudden break in his plans would have caused him a
+great deal of trouble. There would have been dozens of luncheons and
+dinners to escape from, and twice as many letters to write. But nowadays
+he had few invitations and scarcely any letters to write, except those
+of business, and an occasional line to Margot. People were willing to be
+neglected by him, willing to let him alone, for now that he had
+quarrelled with Northmorland and the Duchess, and had promised to marry
+an impossible woman, he must be gently but firmly taught to expect
+little of Society in future.
+
+Stephen broke the news to his man that he was going away, alone, and
+though the accomplished Molton had regrets, they were not as poignant as
+they would have been some weeks earlier. Most valets, if not all, are
+human, and have a weakness for a master whose social popularity is as
+unbounded as his generosity.
+
+Molton's services did not cease until after he had packed Stephen's
+luggage, and seen him off at Victoria. He flattered himself, as he left
+the station with three months' wages in his pocket, that he would be
+missed; but Stephen was surprised at the sense of relief which came as
+Molton turned a respectable back, and the boat-train began to slide out
+of the station. It was good to be alone, to have loosed his moorings,
+and to be drifting away where no eyes, once kind, would turn from him,
+or turn on him with pity. Out there in Algiers, a town of which he had
+the vaguest conception, there would be people who read the papers, of
+course, and people who loved to gossip; but Stephen felt a pleasant
+confidence that Nevill Caird would know how to protect him from such
+people. He would not have to meet many strangers. Nevill would arrange
+all that, and give him plenty to think about during his weeks of
+freedom.
+
+Algiers seemed a remote place to Stephen, who had loved life at home too
+passionately to care for foreign travel. Besides, there was always a
+great deal to do in England at every season of the year, and it had been
+difficult to find a time convenient for getting away. Town engagements
+began early in the spring, and lasted till after Cowes, when he was keen
+for Scotland. Being a gregarious as well as an idle young man, he was
+pleased with his own popularity, and the number of his invitations for
+country-house visits. He could never accept more than half, but even so,
+he hardly saw London until January; and then, if he went abroad at all,
+there was only time for a few days in Paris, and a fortnight on the
+Riviera, perhaps, before he found that he must get back. Just after
+leaving Oxford, before his father's death, he had been to Rome, to
+Berlin, and Vienna, and returned better satisfied than ever with his own
+capital; but of course it was different now that the capital was
+dissatisfied with him.
+
+He had chosen the night train and it was not crowded. All the way to
+Dover he had the compartment to himself, and there was no rush for the
+boat. It was a night of stars and balmy airs; but after the start the
+wind freshened, and Stephen walked briskly up and down the deck,
+shivering slightly at first, till his blood warmed. By and by it grew so
+cold that the deck emptied, save for half a dozen men with pipes that
+glowed between turned-up coat collars, and one girl in a blue serge
+dress, with no other cloak than the jacket that matched her frock.
+Stephen hardly noticed her at first, but as men buttoned their coats or
+went below, and she remained, his attention was attracted to the slim
+figure leaning on the rail. Her face was turned away, looking over the
+sea where the whirling stars dipped into dark waves that sprang to
+engulf them. Her elbows rested on the railing, and her chin lay in the
+cup of her two hands; but her hair, under a blue sailor-hat held down
+with a veil, hung low in a great looped-up plait, tied with a wide black
+ribbon, so that Stephen, without wasting much thought upon her, guessed
+that she must be very young. It was red hair, gleaming where the light
+touched it, and the wind thrashed curly tendrils out from the thick
+clump of the braid, tracing bright threads in intricate, lacy lines over
+her shoulders, like the network of sunlight that plays on the surface of
+water.
+
+Stephen thought of that simile after he had passed the girl once or
+twice, and thinking of it made him think of the girl herself. He was
+sure she must be cold in her serge jacket, and wondered why she didn't
+go below to the ladies' cabin. Also he wondered, even more vaguely, why
+her people didn't take better care of the child: there must be some one
+belonging to her on board.
+
+At last she turned, not to look at him, but to pace back and forth as
+others were pacing. She was in front of Stephen, and he saw only her
+back, which seemed more girlish than ever as she walked with a light,
+springing step, that might have kept time to some dainty dance-music
+which only she could hear. Her short dress, of hardly more than ankle
+length, flowed past her slender shape as the black, white-frothing waves
+flowed past the slim prow of the boat; and there was something
+individual, something distinguished in her gait and the bearing of her
+head on the young throat. Stephen noticed this rather interesting
+peculiarity, remarking it more definitely because of the almost mean
+simplicity of the blue serge dress. It was of provincial cut, and
+looked as if the wearer might have bought it ready made in some country
+town. Her hat, too, was of the sort that is turned out by the thousand
+and sold at a few shillings for young persons between the ages of twelve
+and twenty.
+
+By and by, when she had walked as far forward as possible, the deck
+rising under her feet or plunging down, while thin spray-wreaths sailed
+by on the wind, the girl wheeled and had the breeze at her back. It was
+then Stephen caught his first glimpse of her face, in a full white blaze
+of electric light: and he had the picture to himself, for by this time
+nearly every one else had gone.
+
+He had not expected anything wonderful, but it seemed to him in a flash
+of surprise that this was an amazing beauty. He had never seen such
+hair, or such a complexion. The large eyes gave him no more than a
+passing glance, but they were so vivid, so full of blue light as they
+met his, that he had a startled impression of being graciously accosted.
+It seemed as if the girl had some message to give him, for which he must
+stop and ask.
+
+As soon as they had passed each other, however, that curious, exciting
+impression was gone, like the vanishing glint on a gull's wing as it
+dips from sun into shadow. Of course she had not spoken; of course she
+had no word to give him. He had seemed to hear her speak, because she
+was a very vital sort of creature, no doubt, and therefore physically,
+though unconsciously, magnetic.
+
+At their next crossing under the light she did not look at him at all,
+and he realized that she was not so extraordinarily beautiful as he had
+at first thought. The glory of her was more an effect of colouring than
+anything else. The creamy complexion of a very young girl, whipped to
+rose and white by the sea wind; brilliant turquoise blue eyes under a
+glitter of wavy red hair; these were the only marvels, for the small,
+straight nose was exactly like most pretty girls' noses, and the mouth,
+though expressive and sweet, with a short upper lip, was not remarkable,
+unless for its firmness.
+
+The next time they passed, Stephen granted the girl a certain charm of
+expression which heightened the effect of beauty. She looked singularly
+innocent and interested in life, which to Stephen's mood seemed
+pathetic. He was convinced that he had seen through life, and
+consequently ceased forever to be interested in it. But he admired
+beauty wherever he saw it, whether in the grace of a breaking wave, or
+the sheen on a girl's bright hair, and it amused him faintly to
+speculate about the young creature with the brilliant eyes and blowing
+red locks. He decided that she was a schoolgirl of sixteen, being taken
+over to Paris, probably to finish her education there. Her mother or
+guardian was no doubt prostrate with sea-sickness, careless for the
+moment whether the child paraded the deck insufficiently clad, or
+whether she fell unchaperoned into the sea. Judging by her clothes, her
+family was poor, and she was perhaps intended for a governess: that was
+why they were sending her to France. She was to be given "every
+advantage," in order to command "desirable situations" by and by.
+Stephen felt dimly sorry for the little thing, who looked so radiantly
+happy now. She was much too pretty to be a governess, or to be obliged
+to earn her own living in any way. Women were brutes to each other
+sometimes. He had been finding this out lately. Few would care to bring
+a flowerlike creature of that type into their houses. The girl had
+trouble before her. He was sure she was going to be a governess.
+
+After she had walked for half an hour she looked round for a sheltered
+corner and sat down. But the place she had chosen was only comparatively
+sheltered, and presently Stephen fancied that he saw her shivering with
+cold. He could not bear this, knowing that he had a rug which Molton had
+forced upon him to use on board ship between Marseilles and Algiers. It
+was in a rolled-up thing which Molton called a "hold-all," along with
+some sticks and an umbrella, Stephen believed; and the rolled-up thing
+was on deck, with other hand-luggage.
+
+"Will you let me lend you a rug?" he asked, in the tone of a benevolent
+uncle addressing a child. "I have one close by, and it's rather cold
+when you don't walk."
+
+"Thank you very much," said the girl. "I should like it, if it won't be
+too much trouble to you."
+
+She spoke simply, and had a pretty voice, but it was an American voice.
+Stephen was surprised, because to find that she was an American upset
+his theories. He had never heard of American girls coming over to Paris
+with the object of training to be governesses.
+
+He went away and found the rug, returning with it in two or three
+minutes. The girl thanked him again, getting up and wrapping the dark
+soft thing round her shoulders and body, as if it had been a big shawl.
+Then she sat down once more, with a comfortable little sigh. "That does
+feel good!" she exclaimed. "I _was_ cold."
+
+"I think you would have been wiser to stop in the ladies' cabin," said
+Stephen, still with the somewhat patronizing air of the older person.
+
+"I like lots of air," explained the girl. "And it doesn't do me any harm
+to be cold."
+
+"How about getting a chill?" inquired Stephen.
+
+"Oh, I never have such things. They don't exist. At least they don't
+unless one encourages them," she replied.
+
+He smiled, rather interested, and pleased to linger, since she evidently
+understood that he was using no arts to scrape an acquaintance. "That
+sounds like Christian Science," he ventured.
+
+"I don't know that it's any kind of science," said she. "Nobody ever
+talked to me about it. Only if you're not afraid of things, they can't
+hurt you, can they?"
+
+"Perhaps not. I suppose you mean you needn't let yourself feel them.
+There's something in the idea: be callous as an alligator and nothing
+can hit you."
+
+"I don't mean that at all. I'd hate to be callous," she objected. "We
+couldn't enjoy things if we were callous."
+
+Stephen, on the point of saying something bitter, stopped in time,
+knowing that his words would have been not only stupid but obvious,
+which was worse. "It is good to be young," he remarked instead.
+
+"Yes, but I'm glad to be grown up at last," said the girl; and Stephen
+would not let himself laugh.
+
+"I know how you feel," he answered. "I used to feel like that too."
+
+"Don't you now?"
+
+"Not always. I've had plenty of time to get tired of being grown up."
+
+"Maybe you've been a soldier, and have seen sad things," she suggested.
+"I was thinking when I first saw you, that you looked like a soldier."
+
+"I wish I had been. Unfortunately I was too disgustingly young, when our
+only war of my day was on. I mean, the sort of war one could volunteer
+for."
+
+"In South Africa?"
+
+"Yes. You were a baby in that remote time."
+
+"Oh no, I wasn't. I'm eighteen now, going on nineteen. I was in Paris
+then, with my stepmother and my sister. We used to hear talk about the
+war, though we knew hardly any English people."
+
+"So Paris won't be a new experience to you?" said Stephen, disappointed
+that he had been mistaken in all his surmises.
+
+"I went back to America before I was nine, and I've been there ever
+since, till a few weeks ago. Oh see, there are the lights of France! I
+can't help being excited."
+
+"Yes, we'll be in very soon--in about ten minutes."
+
+"I am glad! I'd better go below and make my hair tidy. Thank you ever so
+much for helping me to be comfortable."
+
+She jumped up, unrolled herself, and began to fold the rug neatly.
+Stephen would have taken it from her and bundled it together anyhow, but
+she would not let him do that. "I like folded things," she said. "It's
+nice to see them come straight, and I enjoy it more because the wind
+doesn't want me to do it. To succeed in spite of something, is a kind of
+little triumph--and seems like a sign. Good-bye, and thank you once
+more."
+
+"Good-bye," said Stephen, and added to himself that he would not soon
+again see so pretty a child; as fresh, as frank, or as innocent. He had
+known several delightful American girls, but never one like this. She
+was a new type to him, and more interesting, perhaps, because she was
+simple, and even provincial. He was in a state of mind to glorify women
+who were entirely unsophisticated.
+
+He did not see the girl getting into the train at Calais, though he
+looked for her, feeling some curiosity as to the stepmother and the
+sister whom he had imagined prostrate in the ladies' cabin. By the time
+he had arrived at Paris he felt sleepy and dull after an aggravating
+doze or two on the way, and had almost forgotten the red-haired child
+with the vivid blue eyes, until, to his astonishment, he saw her alone
+parleying with a _douanier_, over two great boxes, for one of which
+there seemed to be no key.
+
+"Those selfish people of hers have left her to do all the work," he said
+to himself indignantly, and as she appeared to be having some difficulty
+with the official, he went to ask if he could help.
+
+"Thank you, it's all right now," she said. "The key of my biggest box is
+mislaid, but luckily I've got the man to believe me when I say there's
+nothing in it except clothes, just the same as in the other. Still it
+would be very, very kind if you wouldn't mind seeing me to a cab. That
+is, if it's no bother."
+
+Stephen assured her that he would be delighted.
+
+"Have your people engaged the cab already," he wanted to know, "or are
+they waiting in this room for you?"
+
+"I haven't any people," she answered. "I'm all by myself."
+
+This was another surprise, and it was as much as Stephen could do not to
+blame her family audibly for allowing the child to travel alone, at
+night too. The thing seemed monstrous.
+
+He took her into the court-yard, where the cabs stood, and engaged two,
+one for the girl, and one for her large luggage.
+
+"You have rooms already taken at an hotel, I hope?" he asked.
+
+"I'm going to a boarding-house--a _pension_, I mean," explained the
+girl. "But it's all right. They know I'm coming. I do thank you for
+everything."
+
+Seated in the cab, she held out her hand in a glove which had been
+cleaned, and showed mended fingers. Stephen shook the small hand
+gravely, and for the second time they bade each other good-bye.
+
+In the cold grey light of a rainy dawn, which would have suited few
+women as a background, especially after a night journey, the girl's face
+looked pearly, and Stephen saw that her lashes, darker at the roots,
+were bright golden at the turned-up ends.
+
+It seemed to him that this pretty child, alone in the greyness and rain
+of the big foreign city, was like a spring flower thrown carelessly into
+a river to float with the stream. He felt an impulse of protection, and
+it went against his instincts to let her drive about Paris unprotected,
+while night had hardly yielded to morning. But he could not offer to go
+with her. He was interested, as any man of flesh and blood must be
+interested, in the fate of an innocent and charming girl left to take
+care of herself, and entirely unfitted for the task; yet she seemed
+happy and self-confident, and he had no right, even if he wished, to
+disturb her mind. He was going away without another word after the
+good-bye, but on second thoughts felt that he might ask if she had
+friends in Paris.
+
+"Not exactly friends, but people who will look after me, and be kind,
+I'm sure," she answered. "Thank you for taking an interest. Will you
+tell the man to go to 278A Rue Washington, and the other cab to follow?"
+
+Stephen obeyed, and as she drove away the girl looked back, smiling at
+him her sweet and childlike smile.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+Stephen had meant to stop only one day in Paris, and travel at night to
+Marseilles, where he would have twelve or fifteen hours to wait before
+the sailing of the ship on which he had engaged a cabin. But glancing
+over a French paper while he breakfasted at the Westminster, he saw that
+a slight accident had happened to the boat during a storm on her return
+voyage from Algiers, and that she would be delayed three days for
+repairs. This news made Stephen decide to remain in Paris for those
+days, rather than go on and wait at Marseilles, or take another ship. He
+did not want to see any one he knew, but he thought it would be pleasant
+to spend some hours picture-gazing at the Louvre, and doing a few other
+things which one ought to do in Paris, and seldom does.
+
+That night he went to bed early and slept better than he had slept for
+weeks. The next day he almost enjoyed, and when evening came, felt
+desultory, even light-hearted.
+
+Dining at his hotel, he overheard the people at the next table say they
+were going to the Folies Bergeres to see Victoria Ray dance, and
+suddenly Stephen made up his mind that he would go there too: for if
+life had been running its usual course with him, he would certainly have
+gone to see Victoria Ray in London. She had danced lately at the Palace
+Theatre for a month or six weeks, and absorbed as he had been in his own
+affairs, he had heard enough talk about this new dancer to know that she
+had made what is called a "sensation."
+
+The people at the next table were telling each other that Victoria Ray's
+Paris engagement was only for three nights, something special, with
+huge pay, and that there was a "regular scramble" for seats, as the girl
+had been such a success in New York and London. The speakers, who were
+English and provincial, had already taken places, but there did not
+appear to be much hope that Stephen could get anything at the last
+minute. The little spice of difficulty gave a fillip of interest,
+however; and he remembered how the charming child on the boat had said
+that she "liked doing difficult things." He wondered what she was doing
+now; and as he thought of her, white and ethereal in the night and in
+the dawn-light, she seemed to him like the foam-flowers that had
+blossomed for an instant on the crests of dark waves, through which
+their vessel forged. "For a moment white, then gone forever." The words
+glittered in his mind, and fascinated him, calling up the image of the
+girl, pale against the night and rainy sea. "For a moment white, then
+gone forever," he repeated, and asked himself whence came the line. From
+Burns, he fancied; and thought it quaintly appropriate to the fair child
+whose clear whiteness had thrown a gleam into his life before she
+vanished.
+
+All the seats for this second night of Victoria Ray's short engagement
+were sold at the Folies Bergeres, he found, from the dearest to the
+cheapest: but there was standing room still when Stephen arrived, and he
+squeezed himself in among a group of light-hearted, long-haired students
+from the Latin Quarter. He had an hour to wait before Victoria Ray would
+dance, but there was some clever conjuring to be seen, a famous singer
+of _chansons_ to be heard, and other performances which made the time
+pass well enough. Then, at last, it was the new dancer's "turn."
+
+The curtain remained down for several minutes, as some scenic
+preparation was necessary before her first dance. Gay French music was
+playing, and people chattered through it, or laughed in high Parisian
+voices. A blue haze of smoke hung suspended like a thin veil, and the
+air was close, scented with tobacco and perfume. Stephen looked at his
+programme, beginning to feel bored. His elbows were pressed against his
+sides by the crowd. Miss Ray was down for two dances, the Dance of the
+Statue and the Dance of the Shadow. The atmosphere of the place
+depressed him. He doubted after all, that he would care for the dancing.
+But as he began to wish he had not come the curtain went up, to show the
+studio of a sculptor, empty save for the artist's marble masterpieces.
+Through a large skylight, and a high window at the back of the stage, a
+red glow of sunset streamed into the bare room. In the shadowy corners
+marble forms were grouped, but in the centre, directly under the full
+flood of rose-coloured light, the just finished statue of a girl stood
+on a raised platform. She was looking up, and held a cup in one lifted
+hand, as if to catch the red wine of sunset. Her draperies, confined by
+a Greek ceinture under the young bust, fell from shoulder to foot in
+long clear lines that seemed cut in gleaming stone. The illusion was
+perfect. Even in that ruddy blaze the delicate, draped form appeared to
+be of carved marble. It was almost impossible to believe it that of a
+living woman, and its grace of outline and pose was so perfect that
+Stephen, in his love of beauty, dreaded the first movement which must
+change, if not break, the tableau. He said to himself that there was
+some faint resemblance between this chiselled loveliness and the vivid
+charm of the pretty child he had met on the boat. He could imagine that
+a statue for which she had stood as model might look like this, though
+the features seemed to his eye more regular than those of the girl.
+
+As he gazed, the music, which had been rich and colourful, fell into
+softer notes; and the rose-sunset faded to an opal twilight, purple to
+blue, blue to the silver of moonlight, the music changing as the light
+changed, until at last it was low and slumberous as the drip-drip of a
+plashing fountain. Then, into the dream of the music broke a sound like
+the distant striking of a clock. It was midnight, and all the statues
+in the sculptor's bare, white studio began to wake at the magic stroke
+which granted them a few hours of life.
+
+There was just a shimmer of movement in the dim corners. Marble limbs
+stirred, marble face turned slowly to gaze at marble face; yet, as if
+they could be only half awakened in the shadows where the life-giving
+draught of moonlight might not flow, there was but the faintest flicker
+of white forms and draperies. It was the just finished statue of the
+girl which felt the full thrill of moonshine and midnight. She woke
+rapturously, and drained the silver moon-wine in her cup (the music told
+the story of her first thought and living heart-beat): then down she
+stepped from the platform where the sculptor's tools still lay, and
+began to dance for the other statues who watched in the dusk, hushed
+back into stillness under the new spell of her enchantments.
+
+Stephen had never seen anything like that dance. Many pretty _premieres
+danseuses_ he had admired and applauded, charming and clever young women
+of France, of Russia, of Italy, and Spain: and they had roused him and
+all London to enthusiasm over dances eccentric, original, exquisite, or
+wild. But never had there been anything like this. Stephen had not known
+that a dance could move him as this did. He was roused, even thrilled by
+its poetry, and the perfect beauty of its poses, its poises. It must, he
+supposed, have been practised patiently, perhaps for years, yet it
+produced the effect of being entirely unstudied. At all events, there
+was nothing in the ordinary sense "professional" about it. One would
+say--not knowing the supreme art of supreme grace--that a joyous child,
+born to the heritage of natural grace, might dance thus by sheer
+inspiration, in ecstasy of life and worship of the newly felt beauty of
+earth. Stephen did know something of art, and the need of devotion to
+its study; yet he found it hard to realize that this awakened marble
+loveliness had gone through the same performance week after week, month
+after month, in America and England. He preferred rather to let himself
+fancy that he was dreaming the whole thing; and he would gladly have
+dreamed on indefinitely, forgetting the smoky atmosphere, forgetting the
+long-haired students and all the incongruous surroundings. The gracious
+dream gave him peace and pleasure such as he had not known since the
+beginning of the Northmorland case.
+
+Through the house there was a hush, unusual at the Folies Bergeres.
+People hardly knew what to make of the dances, so different from any
+ever seen in a theatre of Paris. Stephen was not alone in feeling the
+curious dream-spell woven by music and perfection of beauty. But the
+light changed. The moonlight slowly faded. Dancer and music faltered, in
+the falling of the dark hour before dawn. The charm was waning. Soft
+notes died, and quavered in apprehension. The magic charm of the moon
+was breaking, had broken: a crash of cymbals and the studio was dark.
+Then light began to glimmer once more, but it was the chill light of
+dawn, and growing from purple to blue, from blue to rosy day, it showed
+the marble statues fast locked in marble sleep again. On the platform
+stood the girl with uplifted arm, holding her cup, now, to catch the
+wine of sunrise; and on the delicately chiselled face was a faint smile
+which seemed to hide a secret. When the first ray of yellow sunshine
+gilded the big skylight, a door up-stage opened and the sculptor came
+in, wearing his workman's blouse. He regarded his handiwork, as the
+curtain came down.
+
+When the music of the dream had ceased and suddenly became
+ostentatiously puerile, the audience broke into a tumult of applause.
+Women clapped their hands furiously and many men shouted "brava, brava,"
+hoping that the curtain might rise once more on the picture; but it did
+not rise, and Stephen was glad. The dream would have been vulgarized by
+repetition.
+
+For fully five minutes the orchestra played some gay tune which every
+one there had heard a hundred times; but abruptly it stopped, as if on
+a signal. For an instant there was a silence of waiting and suspense,
+which roused interest and piqued curiosity. Then there began a delicate
+symphony which could mean nothing but spring in a forest, and on that
+the curtain went up. The prophecy of the music was fulfilled, for the
+scene was a woodland in April, with young leaves a-flicker and blossoms
+in birth, the light song of the flutes and violins being the song of
+birds in love. All the trees were brocaded with dainty, gold-green lace,
+and daffodils sprouted from the moss at their feet.
+
+The birds sang more gaily, and out from behind a silver-trunked beech
+tree danced a figure in spring green. Her arms were full of flowers,
+which she scattered as she danced, curtseying, mocking, beckoning the
+shadow that followed her along the daisied grass. Her little feet were
+bare, and flitted through the green folding of her draperies like white
+night-moths fluttering among rose leaves. Her hair fell over her
+shoulders, and curled below her waist. It was red hair that glittered
+and waved, and she looked a radiant child of sixteen. Victoria Ray the
+dancer, and the girl on the Channel boat were one.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+The Shadow Dance was even more beautiful than the Dance of the Statue,
+but Stephen had lost pleasure in it. He was supersensitive in these
+days, and he felt as if the girl had deliberately made game of him, in
+order that he should make a fool of himself. Of course it was a pose of
+hers to travel without chaperon or maid, and dress like a school girl
+from a provincial town, in cheap serge, a sailor hat, and a plait of
+hair looped up with ribbon. She was no doubt five or six years older
+than she looked or admitted, and probably her manager shrewdly
+prescribed the "line" she had taken up. Young women on the
+stage--actresses, dancers, or singers, it didn't matter which--must do
+something unusual, in order to be talked about, and get a good free
+advertisement. Nowadays, when professionals vied with each other in the
+expensiveness of their jewels, the size of their hats, or the smallness
+of their waists, and the eccentricity of their costumes, it was perhaps
+rather a new note to wear no jewels at all, and appear in ready-made
+frocks bought in bargain-sales; while, as for the young woman's air of
+childlike innocence and inexperience, it might be a tribute to her
+cleverness as an actress, but it was not a tribute to his intelligence
+as a man, that he should have been taken in by it. Always, he told
+himself, he was being taken in by some woman. After the lesson he had
+had, he ought to have learned wisdom, but it seemed that he was as
+gullible as ever. And it was this romantic folly of his which vexed him
+now; not the fact that a simple child over whose fate he had
+sentimentalized, was a rich and popular stage-dancer. Miss Ray was
+probably a good enough young woman according to her lights, and it was
+not she who need be shamed by the success of the Channel boat comedy.
+
+He had another day and night in Paris, where he did more sightseeing
+than he had ever accomplished before in a dozen visits, and then
+travelled on to Marseilles. The slight damage to the _Charles Quex_ had
+been repaired, and at noon the ship was to sail. Stephen went on board
+early, as he could think of nothing else which he preferred to do, and
+he was repaid for his promptness. By the time he had seen his luggage
+deposited in the cabin he had secured for himself alone, engaged a deck
+chair, and taken a look over the ship--which was new, and as handsome as
+much oak, fragrant cedar-wood, gilding, and green brocade could make
+her--many other passengers were coming on board. Travelling first class
+were several slim French officers, and stout Frenchmen of the commercial
+class; a merry theatrical company going to act in Algiers and Tunis; an
+English clergyman of grave aspect; invalids with their nurses, and two
+or three dignified Arabs, evidently of good birth as well as fortune.
+Arab merchants were returning from the Riviera, and a party of German
+students were going second class.
+
+Stephen was interested in the lively scene of embarkation, and glad to
+be a part of it, though still more glad that there seemed to be nobody
+on board whom he had ever met. He admired the harbour, and the shipping,
+and felt pleasantly exhilarated. "I feel very young, or very old, I'm
+not sure which," he said to himself as a faint thrill ran through his
+nerves at the grinding groan of the anchor, slowly hauled out of the
+deep green water.
+
+It was as if he heard the creaking of a gate which opened into an
+unknown garden, a garden where life would be new and changed. Nevill
+Caird had once said that there was no sharp, dividing line between
+phases of existence, except one's own moods, and Stephen had thought
+this true; but now it seemed as if the sea which silvered the distance
+was the dividing line for him, while all that lay beyond the horizon was
+mysterious as a desert mirage.
+
+He was not conscious of any joy at starting, yet he was excited, as if
+something tremendous were about to happen to him. England, that he knew
+so well, seemed suddenly less real than Africa, which he knew not at
+all, and his senses were keenly alert for the first time in many days.
+He saw Marseilles from a new point of view, and wondered why he had
+never read anything fine written in praise of the ancient Phoenician
+city. Though he had not been in the East, he imagined that the old part
+of the town, seen from the sea, looked Eastern, as if the traffic
+between east and west, going on for thousands of years, had imported an
+Eastern taste in architecture.
+
+The huge, mosque-like cathedral bubbled with domes, where fierce gleams
+of gold were hammered out by strokes of the noonday sun. A background of
+wild mountain ranges, whose tortured peaks shone opaline through long
+rents in mist veils, lent an air of romance to the scene, and Notre Dame
+de la Garde loomed nobly on her bleached and arid height. "Have no fear:
+I keep watch and ward over land and sea," seemed to say the majestic
+figure of gold on the tall tower, and Stephen half wished he were of the
+Catholic faith, that he might take comfort from the assurance.
+
+As the _Charles Quex_ steamed farther and farther away, the church on
+the mountainous hill appeared to change in shape. Notre Dame de la Garde
+looked no longer like a building made by man, but like a great sacred
+swan crowned with gold, and nested on a mountain-top. There she sat,
+with shining head erect on a long neck, seated on her nest, protecting
+her young, and gazing far across the sea in search of danger. The sun
+touched her golden crown, and dusky cloud-shadows grouped far beneath
+her eyrie, like mourners kneeling below the height to pray. The
+rock-shapes and island rocks that cut the blue glitter of the sea,
+suggested splendid tales of Phoenician mariners and Saracenic pirates,
+tales lost forever in the dim mists of time; and so Stephen wandered on
+to thoughts of Dumas, wishing he had brought "Monte Cristo," dearly
+loved when he was twelve. Probably not a soul on board had the book;
+people were so stupid and prosaic nowadays. He turned from the rail on
+which he had leaned to watch the fading land, and as he did so, his eyes
+fell upon a bright red copy of the book for which he had been wishing.
+There was the name in large gold lettering on a scarlet cover, very
+conspicuous on the dark blue serge lap of a girl. It was the girl of the
+Channel boat, and she wore the same dress, the same sailor hat tied on
+with a blue veil, which she had worn that night crossing from England to
+France.
+
+While Stephen had been absorbed in admiration of Marseilles harbour, she
+had come up on deck, and settled herself in a canvas chair. This time
+she had a rug of her own, a thin navy blue rug which, like her frock,
+might have been chosen for its cheapness. Although she held a volume of
+"Monte Cristo," she was not reading, and as Stephen turned towards her,
+their eyes met.
+
+Hers lit up with a pleased smile, and the pink that sprang to her cheeks
+was the colour of surprise, not of self-consciousness.
+
+"I _thought_ your back looked like you, but I didn't suppose it would
+turn out to be you," she said.
+
+Stephen's slight, unreasonable irritation could not stand against the
+azure of such eyes, and the youth in her friendly smile. Since the girl
+seemed glad to see him, why shouldn't he be glad to see her? At least
+she was not a link with England.
+
+"I thought your statue looked like you," he retorted, standing near her
+chair, "but I didn't suppose it would turn out to be you until your
+shadow followed."
+
+"Oh, you saw me dance! Did you like it?" She asked the question eagerly,
+like a child who hangs upon grown-up judgment of its work.
+
+"I thought both dances extremely beautiful and artistic," replied
+Stephen, a little stiffly.
+
+She looked at him questioningly, as if puzzled. "No, I don't think you
+did like them, really," she said. "I oughtn't to have asked in that
+blunt way, because of course you would hate to hurt my feelings by
+saying no!"
+
+Her manner was so unlike that of a spoiled stage darling, that Stephen
+had to remind himself sharply of her "innocent pose," and his own
+soft-hearted lack of discrimination where pretty women were concerned.
+By doing this he kept himself armed against the clever little actress
+laughing at him behind the blue eyes of a child. "You must know that
+there can't be two opinions of your dancing," said he coolly. "You have
+had years and years of flattery, of course; enough to make you sick of
+it, if a woman ever----" He stopped, smiling.
+
+"Why, I've been dancing professionally for only a few months!" she
+exclaimed. "Didn't you know?"
+
+"I'm ashamed to say I was ignorant," Stephen confessed. "But before the
+dancing, there must have been something else equally clever.
+Floating--or flying--or----"
+
+She laughed. "Why don't you suggest fainting in coils? I'm certain you
+would, if you'd ever read 'Alice.'"
+
+"As a matter of fact, I was brought up on 'Alice,'" said Stephen. "Do
+children of the present day still go down the rabbit hole?"
+
+"I'm not sure about children of the _present_ day. Children of my day
+went down," she replied with dignity. "I loved Alice dearly. I don't
+know much about other children, though, for I never had a chance to make
+friends as a child. But then I had my sister when I was a little girl,
+so nothing else mattered."
+
+"If you don't think me rude to say so," ventured Stephen, "you would
+seem to me a little girl now, if I hadn't found out that you're an
+accomplished star of the theatres, admired all over Europe."
+
+"Now you're making fun of me," said the dancer. "Paris was only my third
+engagement; and it's going to be my last, anyway for ever so long, I
+hope."
+
+This time Stephen was really surprised, and all his early interest in
+the young creature woke again; the personal sort of interest which he
+had partly lost on finding that she was of the theatrical world.
+
+"Oh, I see!" he ejaculated, before stopping to reflect that he had no
+right to put into words the idea which jumped into his mind.
+
+"You see?" she echoed. "But how can you see, unless you know something
+about me already?"
+
+"I beg your pardon," he apologized. "It was only a thought. I----"
+
+"A thought about my dancing?"
+
+"Not exactly that. About your not dancing again."
+
+"Then please tell me the thought."
+
+"You may be angry. I rather think you'd have a right to be angry--not at
+the thought, but the telling of it."
+
+"I promise."
+
+"Why," explained Stephen, "when a young and successful actress makes up
+her mind to leave the stage, what is the usual reason?"
+
+"I'm not an actress, so I can't imagine what you mean--unless you
+suppose I've made a great fortune in a few months?"
+
+"That too, perhaps--but I don't think a fortune would induce you to
+leave the stage yet a while. You'd want to go on, not for the money
+perhaps, but for the fun."
+
+"I haven't been dancing for fun."
+
+"Haven't you?"
+
+"No. I began with a purpose. I'm leaving the stage for a purpose. And
+you say you can guess what that is. If you know, you must have been
+told."
+
+"Since you insist, it occurred to me that you might be going to marry.
+I thought maybe you were travelling to Africa to----"
+
+She laughed. "Oh, you _are_ wrong! I don't believe there ever was a girl
+who thinks less about marrying. I've never had time to think of such
+things. I've always--ever since I was nine years old--looked to the one
+goal, and aimed for it, studied for it, lived for it--at last, danced
+towards it."
+
+"You excite my curiosity immensely," said Stephen. And it was true. The
+girl had begun to take him out of himself.
+
+"There is lunch," she announced, as a bugle sounded.
+
+Stephen longed to say, "Don't go yet. Stop and tell me all about the
+'goal' you're working for." But he dared not. She was very frank, and
+evidently willing, for some reason, to talk of her aims, even to a
+comparative stranger; yet he knew that it would be impertinent to
+suggest her sitting out on deck to chat with him, while the other
+passengers lunched.
+
+He asked if she were hungry, and she said she was. So was he, now that
+he came to think of it; nevertheless he let her go in alone, and waited
+deliberately for several minutes before following. He would have liked
+to sit by Miss Ray at the table, but wished her to see that he did not
+mean to presume upon any small right of acquaintanceship. As she was on
+the stage, and extremely attractive, no doubt men often tried to take
+such advantage, and he didn't intend to be one of them; therefore he
+supposed that he had lost the chance of placing himself near her in the
+dining-room. To his surprise, however, as he was about to slip into a
+far-away chair, she beckoned from her table. "I kept this seat for you,"
+she said. "I hoped you wouldn't mind."
+
+"Mind!" He was on the point of repaying her kindness with a conventional
+little compliment, but thought better of it, and expressed his meaning
+in a smile.
+
+The oak-panelled saloon was provided with a number of small tables, and
+at the one where Victoria Ray sat, were places for four. Three were
+already occupied when Stephen came; one by Victoria, the others by a
+German bride and groom.
+
+At the next table were two French officers of the Chasseurs d'Afrique,
+the English clergyman Stephen had noticed on deck, and a remarkably
+handsome Arab, elaborately dressed. He sat facing Victoria Ray and
+Stephen Knight, and Stephen found it difficult not to stare at the
+superb, pale brown person whose very high white turban, bound with light
+grey cord, gave him a dignity beyond his years, and whose pale grey
+burnous, over a gold-embroidered vest of dark rose-colour, added
+picturesqueness which appeared theatrical in eyes unaccustomed to the
+East.
+
+Stephen had never seen an Arab of the aristocratic class until to-day;
+and before, only a few such specimens as parade the Galerie Charles
+Trois at Monte Carlo, selling prayer-rugs and draperies from Algeria.
+This man's high birth and breeding were clear at first glance. He was
+certainly a personage aware of his own attractions, though not
+offensively self-conscious, and was unmistakably interested in the
+beauty of the girl at the next table. He was too well-bred to make a
+show of his admiration, but talked in almost perfect, slightly guttural
+French, with the English clergyman, speaking occasionally also to the
+officers in answer to some question. He glanced seldom at Miss Ray, but
+when he did look across, in a guarded way, at her, there was a light of
+ardent pleasure in his eyes, such as no eyes save those of East or South
+ever betray. The look was respectful, despite its underlying passion.
+Nevertheless, because the handsome face was some shades darker than his
+own, it offended Stephen, who felt a sharp bite of dislike for the Arab.
+He was glad the man was not at the same table with Miss Ray, and knew
+that it would have vexed him intensely to see the girl drawn into
+conversation. He wondered that the French officers should talk with the
+Arab as with an equal, yet knew in his heart that such prejudice was
+narrow-minded, especially at the moment when he was travelling to the
+Arab's own country. He tried, though not very strenuously, to override
+his conviction of superiority to the Eastern man, but triumphed only far
+enough to admit that the fellow was handsome in a way. His skin was
+hardly darker than old ivory: the aquiline nose delicate as a woman's,
+with sensitive nostrils; and the black velvet eyes under arched brows,
+that met in a thin, pencilled line, were long, and either dreamy or
+calmly calculating. A prominent chin and a full mouth, so determined as
+to suggest cruelty, certainly selfishness, preserved the face from
+effeminacy at the sacrifice of artistic perfection. Stephen noticed with
+mingled curiosity and disapproval that the Arab appeared to be vain of
+his hands, on which he wore two or three rings that might have been
+bought in Paris, or even given him by European women--for they looked
+like a woman's rings. The brown fingers were slender, tapering to the
+ends, and their reddened nails glittered. They played, as the man
+talked, with a piece of bread, and often he glanced down at them, with
+the long eyes which had a blue shadow underneath, like a faint smear of
+kohl.
+
+Stephen wondered what Victoria Ray thought of her _vis-a-vis_; but in
+the presence of the staring bride and groom he could ask no questions,
+and the expression of her face, as once she quietly regarded the Arab,
+told nothing. It was even puzzling, as an expression for a young girl's
+face to wear in looking at a handsome man so supremely conscious of sex
+and of his own attraction. She was evidently thinking about him with
+considerable interest, and it annoyed Stephen that she should look at
+him at all. An Arab might misunderstand, not realizing that he was a
+legitimate object of curiosity for eyes unused to Eastern men.
+
+After luncheon Victoria went to her cabin. This was disappointing.
+Stephen, hoping that she might come on deck again soon, and resume their
+talk where it had broken off in the morning, paced up and down until he
+felt drowsy, not having slept in the train the night before. To his
+surprise and disgust, it was after five when he waked from a long nap,
+in his stateroom; and going on deck he found Miss Ray in her chair once
+more, this time apparently deep in "Monte Cristo."
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+He walked past, and she looked up with a smile, but did not ask him to
+draw his chair near hers, though there was a vacant space. It was an
+absurd and far-fetched idea, but he could not help asking himself if it
+were possible that she had picked up any acquaintance on board, who had
+told her he was a marked man, a foolish fellow who had spoiled his life
+for a low-born, unscrupulous woman's sake. It was a morbid fancy, he
+knew, but he was morbid now, and supposed that he should be for some
+time to come, if not for the rest of his life. He imagined a difference
+in the girl's manner. Maybe she had read that hateful interview in some
+paper, when she was in London, and now remembered having seen his
+photograph with Margot Lorenzi's. He hated the thought, not because he
+deliberately wished to keep his engagement secret, but because the
+newspaper interview had made him seem a fool, and somehow he did not
+want to be despised by this dancing girl whom he should never see again
+after to-morrow. Just why her opinion of his character need matter to
+him, it was difficult to say, but there was something extraordinary
+about the girl. She did not seem in the least like other dancers he had
+met. He had not that feeling of comfortable comradeship with her that a
+man may feel with most unchaperoned, travelling actresses, no matter how
+respectable. There was a sense of aloofness, as if she had been a young
+princess, in spite of her simple and friendly ways.
+
+Since it appeared that she had no intention of picking up the dropped
+threads of their conversation, Stephen thought of the smoking-room; but
+his wish to know whether she really had changed towards him became so
+pressing that he was impelled to speak again. It was an impulse unlike
+himself, at any rate the old self with which he was familiar, as with a
+friend or an intimate enemy.
+
+"I hoped you would tell me the rest," he blurted out.
+
+"The rest?"
+
+"That you were beginning to tell."
+
+The girl blushed. "I was afraid afterwards, you might have been bored,
+or anyway surprised. You probably thought it 'very American' of me to
+talk about my own affairs to a stranger, and it _isn't_, you know. I
+shouldn't like you to think Americans are less well brought up than
+other girls, just because _I_ may do things that seem queer. I have to
+do them. And I am quite different from others. You mustn't suppose I'm
+not."
+
+Stephen was curiously relieved. Suddenly he felt young and happy, as he
+used to feel before knowing Margot Lorenzi. "I never met a brilliantly
+successful person who was as modest as you," he said, laughing with
+pleasure. "I was never less bored in my life. Will you talk to me
+again--and let me talk to you?"
+
+"I should like to ask your advice," she replied.
+
+That gave permission for Stephen to draw his chair near to hers. "Have
+you had tea?" he inquired, by way of a beginning.
+
+"I'm too American to drink tea in the afternoon," she explained. "It's
+only fashionable Americans who take it, and I'm not that kind, as you
+can see. I come from the country--or almost the country."
+
+"Weren't you drawn into any of our little ways in London?" He was
+working up to a certain point.
+
+"I was too busy."
+
+"I'm sure you weren't too busy for one thing: reading the papers for
+your notices."
+
+Victoria shook her head, smiling. "There you're mistaken. The first
+morning after I danced at the Palace Theatre, I asked to see the papers
+they had in my boarding-house, because I hoped so much that English
+people would like me, and I wanted to be a success. But afterwards I
+didn't bother. I don't understand British politics, you see--how could
+I?--and I hardly know any English people, so I wasn't very interested in
+their papers."
+
+Again Stephen was relieved. But he felt driven by one of his strange new
+impulses to tell her his name, and watch her face while he told it.
+
+"'Curiouser and curiouser,' as our friend Alice would say," he laughed.
+"No newspaper paragraphs, and a boarding-house instead of a fashionable
+hotel. What was your manager thinking about?"
+
+"I had no manager of my very own," said Victoria. "I 'exploited' myself.
+It costs less to do that. When people in America liked my dancing I got
+an offer from London, and I accepted it and made all the arrangements
+about going over. It was quite easy, you see, because there were only
+costumes to carry. My scenery is so simple, they either had it in the
+theatres or got something painted: and the statues in the studio scene,
+and the sculptor, needed very few rehearsals. In Paris they had only
+one. It was all I had time for, after I arrived. The lighting wasn't
+difficult either, and though people told me at first there would be
+trouble unless I had my own man, there never was any, really. In my
+letters to the managers I gave the dates when I could come to their
+theatres, how long I could stay, and all they must do to get things
+ready. The Paris engagement was made only a little while beforehand. I
+wanted to pass through there, so I was glad to accept the offer and earn
+extra money which I thought I might need by and by."
+
+"What a mercenary star!" Stephen spoke teasingly; but in truth he could
+not make the girl out.
+
+She took the accusation with a smile. "Yes, I am mercenary, I suppose,"
+she confessed with unashamed frankness, "but not entirely for myself. I
+shouldn't like to be that! I told you how I've been looking forward
+always to one end. And now, just when that end may be near, how foolish
+I should be to spend a cent on unnecessary things! Why, I'd have felt
+_wicked_ living in an expensive hotel, and keeping a maid, when I could
+be comfortable in a Bloomsbury boarding-house on ten dollars a week. And
+the dresser in the theater, who did everything very nicely, was
+delighted with a present of twenty dollars when my London engagement was
+over."
+
+"No doubt she was," said Stephen. "But----"
+
+"I suppose you're thinking that I must have made lots of money, and that
+I'm a sort of little miseress: and so I have--and so I am. I earned
+seven hundred and fifty dollars a week--isn't that a hundred and fifty
+pounds?--for the six weeks, and I spent as little as possible; for I
+didn't get as large a salary as that in America. I engaged to dance for
+three hundred dollars a week there, which seemed perfectly wonderful to
+me at first; so I had to keep my contract, though other managers would
+have given me more. I wanted dreadfully to take their offers, because I
+was in such a hurry to have enough money to begin my real work. But I
+knew I shouldn't be blessed in my undertaking if I acted dishonourably.
+Try as I might, I've only been able to save up ten thousand dollars,
+counting the salary in Paris and all. Would you say that was enough to
+_bribe_ a person, if necessary? Two thousand of your pounds."
+
+"It depends upon how rich the person is."
+
+"I don't know how rich he is. Could an Arab be _very_ rich?"
+
+"I daresay there are still some rich ones. But maybe riches aren't the
+same with them as with us. That fellow at lunch to-day looks as if he'd
+plenty of money to spend on embroideries."
+
+"Yes. And he looks important too--as if he might have travelled, and
+known a great many people of all sorts. I wish it were proper for me to
+talk to him."
+
+"Good Heavens, why?" asked Stephen, startled. "It would be most
+improper."
+
+"Yes, I'm afraid so, and I won't, of course, unless I get to know him in
+some way," went on Victoria. "Not that there's any chance of such a
+thing."
+
+"I should hope not," exclaimed Stephen, who was privately of opinion
+that there was only too good a chance if the girl showed the Arab even
+the faintest sign of willingness to know and be known. "I've no right to
+ask it, of course, except that I'm much older than you and have seen
+more of the world--but do promise not to look at that nigger. I don't
+like his face."
+
+"He isn't a nigger," objected Victoria. "But if he were, it wouldn't
+matter--nor whether one liked his face or not. He might be able to help
+me."
+
+"To help you--in Algiers?"
+
+"Yes, in the same way that you might be able to help me--or more,
+because he's an Arab, and must know Arabs."
+
+Stephen forgot to press his request for her promise. "How can I help
+you?" he wanted to know.
+
+"I'm not sure. Only, you're going to Algiers. I always ask everybody to
+help, if there's the slightest chance they can."
+
+Stephen felt disappointed and chilled. But she went on. "I should hate
+you to think I _gush_ to strangers, and tell them all my affairs, just
+because I'm silly enough to love talking. I must talk to strangers. I
+_must_ get help where I can. And you were kind the other night.
+Everybody is kind. Do you know many people in Algeria, or Tunisia?"
+
+"Only one man. His name is Nevill Caird, and he lives in Algiers. My
+name is Stephen Knight. I've been wanting to tell you--I seemed to have
+an unfair advantage, knowing yours ever since Paris."
+
+He watched her face almost furtively, but no change came over it, no
+cloud in the blueness of her candid eyes. The name meant nothing to her.
+
+"I'm sorry. It's hardly worth while my bothering you then."
+
+Stephen wished to be bothered. "But Nevill Caird has lived in Algiers
+for eight winters or so," he said. "He knows everybody, French and
+English--Arab too, very likely, if there are Arabs worth knowing."
+
+A bright colour sprang to the girl's cheeks and turned her extreme
+prettiness into brilliant beauty. It seemed to Stephen that the name of
+Ray suited her: she was dazzling as sunshine. "Oh, then, I will tell
+you--if you'll listen," she said.
+
+"If I had as many ears as a spear of wheat, they'd all want to listen."
+His voice sounded young and eager. "Please begin at the beginning, as
+the children say."
+
+"Shall I really? But it's a long story. It begins when I was eight."
+
+"All the better. It will be ten years long."
+
+"I can skip lots of things. When I was eight, and my sister Saidee not
+quite eighteen, we were in Paris with my stepmother. My father had been
+dead just a year, but she was out of mourning. She wasn't old--only
+about thirty, and handsome. She was jealous of Saidee, though, because
+Saidee was so much younger and fresher, and because Saidee was
+beautiful--Oh, you can't imagine how beautiful!"
+
+"Yes, I can," said Stephen.
+
+"You mean me to take that for a compliment. I know I'm quite pretty, but
+I'm nothing to Saidee. She was a great beauty, though with the same
+colouring I have, except that her eyes were brown, and her hair a little
+more auburn. People turned to look after her in the street, and that
+made our stepmother angry. _She_ wanted to be the one looked at. I knew,
+even then! She wouldn't have travelled with us, only father had left her
+his money, on condition that she gave Saidee and me the best of
+educations, and allowed us a thousand dollars a year each, from the time
+our schooling was finished until we married. She had a good deal of
+influence over him, for he was ill a long time, and she was his
+nurse--that was the way they got acquainted. And she persuaded him to
+leave practically everything to her; but she couldn't prevent his making
+some conditions. There was one which she hated. She was obliged to live
+in the same town with us; so when she wanted to go and enjoy herself in
+Paris after father died, she had to take us too. And she didn't care to
+shut Saidee up, because if Saidee couldn't be seen, she couldn't be
+married; and of course Mrs. Ray wanted her to be married. Then she would
+have no bother, and no money to pay. I often heard Saidee say these
+things, because she told me everything. She loved me a great deal, and I
+adored her. My middle name is Cecilia, and she was generally called Say;
+so she used to tell me that our secret names for each other must be 'Say
+and Seal.' It made me feel very grown-up to have her confide so much in
+me: and never being with children at all, gave me grown-up thoughts."
+
+"Poor child!" said Stephen.
+
+"Oh, I was very happy. It was only after--but that isn't the way to tell
+the story. Our stepmother--whom we always called 'Mrs. Ray,' never
+'mother'--liked officers, and we got acquainted with a good many French
+ones. They used to come to the flat where we lived. Some of them were
+introduced by our French governess, whose brother was in the army, but
+they brought others, and Saidee and Mrs. Ray went to parties together,
+though Mrs. Ray hated being chaperon. If poor Saidee were admired at a
+dinner, or a dance, Mrs. Ray would be horrid all next day, and say
+everything disagreeable she could think of. Then Saidee would cry when
+we were alone, and tell me she was so miserable, she would have to marry
+in self-defence. That made me cry too--but she promised to take me with
+her if she went away.
+
+"When we had been in Paris about two months, Saidee came to bed one
+night after a ball, and waked me up. We slept in the same room. She was
+excited and looked like an angel. I knew something had happened. She
+told me she'd met a wonderful man, and every one was fascinated with
+him. She had heard of him before, but this was the first time they'd
+seen each other. He was in the French army, she said, a captain, and
+older than most of the men she knew best, but very handsome, and rich as
+well as clever. It was only at the last, after she'd praised the man a
+great deal, that she mentioned his having Arab blood. Even then she
+hurried on to say his mother was a Spanish woman, and he had been partly
+educated in France, and spoke perfect French, and English too. They had
+danced together, and Saidee had never met so interesting a man. She
+thought he was like the hero of some romance; and she told me I would
+see him, because he'd begged Mrs. Ray to be allowed to call. He had
+asked Saidee lots of questions, and she'd told him even about me--so he
+sent me his love. She seemed to think I ought to be pleased, but I
+wasn't. I'd read the 'Arabian Nights', with pictures, and I knew Arabs
+were dark people. I didn't look down on them particularly, but I
+couldn't bear to have Say interested in an Arab. It didn't seem right
+for her, somehow."
+
+The girl stopped, and apparently forgot to go on. She had been speaking
+with short pauses, as if she hardly realized that she was talking aloud.
+Her eyebrows drew together, and she sighed. Stephen knew that some
+memory pressed heavily upon her, but soon she began again.
+
+"He came next day. He was handsome, as Saidee had said--as handsome as
+the Arab on board this ship, but in a different way. He looked noble and
+haughty--yet as if he might be very selfish and hard. Perhaps he was
+about thirty-three or four, and that seemed old to me then--old even to
+Saidee. But she was fascinated. He came often, and she saw him at other
+houses. Everywhere she was going, he would find out, and go too. That
+pleased her--for he was an important man somehow, and of good birth.
+Besides, he was desperately in love--even a child could see that. He
+never took his eyes off Saidee's face when she was with him. It was as
+if he could eat her up; and if she flirted a little with the real French
+officers, to amuse herself or tease him, it drove him half mad. She
+liked that--it was exciting, she used to say. And I forgot to tell you,
+he wore European dress, except for a fez--no turban, like this man's on
+the boat, or I'm sure she couldn't have cared for him in the way she
+did--he wouldn't have seemed _possible_, for a Christian girl. A man in
+a turban! You understand, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, I understand," Stephen said. He understood, too, how violently
+such beauty as the girl described must have appealed to the dark man of
+the East. "The same colouring that I have," Victoria Ray had said. If
+he, an Englishman, accustomed to the fair loveliness of his
+countrywomen, were a little dazzled by the radiance of this girl, what
+compelling influence must not the more beautiful sister have exercised
+upon the Arab?
+
+"He made love to Saidee in a fierce sort of way that carried her off her
+feet," went on Victoria. "She used to tell me things he said, and Mrs.
+Ray did all she could to throw them together, because he was rich, and
+lived a long way off--so she wouldn't have to do anything for Say if
+they were married, or even see her again. He was only on leave in Paris.
+He was a Spahi, stationed in Algiers, and he owned a house there."
+
+"Ah, in Algiers!" Stephen began to see light--rather a lurid light.
+
+"Yes. His name was Cassim ben Halim el Cheikh el Arab. Before he had
+known Saidee two weeks, he proposed. She took a little while to think it
+over, and I begged her to say 'no'--but one day when Mrs. Ray had been
+crosser and more horrid than usual, she said 'yes'. Cassim ben Halim was
+Mohammedan, of course, but he and Saidee were married according to
+French law. They didn't go to church, because he couldn't do that
+without showing disrespect to his own religion, but he promised he'd not
+try to change hers. Altogether it seemed to Saidee that there was no
+reason why they shouldn't be as happy as a Catholic girl marrying a
+Protestant--or _vice versa_; and she hadn't any very strong convictions.
+She was a Christian, but she wasn't fond of going to church."
+
+"And her promise that she'd take you away with her?" Stephen reminded
+the girl.
+
+"She would have kept it, if Mrs. Ray had consented--though I'm sure
+Cassim didn't want me, and only agreed to do what Saidee asked because
+he was so deep in love, and feared to lose my sister if he refused her
+anything. But Mrs. Ray was afraid to let me go, on account of the
+condition in father's will that she should keep me near her while I was
+being educated. There was an old friend of father's who'd threatened to
+try and upset the will, for Saidee's sake and mine, so I suppose she
+thought he might succeed if she disobeyed father's instructions. It
+ended in Saidee and her husband going to Algiers without me, and Saidee
+cried--but she couldn't help being happy, because she was in love, and
+very excited about the strange new life, which Cassim told her would be
+wonderful as some gorgeous dream of fairyland. He gave her quantities of
+jewellery, and said they were nothing to what she should have when she
+was in her own home with him. She should be covered from head to foot
+with diamonds and pearls, rubies and emeralds, if she liked; and of
+course she would like, for she loved jewels, poor darling."
+
+"Why do you say 'poor?'" asked Stephen. "Are you going to tell me the
+marriage wasn't a success?"
+
+"I don't know," answered the girl. "I don't know any more about her than
+if Cassim ben Halim had really carried my sister off to fairyland, and
+shut the door behind them. You see, I was only eight years old. I
+couldn't make my own life. After Saidee was married and taken to
+Algiers, my stepmother began to imagine herself in love with an American
+from Indiana, whom she met in Paris. He had an impressive sort of
+manner, and made her think him rich and important. He was in business,
+and had come over to rest, so he couldn't stay long abroad; and he urged
+Mrs. Ray to go back to America on the same ship with him. Of course she
+took me, and this Mr. Henry Potter told her about a boarding-school
+where they taught quite little girls, not far from the town where he
+lived. It had been a farmhouse once, and he said there were 'good
+teachers and good air.' I can hear him saying it now. It was easy to
+persuade her; and she engaged rooms at a hotel in the town near by,
+which was called Potterston, after Mr. Potter's grandfather. By and by
+they were married, but their marriage made no difference to me. It
+wasn't a bad little old-fashioned school, and I was as happy as I could
+be anywhere, parted from Saidee. There was an attic where I used to be
+allowed to sit on Saturdays, and think thoughts, and write letters to my
+sister; and there was one corner, where the sunlight came in through a
+tiny window shaped like a crescent, without any glass, which I named
+Algiers. I played that I went there to visit Saidee in the old Arab
+palace she wrote me about. It was a splendid play--but I felt lonely
+when I stopped playing it. I used to dance there, too, very softly in
+stockinged feet, so nobody could hear--dances she and I made up together
+out of stories she used to tell me. The Shadow Dance and the Statue
+Dance which you saw, came out of those stories, and there are more you
+didn't see, which I do sometimes--a butterfly dance, the dance of the
+wheat, and two of the East, which were in stories she told me after we
+knew Cassim ben Halim. They are the dance of the smoke wreath, and the
+dance of the jewel-and-the-rose. I could dance quite well even in those
+days, because I loved doing it. It came as natural to dance as to
+breathe, and Saidee had always encouraged me, so when I was left alone
+it made me think of her, to dance the dances of her stories."
+
+"What about your teachers? Did they never find you out?" asked Stephen.
+
+"Yes. One of the young teachers did at last. Not in the attic, but when
+I was dancing for the big girls in their dormitory, at night--they'd
+wake me up to get me to dance. But she wasn't much older than the
+biggest of the big girls, so she laughed--I suppose I must have looked
+quaint dancing in my nighty, with my long red hair. And though we were
+all scolded afterwards, I was made to dance sometimes at the
+entertainments we gave when school broke up in the summer. I was the
+youngest scholar, you see, and stayed through the vacations, so I was a
+kind of pet for the teachers. They were of one family, aunts and
+nieces--Southern people, and of course good-natured. But all this isn't
+really in the story I want to tell you. The interesting part's about
+Saidee. For months I got letters from her, written from Algiers. At
+first they were like fairy tales, but by and by--quite soon--they
+stopped telling much about herself. It seemed as if Saidee were growing
+more and more reserved, or else as if she were tired of writing to me,
+and bored by it--almost as if she could hardly think of anything to say.
+Then the letters stopped altogether. I wrote and wrote, but no answer
+came--no answer ever came."
+
+"You've never heard from your sister since then?" The thing appeared
+incredible to Stephen.
+
+"Never. Now you can guess what I've been growing up for, living for, all
+these years. To find her."
+
+"But surely," Stephen argued, "there must have been some way to----"
+
+"Not any way that was in my power, till now. You see I was helpless. I
+had no money, and I was a child. I'm not very old yet, but I'm older
+than my years, because I had this thing to do. There I was, at a
+farmhouse school in the country, two miles out of Potterston--and you
+would think Potterston itself not much better than the backwoods, I'm
+sure. When I was fourteen, my stepmother died suddenly--leaving all the
+money which came from my father to her husband, except several thousand
+dollars to finish my education and give me a start in life; but Mr.
+Potter lost everything of his own and of mine too, in some wild
+speculation about which the people in that part of Indiana went mad. The
+crash came a year ago, and the Misses Jennings, who kept the school,
+asked me to stay on as an under teacher--they were sorry for me, and so
+kind. But even if nothing had happened, I should have left then, for I
+felt old enough to set about my real work. Oh, I see you think I might
+have got at my sister before, somehow, but I couldn't, indeed. I tried
+everything. Not only did I write and write, but I begged the Misses
+Jennings to help, and the minister of the church where we went on
+Sundays. The Misses Jennings told the girls' parents and relations
+whenever they came to visit, and they all promised, if they ever went to
+Algiers, they would look for my sister's husband, Captain Cassim ben
+Halim, of the Spahis. But they weren't the sort of people who ever do go
+such journeys. And the minister wrote to the American Consul in Algiers
+for me, but the only answer was that Cassim ben Halim had disappeared.
+It seemed not even to be known that he had an American wife."
+
+"Your stepmother ought to have gone herself," said Stephen.
+
+"Oh--_ought_! I very seldom saw my stepmother after she married Mr.
+Potter. Though she lived so near, she never asked me to her house, and
+only came to call at the school once or twice a year, for form's sake.
+But I ran away one evening and begged her to go and find Saidee. She
+said it was nonsense; that if Saidee hadn't wanted to drop us, she would
+have kept on writing, or else she was dead. But don't you think I should
+have _known_ if Saidee were dead?"
+
+"By instinct, you mean--telepathy, or something of that sort?"
+
+"I don't know what I mean, but _I should have known_. I should have felt
+her death, like a string snapping in my heart. Instead, I heard her
+calling to me--I hear her always. She wants me. She needs me. I know it,
+and nothing could make me believe otherwise. So now you understand how,
+if anything were to be done, I had to do it myself. When I was quite
+little, I thought by the time I should be sixteen or seventeen, and
+allowed to leave school--or old enough to run away if necessary--I'd
+have a little money of my own. But when my stepmother died I felt sure I
+should never, never get anything from Mr. Potter."
+
+"But that old friend you spoke of, who wanted to upset the will?
+Couldn't he have done anything?" Stephen asked.
+
+"If he had lived, everything might have been different; but he was a
+very old man, and he died of pneumonia soon after Saidee married Cassim
+ben Halim. There was no one else to help. So from the time I was
+fourteen, I knew that somehow I must make money. Without money I could
+never hope to get to Algiers and find Saidee. Even though she had
+disappeared from there, it seemed to me that Algiers would be the place
+to begin my search. Don't you think so?"
+
+"Yes, Algiers is the place to begin," Stephen echoed. "There ought to be
+a way of tracking her. _Some one_ must know what became of a more or
+less important man such as your brother-in-law seems to have been. It's
+incredible that he should have been able to vanish without leaving any
+trace."
+
+"He must have left a trace, and though nobody else, so far, has found
+it, I shall find it," said the girl. "I did what I could before. I asked
+everybody to help; and when I got to New York last year, I used to go to
+Cook's office, to inquire for people travelling to Algiers. Then, if I
+met any, I would at once speak of my sister, and give them my address,
+to let me know if they should discover anything. They always seemed
+interested, and said they would really do their best, but they must have
+failed, or else they forgot. No news ever came back. It will be
+different with me now, though. I shall find Saidee, and if she isn't
+happy, I shall bring her away with me. If her husband is a bad man, and
+if the reason he left Algiers is because he lost his money, as I
+sometimes think, I may have to bribe him to let her go. But I have money
+enough for everything, I hope--unless he's very greedy, or there are
+difficulties I can't foresee. In that case, I shall dance again, and
+make more money, you know--that's all there is about it."
+
+"One thing I do know, is that you are wonderful," said Stephen, his
+conscience pricking him because of certain unjust thoughts concerning
+this child which he had harboured since learning that she was a dancer.
+"You're the most wonderful girl I ever saw or heard of."
+
+She laughed happily. "Oh no, I'm not wonderful at all. It's funny you
+should think so. Perhaps none of the girls you know have had a big work
+to do."
+
+"I'm sure they never have," said Stephen, "and if they had, they
+wouldn't have done it."
+
+"Yes, they would. Anybody would--that is, if they wanted to, _enough_.
+You can always do what you want to _enough_. I wanted to do this with
+all my heart and soul, so I knew I should find the way. I just followed
+my instinct, when people told me I was unreasonable, and of course it
+led me right. Reason is only to depend on in scientific sorts of things,
+isn't it? The other is higher, because instinct is your _You_."
+
+"Isn't that what people say who preach New Thought, or whatever they
+call it?" asked Stephen. "A lot of women I know had rather a craze about
+that two or three years ago. They went to lectures given by an American
+man they raved over--said he was 'too fascinating.' And they used their
+'science' to win at bridge. I don't know whether it worked or not."
+
+"I never heard any one talk of New Thought," said Victoria. "I've just
+had my own thoughts about everything. The attic at school was a lovely
+place to think thoughts in. Wonderful ones always came to me, if I
+called to them--thoughts all glittering--like angels. They seemed to
+bring me new ideas about things I'd been born knowing--beautiful things,
+which I feel somehow have been handed down to me--in my blood."
+
+"Why, that's the way my friends used to talk about 'waking their
+race-consciousness.' But it only led to bridge, with them."
+
+"Well, it's led me from Potterston here," said Victoria, "and it will
+lead me on to the end, wherever that may be, I'm sure. Perhaps it will
+lead me far, far off, into that mysterious golden silence, where in
+dreams I often see Saidee watching for me: the strangest dream-place,
+and I've no idea where it is! But I shall find out, if she is really
+there."
+
+"What supreme confidence you have in your star!" Stephen exclaimed,
+admiringly, and half enviously.
+
+"Of course. Haven't you, in yours?"
+
+"I have no star."
+
+She turned her eyes to his, quickly, as if grieved. And in his eyes she
+saw the shadow of hopelessness which was there to see, and could not be
+hidden from a clear gaze.
+
+"I'm sorry," she said simply. "I don't know how I could have lived
+without mine. I walk in its light, as if in a path. But yours must be
+somewhere in the sky, and you can find it if you want to very much."
+
+He could have found two in her eyes just then, but such stars were not
+for him. "Perhaps I don't deserve a star," he said.
+
+"I'm sure you do. You are the kind that does," the girl comforted him.
+"Do have a star!"
+
+"It would only make me unhappy, because I mightn't be able to walk in
+its light, as you do."
+
+"It would make you very happy, as mine does me. I'm always happy,
+because the light helps me to do things. It helped me to dance: it
+helped me to succeed."
+
+"Tell me about your dancing," said Stephen, vaguely anxious to change
+the subject, and escape from thoughts of Margot, the only star of his
+future. "I should like to hear how you began, if you don't mind."
+
+"That's kind of you," replied Victoria, gratefully.
+
+He laughed. "Kind!"
+
+"Why, it's nothing of a story. Luckily, I'd always danced. So when I was
+fourteen, and began to think I should never have any money of my own
+after all, I saw that dancing would be my best way of earning it, as
+that was the one thing I could do very well. Afterwards I worked in real
+earnest--always up in the attic, where I used to study the Arabic
+language too; study it very hard. And no one knew what I was doing or
+what was in my head, till last year when I told the oldest Miss Jennings
+that I couldn't be a teacher--that I must leave school and go to New
+York."
+
+"What did she say?"
+
+"She said I was crazy. So did they all. They got the minister to come
+and argue with me, and he was dreadfully opposed to my wishes at first.
+But after we'd talked a while, he came round to my way."
+
+"How did you persuade him to that point of view?" Stephen catechized
+her, wondering always.
+
+"I hardly know. I just told him how I felt about everything. Oh, and I
+danced."
+
+"By Jove! What effect had that on him?"
+
+"He clapped his hands and said it was a good dance, quite different from
+what he expected. He didn't think it would do any one harm to see. And
+he gave me a sort of lecture about how I ought to behave if I became a
+dancer. It was easy to follow his advice, because none of the bad things
+he feared might happen to me ever did."
+
+"Your star protected you?"
+
+"Of course. There was a little trouble about money at first, because I
+hadn't any, but I had a few things--a watch that had been my mother's,
+and her engagement ring (they were Saidee's, but she left them both for
+me when she went away), and a queer kind of brooch Cassim ben Halim gave
+me one day, out of a lovely mother-o'-pearl box he brought full of
+jewels for Saidee, when they were engaged. See, I have the brooch on
+now--for I wouldn't _sell_ the things. I went to a shop in Potterston
+and asked the man to lend me fifty dollars on them all, so he did. It
+was very good of him."
+
+"You seem to consider everybody you meet kind and good," Stephen said.
+
+"Yes, they almost always have been so to me. If you believe people are
+going to be good, it _makes_ them good, unless they're very bad indeed."
+
+"Perhaps." Stephen would not for a great deal have tried to undermine
+her confidence in her fellow beings, and such was the power of the
+girl's personality, that for the moment he was half inclined to feel she
+might be right. Who could tell? Maybe he had not "believed" enough--in
+Margot. He looked with interest at the brooch of which Miss Ray spoke, a
+curiously wrought, flattened ring of dull gold, with a pin in the middle
+which pierced and fastened her chiffon veil on her breast. Round the
+edge, irregularly shaped pearls alternated with roughly cut emeralds,
+and there was a barbaric beauty in both workmanship and colour.
+
+"What happened when you got to your journey's end?" he went on, fearing
+to go astray on that subject of the world's goodness, which was a sore
+point with him lately. "Did you know anybody in New York?"
+
+"Nobody. But I asked the driver of a cab if he could take me to a
+respectable theatrical boarding-house, and he said he could, so I told
+him to drive me there. I engaged a wee back room at the top of the
+house, and paid a week in advance. The boarders weren't very successful
+people, poor things, for it was a cheap boarding-house--it had to be,
+for me. But they all knew which were the best theatres and managers, and
+they were interested when they heard I'd come to try and get a chance to
+be a dancer. They were afraid it wasn't much use, but the same evening
+they changed their minds, and gave me lots of good advice."
+
+"You danced for them?"
+
+"Yes, in such a stuffy parlour, smelling of gas and dust and there were
+holes in the carpet it was difficult not to step into. A dear old man
+without any hair, who was on what he called the 'Variety Stage,' advised
+me to go and try to see Mr. Charles Norman, a fearfully important
+person--so important that even I had heard of him, away out in Indiana.
+I did try, day after day, but he was too important to be got at. I
+wouldn't be discouraged, though. I knew Mr. Norman must come to the
+theatre sometimes, so I bought a photograph in order to recognize him;
+and one day when he passed me, going in, I screwed up my courage and
+spoke. I said I'd been waiting for days and days. At first he scowled,
+and I think meant to be cross, but when he'd given me one long,
+terrifying glare, he grumbled out: "Come along with me, then. I'll soon
+see what you can do." I went in, and danced on an almost dark stage,
+with Mr. Norman and another man looking at me, in the empty theatre
+where all the chairs and boxes were covered up with sheets. They seemed
+rather pleased with my dancing, and Mr. Norman said he would give me a
+chance. Then, if I 'caught on'--he meant if people liked me--I should
+have a salary. But I told him I must have the salary at once, as my
+money would only last a few more days. I'd spent nearly all I had,
+getting to New York. Very well, said he, I should have thirty dollars a
+week to begin with, and after that, we'd see what we'd see. Well, people
+did like my dances, and by and by Mr. Norman gave me what seemed then a
+splendid salary. So now you know everything that's happened; and please
+don't think I'd have worried you by talking so much about myself, if you
+hadn't asked questions. I'm afraid I oughtn't to have done it, anyway."
+
+Her tone changed, and became almost apologetic. She stirred uneasily in
+her deck chair, and looked about half dazedly, as people look about a
+room that is new to them, on waking there for the first time. "Why, it's
+grown dark!" she exclaimed.
+
+This fact surprised Stephen equally. "So it has," he said. "By Jove, I
+was so interested in you--in what you were telling--I hadn't noticed.
+I'd forgotten where we were."
+
+"I'd forgotten, too," said Victoria. "I always do forget outside things
+when I think about Saidee, and the golden dream-silence where I see her.
+All the people who were near us on deck have gone away. Did you see them
+go?"
+
+"No," said Stephen, "I didn't."
+
+"How odd!" exclaimed the girl.
+
+"Do you think so? You had taken me to the golden silence with you."
+
+"Where can everybody be?" She spoke anxiously. "Is it late? Maybe
+they've gone to get ready for dinner."
+
+From a small bag she wore at her belt, American tourist-fashion, she
+pulled out an old-fashioned gold watch of the kind that winds up with a
+key--her mother's, perhaps, on which she had borrowed money to reach New
+York. "Something must be wrong with my watch," she said. "It can't be
+twenty minutes past eight."
+
+The same thing was wrong with Stephen's expensive repeater, whose
+splendour he was ashamed to flaunt beside the modesty of the girl's poor
+little timepiece. There remained now no reasonable doubt that it was
+indeed twenty minutes past eight, since by the mouths of two witnesses a
+truth can be established.
+
+"How dreadful!" exclaimed Victoria, mortified. "I've kept you here all
+this time, listening to me."
+
+"Didn't I tell you I'd rather listen to you than anything else? Eating
+was certainly not excepted. I don't remember hearing the bugle."
+
+"And I didn't hear it."
+
+"I'd forgotten dinner. You had carried me so far away with you."
+
+"And Saidee," added the girl. "Thank you for going with us."
+
+"Thank you for taking me."
+
+They both laughed, and as they laughed, people began streaming out on
+deck. Dinner was over. The handsome Arab passed, talking with the spare,
+loose-limbed English parson, whom he had fascinated. They were
+discussing affairs in Morocco, and as they passed Stephen and Victoria,
+the Arab did not appear to turn; yet Stephen knew that he was thinking
+of them and not of what he was saying to the clergyman.
+
+"What shall we do?" asked Victoria.
+
+Stephen reflected for an instant. "Will you invite me to dine at your
+table?" he asked.
+
+"Maybe they'll tell us it's too late now to have anything to eat. I
+don't mind for myself, but for you----"
+
+"We'll have a better dinner than the others have had," Stephen
+prophesied. "I guarantee it, if you invite me."
+
+"Oh, do please come," she implored, like a child. "I couldn't face the
+waiters alone. And you know, I feel as if you were a friend, now--though
+you may laugh at that."
+
+"It's the best compliment I ever had," said Stephen. "And--it gives me
+faith in myself--which I need."
+
+"And your star, which you're to find," the girl reminded him, as he
+unrolled her from her rug.
+
+"I wish you'd lend me a little of the light from yours, to find mine
+by," he said half gaily, yet with a certain wistfulness which she
+detected under the laugh.
+
+"I will," she said quickly. "Not a little, but half."
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+Stephen's prophecy came true. They had a better dinner than any one else
+had, and enjoyed it as an adventure. Victoria thought their waiter a
+particularly good-natured man, because instead of sulking over his
+duties he beamed. Stephen might, if he had chosen, have thrown another
+light upon the waiter's smiles; but he didn't choose. And he was happy.
+He gave Victoria good advice, and promised help from Nevill Caird. "He's
+sure to meet me at the ship," he said, "and if you'll let me, I'll
+introduce him to you. He may be able to find out everything you want to
+know."
+
+Stephen would have liked to go on talking after dinner, but the girl,
+ashamed of having taken up so much of his time, would not be tempted.
+She went to her cabin, and thought of him, as well as of her sister; and
+he thought of her while he walked on deck, under the stars.
+
+"For a moment white, then gone forever."
+
+Again the words came singing into his head. She was white--white as this
+lacelike foam that silvered the Mediterranean blue; but she had not gone
+forever, as he had thought when he likened her whiteness to the
+spindrift on the dark Channel waves. She had come into his life once
+more, unexpectedly; and she might brighten it again for a short time on
+land, in that unknown garden his thoughts pictured, behind the gate of
+the East. Yet she would not be of his life. There was no place in it for
+a girl. Still, he thought of her, and went on thinking, involuntarily
+planning things which he and Nevill Caird would do to help the child, in
+her romantic errand. Of course she must not be allowed to travel about
+Algeria alone. Once settled in Algiers she must stay there quietly till
+the authorities found her sister.
+
+He used that powerful-sounding word "authorities" vaguely in his mind,
+but he was sure that the thing would be simple enough. The police could
+be applied to, if Nevill and his friends should be unable to discover
+Ben Halim and his American wife. Almost unconsciously, Stephen saw
+himself earning Victoria Ray's gratitude. It was a pleasant fancy, and
+he followed it as one wanders down a flowery path found in a dark
+forest.
+
+Victoria's thoughts of him were as many, though different.
+
+She had never filled her mind with nonsense about men, as many girls do.
+As she would have said to herself, she had been too busy. When girls at
+school had talked of being in love, and of marrying, she had been
+interested, as if in a story-book, but it had not seemed to her that she
+would ever fall in love or be married. It seemed so less than ever, now
+that she was at last actually on her way to look for Saidee. She was
+intensely excited, and there was room only for the one absorbing thought
+in mind and heart; yet she was not as anxious as most others would have
+been in her place. Now that Heaven had helped her so far, she was sure
+she would be helped to the end. It would be too bad to be true that
+anything dreadful should have happened to Saidee--anything from which
+she, Victoria, could not save her; and so now, very soon perhaps,
+everything would come right. It seemed to the girl that somehow Stephen
+was part of a great scheme, that he had been sent into her life for a
+purpose. Otherwise, why should he have been so kind since the first, and
+have appeared this second time, when she had almost forgotten him in the
+press of other thoughts? Why should he be going where she was going, and
+why should he have a friend who had known Algiers and Algeria since the
+time when Saidee's letters had ceased?
+
+All these arguments were childlike; but Victoria Ray had not passed far
+beyond childhood; and though her ideas of religion were her
+own--unlearned and unconventional--such as they were they meant
+everything to her. Many things which she had heard in churches had
+seemed unreal to the girl; but she believed that the Great Power moving
+the Universe planned her affairs as well as the affairs of the stars,
+and with equal interest. She thought that her soul was a spark given out
+by that Power, and that what was God in her had only to call to the All
+of God to be answered. She had called, asking to find Saidee, and now
+she was going to find her, just how she did not yet know; but she hardly
+doubted that Stephen Knight was connected with the way. Otherwise, what
+was the good of him to her? And Victoria was far too humble in her
+opinion of herself, despite that buoyant confidence in her star, to
+imagine that she could be of any use to him. She could be useful to
+Saidee; that was all. She hoped for nothing more. And little as she knew
+of society, she understood that Stephen belonged to a different world
+from hers; the world where people were rich, and gay, and clever, and
+amused themselves; the high world, from a social point of view. She
+supposed, too, that Stephen looked upon her as a little girl, while she
+in her turn regarded him gratefully and admiringly, as from a distance.
+And she believed that he must be a very good man.
+
+It would never have occurred to Victoria Ray to call him, even in
+thought, her "White Knight," as Margot Lorenzi persisted in calling him,
+and had called him in the famous interview. But it struck her, the
+moment she heard his name, that it somehow fitted him like a suit of
+armour. She was fond of finding an appropriateness in names, and
+sometimes, if she were tired or a little discouraged, she repeated her
+own aloud, several times over: "Victoria, Victoria. I am Victoria,"
+until she felt strong again to conquer every difficulty which might rise
+against her, in living up to her name. Now she was of opinion that
+Stephen's face would do very well in the picture of a young knight of
+olden days, going out to fight for the True Cross. Indeed, he looked as
+if he had already passed through the preparation of a long vigil, for
+his face was worn, and his eyes seldom smiled even when he laughed and
+seemed amused. His features gave her an idea that the Creator had taken
+a great deal of pains in chiselling them, not slighting a single line.
+She had seen handsomer men--indeed, the splendid Arab on the ship was
+handsomer--but she thought, if she were a general who wanted a man to
+lead a forlorn hope which meant almost certain death, she would choose
+one of Stephen's type. She had the impression that he would not hesitate
+to sacrifice himself for a cause, or even for a person, in an emergency,
+although he had the air of one used to good fortune, who loved to take
+his own way in the small things of life.
+
+And so she finally went to sleep thinking of Stephen.
+
+It is seldom that even the _Charles Quex_, one of the fastest ships
+plying between Marseilles and Algiers, makes the trip in eighteen hours,
+as advertised. Generally she takes two half-days and a night, but this
+time people began to say that she would do it in twenty-two hours. Very
+early in the dawning she passed the Balearic Isles, mysterious purple in
+an opal sea, and it was not yet noon when the jagged line of the Atlas
+Mountains hovered in pale blue shadow along a paler horizon. Then, as
+the turbines whirred, the shadow materialized, taking a golden solidity
+and wildness of outline. At length the tower of a lighthouse started out
+clear white against blue, as a shaft of sunshine struck it. Next, the
+nearer mountains slowly turned to green, as a chameleon changes: the
+Admiralty Island came clearly into view; the ancient nest of those
+fierce pirates who for centuries scourged the Mediterranean; and last of
+all, the climbing town of Algiers, old Al-Djezair-el-Bahadja, took form
+like thick patterns of mother-o'-pearl set in bright green enamel, the
+patterns eventually separating themselves into individual buildings.
+The strange, bulbous domes of a Byzantine cathedral on a hill sprang up
+like a huge tropical plant of many flowers, unfolding fantastic buds of
+deep rose-colour, against a sky of violet flame.
+
+"At last, Africa!" said Victoria, standing beside Stephen, and leaning
+on the rail. She spoke to herself, half whispering the words, hardly
+aware that she uttered them, but Stephen heard. The two had not been
+long together during the morning, for each had been shy of giving too
+much of himself or herself, although they had secretly wished for each
+other's society. As the voyage drew to a close, however, Stephen was no
+longer able to resist an attraction which he felt like a compelling
+magnetism. His excuse was that he wanted to know Miss Ray's first
+impressions of the place she had constantly seen in her thoughts during
+ten years.
+
+"Is it like what you expected?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," she said, "it's like, because I have photographs. And I've read
+every book I could get hold of, old and new, in French as well as
+English. I always kept up my French, you know, for the same reason that
+I studied Arabic. I think I could tell the names of some of the
+buildings, without making mistakes. Yet it looks different, as the
+living face of a person is different from a portrait in black and white.
+And I never imagined such a sky. I didn't know skies could be of such a
+colour. It's as if pale fire were burning behind a thin veil of blue."
+
+It was as she said. Stephen had seen vivid skies on the Riviera, but
+there the blue was more opaque, like the blue of the turquoise. Here it
+was ethereal and quivering, like the violet fire that hovers over
+burning ship-logs. He was glad the sky of Africa was unlike any other
+sky he had known. It intensified the thrill of enchantment he had begun
+to feel. It seemed to him that it might be possible for a man to forget
+things in a country where even the sky was of another blue.
+
+Sometimes, when Stephen had read in books of travel (at which he seldom
+even glanced), or in novels, about "the mystery of the East," he had
+smiled in a superior way. Why should the East be more mysterious than
+the West, or North, or South, except that women were shut up in harems
+and wore veils if they stirred out of doors? Such customs could scarcely
+make a whole country mysterious. But now, though he had not yet landed,
+he knew that he would be compelled to acknowledge the indefinable
+mystery at which he had sneered. Already he fancied an elusive
+influence, like the touch of a ghost. It was in the pulsing azure of the
+sky; in the wild forms of the Atlas and far Kabyle mountains stretching
+into vague, pale distances; in the ivory white of the low-domed roofs
+that gleamed against the vivid green hill of the Sahel, like pearls on a
+veiled woman's breast.
+
+"Is it what you thought it would be?" Victoria inquired in her turn.
+
+"I hadn't thought much about it," Stephen had to confess, fearing she
+would consider such indifference uninteresting. He did not add what
+remained of the truth, that he had thought of Algiers as a refuge from
+what had become disagreeable, rather than as a beautiful place which he
+wished to see for its own sake. "I'd made no picture in my mind. You
+know a lot more about it all than I do, though you've lived so far away,
+and I within a distance of forty-eight hours."
+
+"That great copper-coloured church high on the hill is Notre Dame
+d'Afrique," said the girl. "She's like a dark sister of Notre Dame de la
+Garde, who watches over Marseilles, isn't she? I think I could love her,
+though she's ugly, really. And I've read in a book that if you walk up
+the hill to visit her and say a prayer, you may have a hundred days'
+indulgence."
+
+Much good an "indulgence" would do him now, Stephen thought bitterly.
+
+As the ship steamed closer inshore, the dreamlike beauty of the white
+town on the green hillside sharpened into a reality which might have
+seemed disappointingly modern and French, had it not been for the
+sprinkling of domes, the pointing fingers of minarets with glittering
+tiles of bronzy green, and the groups of old Arab houses crowded in
+among the crudities of a new, Western civilization. Down by the wharf
+for which the boat aimed like a homing bird, were huddled a few of these
+houses, ancient dwellings turned into commercial offices where shipping
+business was transacted. They looked forlorn, yet beautiful, like
+haggard slavewomen who remembered days of greatness in a far-off land.
+
+The _Charles Quex_ slackened speed as she neared the harbour, and every
+detail of the town leaped to the eyes, dazzling in the southern
+sunshine. The encircling arms of break-waters were flung out to sea in a
+vast embrace; the smoke of vessels threaded with dark, wavy lines the
+pure crystal of the air; the quays were heaped with merchandise, some of
+it in bales, as if it might have been brought by caravans across the
+desert. There was a clanking of cranes at work, a creaking of chains, a
+flapping of canvas, and many sounds which blend in the harsh poetry of
+sea-harbours. Then voices of men rose shrilly above all heavier noises,
+as the ship slowly turned and crept beside a floating pontoon. The
+journey together was over for Stephen Knight and Victoria Ray.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+A first glance, at such close quarters, would have told the least
+instructed stranger that he was in the presence of two clashing
+civilizations, both tenacious, one powerful.
+
+In front, all along the shore, towered with confident effrontery a
+massive line of buildings many stories high, great cubes of brick and
+stone, having elaborate balconies that shadowed swarming offices with
+dark, gaping vaults below. Along the broad, stone-paved street clanged
+electric tramcars. There was a constant coming and going of men. Cloaked
+and hooded white forms, or half-clad apparitions wrapped in what looked
+like dirty bagging, mingled with commonplace figures in Western dress.
+But huddled in elbow-high with this busy town of modern France (which
+might have been Marseilles or Bordeaux) was something alien, something
+remote in spirit; a ghostly band of white buildings, silent and pale in
+the midst of colour and noise. Low houses with flat roofs or miniature
+domes, small, secret doorways, tiny windows like eyes narrowed for
+spying, and overhanging upper stories supported on close-set, projecting
+sticks of mellow brown which meant great age. Minarets sprang up in mute
+protest against the infidel, appealing to the sky. All that was left of
+old Algiers tried to boast, in forced dumbness, of past glories, of
+every charm the beautiful, fierce city of pirates must have possessed
+before the French came to push it slowly but with deadly sureness back
+from the sea. Now, silent and proud in the tragedy of failure, it stood
+masked behind pretentious French houses, blocklike in ugliness, or
+flauntingly ornate as many buildings in the Rue de Rivoli or Boulevard
+Haussmann.
+
+In those low-browed dwellings which thickly enamelled the hill with a
+mosaic of pink and pearly whiteness, all the way up to the old fortress
+castle, the Kasbah, the true life of African Algiers hid and whispered.
+The modern French front along the fine street was but a gay veneer
+concealing realities, an incrusted civilization imposed upon one
+incredibly ancient, unspeakably different and ever unchanging.
+
+Stephen remembered now that he had heard people decry Algiers,
+pronouncing it spoiled and "completely Frenchified." But it occurred to
+him that in this very process of spoiling, an impression of tragic
+romance had been created which less "spoiled" towns might lack. Here
+were clashing contrasts which, even at a glance, made the strangest
+picture he had ever seen; and already he began to feel more and more
+keenly, though not yet to understand, something of the magic of the
+East. For this place, though not the East according to geographers, held
+all the spirit of the East--was in essence truly the East.
+
+Before the ship lay fairly in harbour, brown men had climbed on board
+from little boats, demanding to be given charge of the passengers' small
+luggage, which the stewards had brought on deck, and while one of these
+was arguing in bad French with Stephen, a tall, dark youth beautifully
+dressed in crimson and white, wearing a fez jauntily on one side,
+stepped up with a smile. "_Pardon, monsieur_," he ventured. "_Je suis le
+domestique de Monsieur Caird._" And then, in richly guttural accents, he
+offered the information that he was charged to look after monsieur's
+baggage; that it was best to avoid _tous ces Arabes la_, and that
+Monsieur Caird impatiently awaited his friend on the wharf.
+
+"But you--aren't you Arab?" asked Stephen, who knew no subtle
+differences between those who wore the turban or fez. He saw that the
+good-looking, merry-faced boy was no browner than many a Frenchman of
+the south, and that his eyes were hazel; still, he did not know what he
+might be, if not Arab.
+
+"_Je suis Kabyle, monsieur; Kabyle des hauts plateaux_," replied the
+youth with pride, and a look of contempt at the shouting porters, which
+was returned with interest. They darted glances of scorn at his
+gold-braided vest and jacket of crimson cloth, his light blue sash, and
+his enormously full white trousers, beneath which showed a strip of pale
+golden leg above the short white stockings, spurning the immaculate
+smartness of his livery, preferring, or pretending to prefer, their own
+soiled shabbiness and freedom. The Kabyle saw these glances, but,
+completely satisfied with himself, evidently attributed them to envy.
+
+Stephen turned towards Victoria, of whom he had lost sight for a moment.
+He wished to offer the Kabyle boy's services, but already she had
+accepted those of a very old Arab who looked thin and ostentatiously
+pathetic. It was too late now. He saw by her face that she would refuse
+help, rather than hurt the man's feelings. But she had told him the name
+of the hotel where she had telegraphed to engage a room, and Stephen
+meant at the instant of greeting his host, to ask if it were suitable
+for a young girl travelling alone.
+
+He caught sight of Caird, looking up and waiting for him, before he was
+able to land. It was the face he remembered; boyish, with beautiful
+bright eyes, a wide forehead, and curly light hair. The expression was
+more mature, but the same quaintly angelic look was there, which had
+earned for Nevill the nickname of "Choir Boy" and "Wings."
+
+"Hullo, Legs!" called out Caird, waving his Panama.
+
+"Hullo, Wings!" shouted Stephen, and was suddenly tremendously glad to
+see the friend he had thought of seldom during the last eight or nine
+years. In another moment he was introducing Nevill to Miss Ray and
+hastily asking questions concerning her hotel, while a fantastic crowd
+surged round all three. Brown, skurrying men in torn bagging, the
+muscles of whose bare, hairless legs seemed carved in dark oak; shining
+black men whose faces were ebony under the ivory white of their turbans;
+pale, patient Kabyles of the plains bent under great sacks of flour
+which drained through ill-sewn seams and floated on the air in white
+smoke, making every one sneeze as the crowd swarmed past. Large grey
+mules roared, miniature donkeys brayed, and half-naked children laughed
+or howled, and darted under the heads of the horses, or fell against the
+bright bonnets of waiting motor cars. There were smart victorias, shabby
+cabs, hotel omnibuses, and huge carts; and, mingling with the floating
+dust of the spilt flour was a heavy perfume of spices, of incense
+perhaps blown from some far-off mosque, and ambergris mixed with grains
+of musk in amulets which the Arabs wore round their necks, heated by
+their sweating flesh as they worked or stalked about shouting guttural
+orders. There was a salt tang of seaweed, too, like an undertone, a
+foundation for all the other smells; and the air was warm with a hint of
+summer, a softness that was not enervating.
+
+As soon as the first greeting and the introduction to Miss Ray were
+confusedly over, Caird cleverly extricated the newcomers from the thick
+of the throng, sheltering them between his large yellow motor car and a
+hotel omnibus waiting for passengers and luggage.
+
+"Now you're safe," he said, in the young-sounding voice which pleasantly
+matched his whole personality. He was several years older than Stephen,
+but looked younger, for Stephen was nearly if not quite six feet in
+height, and Nevill Caird was less in stature by at least four inches. He
+was very slightly built, too, and his hair was as yellow as a child's.
+His face was clean-shaven, like Stephen's, and though Stephen, living
+mostly in London, was brown as if tanned by the sun, Nevill, out of
+doors constantly and exposed to hot southern sunshine, had the
+complexion of a girl. Nevertheless, thought Victoria--sensitive and
+quick in forming impressions--he somehow contrived to look a thorough
+man, passionate and ready to be violently in earnest, like one who would
+love or hate in a fiery way. "He would make a splendid martyr," the girl
+said to herself, giving him straight look for straight look, as he began
+advising her against her chosen hotel. "But I think he would want his
+best friends to come and look on while he burned. Mr. Knight would chase
+everybody away."
+
+"Don't go to any hotel," Nevill said. "Be my aunt's guest. It's a great
+deal more her house than mine. There's lots of room in it--ever so much
+more than we want. Just now there's no one staying with us, but often we
+have a dozen or so. Sometimes my aunt invites people. Sometimes I do:
+sometimes both together. Now I invite you, in her name. She's quite a
+nice old lady. You'll like her. And we've got all kinds of
+animals--everything, nearly, that will live in this climate, from
+tortoises of Carthage, to white mice from Japan, and a baby panther from
+Grand Kabylia. But they keep themselves to themselves. I promise you the
+panther won't try to sit on your lap. And you'll be just in time to
+christen him. We've been looking for a name."
+
+"I should love to christen the panther, and you are more than kind to
+say your aunt would like me to visit her; but I can't possibly, thank
+you very much," answered Victoria in the old-fashioned, quaintly
+provincial way which somehow intensified the effect of her brilliant
+prettiness. "I have come to Algiers on--on business that's very
+important to me. Mr. Knight will tell you all about it. I've asked him
+to tell, and he's promised to beg for your help. When you know, you'll
+see that it will be better for me not to be visiting anybody. I--I would
+rather be in a hotel, in spite of your great kindness."
+
+That settled the matter. Nevill Caird had too much tact to insist,
+though he was far from being convinced. He said that his aunt, Lady
+MacGregor, would write Miss Ray a note asking her to lunch next day, and
+then they would have the panther-christening. Also by that time he
+would know, from his friend, how his help might best be given. But in
+any case he hoped that Miss Ray would allow his car to drop her at the
+Hotel de la Kasbah, which had no omnibus and therefore did not send to
+meet the boat. Her luggage might go up with the rest, and be left at the
+hotel.
+
+These offers Victoria accepted gratefully; and as Caird put her into the
+fine yellow car, the handsome Arab who had been on the boat looked at
+her with chastened curiosity as he passed. He must have seen that she
+was with the Englishman who had talked to her on board the _Charles
+Quex_, and that now there was another man, who seemed to be the owner of
+the large automobile. The Arab had a servant with him, who had travelled
+second class on the boat, a man much darker than himself, plainly
+dressed, with a smaller turban bound by cheaper cord; but he was very
+clean, and as dignified as his master. Stephen scarcely noticed the two
+figures. The fine-looking Arab had ceased to be of importance since he
+had left the ship, and would see no more of Victoria Ray.
+
+The chauffeur who drove Nevill's car was an Algerian who looked as if he
+might have a dash of dark blood in his veins. Beside him sat the Kabyle
+servant, who, in his picturesque embroidered clothes, with his jaunty
+fez, appeared amusingly out of place in the smart automobile, which
+struck the last note of modernity. The chauffeur had a reckless, daring
+face, with the smile of a mischievous boy; but he steered with caution
+and skill through the crowded streets where open trams rushed by, filled
+to overflowing with white-veiled Arab women of the lower classes, and
+French girls in large hats, who sat crushed together on the same seats.
+Arabs walked in the middle of the street, and disdained to quicken their
+steps for motor cars and carriages. Tiny children with charming brown
+faces and eyes like wells of light, darted out from the pavement, almost
+in front of the motor, smiling and begging, absolutely, fearless and
+engagingly impudent. It was all intensely interesting to Stephen, who
+was, however, conscious enough of his past to be glad that he was able
+to take so keen an interest. He had the sensation of a man who has been
+partially paralyzed, and is delighted to find that he can feel a pinch.
+
+The Hotel de la Kasbah, which Victoria frankly admitted she had chosen
+because of its low prices, was, as its name indicated, close to the
+mounting of the town, near the corner of a tortuous Arab street, narrow
+and shadowy despite its thick coat of whitewash. The house was kept by
+an extremely fat Algerian, married to a woman who called herself
+Spanish, but was more than half Moorish; and the proprietor himself
+being of mixed blood, all the servants except an Algerian maid or two,
+were Kabyles or Arabs. They were cheap and easy to manage, since master
+and mistress had no prejudices. Stephen did not like the look of the
+place, which might suit commercial travellers or parties of economical
+tourists who liked to rub shoulders with native life; but for a pretty
+young girl travelling alone, it seemed to him that, though it was clean
+enough, nothing could be less appropriate. Victoria had made up her mind
+and engaged her room, however; and so as no definite objection could be
+urged, he followed Caird's example, and held his tongue. As they bade
+the girl good-bye in the tiled hall (a fearful combination of all that
+was worst in Arab and European taste) Nevill begged her to let them know
+if she were not comfortable. "You're coming to lunch to-morrow at
+half-past one," he went on, "but if there's anything meanwhile, call us
+up on the telephone. We can easily find you another hotel, or a pension,
+if you're determined not to visit my aunt."
+
+"If I need you, I promise that I will call," Victoria said. And though
+she answered Caird, she looked at Stephen Knight.
+
+Then they left her; and Stephen became rather thoughtful. But he tried
+not to let Nevill see his preoccupation.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+As they left the arcaded streets of commercial Algiers, and drove up the
+long hill towards Mustapha Superieur, where most of the best and finest
+houses are, Stephen and Nevill Caird talked of what they saw, and of
+Victoria Ray; not at all of Stephen himself. Nevill had asked him what
+sort of trip he had had, and not another question of any sort. Stephen
+was glad of this, and understood very well that it was not because his
+friend was indifferent. Had he been so, he would not have invited
+Stephen to make this visit.
+
+To speak of the past they had shared, long ago, would naturally have led
+farther, and though Stephen was not sure that he mightn't some day
+refer, of his own accord, to the distasteful subject of the Case and
+Margot Lorenzi, he could not have borne to mention either now.
+
+As they passed gateways leading to handsome houses, mostly in the Arab
+style, Nevill told him who lived in each one: French, English, and
+American families; people connected with the government, who remained in
+Algiers all the year round, or foreigners who came out every winter for
+love of their beautiful villa gardens and the climate.
+
+"We've rather an amusing society here," he said. "And we'd defend
+Algiers and each other to any outsider, though our greatest pleasure is
+quarrelling among ourselves, or patching up one another's rows and
+beginning again on our own account. It's great fun and keeps us from
+stagnating. We also give quantities of luncheons and teas, and are sick
+of going to each other's entertainments; yet we're so furious if there's
+anything we're not invited to, we nearly get jaundice. I do
+myself--though I hate running about promiscuously; and I spend hours
+thinking up ingenious lies to squeeze out of accepting invitations I'd
+have been ill with rage not to get. And there are factions which loathe
+each other worse than any mere Montagus and Capulets. We have rival
+parties, and vie with one another in getting hold of any royalties or
+such like, that may be knocking about; but we who hate each other most,
+meet at the Governor's Palace and smile sweetly if French people are
+looking; if not, we snort like war-horses--only in a whisper, for we're
+invariably polite."
+
+Stephen laughed, as he was meant to do. "What about the Arabs?" he
+asked, with Victoria's errand in his mind. "Is there such a thing as
+Arab society?"
+
+"Very little--of the kind we'd call 'society'--in Algiers. In Tunis
+there's more. Much of the old Arab aristocracy has died out here, or
+moved away; but there are a few left who are rich and well born. They
+have their palaces outside the town; but most of the best houses have
+been sold to Europeans, and their Arab owners have gone into the
+interior where the Roumis don't rub elbows with them quite as
+offensively as in a big French town like this. Naturally they prefer the
+country. And I know a few of the great Arab Chiefs--splendid-looking
+fellows who turn up gorgeously dressed for the Governor's ball every
+year, and condescend to dine with me once or twice while they're staying
+on to amuse themselves in Algiers."
+
+"Condescend!" Stephen repeated.
+
+"By Jove, yes. I'm sure they think it's a great condescension. And I'm
+not sure you won't think so too, when you see them--as of course you
+will. You must go to the Governor's ball with me, even if you can't be
+bothered going anywhere else. It's a magnificent spectacle. And I get on
+pretty well among the Arabs, as I've learned to speak their lingo a bit.
+Not that I've worried. But nearly nine years is a long time."
+
+This was Stephen's chance to tell what he chose to tell of his brief
+acquaintance with Victoria Ray, and of the mission which had brought her
+to Algiers. Somehow, as he unfolded the story he had heard from the girl
+on board ship, the scent of orange blossoms, luscious-sweet in this
+region of gardens, connected itself in his mind with thoughts of the
+beautiful woman who had married Cassim ben Halim, and disappeared from
+the world she had known. He imagined her in an Arab garden where orange
+blossoms fell like snow, eating her heart out for the far country and
+friends she would never see again, rebelling against a monstrous tyranny
+which imprisoned her in this place of perfumes and high white walls. Or
+perhaps the scented petals were falling now upon her grave.
+
+"Cassim ben Halim--Captain Cassim ben Halim," Nevill repeated. "Seems
+familiar somehow, as if I'd heard the name; but most of these Arab names
+have a kind of family likeness in our ears. Either he's a person of no
+particular importance, or else he must have left Algiers before my Uncle
+James Caird died--the man who willed me his house, you know--brother of
+Aunt Caroline MacGregor who lives with me now. If I've ever heard
+anything about Ben Halim, whatever it is has slipped my mind. But I'll
+do my best to find out something."
+
+"Miss Ray believes he was of importance," said Stephen. "She oughtn't to
+have much trouble getting on to his trail, should you think?"
+
+Nevill looked doubtful. "Well, if he'd wanted her on his trail, she'd
+never have been off it. If he didn't, and doesn't, care to be got at,
+finding him mayn't be as simple as it would be in Europe, where you can
+always resort to detectives if worst comes to worst."
+
+"Can't you here?" asked Stephen.
+
+"Well, there's the French police, of course, and the military in the
+south. But they don't care to interfere with the private affairs of
+Arabs, if no crime's been committed--and they wouldn't do anything in
+such a case, I should think, in the way of looking up Ben Halim, though
+they'd tell anything they might happen to know already, I
+suppose--unless they thought best to keep silence with foreigners."
+
+"There must be people in Algiers who'd remember seeing such a beautiful
+creature as Ben Halim's wife, even if her husband whisked her away nine
+years ago," Stephen argued.
+
+"I wonder?" murmured Caird, with an emphasis which struck his friend as
+odd.
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Stephen.
+
+"I mean, I wonder if any one in Algiers ever saw her at all? Ben Halim
+was in the French Army; but he was a Mussulman. Paris and Algiers are a
+long cry, one from the other--if you're an Arab."
+
+"Jove! You don't think----"
+
+"You've spotted it. That's what I do think."
+
+"That he shut her up?"
+
+"That he forced her to live the life of a Mussulman woman. Why, what
+else could you expect, when you come to look at it?"
+
+"But an American girl----"
+
+"A woman who marries gives herself to her husband's nation as well as to
+her husband, doesn't she--especially if he's an Arab? Only, thank God,
+it happens to very few European girls, except of the class that doesn't
+so much matter. Think of it. This Ben Halim, a Spahi officer, falls dead
+in love with a girl when he's on leave in Paris. He feels he must have
+her. He can get her only by marriage. They're as subtle as the devil,
+even the best of them, these Arabs. He'd have to promise the girl
+anything she wanted, or lose her. Naturally he wouldn't give it away
+that he meant to veil her and clap her into a harem the minute he got
+her home. If he'd even hinted anything of that sort she wouldn't have
+stirred a step. But for a Mussulman to let his wife walk the streets
+unveiled, like a Roumia, or some woman of easy virtue, would be a
+horrible disgrace to them both. His relations and friends would cut
+him, and hoot her at sight. The more he loved his wife, the less likely
+he'd be to keep a promise, made in a different world. It wouldn't be
+human nature--Arab human nature--to keep it. Besides, they have the
+jealousy of the tiger, these Eastern fellows. It's a madness."
+
+"Then perhaps no one ever knew, out here, that the man had brought home
+a foreign wife?"
+
+"Almost surely not. No European, that is. Arabs might know--through
+their women. There's nothing that passes which they can't find out. How
+they do it, who can tell? Their ways are as mysterious as everything
+else here, except the lives of us _hiverneurs_, who don't even try very
+hard to hide our own scandals when we have any. But no Arab could be
+persuaded or forced to betray another Arab to a European, unless for
+motives of revenge. For love or hate, they stand together. In virtues
+and vices they're absolutely different from Europeans. And if Ben Halim
+doesn't want anybody, not excepting his wife's sister, to get news of
+his wife, why, it may be difficult to get it, that's all I say. Going to
+Miss Ray's hotel, you could see something of that Arab street close by,
+on the fringe of the Kasbah--which is what they call, not the old fort
+alone, but the whole Arab town."
+
+"Yes. I saw the queer white houses, huddled together, that looked like
+blank walls only broken by a door, with here and there a barred window."
+
+"Well, what I mean is that it's almost impossible for any European to
+learn what goes on behind those blank walls and those little square
+holes, in respectable houses. But we'll hope for the best. And here we
+are at my place. I'm rather proud of it."
+
+They had come to the arched gateway of a white-walled garden. The sun
+had set fire to the gold of some sunken Arab lettering over the central
+arch, so that each broken line darted forth its separate flame. "Djenan
+el Djouad; House of the Nobleman," Nevill translated. "It was built for
+the great confidant of a particularly wicked old Dey of Algiers, in
+sixteen hundred and something, and the place had been allowed to fall
+into ruin when my uncle bought it, about twenty or thirty years ago.
+There was a romance in his life, I believe. He came to Algiers for his
+health, as a young man, meaning to stay only a few months, but fell in
+love with a face which he happened to catch a glimpse of, under a veil
+that disarranged itself--on purpose or by accident--in a carriage
+belonging to a rich Arab. Because of that face he remained in Algiers,
+bought this house, spent years in restoring it, exactly in Arab style,
+and making a beautiful garden out of his fifteen or sixteen acres.
+Whether he ever got to know the owner of the face, history doesn't
+state: my uncle was as secretive as he was romantic. But odd things have
+been said. I expect they're still said, behind my back. And they're
+borne out, I'm bound to confess, by the beauty of the decorations in
+that part of the house intended for the ladies. Whether it was ever
+occupied in Uncle James's day, nobody can tell; but Aunt Caroline, his
+sister, who has the best rooms there now, vows she's seen the ghost of a
+lovely being, all spangled gauze and jewels, with silver khal-khal, or
+anklets, that tinkle as she moves. I assure my aunt it must be a dream,
+come to punish her for indulging in two goes of her favourite sweet at
+dinner; but in my heart I shouldn't wonder if it's true. The whole lot
+of us, in our family, are romantic and superstitious. We can't help it
+and don't want to help it, though we suffer for our foolishness often
+enough, goodness knows."
+
+The scent of orange blossoms and acacias was poignantly sweet, as the
+car passed an Arab lodge, and wound slowly up an avenue cut through a
+grove of blossoming trees. The utmost pains had been taken in the laying
+out of the garden, but an effect of carelessness had been preserved. The
+place seemed a fairy tangle of white and purple lilacs, gold-dripping
+laburnums, acacias with festoons of pearl, roses looping from orange
+tree to mimosa, and a hundred gorgeous tropical flowers like painted
+birds and butterflies. In shadowed nooks under dark cypresses, glimmered
+arum lilies, sparkling with the diamond dew that sprayed from carved
+marble fountains, centuries old; and low seats of marble mosaiced with
+rare tiles stood under magnolia trees or arbours of wistaria. Giant
+cypresses, tall and dark as a band of Genii, marched in double line on
+either side the avenue as it straightened and turned towards the house.
+
+White in the distance where that black procession halted, glittered the
+old Arab palace, built in one long facade, and other facades smaller,
+less regular, looking like so many huge blocks of marble grouped
+together. Over one of these blocks fell a crimson torrent of
+bougainvillaea; another was veiled with white roses and purple clematis;
+a third was showered with the gold of some strange tropical creeper that
+Stephen did not know.
+
+On the roof of brown and dark-green tiles, the sunlight poured, making
+each tile lustrous as the scale of a serpent, and all along the edge
+grew tiny flowers and grasses, springing out of interstices to wave
+filmy threads of pink and gold.
+
+The principal facade was blank as a wall, save for a few small,
+mysterious windows, barred with _grilles_ of iron, green with age; but
+on the other facades were quaint recessed balconies, under projecting
+roofs supported with beams of cedar; and the door, presently opened by
+an Arab servant, was very old too, made of oak covered with an armour of
+greenish copper.
+
+Even when it had closed behind Stephen and Nevill, they were not yet in
+the house, but in a large court with a ceiling of carved and painted
+cedar-wood supported by marble pillars of extreme lightness and grace.
+In front, this court was open, looking on to an inner garden with a
+fountain more delicate of design than those Stephen had seen outside.
+The three walls of the court were patterned all over with ancient tiles
+rare as some faded Spanish brocade in a cathedral, and along their
+length ran low seats where in old days sat slaves awaiting orders from
+their master.
+
+Out from this court they walked through a kind of pillared cloister, and
+the facades of the house as they passed on, were beautiful in pure
+simplicity of line; so white, they seemed to turn the sun on them to
+moonlight; so jewelled with bands and plaques of lovely tiles, that they
+were like snowy shoulders of a woman hung with necklaces of precious
+stones.
+
+By the time they had left this cloistered garden and threaded their way
+indoors, Stephen had lost his bearings completely. He was convinced
+that, once in, he should never find the clue which would guide him out
+again as he had come. There was another garden court, much larger than
+the first, and this, Nevill said, had been the garden of the
+palace-women in days of old. It had a fountain whose black marble basin
+was fringed with papyrus, and filled with pink, blue, and white water
+lilies, from under whose flat dark pads glimmered the backs of darting
+goldfish. Three walls of this garden had low doorways with cunningly
+carved doors of cedar-wood, and small, iron-barred windows festooned
+with the biggest roses Stephen had ever seen; but the fourth side was
+formed by an immense loggia with a dais at the back, and an open-fronted
+room at either end. Walls and floor of this loggia were tiled, and
+barred windows on either side the dais looked far down over a world
+which seemed all sky, sea, and garden. One of the little open rooms was
+hung with Persian prayer-rugs which Stephen thought were like fading
+rainbows seen through a mist; and there were queer old tinselled
+pictures such as good Moslems love: Borak, the steed of the prophet,
+half winged woman, half horse; the Prophet's uncle engaged in mighty
+battle; the Prophet's favourite daughter, Fatma-Zora, daintily eating
+her sacred breakfast. The other room at the opposite end of the tiled
+loggia was fitted up, Moorish fashion, for the making of coffee; walls
+and ceiling carved, gilded, and painted in brilliant colours; the floor
+tiled with the charming "windmill" pattern; many shelves adorned with
+countless little coffee cups in silver standards; with copper and brass
+utensils of all imaginable kinds; and in a gilded recess was a curious
+apparatus for boiling water.
+
+Nevill Caird displayed his treasures and the beauties of his domain with
+an ingenuous pride, delighted at every word of appreciation, stopping
+Stephen here and there to point out something of which he was fond,
+explaining the value of certain old tiles from the point of view of an
+expert, and gladly lingering to answer every question. Some day, he
+said, he was going to write a book about tiles, a book which should have
+wonderful illustrations.
+
+"Do you really like it all?" he asked, as Stephen looked out from a
+barred window of the loggia, over the wide view.
+
+"I never even imagined anything so fantastically beautiful," Stephen
+returned warmly. "You ought to be happy, even if you could never go
+outside your own house and gardens. There's nothing to touch this on the
+Riviera. It's a palace of the 'Arabian Nights.'"
+
+"There was a palace in the 'Arabian Nights,' if you remember," said
+Nevill, "where everything was perfect except one thing. Its master was
+miserable because he couldn't get that thing."
+
+"The Roc's egg, of Aladdin's palace," Stephen recalled. "Do you lack a
+Roc's egg for yours?"
+
+"The equivalent," said Nevill. "The one thing which I want, and don't
+seem likely to get, though I haven't quite given up hope. It's a woman.
+And she doesn't want me--or my palace. I'll tell you about her some
+day--soon, perhaps. And maybe you'll see her. But never mind my troubles
+for the moment. I can put them out of my mind with comparative ease, in
+the pleasure of welcoming you. Now we'll go indoors. You haven't an idea
+what the house is like yet. By the way, I nearly forgot this chap."
+
+He put his hand into the pocket of his grey flannel coat, and pulled out
+a green frog, wrapped in a lettuce leaf which was inadequate as a
+garment, but a perfect match as to colour.
+
+"I bought him on the way down to meet you," Nevill explained. "Saw an
+Arab kid trying to sell him in the street, poor little beast. Thought it
+would be a friendly act to bring him here to join my happy family, which
+is large and varied. I don't remember anybody living in this fountain
+who's likely to eat him, or be eaten by him."
+
+Down went the frog on the wide rim of the marble fountain, and sat
+there, meditatively, with a dawning expression of contentment, so
+Stephen fancied, on his green face. He looked, Stephen thought, as if he
+were trying to forget a troubled past, and as if his new home with all
+its unexplored mysteries of reeds and lily pads were wondrously to his
+liking.
+
+"I wish you'd name that person after me," said Stephen. "You're being
+very good to both of us,--taking us out of Hades into Paradise."
+
+"Come along in," was Nevill Caird's only answer. But he walked into the
+house with his hand on Stephen's shoulder.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+Djenan El Djouad was a labyrinth. Stephen Knight abandoned all attempt
+at keeping a mental clue before he had reached the drawing-room. Nevill
+led him there by way of many tile-paved corridors, lit by hanging Arab
+lamps suspended from roofs of arabesqued cedar-wood. They went up or
+down marble steps, into quaint little alcoved rooms furnished with
+nothing but divans and low tables or dower chests crusted with Syrian
+mother-o'-pearl, on into rooms where brocade-hung walls were covered
+with Arab musical instruments of all kinds, or long-necked Moorish guns
+patterned with silver, ivory and coral. Here and there as they passed,
+were garden glimpses, between embroidered curtains, looking through
+windows always barred with greenish wrought iron, so old as to be rarely
+beautiful; and some small windows had no curtains, but were thickly
+frilled outside with the violent crimson of bougainvillaea, or fringed
+with tassels of wistaria, loop on loop of amethysts. High above these
+windows, which framed flowery pictures, were other windows, little and
+jewelled, mere plaques of filigree workmanship, fine as carved ivory or
+silver lace, and lined with coloured glass of delicate tints--gold,
+lilac, and pale rose.
+
+"Here's the drawing-room at last," said Nevill, "and here's my aunt."
+
+"If you can call it a drawing-room," objected a gently complaining
+voice. "A filled-in court, where ghosts of murdered slaves come and
+moan, while you have your tea. How do you do, Mr. Knight? I'm delighted
+you've taken pity on Nevill. He's never so happy as when he's showing a
+new friend the house--except when he's obtained an old tile, or a new
+monster of some sort, for his collection."
+
+"In me, he kills two birds with one stone," said Stephen, smiling, as he
+shook the hand of a tiny lady who looked rather like an elderly fairy
+disguised in a cap, that could have been born nowhere except north of
+the Tweed.
+
+She had delicate little features which had been made to fit a pretty
+child, and had never grown up. Her hair, of a reddish yellow, had faded
+to a yellowish white, which by a faint fillip of the imagination could
+be made to seem golden in some lights. Her eyes were large and round,
+and of a china-blue colour; her eyebrows so arched as to give her an
+expression of perpetual surprise, her forehead full, her cheekbones high
+and pink, her small, pursed mouth of the kind which prefers to hide a
+sense of humour, and then astonish people with it when they have ceased
+to believe in its existence. If her complexion had not been netted all
+over with a lacework of infinitesimal wrinkles, she would have looked
+like a little girl dressed up for an old lady. She had a ribbon of the
+MacGregor tartan on her cap, and an uncompromising cairngorm fastened
+her fichu of valuable point lace. A figure more out of place than hers
+in an ancient Arab palace of Algiers it would be impossible to conceive;
+yet it was a pleasant figure to see there, and Stephen knew that he was
+going to like Nevill's Aunt Caroline, Lady MacGregor.
+
+"I wish you looked more of a monster than you do," said she, "because
+you might frighten the ghosts. We're eaten up with them, the way some
+folk in old houses are with rats. Nearly all of them slaves, too, so
+there's no variety, except that some are female. I've given you the room
+with the prettiest ghosts, but if you're not the seventh son of a
+seventh son, you may not see or even hear them."
+
+"Does Nevill see or hear?" asked Stephen.
+
+"As much as Aunt Caroline does, if the truth were known," answered her
+nephew. "Only she couldn't be happy unless she had a grievance. Here she
+wanted to choose an original and suitable one, so she hit upon
+ghosts--the ghosts of slaves murdered by a cruel master."
+
+"Hit upon them, indeed!" she echoed indignantly, making her knitting
+needles click, a movement which displayed her pretty, miniature hands,
+half hidden in lace ruffles. "As if they hadn't gone through enough, in
+flesh and blood, poor creatures! Some of them may have been my
+countrymen, captured on the seas by those horrid pirates."
+
+"Who was the cruel master?" Stephen wanted to know, still smiling,
+because it was almost impossible not to smile at Lady MacGregor.
+
+"Not my brother James, I'm glad to say," she quickly replied. "It was
+about three hundred years before his time. And though he had some quite
+irritating tricks as a young man, murdering slaves wasn't one of them.
+To be sure, they tell strange tales of him here, as I make no doubt
+Nevill has already mentioned, because he's immoral enough to be proud of
+what he calls the romance. I mean the story of the beautiful Arab lady,
+whom James is supposed to have stolen from her rightful husband--that
+is, if an Arab can be rightful--and hidden in this house far many a
+year, till at last she died, after the search for her had long, long
+gone by."
+
+"You're as proud of the romance as I am, or you wouldn't be at such
+pains to repeat it to everybody, pretending to think I've already told
+it," said Nevill. "But I'm going to show Knight his quarters. Pretty or
+plain, there are no ghosts here that will hurt him. And then we'll have
+lunch, for which he's starving."
+
+Stephen's quarters consisted of a bedroom (furnished in Tunisian style,
+with an imposing four-poster of green and gold ornamented with a gilded,
+sacred cow under a crown) and a sitting room gay with colourful
+decorations imported from Morocco. These rooms opened upon a wide
+covered balcony screened by a carved wooden lattice and from the
+balcony Stephen could look over hills, near and far, dotted with white
+villas that lay like resting gulls on the green wave of verdure which
+cascaded down to join the blue waves of the sea. Up from that far
+blueness drifted on the wind a murmurous sound like AEolian harps,
+mingled with the tinkle of fairy mandolins in the fountain of the court
+below.
+
+At luncheon, in a dining-room that opened on to a white-walled garden
+where only lilies of all kinds grew, to Stephen's amazement two
+Highlanders in kilts stood behind his hostess's chair. They were young,
+exactly alike, and of precisely the same height, six foot two at least.
+"No, you are not dreaming them, Mr. Knight," announced Lady MacGregor,
+evidently delighted with the admiring surprise in the look he bestowed
+upon these images. "And you're quite right. They _are_ twins. I may as
+well break it to you now, as I had to do to Nevill when he invited me to
+come to Algiers and straighten out his housekeeping accounts: they play
+Ruth to my Naomi. Whither I go, they go also, even to the door of the
+bathroom, where they carry my towels, for I have no other maid than
+they."
+
+Stephen could not help glancing at the two giants, expecting to see some
+involuntary quiver of eye or nostril answer electrically to this frank
+revelation of their office; but their countenances (impossible to think
+of as mere faces) remained expressionless as if carved in stone. Lady
+MacGregor took nothing from Mohammed and the other Kabyle servant who
+waited on Nevill and Stephen. Everything for her was handed to one of
+the Highlanders, who gravely passed on the dish to their mistress. If
+she refused a _plat_ favoured by them, instead of carrying it away, the
+giants in kilts silently but firmly pressed it upon her acceptance,
+until in self-defence she seized some of the undesired food, and ate it
+under their watchful eyes.
+
+During the meal a sudden thunderstorm boiled up out of the sea: the sky
+became a vast brazen bowl, and a strange, coppery twilight bleached the
+lilies in the white garden to a supernatural pallor. The room, with its
+embroidered Moorish hangings, darkened to a rich gloom; but Mohammed
+touched a button on the wall, and all the quaint old Arab lamps that
+stood in corners, or hung suspended from the cedar roof, flashed out
+cunningly concealed electric lights. At the same moment, there began a
+great howling outside the door. Mohammed sprang to open it, and in
+poured a wave of animals. Stephen hastily counted five dogs; a collie, a
+white deerhound, a Dandy Dinmont, and a mother and child of unknown
+race, which he afterwards learned was Kabyle, a breed beloved of
+mountain men and desert tent-dwellers. In front of the dogs bounded a
+small African monkey, who leaped to the back of Nevill's chair, and
+behind them toddled with awkward grace a baby panther, a mere ball of
+yellow silk.
+
+"They don't like the thunder, poor dears," Nevill apologised. "That's
+why they howled, for they're wonderfully polite people really. They
+always come at the end of lunch. Aunt Caroline won't invite them to
+dinner, because then she sometimes wears fluffy things about which she
+has a foolish vanity. The collie is Angus's. The deerhound is Hamish's.
+The dandy is hers. The two Kabyles are Mohammed's, and the flotsam and
+jetsam is mine. There's a great deal more of it out of doors, but this
+is all that gets into the dining-room except by accident. And I expect
+you think we are a very queer family."
+
+Stephen did think so, for never till now had he been a member of a
+household where each of the servants was allowed to possess any animals
+he chose, and flood the house with them. But the queerer he thought the
+family, the better he found himself liking it. He felt a boy let out of
+school after weeks of disgrace and punishment, and, strangely enough,
+this old Arab palace, in a city of North Africa seemed more like home to
+him than his London flat had seemed of late.
+
+When Lady MacGregor rose and said she must write the note she had
+promised Nevill to send Miss Ray, Stephen longed to kiss her. This form
+of worship not being permitted, he tried to open the dining-room door
+for her to go out, but Angus and Hamish glared upon him so
+superciliously that he retired in their favour.
+
+The luncheon hour, even when cloaked in the mysterious gloom of a
+thunderstorm, is no time for confidences; besides, it is not conducive
+to sustained conversation to find a cold nose in your palm, a baby claw
+up your sleeve, or a monkey hand, like a bit of leather, thrust down
+your collar or into your ear. But after dinner that night, when Lady
+MacGregor had trailed her maligned "fluffiness" away to the
+drawing-room, and Nevill and Stephen had strolled with their cigarettes
+out into the unearthly whiteness of the lily garden, Stephen felt that
+something was coming. He had known that Nevill had a story to tell, by
+and by, and though he knew also that he would be asked no questions in
+return, now or ever, it occurred to him that Nevill's offer of
+confidences was perhaps meant to open a door, if he chose to enter by
+it. He was not sure whether he would so choose or not, but the fact that
+he was not sure meant a change in him. A few days ago, even this
+morning, before meeting Nevill, he would have been certain that he had
+nothing intimate to tell Caird or any one else.
+
+They strolled along the paths among the lilies. Moon and sky and flowers
+and white-gravelled paths were all silver. Stephen thought of Victoria
+Ray, and wished she could see this garden. He thought, too, that if she
+would only dance here among the lilies in the moonlight, it would be a
+vision of exquisite loveliness.
+
+"For a moment white, then gone forever," he caught himself repeating
+again.
+
+It was odd how, whenever he saw anything very white and of dazzling
+purity, he thought of this dancing girl. He wondered what sort of woman
+it was whose image came to Nevill's mind, in the garden of lilies that
+smelt so heavenly sweet under the moon. He supposed there must always be
+some woman whose image was suggested to every man by all that was
+fairest in nature. Margot Lorenzi was the woman whose image he must keep
+in his mind, if he wanted to know any faint imitation of happiness in
+future. She would like this moonlit garden, and in one way it would suit
+her as a background. Yet she did not seem quite in the picture, despite
+her beauty. The perfume she loved would not blend with the perfume of
+the lilies.
+
+"Aunt Caroline's rather a dear, isn't she?" remarked Nevill, apropos of
+nothing.
+
+"She's a jewel," said Stephen.
+
+"Yet she isn't the immediate jewel of my soul. I'm hard hit, Stephen,
+and the girl won't have me. She's poorer than any church or other mouse
+I ever met, yet she turns up her little French nose at me and my palace,
+and all the cheese I should like to see her nibble--my cheese."
+
+"Her French nose?" echoed Stephen.
+
+"Yes. Her nose and the rest of her's French, especially her dimples. You
+never saw such dimples. Miss Ray's prettier than my girl, I suppose. But
+I think mine's beyond anything. Only she isn't and won't be mine that's
+the worst of it."
+
+"Where is she?" Stephen asked. "In Algiers?"
+
+"No such luck. But her sister is. I'll take you to see the sister
+to-morrow morning. She may be able to tell us something to help Miss
+Ray. She keeps a curiosity-shop, and is a connoisseur of Eastern
+antiquities, as well as a great character in Algiers, quite a sort of
+queen in her way--a quaint way. All the visiting Royalties of every
+nation drop in and spend hours in her place. She has a good many Arab
+acquaintances, too. Even rich chiefs come to sell, or buy things from
+her, and respect her immensely. But my girl--I like to call her that--is
+away off in the west, close to the border of Morocco, at Tlemcen. I
+wish you were interested in mosques, and I'd take you there. People who
+care for such things sometimes travel from London or Paris just to see
+the mosque of Sidi Bou-Medine and a certain Mirab. But I suppose you
+haven't any fad of that kind, eh?"
+
+"I feel it coming on," said Stephen.
+
+"Good chap! Do encourage the feeling. I'll lend you books, lots of
+books, on the subject. She's 'malema,' or mistress of an _ecole
+indigene_ for embroideries and carpets, at Tlemcen. Heaven knows how few
+francs a month she earns by the job which takes all her time and life,
+yet she thinks herself lucky to get it. And she won't marry me."
+
+"Surely she must love you, at least a little, if you care so much for
+her," Stephen tried to console his friend.
+
+"Oh, she does, a lot," replied Nevill with infinite satisfaction. "But,
+you see--well, you see, her family wasn't up to much from a social point
+of view--such rot! The mother came out from Paris to be a nursery
+governess, when she was quite young, but she was too pretty for that
+position. She had various but virtuous adventures, and married a
+non-com. in the Chasseurs d'Afrique, who chucked the army for her. The
+two kept a little hotel. Then the husband died, while the girls were
+children. The mother gave up the hotel and took in sewing. Everybody was
+interested in the family, they were so clever and exceptional, and
+people helped in the girls' education. When their mother became an
+invalid, the two contrived to keep her and themselves, though Jeanne was
+only eighteen then, and Josette, my girl, fifteen. She's been dead now
+for some years--the mother. Josette is nearly twenty-four. Do you see
+why she won't marry me? I'm hanged if I do."
+
+"I can see what her feeling is," Stephen said. "She must be a ripping
+girl."
+
+"I should say she is!--though as obstinate as the devil. Sometimes I
+could shake her and box her ears. I haven't seen her for months now.
+She wouldn't like me to go to Tlemcen--unless I had a friend with me,
+and a good excuse. I didn't know it could hurt so much to be in love,
+though I was in once before, and it hurt too, rather. But that was
+nothing. For the woman had no soul or mind, only her beauty, and an
+unscrupulous sort of ambition which made her want to marry me when my
+uncle left me his money. She'd refused to do anything more serious than
+flirt and reduce me to misery, until she thought I could give her what
+she wanted. I'd imagined myself horribly in love, until her sudden
+willingness to take me showed me once for all what she was. Even so, I
+couldn't cure the habit of love at first; but I had just sense enough to
+keep out of England, where she was, for fear I should lose my head and
+marry her. My cure was rather slow, but it was sure; and now I know that
+what I thought was love then wasn't love at all. The real thing's as
+different as--as--a modern Algerian tile is from an old Moorish one. I
+can't say anything stronger! That's why I cut England, to begin with,
+and after a while my interests were more identified with France.
+Sometimes I go to Paris in the summer--or to a little place in Dauphiny.
+But I haven't been back to England for eight years. Algeria holds all my
+heart. In Tlemcen is my girl. Here are my garden and my beasts. Now you
+have my history since Oxford days."
+
+"You know something of _my_ history through the papers," Stephen blurted
+out with a desperate defiance of his own reserve.
+
+"Not much of your real history, I think. Papers lie, and people
+misunderstand. Don't talk of yourself unless you really want to. But I
+say, look here, Stephen. That woman I thought I cared for--may I tell
+you what she was like? Somehow I want you to know. Don't think me a cad.
+I don't mean to be. But--may I tell?"
+
+"Of course. Why not?"
+
+"She was dark and awfully handsome, and though she wasn't an actress,
+she would have made a splendid one. She thought only of herself.
+I--there was a picture in a London paper lately which reminded me of
+her--the picture of a young lady you know--or think you know.
+They--those two--are of the same type. I don't believe either could make
+a man happy."
+
+Stephen laughed--a short, embarrassed laugh. "Oh, happy!" he echoed.
+"After twenty-five we learn not to expect happiness. But--thank you
+for--everything, and especially for inviting me here." He knew now why
+it had occurred to Nevill to ask him to Algiers. Nevill had seen
+Margot's picture. In silence they walked towards the open door of the
+dining-room. Somewhere not far away the Kabyle dogs were barking
+shrilly. In the distance rose and fell muffled notes of strange passion
+and fierceness, an Arab tom-tom beating like the heart of the conquered
+East, away in the old town.
+
+Stephen's short-lived gaiety was struck out of his soul.
+
+"For a moment white, then gone forever."
+
+He pushed the haunting words out of his mind. He did not want them to
+have any meaning. They had no meaning.
+
+It seemed to him that the perfume of the lilies was too heavy on the
+air.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+A white peacock, screaming in the garden under Stephen's balcony, waked
+him early, and dreamily his thoughts strayed towards the events planned
+for the day.
+
+They were to make a morning call on Mademoiselle Soubise in her
+curiosity-shop, and ask about Ben Halim, the husband of Saidee Ray.
+Victoria was coming to luncheon, for she had accepted Lady MacGregor's
+invitation. Her note had been brought in last night, while he and Nevill
+walked in the garden. Afterwards Lady MacGregor had shown it to them
+both. The girl wrote an interesting hand, full of individuality, and
+expressive of decision. Perhaps on her arrival they might have something
+to tell her.
+
+This hope shot Stephen out of bed, though it was only seven, and
+breakfast was not until nine. He had a cold bath in the private
+bathroom, which was one of Nevill's modern improvements in the old
+house, and by and by went for a walk, thinking to have the gardens to
+himself. But Nevill was there, cutting flowers and whistling tunefully.
+It was to him that the jewelled white peacock had screamed a greeting.
+
+"I like cutting the flowers myself," said he. "I don't think they care
+to have others touch them, any more than a cow likes to be milked by a
+stranger. Of course they feel the difference! Why, they know when I
+praise them, and preen themselves. They curl up when they're scolded, or
+not noticed, just as I do when people aren't nice to me. Every day I
+send off a box of my best roses to Tlemcen. _She_ allows me to do that."
+
+Lady MacGregor did not appear at breakfast, which was served on a
+marble loggia; and by half-past nine Stephen and Nevill were out in the
+wide, tree-shaded streets, where masses of bougainvillaea and clematis
+boiled over high garden-walls of old plaster, once white, now streaked
+with gold and rose, and green moss and lichen. After the thunderstorm of
+the day before, the white dust was laid, and the air was pure with a
+curious sparkling quality.
+
+They passed the museum in its garden, and turned a corner.
+
+"There's Mademoiselle Soubise's shop," said Nevill.
+
+It was a low white building, and had evidently been a private house at
+one time. The only change made had been in the shape and size of the
+windows on the ground-floor; and these were protected by green
+_persiennes_, fanned out like awnings, although the house was shaded by
+magnolia trees. There was no name over the open door, but the word
+"_Antiquites_" was painted in large black letters on the house-wall.
+
+Under the green blinds was a glitter of jewels displayed among brocades
+and a tangle of old lace, or on embossed silver trays; and walking in at
+the door, out of the shadowy dusk, a blaze of colour leaped to the eyes.
+Not a soul was there, unless some one hid and spied behind a carved and
+gilded Tunisian bed or a marqueterie screen from Bagdad. Yet there was a
+collection to tempt a thief, and apparently no precaution taken against
+invaders.
+
+Delicate rugs, soft as clouds and tinted like opals, were heaped in
+piles on the tiled floor; rugs from Ispahan, rugs from Mecca; old rugs
+from the sacred city of Kairouan, such as are made no more there or
+anywhere. The walls were hung with Tunisian silks and embroidered stuffs
+from the homes of Jewish families, where they had served as screens for
+talismanic words too sacred to be seen by common eyes; and there was
+drapery of ancient banners, Tyrian-dyed, whose gold or silver fringes
+had been stained with blood, in battle. From the ceiling were suspended
+antique lamps, and chandeliers of rare rock crystal, whose prisms gave
+out rose and violet sparks as they caught the light.
+
+On shelves and inlaid tables were beggars' bowls of strange dark woods,
+carried across deserts by wandering mendicants of centuries ago, the
+chains, which had hung from throats long since crumbled into dust,
+adorned with lucky rings and fetishes to preserve the wearer from evil
+spirits. There were other bowls, of crystal pure as full-blown bubbles,
+bowls which would ring at a tap like clear bells of silver. Some of
+these were guiltless of ornament, some were graven with gold flowers,
+but all seemed full of lights reflected from tilted, pearl-framed
+mirrors, and from the swinging prisms of chandeliers.
+
+Chafing-dishes of bronze at which vanished hands had been warmed, stood
+beside chased brazen ewers made to pour rose-water over henna-stained
+fingers, after Arab dinners, eaten without knives or forks. In the
+depths of half-open drawers glimmered precious stones, strangely cut
+pink diamonds, big square turquoises and emeralds, strings of creamy
+pearls, and hands of Fatma, a different jewel dangling from each
+finger-tip.
+
+The floor was encumbered, not only with rugs, but with heaps of
+priceless tiles, Persian and Moorish, of the best periods and patterns,
+taken from the walls of Arab palaces now destroyed; huge brass salvers;
+silver anklets, and chain armour, sabres captured from Crusaders, and
+old illuminated Korans. It was difficult to move without knocking
+something down, and one stepped delicately in narrow aisles, to avoid
+islands of piled, precious objects. Everywhere the eye was drawn to
+glittering points, or patches of splendid colour; so that at a glance
+the large, dusky room was like a temple decorated with mosaics. There
+was nothing that did not suggest the East, city or desert, or mountain
+village of the Kabyles; and the air was loaded with Eastern perfumes,
+ambergris and musk that blended with each other, and the scent of the
+black incense sticks brought by caravan from Tombouctou.
+
+"Why doesn't some one come in and steal?" asked Stephen, in surprise at
+seeing the place deserted.
+
+"Because there's hardly a thief in Algiers mean enough to steal from
+Jeanne Soubise, who gives half she has to the poor. And because, if
+there were one so mean, Haroun el Raschid would soon let her know what
+was going on," said Nevill. "His latest disguise is that of a parrot,
+but he may change it for something else at any moment."
+
+Then Stephen saw, suspended among the crystal chandeliers and antique
+lamps, a brass cage, shaped like a domed palace. In this cage, in a
+coral ring, sat a grey parrot who regarded the two young men with
+jewel-eyes that seemed to know all good and evil.
+
+"He yells if any stranger comes into the shop when his mistress is out,"
+Nevill explained. "I am an humble friend of His Majesty's, so he says
+nothing. I gave him to Mademoiselle Jeanne."
+
+Perhaps their voices had been heard. At all events, there was a light
+tapping of heels on unseen stairs, and from behind a red-curtained
+doorway appeared a tall young woman, dressed in black.
+
+She was robust as well as tall, and Stephen thought she looked rather
+like a handsome Spanish boy; yet she was feminine enough in her
+outlines. It was the frank and daring expression of her face and great
+black eyes which gave the look of boyishness. She had thick, straight
+eyebrows, a large mouth that was beautiful when she smiled, to show
+perfect teeth between the red lips that had a faint, shadowy line of
+down above them.
+
+"Ah, Monsieur Nevill Caird!" she exclaimed, in English, with a full
+voice, and a French accent that was pretty, though not Parisian. She
+smiled at Stephen, too, without waiting to be introduced. "Monsieur
+Caird is always kind in bringing his friends to me, and I am always glad
+to see them."
+
+"I've brought Mr. Knight, not to buy, but to ask a favour," said Nevill.
+
+"To buy, too," Stephen hastened to cut in. "I see things I can't live
+without. I must own them."
+
+"Well, don't set your heart on anything Mademoiselle Soubise won't sell.
+She bought everything with the idea of selling it, she admits, but now
+she's got them here, there are some things she can't make up her mind to
+part with at any price."
+
+"Oh, only a few tiles--and some Jewish embroideries--and bits of
+jewellery--and a rug or two or a piece of pottery--and maybe _one_ copy
+of the Koran, and a beggar's bowl," Jeanne Soubise excused herself,
+hastily adding more and more to her list of exceptions, as her eyes
+roved wistfully among her treasures. "Oh, and an amphora just dug up
+near Timgad, with Roman oil still inside. It's a beauty. Will you come
+down to the cellar to look at it?"
+
+Nevill thanked her, and reserved the pleasure for another time. Then he
+inquired what was the latest news from Mademoiselle Josette at Tlemcen;
+and when he heard that there was nothing new, he told the lady of the
+curiosity-shop what was the object of the early visit.
+
+"But of course I have heard of Ben Halim, and I have seen him, too," she
+said; "only it was long ago--maybe ten years. Yes, I could not have been
+seventeen. It is already long that he went away from Algiers, no one
+knows where. Now he is said to be dead. Have you not heard of him,
+Monsieur Nevill? You must have. He lived at Djenan el Hadj; close to the
+Jardin d'Essai. You know the place well. The new rich Americans, Madame
+Jewett and her daughter, have it now. There was a scandal about Ben
+Halim, and then he went away--a scandal that was mysterious, because
+every one talked about it, yet no one knew what had happened--never
+surely at least."
+
+"I told you Mademoiselle would be able to give you information!"
+exclaimed Nevill. "I felt sure the name was familiar, somehow, though I
+couldn't think how. One hears so many Arab names, and generally there's
+a 'Ben' or a 'Bou' something or other, if from the South."
+
+"Flan-ben-Flan," laughed Jeanne Soubise. "That means," she explained,
+turning to Stephen, "So and So, son of So and So. It is strange, a young
+lady came inquiring about Ben Halim only yesterday afternoon; such a
+pretty young lady. I was surprised, but she said they had told her in
+her hotel I knew everything that had ever happened in Algiers. A nice
+compliment to my age. I am not so old as that! But," she added, with a
+frank smile, "all the hotels and guides expect commissions when they
+send people to me. I suppose they thought this pretty girl fair game,
+and that once in my place she would buy. So she did. She bought a string
+of amber beads. She liked the gold light in them, and said it seemed as
+if she might see a vision of something or some one she wanted to find,
+if she gazed through the beads. Many a good Mussulman has said his
+prayers with them, if that could bring her luck."
+
+The two young men looked at one another.
+
+"Did she tell you her name?" Stephen asked.
+
+"But yes; she was Mees Ray, and named for the dead Queen Victoria of
+England, I suppose, though American. And she told me other things. Her
+sister, she said, married a Captain Ben Halim of the Spahis, and came
+with him to Algiers, nearly ten years ago. Now she is looking for the
+sister."
+
+"We've met Miss Ray," said Nevill. "It's on her business we've come. We
+didn't know she'd already been to you, but we might have guessed some
+one would send her. She didn't lose much time."
+
+"She wouldn't," said Stephen. "She isn't that kind."
+
+"I knew nothing of the sister," went on Mademoiselle Soubise. "I could
+hardly believe at first that Ben Halim had an American wife. Then I
+remembered how these Mohammedan men can hide their women, so no one
+ever knows. Probably no one ever did know, otherwise gossip would have
+leaked out. The man may have been jealous of her. You see, I have Arab
+acquaintances. I go to visit ladies in the harems sometimes, and I hear
+stories when anything exciting is talked of. You can't think how word
+flies from one harem to another--like a carrier-pigeon! This could never
+have been a matter of gossip--though it is true I was young at the
+time."
+
+"You think, then, he would have shut her up?" asked Nevill. "That's what
+I feared."
+
+"But of course he would have shut her up--with another wife, perhaps."
+
+"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Stephen. "The poor child has never thought of
+that possibility. She says he promised her sister he would never look at
+any other woman."
+
+"Ah, the promise of an Arab in love! Perhaps she did not know the
+Arabs--that sister. It is only the men of princely families who take but
+one wife. And he would not tell her if he had already looked at another
+woman. He would be sure, no matter how much in love a Christian girl
+might be, she would not marry a man who already had a wife."
+
+"We might find out that," suggested Stephen.
+
+"It would be difficult," said the Frenchwoman. "I can try, among Arabs I
+know, but though they like to chat with Europeans, they will not answer
+questions. They resent that we should ask them, though they are polite.
+As for you, if you ask men, French or Arab, you will learn nothing. The
+French would not know. The Arabs, if they did, would not tell. They must
+not talk of each other's wives, even among themselves, much less to
+outsiders. You can ask an Arab about anything else in the world, but not
+his wife. That is the last insult."
+
+"What a country!" Stephen ejaculated.
+
+"I don't know that it has many more faults than others," said Nevill,
+defending it, "only they're different."
+
+"But about the scandal that drove Ben Halim away?" Stephen ventured on.
+
+"Strange things were whispered at the time, I remember, because Ben
+Halim was a handsome man and well known. One looked twice at him in his
+uniform when he went by on a splendid horse. I believe he had been to
+Paris before the scandal. What he did afterwards no one can say. But I
+could not tell Mees Ray what I had heard of that scandal any more than I
+would tell a young girl that almost all Europeans who become harem women
+are converted to the religion of Islam, and that very likely the sister
+wasn't Ben Halim's first wife."
+
+"Can you tell us of the scandal, or--would you rather not talk of the
+subject?" Stephen hesitated.
+
+"Oh, I can tell you, for it would not hurt your feelings. People said
+Ben Halim flirted too much with his Colonel's beautiful French wife, who
+died soon afterwards, and her husband killed himself. Ben Halim had not
+been considered a good officer before. He was too fond of pleasure, and
+a mad gambler; so at last it was made known to him he had better leave
+the army of his own accord if he did not wish to go against his will; at
+least, that was the story."
+
+"Of course!" exclaimed Nevill. "It comes back to me now, though it all
+happened before I lived in Algiers. Ben Halim sold his house and
+everything in it to a Frenchman who went bankrupt soon after. It's
+passed through several hands since. I go occasionally to call on Mrs.
+Jewett and her daughter."
+
+"It is said they wish you would call oftener, Monsieur Caird."
+
+Nevill turned red. Stephen thought he could understand, and hid a smile.
+No doubt Nevill was a great "catch" in Algerian society. And he was in
+love with a teacher of Arab children far away in Tlemcen, a girl "poor
+as a church mouse," who wouldn't listen to him! It was a quaint world;
+as quaint in Africa as elsewhere.
+
+"What did you tell Miss Ray?" Nevill hurried to ask.
+
+"That Ben Halim had left Algiers nine years ago, and had never been
+heard of since. When I saw she did not love his memory, I told her
+people believed him to be dead; and this rumour might be true, as no
+news of him has ever come back. But she turned pale, and I was sorry I
+had been so frank. Yet what would you? Oh, and I thought of one more
+thing, when she had gone, which I might have mentioned. But perhaps
+there is nothing in it. All the rest of the day I was busy with many
+customers, so I was tired at night, otherwise I would have sent a note
+to her hotel. And this morning since six I have been hurrying to get off
+boxes and things ordered by some Americans for a ship which sails at
+noon. But you will tell the young lady when you see her, and that will
+be better than my writing, because sending a note would make it seem too
+important. She might build hopes, and it would be a pity if they did
+explode."
+
+Both men laughed a little at this ending of the Frenchwoman's sentence,
+but Stephen was more impatient than Nevill to know what was to come
+next. He grudged the pause, and made her go on.
+
+"It is only that I remember my sister telling me, when she was at home
+last year for a holiday, about a Kabyle servant girl who waits on her in
+Tlemcen. The girl is of a great intelligence, and my sister takes an
+interest in her. Josette teaches her many things, and they talk.
+Mouni--that is the Kabyle's name--tells of her home life to my sister.
+One thing she did was to serve a beautiful foreign lady in the house of
+a rich Arab. She was only a child then, not more than thirteen, for such
+girls grow up early; but she has always thought about that lady, who was
+good to her, and very sad. Mouni told Josette she had never seen any one
+so beautiful, and that her mistress had hair of a natural colour, redder
+than hair dyed with henna and powdered with gold dust. It was this
+describing of the hair which brought the story back to my head when Miss
+Ray had gone, because she has hair like that, and perhaps her sister had
+it too."
+
+"By Jove, we'll run over to Tlemcen in the car, and see that Kabyle
+girl," Nevill eagerly proposed, carefully looking at his friend, and not
+at Jeanne Soubise. But she raised her eyebrows, then drew them together,
+and her frank manner changed. With that shadow of a frown, and smileless
+eyes and lips, there was something rather formidable about the handsome
+young woman.
+
+"Mees Ray may like to manage all her own beesiness," she remarked. And
+it occurred to Stephen that it would be a propitious moment to choose
+such curios as he wished to buy. In a few moments Mademoiselle Soubise
+was her pleasant self again, indicating the best points of the things he
+admired, and giving him their history.
+
+"There's apparently a conspiracy of silence to keep us from finding out
+anything about Miss Ray's sister as Ben Halim's wife," he said to Nevill
+when they had left the curiosity-shop. "Also, what has become of Ben
+Halim."
+
+"You'll learn that there's always a conspiracy of silence in Africa,
+where Arabs are concerned," Nevill answered. There was a far-off, fatal
+look in his eyes as he spoke, those blue eyes which seemed at all times
+to see something that others could not see. And again the sense of an
+intangible, illusive, yet very real mystery of the East, which he had
+felt for a moment before landing, oppressed Stephen, as if he had
+inhaled too much smoke from the black incense of Tombouctou.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+Stephen and Nevill Caird were in the cypress avenue when Victoria Ray
+drove up in a ramshackle cab, guided by an Arab driver who squinted
+hideously. She wore a white frock which might have cost a sovereign, and
+had probably been made at home. Her wide brimmed hat was of cheap straw,
+wound with a scarf of thin white muslin; but her eyes looked out like
+blue stars from under its dove-coloured shadow, and a lily was tucked
+into her belt. To both young men she seemed very beautiful, and radiant
+as the spring morning.
+
+"You aren't superstitious, engaging a man with a squint," said Nevill.
+
+"Of course not," she laughed. "As if harm could come to me because the
+poor man's so homely! I engaged him because he was the worst looking,
+and nobody else seemed to want him."
+
+They escorted her indoors to Lady MacGregor, and Stephen wondered if she
+would be afraid of the elderly fairy with the face of a child and the
+manner of an autocrat. But she was not in the least shy; and indeed
+Stephen could hardly picture the girl as being self-conscious in any
+circumstances. Lady MacGregor took her in with one look; white hat, red
+hair, blue eyes, lily at belt, simple frock and all, and--somewhat to
+Stephen's surprise, because she was to him a new type of old
+lady--decided to be charmed with Miss Ray.
+
+Victoria's naive admiration of the house and gardens delighted her host
+and hostess. She could not be too much astonished at its wonders to
+please them, and, both being thoroughbred, they liked her the better
+for saying frankly that she was unused to beautiful houses. "You can't
+think what this is like after school in Potterston and cheap
+boarding-houses in New York and London," she said, laughing when the
+others laughed.
+
+Stephen was longing to see her in the lily-garden, which, to his mind,
+might have been made for her; and after luncheon he asked Lady MacGregor
+if he and Nevill might show it to Miss Ray.
+
+The garden lay to the east, and as it was shadowed by the house in the
+afternoon, it would not be too hot.
+
+"Perhaps you won't mind taking her yourself," said the elderly fairy.
+"Just for a few wee minutes I want Nevill. He is to tell me about
+accepting or refusing some invitations. I'll send him to you soon."
+
+Stephen was ashamed of the gladness with which he could not help hearing
+this proposal. He had nothing to say to the girl which he might not say
+before Nevill, or even before Lady MacGregor, yet he had been feeling
+cheated because he could not be alone with Victoria, as on the boat.
+
+"Gather Miss Ray as many lilies as she can carry away," were Nevill's
+parting instructions. And it was exactly what Stephen had wished for. He
+wanted to give her something beautiful and appropriate, something he
+could give with his own hands. And he longed to see her holding masses
+of white lilies to her breast, as she walked all white in the white
+lily-garden. Now, too, he could tell her what Mademoiselle Soubise had
+said about the Kabyle girl, Mouni. He was sure Nevill wouldn't grudge
+his having that pleasure all to himself. Anyway he could not resist the
+temptation to snatch it.
+
+He began, as soon as they were alone together in the garden, by asking
+her what she had done, whether she had made progress; and it seemed that
+she retired from his questions with a vague suggestion of reserve she
+had not shown on the ship. It was not that she answered unwillingly, but
+he could not define the difference in her manner, although he felt that
+a difference existed.
+
+It was as if somebody might have been scolding her for a lack of
+reserve; yet when he inquired if she had met any one she knew, or made
+acquaintances, she said no to the first question, and named only
+Mademoiselle Soubise in reply to the second.
+
+That was Stephen's opportunity, and he began to tell of his call at the
+curiosity-shop. He expected Victoria to cry out with excitement when he
+came to Mouni's description of the beautiful lady with "henna-coloured,
+gold-powdered hair"; but though she flushed and her breath came and went
+quickly as he talked, somehow the girl did not appear to be enraptured
+with a new hope, as he had expected.
+
+"My friend Caird proposes that he and I should motor to Tlemcen, which
+it seems is near the Moroccan border, and interview Mouni," he said. "We
+may be able to make sure, when we question her, that it was your sister
+she served; and perhaps we can pick up some clue through what she lets
+drop, as to where Ben Halim took his wife when he left Algiers--though,
+of course, there are lots of other ways to find out, if this should
+prove a false clue."
+
+"You are both more than good," Victoria answered, "but I mustn't let you
+go so far for me. Perhaps, as you say, I shall be able to find out in
+other ways, from some one here in Algiers. It does sound as if it might
+be my sister the maid spoke of to Mademoiselle Soubise. How I should
+love to hear Mouni talk!--but you must wait, and see what happens,
+before you think of going on a journey for my sake."
+
+"If only there were some woman to take you, you might go with us," said
+Stephen, more eagerly than he was aware, and thinking wild thoughts
+about Lady MacGregor as a chaperon, or perhaps Mademoiselle Soubise--if
+only she could be persuaded to leave her beloved shop, and wouldn't draw
+those black brows of hers together as though tabooing a forbidden idea.
+
+"Let's wait--and see," Victoria repeated. And this patience, in the face
+of such hope, struck Stephen as being strange in her, unlike his
+conception of the brave, impulsive nature, ready for any adventure if
+only there were a faint flicker of light at the end. Then, as if she did
+not wish to talk longer of a possible visit to Tlemcen, Victoria said:
+"I've something to show you: a picture of my sister."
+
+The white dress was made without a collar, and was wrapped across her
+breast like a fichu which left the slender white stem of her throat
+uncovered. Now she drew out from under the muslin folds a thin gold
+chain, from which dangled a flat, open-faced locket. When she had
+unfastened a clasp, she handed the trinket to Stephen. "Saidee had the
+photograph made specially for me, just before she was married," the girl
+explained, "and I painted it myself. I couldn't trust any one else,
+because no one knew her colouring. Of course, she was a hundred times
+more beautiful than this, but it gives you some idea of her, as she
+looked when I saw her last."
+
+The face in the photograph was small, not much larger than Stephen's
+thumb-nail, but every feature was distinct, not unlike Victoria's,
+though more pronounced; and the nose, seen almost in profile, was
+perfect in its delicate straightness. The lips were fuller than
+Victoria's, and red as coral. The eyes were brown, with a suggestion of
+coquetry absent in the younger girl's, and the hair, parted in the
+middle and worn in a loose, wavy coil, appeared to be of a darker red,
+less golden, more auburn.
+
+"That's exactly Saidee's colouring," repeated Victoria. "Her lips were
+the reddest I ever saw, and I used to say diamonds had got caught behind
+her eyes. Do you wonder I worshipped her--that I just _couldn't_ let her
+go out of my life forever?"
+
+"No, I don't wonder. She's very lovely," Stephen agreed. The coquetry in
+the eyes was pathetic to him, knowing the beautiful Saidee's history.
+
+"She was eighteen then. She's twenty-eight now. Saidee twenty-eight! I
+can hardly realize it. But I'm sure she hasn't changed, unless to grow
+prettier. I used always to think she would." Victoria took back the
+portrait, and gazed at it. Stephen was sorry for the child. He thought
+it more than likely that Saidee had changed for the worse, physically
+and spiritually, even mentally, if Mademoiselle Soubise were right in
+her surmises. He was glad she had not said to Victoria what she had said
+to him, about Saidee having to live the life of other harem women.
+
+"I bought a string of amber beads at that curiosity-shop yesterday," the
+girl went on, "because there's a light in them like what used to be in
+Saidee's eyes. Every night, when I've said my prayers and am ready to go
+to sleep, I see her in that golden silence I told you about, looking
+towards the west--that is, towards me, too, you know; with the sun
+setting and streaming right into her eyes, making that jewelled kind of
+light gleam in them, which comes and goes in those amber beads. When I
+find her, I shall hold up the beads to her eyes in the sunlight and
+compare them."
+
+"What is the golden silence like?" asked Stephen. "Do you see more
+clearly, now that at last you've come to Africa?"
+
+"I couldn't see more clearly than I did before," the girl answered
+slowly, looking away from him, through the green lace of the trees that
+veiled the distance. "Yet it's just as mysterious as ever. I can't guess
+yet what it can be, unless it's in the desert. I just see Saidee,
+standing on a large, flat expanse which looks white. And she's dressed
+in white. All round her is a quivering golden haze, wave after wave of
+it, endless as the sea when you're on a ship. And there's silence--not
+one sound, except the beating which must be my own heart, or the blood
+that sings in my ears when I listen for a long time--the kind of singing
+you hear in a shell. That's all. And the level sun shining in her eyes,
+and on her hair."
+
+"It is a picture," said Stephen.
+
+"Wherever Say was, there would always be a picture," Victoria said with
+the unselfish, unashamed pride she had in her sister.
+
+"How I hope Saidee knows I'm near her," she went on, half to herself.
+"She'd know that I'd come to her as soon as I could--and she may have
+heard things about me that would tell her I was trying to make money
+enough for the journey and everything. If I hadn't hoped she _might_ see
+the magazines and papers, I could never have let my photograph be
+published. I should have hated that, if it hadn't been for the thought
+of the portraits coming to her eyes, with my name under them; 'Victoria
+Ray, who is dancing in such and such a place.' _She_ would know why I
+was doing it; dancing nearer and nearer to her."
+
+"You darling!" Stephen would have liked to say. But only as he might
+have spoken caressingly to a lovely child whose sweet soul had won him.
+She seemed younger than ever to-day, in the big, drooping hat, with the
+light behind her weaving a gold halo round her hair and the slim white
+figure, as she talked of Saidee in the golden silence. When she looked
+up at him, he thought that she was like a girl-saint, painted on a
+background of gold. He felt very tender over her, very much older than
+she, and it did not occur to him that he might fall in love with this
+young creature who had no thought for anything in life except the
+finding of her sister.
+
+A tiny streak of lily-pollen had made a little yellow stain on the white
+satin of her cheek, and under her blue eyes were a few faint freckles,
+golden as the lily-pollen. He had seen them come yesterday, on the ship,
+in a bright glare of sunlight, and they were not quite gone yet. He had
+a foolish wish to touch them with his finger, to see if they would rub
+off, and to brush away the lily-pollen, though it made her skin look
+pure as pearl.
+
+"You are an inspiration!" was all he said.
+
+"I? But how do you mean?" she asked.
+
+He hardly knew that he had spoken aloud; yet challenged, he tried to
+explain. "Inspiration to new life and faith in things," he answered
+almost at random. But hearing the words pronounced by his own voice,
+made him realize that they were true. This child, of whose existence he
+had not known a week ago, could give him--perhaps was already giving
+him--new faith and new interests. He felt thankful for her, somehow,
+though she did not belong to him, and never would--unless a gleam of
+sunshine can belong to one on whom it shines. And he would always
+associate her with the golden sunshine and the magic charm of Algeria.
+
+"I told you I'd given you half my star," she said, laughing and blushing
+a little.
+
+"Which star is it?" he wanted to know. "When I don't see you any more, I
+can look up and hitch my thought-wagon to Mars or Venus."
+
+"Oh, it's even grander than any planet you can see, with your real eyes.
+But you can look at the evening star if you like. It's so thrilling in
+the sunset sky, I sometimes call it my star."
+
+"All right," said Stephen, with his elder-brother air. "And when I look
+I'll think of you."
+
+"You can think of me as being with Saidee at last."
+
+"You have the strongest presentiment that you'll find her without
+difficulty."
+
+"When _I_ say 'presentiment,' I mean creating a thing I want, making a
+picture of it happening, so it _has_ to happen by and by, as God made
+pictures of this world, and all the worlds, and they came true."
+
+"By Jove, I wish I could go to school to you!" Stephen said this
+laughing; but he meant every word. She had just given him two new ideas.
+He wondered if he could do anything with them. Yet no; his life was cut
+out on a certain plan. It must now follow that plan.
+
+"If you should have any trouble--not that you _will_--but just 'if,'
+you know," he went on, "and if I could help you, I want you to remember
+this, wherever you are and whatever the trouble may be; there's nothing
+I wouldn't do for you--nothing. There's no distance I wouldn't travel."
+
+"Why, you're the kindest man I ever met!" Victoria exclaimed,
+gratefully. "And I think you must be one of the best."
+
+"Good heavens, what a character to live up to!" laughed Stephen.
+Nevertheless he suddenly lost his sense of exaltation, and felt sad and
+tired, thinking of life with Margot, and how difficult it would be not
+to degenerate in her society.
+
+"Yes. It's a good character. And I'll promise to let you know, if I'm in
+any trouble and need help. If I can't write, I'll _call_, as I said
+yesterday."
+
+"Good. I shall hear you over the wireless telephone." They both laughed;
+and Nevill Caird, coming out of the house was pleased that Stephen
+should be happy.
+
+It had occurred to him while helping his aunt with the invitations, that
+something of interest to Miss Ray might be learned at the Governor's
+house. He knew the Governor more or less, in a social way. Now he asked
+Victoria if she would like him to make inquiries about Ben Halim's past
+as a Spahi?
+
+"I've already been to the Governor," replied Victoria. "I got a letter
+to him from the American Consul, and had a little audience with him--is
+that what I ought to call it?--this morning. He was kind, but could tell
+me nothing I didn't know--any way, he would tell nothing more. He wasn't
+in Algiers when Saidee came. It was in the day of his predecessor."
+
+Nevill admired her promptness and energy, and said so. He shared
+Stephen's chivalrous wish to do something for the girl, so alone, so
+courageous, working against difficulties she had not begun to
+understand. He was sorry that he had had no hand in helping Victoria to
+see the most important Frenchman in Algiers, a man of generous sympathy
+for Arabs; but as he had been forestalled, he hastened to think of
+something else which he might do. He knew the house Ben Halim had owned
+in Algiers, the place which must have been her sister's home. The people
+who lived there now were acquaintances of his. Would she like to see
+Djenan el Hadj?
+
+The suggestion pleased her so much that Stephen found himself envying
+Nevill her gratitude. And it was arranged that Mrs. Jewett should be
+asked to appoint an hour for a visit next day.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+While Victoria was still in the lily-garden with her host and his
+friend, the cab which she had ordered to return came back to fetch her.
+It was early, and Lady MacGregor had expected her to stop for tea, as
+most people did stop, who visited Djenan el Djouad for the first time,
+because every one wished to see the house; and to see the house took
+hours. But the dancing-girl, appearing slightly embarrassed as she
+expressed her regrets, said that she must go; she had to keep an
+engagement. She did not explain what the engagement was, and as she
+betrayed constraint in speaking of it, both Stephen and Nevill guessed
+that she did not wish to explain. They took it for granted that it was
+something to do with her sister's affairs, something which she
+considered of importance; otherwise, as she had no friends in Algiers,
+and Lady MacGregor was putting herself out to be kind, the girl would
+have been pleased to spend an afternoon with those to whom she could
+talk freely. No questions could be asked, though, as Lady MacGregor
+remarked when Victoria had gone (after christening the baby panther), it
+did seem ridiculous that a child should be allowed to make its own plans
+and carry them out alone in a place like Algiers, without having any
+advice from its elders.
+
+"I've been, and expect to go on being, what you might call a perpetual
+chaperon," said she resignedly; "and chaperoning is so ingrained in my
+nature that I hate to see a baby running about unprotected, doing what
+it chooses, as if it were a married woman, not to say a widow. But I
+suppose it can't be stopped."
+
+"She's been on the stage," said Nevill reassuringly, Miss Ray having
+already broken this hard fact to the Scotch lady at luncheon.
+
+"I tell you it's a baby! Even John Knox would see that," sharply replied
+Aunt Caroline.
+
+There was nothing better to do with the rest of the afternoon, Nevill
+thought, than to take a spin in the motor, which they did, the chauffeur
+at the wheel, as Nevill confessed himself of too lazy a turn of mind to
+care for driving his own car. While Stephen waited outside, he called at
+Djenan el Hadj (an old Arab house at a little distance from the town,
+buried deep in a beautiful garden), but the ladies were out. Nevill
+wrote a note on his card, explaining that his aunt would like to bring a
+friend, whose relatives had once lived in the house; and this done, they
+had a swift run about the beautiful country in the neighbourhood of
+Algiers.
+
+It was dinner-time when they returned, and meanwhile an answer had come
+from Mrs. Jewett. She would be delighted to see any friend of Lady
+MacGregor's, and hoped Miss Ray might be brought to tea the following
+afternoon.
+
+"Shall we send a note to her hotel, or shall we stroll down after
+dinner?" asked Nevill.
+
+"Suppose we stroll down," Stephen decided, trying to appear indifferent,
+though he was ridiculously pleased at the idea of having a few
+unexpected words with Victoria.
+
+"Good. We might take a look at the Kasbah afterward," said Nevill.
+"Night's the time when it's most mysterious, and we shall be close to
+the old town when we leave Miss Ray's hotel."
+
+Dinner seemed long to Stephen. He could have spared several courses.
+Nevertheless, though they sat down at eight, it was only nine when they
+started out. Up on the hill of Mustapha Superieur, all was peaceful
+under the moonlight; but below, in the streets of French shops and
+cafes, the light-hearted people of the South were ready to begin
+enjoying themselves after a day of work. Streams of electric light
+poured from restaurant windows, and good smells of French cooking
+filtered out, as doors opened and shut. The native cafes were crowded
+with dark men smoking chibouques, eating kous-kous, playing dominoes, or
+sipping absinthe and golden liqueurs which, fortunately not having been
+invented in the Prophet's time, had not been forbidden by him. Curio
+shops and bazaars for native jewellery and brasswork were still open,
+lit up with pink and yellow lamps. The brilliant uniforms of young
+Spahis and Zouaves made spots of vivid colour among the dark clothes of
+Europeans, tourists, or employes in commercial houses out for amusement.
+Sailors of different nations swung along arm in arm, laughing and ogling
+the handsome Jewesses and painted ladies from the Levant or Marseilles.
+American girls just arrived on big ships took care of their chaperons
+and gazed with interest at the passing show, especially at the
+magnificent Arabs who appeared to float rather than walk, looking
+neither to right nor left, their white burnouses blowing behind them.
+The girls stared eagerly, too, at the few veiled and swathed figures of
+native women who mingled with the crowd, padding timidly with bare feet
+thrust into slippers. The foreigners mistook them no doubt for Arab
+ladies, not knowing that ladies never walk; and were but little
+interested in the old, unveiled women with chocolate-coloured faces, who
+begged, or tried to sell picture-postcards. The arcaded streets were
+full of light and laughter, noise of voices, clatter of horses' hoofs,
+carriage-wheels, and tramcars, bells of bicycles and horns of motors.
+The scene was as gay as any Paris boulevard, and far more picturesque
+because of the older, Eastern civilization in the midst of, though never
+part of, an imported European life--the flitting white and brown
+figures, like thronging ghosts outnumbering the guests at a banquet.
+
+Stephen and Nevill Caird went up the Rue Bab-el-Oued, leading to the old
+town, and so came to the Hotel de la Kasbah, where Victoria Ray was
+staying. It looked more attractive at night, with its blaze of
+electricity that threw out the Oriental colouring of some crude
+decorations in the entrance-hall, yet the place appeared less than ever
+suited to Victoria.
+
+An Arab porter stood at the door, smoking a cigarette. His fingers were
+stained with henna, and he wore an embroidered jacket which showed
+grease-spots and untidy creases. It was with the calmest indifference he
+eyed the Englishmen, as Nevill inquired in French for Miss Ray.
+
+The question whether she were "at home" was conventionally put, for it
+seemed practically certain that she must be in the hotel. Where could
+she, who had no other friends than they, and no chaperon, go at night?
+It was with blank surprise, therefore, that he and Stephen heard the
+man's answer. Mademoiselle was out.
+
+"I don't believe it," Stephen muttered in English, to Nevill.
+
+The porter understood, and looked sulky. "I tell ze troot," he
+persisted. "Ze gentlemens no believe, zay ask some ozzer."
+
+They took him at his word, and walked past the Arab into the hotel. A
+few Frenchmen and Spaniards of inferior type were in the hall, and at
+the back, near a stairway made of the cheapest marble, was a window
+labelled "Bureau." Behind this window, in a cagelike room, sat the
+proprietor at a desk, adding up figures in a large book. He was very
+fat, and his chins went all the way round his neck in grooves, as if his
+thick throat might pull out like an accordion. There was something
+curiously exotic about him, as there is in persons of mixed races; an
+olive pallor of skin, an oiliness of black hair, and a jetty brightness
+of eye under heavy lids.
+
+This time it was Stephen who asked for Miss Ray; but he was given the
+same answer. She had gone out.
+
+"You are sure?"
+
+"Mais, oui, monsieur."
+
+"Has she been gone long?" Stephen persisted, feeling perplexed and
+irritated, as if something underhand were going on.
+
+"Of that I cannot tell," returned the hotel proprietor, still in
+guttural French. "She left word she would not be at the dinner."
+
+"Did she say when she would be back?"
+
+"No, monsieur. She did not say."
+
+"Perhaps the American Consul's family took pity on her, and invited her
+to dine with them," suggested Nevill.
+
+"Yes," Stephen said, relieved. "That's the most likely thing, and would
+explain her engagement this afternoon."
+
+"We might explore the Kasbah for an hour, and call again, to inquire."
+
+"Let us," returned Stephen. "I should like to know that she's got in all
+right."
+
+Five minutes later they had left the noisy Twentieth Century behind
+them, and plunged into the shadowy silence of a thousand years ago.
+
+The change could not have been more sudden and complete if, from a gaily
+lighted modern street, full of hum and bustle, they had fallen down an
+oubliette into a dark, deserted fairyland. Just outside was the imported
+life of Paris, but this old town was Turkish, Arab, Moorish, Jewish and
+Spanish; and in Algeria old things do not change.
+
+After all, the alley was not deserted, though it was soundless as a tomb
+save for a dull drumming somewhere behind thick walls. They were in a
+narrow tunnel, rather than a street, between houses that bent towards
+each other, their upper stories supported by beams. There was no
+electric light, scarcely any light at all save a strip of moonshine,
+fine as a line of silver inlaid in ebony, along the cobbled way which
+ascended in steps, and a faint glimmer of a lamp here and there in the
+distance, a lamp small and greenish as the pale spark of a glow-worm. As
+they went up, treading carefully, forms white as spirits came down the
+street in heelless babouches that made no more noise than the wings of a
+bat. These forms loomed vague in the shadow, then took shape as Arab
+men, whose eyes gleamed under turbans or out from hoods.
+
+Moving aside to let a cloaked figure go by, Stephen brushed against the
+blank wall of a house, which was cold, sweating dampness like an
+underground vault. No sun, except a streak at midday, could ever
+penetrate this tunnel-street.
+
+So they went on from one alley into another, as if lost in a catacomb,
+or the troubling mazes of a nightmare. Always the walls were blank, save
+for a deep-set, nail-studded door, or a small window like a square dark
+hole. Yet in reality, Nevill Caird was not lost. He knew his way very
+well in the Kasbah, which he never tired of exploring, though he had
+spent eight winters in Algiers. By and by he guided his friend into a
+street not so narrow as the others they had climbed, though it was
+rather like the bed of a mountain torrent, underfoot. Because the moon
+could pour down a silver flood it was not dark, but the lamps were so
+dull that the moonlight seemed to put them out.
+
+Here the beating was as loud as a frightened heart. The walls resounded
+with it, and sent out an echo. More than one nailed door stood open,
+revealing a long straight passage, with painted walls faintly lighted
+from above, and a curtain like a shadow, hiding the end. In these
+passages hung the smoky perfume of incense; and from over tile-topped
+walls came the fragrance of roses and lemon blossoms, half choked with
+the melancholy scent of things old, musty and decayed. Beautiful
+pillars, brought perhaps from ruined Carthage, were set deeply in the
+whitewashed walls, looking sad and lumpy now that centuries of
+chalk-coats had thickened their graceful contours. But to compensate for
+loss of shape, they were dazzling white, marvellous as columns of carved
+pearl in the moonlight, they and their surrounding walls seeming to send
+out an eerie, bleached light of their own which struck at the eye. The
+uneven path ran floods of moonlight; and from tiny windows in the
+leaning snow-palaces--windows like little golden frames--looked out the
+faces of women, as if painted on backgrounds of dull yellow,
+emerald-green, or rose-coloured light.
+
+They were unveiled women, jewelled like idols, white and pink as
+wax-dolls, their brows drawn in black lines with herkous, their eyes
+glittering between bluish lines of kohl, their lips poppy-red with the
+tint of mesouak, their heads bound in sequined nets of silvered gauze,
+and crowned with tiaras of gold coins. The windows were so small that
+the women were hidden below their shoulders, but their huge
+hoop-earrings flashed, and their many necklaces sent out sparks as they
+nodded, smiling, at the passers; and one who seemed young and beautiful
+as a wicked fairy, against a purple light, threw a spray of orange
+blossoms at Stephen's feet.
+
+Then, out of that street of muffled music, open doors, and sequined
+idols, the two men passed to another where, in small open-air cafes,
+bright with flaring torches or electric light squatting men smoked,
+listening to story-tellers; and where, further on, Moorish baths belched
+out steam mingled with smells of perfume and heated humanity. So, back
+again to black tunnels, where the blind walls heard secrets they would
+never tell. The houses had no eyes, and the street doors drew back into
+shadow.
+
+"Do you wonder now," Nevill asked, "that it's difficult to find out what
+goes on in an Arab's household?"
+
+"No," said Stephen. "I feel half stifled. It's wonderful, but somehow
+terrible. Let's get out of this 'Arabian Nights' dream, into light and
+air, or something will happen to us, some such things as befell the
+Seven Calendars. We must have been here an hour. It's time to inquire
+for Miss Ray again. She's sure to have come in by now."
+
+Back they walked into the Twentieth Century. Some of the lights in the
+hotel had been put out. There was nobody in the hall but the porter, who
+had smoked his last cigarette, and as no one had given him another, he
+was trying to sleep in a chair by the door.
+
+Mademoiselle might have come in. He did not know. Yes, he could ask, if
+there were any one to ask, but the woman who looked after the bedrooms
+had an evening out. There was only one _femme de chambre_, but what
+would you? The high season was over. As for the key of Mademoiselle,
+very few of the clients ever left their keys in the bureau when they
+promenaded themselves. It was too much trouble. But certainly, he could
+knock at the door of Mademoiselle, if the gentlemen insisted, though it
+was now on the way to eleven o'clock, and it would be a pity to wake the
+young lady if she were sleeping.
+
+"Knock softly. If she's awake, she'll hear you," Stephen directed. "If
+she's asleep, she won't."
+
+The porter went lazily upstairs, appearing again in a few minutes to
+announce that he had obeyed instructions and the lady had not answered.
+"But," he added, "one would say that an all little light came through
+the keyhole."
+
+"Brute, to look!" mumbled Stephen. There was, however, nothing more to
+be done. It was late, and they must take it for granted that Miss Ray
+had come home and gone to bed.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+That night Stephen dreamed troubled dreams about Victoria. All sorts of
+strange things were happening behind a locked door, he never quite knew
+what, though he seemed forever trying to find out. In the morning,
+before he was dressed, Mahommed brought a letter to his door; only one,
+on a small tray. It was the first letter he had received since leaving
+London--he, who had been used to sighing over the pile that heaped up
+with every new post, and must presently be answered.
+
+He recognized the handwriting at a glance, though he had seen it only
+once, in a note written to Lady MacGregor. The letter was from Victoria,
+and was addressed to "Mr. Stephen Knight," in American fashion--a
+fashion unattractive to English eyes. But because it was Victoria's way,
+it seemed to Stephen simple and unaffected, like herself. Besides, she
+was not aware that he had any kind of handle to his name.
+
+"Now I shall know where she was last night," he said to himself, and was
+about to tear open the envelope, when suddenly the thought that she had
+touched the paper made him tender in his usage of it. He found a
+paper-knife and with careful precision cut the envelope along the top.
+The slight delay whetted his eagerness to read what Victoria had to
+tell. She had probably heard of the visit which she had missed, and had
+written this letter before going to bed. It was a sweet thought of the
+girl's to be so prompt in explaining her absence, guessing that he must
+have suffered some anxiety.
+
+     "DEAR MR. KNIGHT,"
+
+he read, the blood slowly mounting to his face as his eyes travelled
+from line to line,
+
+     "I don't know what you will think of me when I have told you about
+     the thing I am going to do. But whatever you may think, don't think
+     me ungrateful. Indeed, indeed I am not that. I hate to go away
+     without seeing you again, yet I must; and I can't even tell you
+     why, or where I am going--that is the worst. But if you could know
+     why, I'm almost sure you would feel that I am doing the right
+     thing, and the only thing possible. Before all and above all with
+     me, must be my sister's good. Everything else has to be sacrificed
+     to that, even things that I value very, very much.
+
+     "Don't imagine though, from what I say, that I'm making a great
+     sacrifice, so far as any danger to myself is concerned. The
+     sacrifice is, to risk being thought unkind, ungrateful, by you, and
+     of losing your friendship. This is the _only_ danger I am running,
+     really; so don't fear for me, and please forgive me if you can.
+     Just at the moment I must seem (as well as ungracious) a little
+     mysterious, not because I want to be mysterious, but because it is
+     forced on me by circumstances. I hate it, and soon I hope I shall
+     be able to be as frank and open with you as I was at first, when I
+     saw how good you were about taking an interest in my sister Saidee.
+     I think, as far as I can see ahead, I may write to you in a
+     fortnight. Then, I shall have news to tell, the _best of news_, I
+     hope; and I won't need to keep anything back. By that time I may
+     tell you all that has happened, since bidding you and Mr. Caird
+     good-bye, at the door of his beautiful house, and all that will
+     have happened by the time I can begin the letter. How I wish it
+     were now!
+
+     "There's just one more word I want to say, that I really can say
+     without doing harm to anybody or to any plan. It's this. I did feel
+     so guilty when you talked about your motoring with Mr. Caird to
+     Tlemcen. It was splendid of you both to be willing to go, and you
+     must have thought me cold and half-hearted about it. But I couldn't
+     tell you what was in my mind, even then. I didn't know what was
+     before me; but there was already a thing which I had to keep from
+     you. It was only a small thing. But now it has grown to be a very
+     big one.
+
+     "Good-bye, my dear friend Mr. Knight. I like to call you my friend,
+     and I shall always remember how good you were to me, if, for any
+     reason, we should never see each other again. It is very likely we
+     may not meet, for I don't know how long you are going to stay in
+     Africa, or how long I shall stay, so it may be that you will go
+     back to England soon. I don't suppose I shall go there. When I can
+     leave this country it will be to sail for America with my
+     sister--_never without her_. But I shall write, as I said, in a
+     fortnight, if all is well--indeed, I shall write whatever happens.
+     I shall be able to give you an address, too, I hope very much,
+     because I should like to hear from you. And I shall pray that you
+     may always be happy.
+
+     "I meant this to be quite a short letter, but after all it is a
+     long one! Good-bye again, and give my best remembrances to Lady
+     MacGregor and Mr. Caird, if they are not disgusted with me for the
+     way I am behaving. Gratefully your friend,
+
+                                                         "VICTORIA RAY."
+
+There was no room for any anger against the girl in Stephen's heart. He
+was furious, but not with her. And he did not know with whom to be
+angry. There was some one--there must be some one--who had persuaded her
+to take this step in the dark, and this secret person deserved all his
+anger and more. To persuade a young girl to turn from the only friends
+she had who could protect her, was a crime. Stephen could imagine no
+good purpose to be served by mystery, and he could imagine many bad
+ones. The very thought of the best among them made him physically sick.
+There was a throat somewhere in the world which his fingers were
+tingling to choke; and he did not know where, or whose it was. It made
+his head ache with a rush of beating blood not to know. And realizing
+suddenly, with a shock like a blow in the face, the violence of his
+desire to punish some person unknown, he saw how intimate a place the
+girl had in his heart. The longing to protect her, to save her from harm
+or treachery, was so intense as to give pain. He felt as if a lasso had
+been thrown round his body, pressing his lungs, roping his arms to his
+sides, holding him helpless; and for a moment the sensation was so
+powerful that he was conscious of a severe effort, as if to break away
+from the spell of a hypnotist.
+
+It was only for a moment that he stood still, though a thousand thoughts
+ran through his head, as in a dream--as in the dreams of last night,
+which had seemed so interminable.
+
+The thing to do was to find out at once what had become of Victoria,
+whom she had seen, who had enticed her to leave the hotel. It would not
+take long to find out these things. At most she could not have been gone
+more than thirteen or fourteen hours.
+
+At first, in his impatience, he forgot Nevill. In two or three minutes
+he had finished dressing, and was ready to start out alone when the
+thought of his friend flashed into his mind. He knew that Nevill Caird,
+acquainted as he was with Algiers, would be able to suggest things that
+he might not think of unaided. It would be better that they two should
+set to work together, even though it might mean a delay of a few minutes
+in the beginning.
+
+He put Victoria's letter in his pocket, meaning to show it to Nevill as
+the quickest way of explaining what had happened and what he wanted to
+do; but before he had got to his friend's door, he knew that he could
+not bear to show the letter. There was nothing in it which Nevill might
+not see, nothing which Victoria might not have wished him to see.
+Nevertheless it was now _his_ letter, and he could not have it read by
+any one.
+
+He knocked at the door, but Nevill did not answer. Then Stephen guessed
+that his friend must be in the garden. One of the under-gardeners,
+working near the house, had seen the master, and told the guest where to
+go. Monsieur Caird was giving medicine to the white peacock, who was not
+well, and in the stable-yard Nevill was found, in the act of pouring
+something down the peacock's throat with a spoon.
+
+When he heard what Stephen had to say, he looked very grave.
+
+"I wish Miss Ray hadn't stopped at that hotel," he said.
+
+"Why?" Stephen asked sharply. "You don't think the people there----"
+
+"I don't know what to think. But I have a sort of idea the brutes knew
+something last night and wouldn't tell."
+
+"They'll have to tell!" exclaimed Stephen.
+
+Nevill did not answer.
+
+"I shall go down at once," Stephen went on.
+
+"Of course I'll go with you," said his friend.
+
+They had forgotten about breakfast. Stopping only to get their hats,
+they started for the town.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+"Don't begin by accusing the landlord of anything," Nevill advised, at
+the hotel door. "He's got too much Arab blood in him to stand that.
+You'd only make him tell you lies. We must seem to know things, and ask
+questions as if we expected him to confirm our knowledge. That may
+confuse him if he wants to lie. He won't be sure what ground to take."
+
+The Arab porter was not in his place, but the proprietor sat in his den
+behind the window. He was drinking a cup of thick, syrupy coffee, and
+soaking a rusk in it. Stephen thought this a disgusting sight, and could
+hardly bear to let his eyes rest on the thick rolls of fat that bulged
+over the man's low collar, all the way round his neck like a yellow
+ruff. Not trusting himself to speak just then, Stephen let Caird begin
+the conversation.
+
+The landlord bowed over his coffee and some letters he was reading, but
+did not trouble to do more than half rise from his chair and sink back
+again, solidly. These fine gentlemen would never be clients of his,
+would never be instrumental in sending any one to him. Why should he put
+himself out?
+
+"We've had a letter from Miss Ray this morning," Nevill announced, after
+a perfunctory exchange of "good days" in French.
+
+The two young men both looked steadily at the proprietor of the hotel,
+as Nevill said these words. The fat man did not show any sign of
+embarrassment, however, unless his expectant gaze became somewhat fixed,
+in an effort to prevent a blink. If this were so, the change was
+practically imperceptible. "She had left here before six o'clock last
+evening, hadn't she?"
+
+"I cannot tell you, Monsieur. It is as I answered yesterday. I do not
+know the time when she went out."
+
+"You must know what she said when she went."
+
+"On the contrary, Monsieur. The young lady did not speak with me
+herself. She sent a message."
+
+"And the message was that she was leaving your hotel?"
+
+"First of all, that she had the intention of dining out. With a lady."
+
+Stephen and Nevill looked at each other. With a lady? Could it be
+possible that Mademoiselle Soubise, interested in the story, had called
+and taken the girl away?
+
+"What then?" went on Caird. "She let you know eventually that she'd made
+up her mind to go altogether?"
+
+"The message was that she might come back in some days. But yes,
+Monsieur, she let me know that for the present she was leaving."
+
+"Yet you didn't tell us this when we called!" exclaimed Stephen. "You
+let us think she would be back later in the evening."
+
+"Pardon me, Monsieur, if you remember, you asked _when_ Mademoiselle
+would be back. I replied that I did not know. It was perfectly true. And
+desolated as I was to inconvenience you, I could not be as frank as my
+heart prompted. My regrettable reserve was the result of Mademoiselle's
+expressed wish. She did not desire to have it known that she was leaving
+the hotel, until she herself chose to inform her friends. As it seems
+you have had a letter, Monsieur, I can now speak freely. Yesterday
+evening I could not."
+
+He looked like the last man whose heart would naturally prompt him to
+frankness, but it seemed impossible to prove, at the moment, that he was
+lying. It was on the cards that Miss Ray might have requested silence as
+to her movements.
+
+Stephen bit his lip to keep back an angry reproach, nevertheless, and
+Caird reflected a moment before answering. Then he said slowly; "Look
+here: we are both friends of Miss Ray, the only ones she has in Algiers,
+except of course my aunt, Lady MacGregor, with whom she lunched
+yesterday. We are afraid she has been imprudently advised by some one,
+as she is young and inexperienced in travelling. Now, if you will find
+out from your servants, and also let us know from your own observation,
+exactly what she did yesterday, after returning from her visit to my
+aunt--what callers she had, if any; to whose house she went, and so
+on--we will make it worth your while. Lady MacGregor" (he made great
+play with his relative's name, as if he wished the landlord to
+understand that two young men were not the girl's only friends in
+Algiers) "is very anxious to see Miss Ray. To spare her anxiety, we
+offer a reward of a thousand francs for reliable information. But we
+must hear to-day, or to-morrow at latest."
+
+As he evolved this proposal, Nevill and Stephen kept their eyes upon the
+man's fat face. He looked politely interested, but not excited, though
+the offer of a thousand francs was large enough to rouse his cupidity,
+it would seem, if he saw his way to earning it.
+
+He shrugged his shoulders with a discouraged air when Nevill finished.
+
+"I can tell you now, Monsieur, all that I know of Mademoiselle's
+movements--all that anybody in the hotel knows, I think. No one came to
+see her, except yourselves. She was out all the morning of yesterday,
+and did not return here till sometime after the _dejeuner_. After that,
+she remained in her room until towards evening. It was the head-waiter
+who brought me the message of which I have told you, and requested the
+bill. At what hour the young lady actually went out, I do not know. The
+porter can probably tell you."
+
+"But her luggage," Stephen cut in quickly. "Where did it go? You can at
+least tell that?"
+
+"Mademoiselle's luggage is still in the hotel. She asked permission to
+store it, all but a dressing-bag of some sort, which, I believe she
+carried with her."
+
+"In a cab?"
+
+"That I do not know. It will be another question for the porter. But
+were I in the place of Monsieur and his friend, I should have no
+uneasiness about the young lady. She is certain to have found
+trustworthy acquaintances, for she appeared to be very sensible."
+
+"We shall be glad if you will let us have a short talk with several of
+your servants," said Nevill--"the _femme de chambre_ who took care of
+Miss Ray's room, and the waiter who served her, as well as the porter."
+
+"Certainly, Monsieur. They shall be brought here," the landlord
+assented. "I will help you by questioning them myself."
+
+"I think we'll do that without your help, thank you," replied Stephen
+drily.
+
+The fat man looked slightly less agreeable, but touched a bell in the
+wall by his desk. A boy answered and was sent to command Angele and
+Ahmed to report at once. Also he was to summon the porter, whether that
+man had finished his breakfast or not. These orders given, Monsieur
+Constant looked at the two Englishmen as if to say, "You see! I put my
+whole staff at your disposition. Does not this prove my good faith? What
+would you have more?"
+
+Angele was Algerian French, evidently of mixed parentage, like all those
+in the Hotel de la Kasbah who were not Arabs. She was middle-aged, with
+a weary, hatchet face, and eyes from which looked a crushed spirit. If
+Stephen and Nevill could have seen Madame Constant, they would hardly
+have wondered at that expression.
+
+Ahmed had negro blood in his veins, and tried to smooth out the
+frizziness of the thick black hair under his fez, with much pomatum,
+which smelled of cheap bergamot.
+
+These two, with the porter who soon appeared, brushing breadcrumbs from
+his jacket, stood in front of the bureau window, waiting to learn the
+purpose for which they had been torn from their various occupations. "It
+is these gentlemen who have something to ask you. They do not wish me to
+interfere," announced the master to his servants, with a gesture. He
+then turned ostentatiously to the sipping of his neglected coffee.
+
+Nevill undertook the cross-questionings, with occasional help from
+Stephen, but they learned no detail of importance. Angele said that she
+had been out when the demoiselle Americaine had left the hotel; but that
+the luggage of Mademoiselle was still in her room. Ahmed had taken a
+message to Monsieur le Patron, about the bill, and had brought back
+Mademoiselle's change, when the note was paid. The porter had carried
+down a large dressing-bag, at what time he could not be sure, but it was
+long before dark. He had asked if Mademoiselle wished him to call a
+_voiture_, but she had said no. She was going out on foot, and would
+presently return in a carriage. This she did. The porter believed it was
+an ordinary cab in which Mademoiselle had driven back, but he had not
+thought much about it, being in a hurry as he took the bag. He was at
+least certain that Mademoiselle had been alone. She had received no
+callers while she was in the hotel, and had not been seen speaking to
+any one: but she had gone out a great deal. Why had he not mentioned in
+the evening that the young lady had driven away with luggage? For the
+sufficient reason that Mademoiselle had particularly requested him to
+say nothing of her movements, should any one come to inquire. It was for
+the same reason that he had been obliged to deceive Monsieur in the
+matter of knocking at her door. And as the porter made this answer, he
+looked far more impudent than he had looked last night, though he was
+smiling blandly.
+
+How much of this was lies and how much truth? Stephen wondered, when,
+having given up hope of learning more from landlord or servants, they
+left the hotel.
+
+Nevill had to confess that he was puzzled. "Their stories hold together
+well enough," he said, "but if they have anything to hide (mind, I don't
+say they have) they're the sort to get up their tale beforehand, so as
+to make it water-tight. We called last night, and that man Constant must
+have known we'd come again, whether we heard from Miss Ray or whether we
+didn't--still more, if we _didn't_. Easy as falling off a log to put the
+servants up to what he wanted them to say, and prepare them for
+questions, without giving them tips under our noses."
+
+"If they know anything that fat old swine doesn't want them to give
+away, we can bribe it out of them," said Stephen, savagely. "Surely
+these Arabs and half-breeds love money."
+
+"Yes, but there's something else they hold higher, most of them, I will
+say in their favour--loyalty to their own people. If this affair has to
+do with Arabs, like as not we might offer all we've got without inducing
+them to speak--except to tell plausible lies and send us farther along
+the wrong track. It's a point of pride with these brown faces. Their own
+above the Roumis, and I'm hanged if I can help respecting them for that,
+lies and all."
+
+"But why should they lie?" broke out Stephen. "What can it be to them?"
+
+"Nothing, in all probability," Nevill tried to soothe him. "The chances
+are, they've told us everything they know, in good faith, and that
+they're just as much in the dark about Miss Ray's movements as we
+are--without the clue we have, knowing as we do why she came to Algiers.
+It's mysterious enough anyhow, what's become of her; but it's more
+likely than not that she kept her own secret. You say she admitted in
+her letter having heard something which she didn't mention to us when
+she was at my house; so she must have got a clue, or what she thought
+was a clue, between the time when we took her from the boat to the Hotel
+de la Kasbah, and the time when she came to us for lunch."
+
+"It's simply hideous!" Stephen exclaimed. "The only way I can see now is
+to call in the police. They must find out where that cab came from and
+where it took Miss Ray. That's the important thing."
+
+"Yes, to get hold of the cabman is the principal thing," said Nevill,
+without any ring of confidence in his voice. "But till we learn the
+contrary, we may as well presume she's safe. As for the police, for her
+sake they must be a last resort."
+
+"Let's go at once and interview somebody. But there's one hope. She may
+have gone to Tlemcen to see that Kabyle maid of Mademoiselle Soubise,
+for herself. Perhaps that's why she didn't encourage us to motor there.
+She's jolly independent."
+
+Nevill's face brightened. "When we've done what we can in Algiers, we
+might run there ourselves in the car, just as I proposed before," he
+said eagerly. "If nothing came of it, we wouldn't be wasting time, you
+know. She warned you not to expect news for a fortnight, so there's no
+use hanging about here in hopes of a letter or telegram. We can go to
+Tlemcen and get back inside five days. What do you say?"
+
+What Stephen might have said was, that they could save the journey by
+telegraphing to Mademoiselle Soubise to ask whether Miss Ray had arrived
+in Tlemcen. But the brightness in Nevill's eyes and the hopefulness in
+his voice kept back the prosaic suggestion.
+
+"I say, by all means let's go to Tlemcen," he answered. "To-morrow,
+after we've found out what we can here about the cab, inquired at the
+railway stations and so on. Besides, we can at least apply to the police
+for information about Ben Halim. If we learn he's alive, and where he is
+living, it may be almost the same as knowing where Miss Ray has gone."
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+Nothing could be heard of Victoria at any place of departure for ships,
+nor at the railway stations. Stephen agreed with Nevill that it would
+not be fair to lay the matter in the hands of the police, lest in some
+way the girl's mysterious "plan" should be defeated. But he could not
+put out of his head an insistent idea that the Arab on board the
+_Charles Quex_ might stand for something in this underhand business.
+Stephen could not rest until he had found out the name of this man, and
+what had become of him after arriving at Algiers. As for the name,
+having appeared on the passenger list, it was easily obtained without
+expert help. The Arab was a certain Sidi Maieddine ben el Hadj Messaoud;
+and when Jeanne Soubise was applied to for information concerning him,
+she was able to learn from her Arab friends that he was a young man of
+good family, the son of an Agha or desert chief, whose douar lay far
+south, in the neighbourhood of El-Aghouat. He was respected by the
+French authorities and esteemed by the Governor of Algiers. Known to be
+ambitious, he was anxious to stand well with the ruling power, and among
+the dissipated, sensuous young Arabs of his class and generation, he was
+looked upon as an example and a shining light. The only fault found in
+him by his own people was that he inclined to be too modern, too French
+in his political opinions; and his French friends found no fault with
+him at all.
+
+It seemed impossible that a person so highly placed would dare risk his
+future by kidnapping a European girl, and Jeanne Soubise advised Stephen
+to turn his suspicions in another direction. Still he would not be
+satisfied, until he had found and engaged a private detective, said to
+be clever, who had lately seceded from a Paris agency and set up for
+himself in Algiers. Through him, Stephen hoped to learn how Sidi
+Maieddine ben el Hadj Messaoud had occupied himself after landing from
+the _Charles Quex_; but all he did learn was that the Arab, accompanied
+by his servant and no one else, had, after calling on the Governor, left
+Algiers immediately for El-Aghouat. At least, he had taken train for
+Bogharie, and was known to have affairs of importance to settle between
+his father the Agha, and the French authorities. Secret inquiries at the
+Hotel de la Kasbah elicited answers, unvaryingly the same. Sidi
+Maieddine ben el Hadj Messaoud was not a patron of the house, and had
+never been seen there. No one answering at all to his description had
+stopped in, or even called at, the hotel.
+
+Of course, the value of such assurances was negatived by the fact that
+Arabs hold together against foreigners, and that if Si Maieddine wished
+to be incognito among his own people, his wish would probably be
+respected, in spite of bribery. Besides, he was rich enough to offer
+bribes on his own part. Circumstantial evidence, however, being against
+the supposition that the man had followed Victoria after landing,
+Stephen abandoned it for the time, and urged the detective, Adolphe
+Roslin, to trace the cabman who had driven Miss Ray away from her hotel.
+Roslin was told nothing about Victoria's private interests, but she was
+accurately described to him, and he was instructed to begin his search
+by finding the squint-eyed cab-driver who had brought the girl to lunch
+at Djenan el Djouad.
+
+Only in the affair of Cassim ben Halim did Stephen and Nevill decide to
+act openly, Nevill using such influence as he had at the Governor's
+palace. They both hoped to learn something which in compassion or
+prudence had been kept from the girl; but they failed, as Victoria had
+failed. If a scandal had driven the Arab captain of Spahis from the
+army and from Algiers, the authorities were not ready to unearth it now
+in order to satisfy the curiosity, legitimate or illegitimate, of two
+Englishmen.
+
+Captain Cassim ben Halim el Cheik el Arab, had resigned from the army on
+account of ill-health, rather more than nine years ago, and having sold
+his house in Algiers had soon after left Algeria to travel abroad. He
+had never returned, and there was evidence that he had been burned to
+death in a great fire at Constantinople a year or two later. The few
+living relatives he had in Algeria believed him to be dead; and a house
+which Ben Halim had owned not far from Bou Saada, had passed into the
+hands of his uncle, Caid of a desert-village in the district. As to Ben
+Halim's marriage with an American girl, nobody knew anything. The
+present Governor and his staff had come to Algiers after his supposed
+death; and if Nevill suspected a deliberate reticence behind certain
+answers to his questions, perhaps he was mistaken. Cassim ben Halim and
+his affairs could now be of little importance to French officials.
+
+It did not take Roslin an hour to produce the squinting cabman; but the
+old Arab was able to prove that he had been otherwise engaged than in
+driving Miss Ray on the evening when she left the Hotel de la Kasbah.
+His son had been ill, and the father had given up work in order to play
+nurse. A doctor corroborated this story, and nothing was to be gained in
+that direction.
+
+Then it was that Nevill almost timidly renewed his suggestion of a visit
+to Tlemcen. They could find out by telegraphing Josette, he admitted,
+whether or no Victoria Ray had arrived, but if she were not already in
+Tlemcen, she might come later, to see Mouni. And even if not, they might
+find out how to reach Saidee, by catechizing the Kabyle girl. Once they
+knew the way to Victoria's sister, it was next best to knowing the way
+to find Victoria herself. This last argument was not to be despised. It
+impressed Stephen, and he consented at once to "try their luck" at
+Tlemcen.
+
+Early in the morning of the second day after the coming of Victoria's
+letter, the two men started in Nevill's yellow car, the merry-eyed
+chauffeur charmed at the prospect of a journey worth doing. He was
+tired, he remarked to Stephen, "de tous ces petits voyages d'une
+demi-heure, comme les tristes promenades des enfants, sans une seule
+aventure."
+
+They had bidden good-bye to Lady MacGregor, and most of the family
+animals, overnight, and it was hardly eight o'clock when they left
+Djenan el Djouad, for the day's journey would be long. A magical light,
+like the light in a dream, gilded the hills of the Sahel; and beyond lay
+the vast plain of the Metidja, a golden bowl, heaped to its swelling rim
+of mountains with the fairest fruits of Algeria.
+
+The car rushed through a world of blossoms, fragrant open country full
+of flowers, and past towns that did their small utmost to bring France
+into the land which France had conquered. Boufarik, with its tall
+monument to a brave French soldier who fought against tremendous odds:
+Blidah, a walled and fortified mixture of garrison and orange-grove,
+with a market-place like a scene in the "Arabian Nights": Orleansville,
+modern and ostentatiously French, built upon ruins of vast antiquity,
+and hotter than all other towns in the dry cup of the Chelif Valley:
+Relizane, Perregaux, and finally Oran (famed still for its old Spanish
+forts), which they reached by moonlight.
+
+Always there were fields embroidered round the edges with wild flowers
+of blue and gold, and rose. Always there were white, dusty roads, along
+which other motors sometimes raced, but oftener there were farm-carts,
+wagons pulled by strings of mules, and horses with horned harness like
+the harness in Provence or on the Spanish border. There were huge,
+two-storied diligences, too, drawn by six or eight black mules, crammed
+under their canvas roofs with white- or brown-robed Arabs, and going
+very fast.
+
+From Oran they might have gone on the same night, reaching the end of
+their journey after a few hours' spin, but Nevill explained that haste
+would be vain. They could not see Mademoiselle Soubise until past nine,
+so better sleep at Oran, start at dawn, and see something of the
+road,--a road more picturesque than any they had travelled.
+
+It was not for Stephen to offer objections, though he was in a mood
+which made him long to push on without stopping, even though there were
+no motive for haste. He was ashamed of the mood, however, and hardly
+understood what it meant, since he had come to Algeria in search of
+peace. When first he landed, and until the day of Victoria's letter, he
+had been enormously interested in the panorama of the East which passed
+before his eyes. He had eagerly noticed each detail of colour and
+strangeness, but now, though the London lethargy was gone, in its place
+had been born a disturbing restlessness which would not let him look
+impersonally at life as at a picture.
+
+Questioning himself as he lay awake in the Oran hotel, with windows open
+to the moonlight, Stephen was forced to admit that the picture was
+blurred because Victoria had gone out of it. Her figure had been in the
+foreground when first he had seen the moving panorama, and all the rest
+had been only a magical frame for her. The charm of her radiant youth,
+and the romance of the errand which had brought her knocking, when he
+knocked, at the door of the East, had turned the glamour into glory. Now
+she had vanished; and as her letter said, it might be that she would
+never come back. The centre of interest was transferred to the unknown
+place where she had gone, and Stephen began to see that his impatience
+to be moving was born of the wish not only to know that she was safe,
+but to see her again.
+
+He was angry with himself at this discovery, and almost he was angry
+with Victoria. If he had not her affairs to worry over, Africa would be
+giving him the rest cure he had expected. He would be calmly enjoying
+this run through beautiful country, instead of chafing to rush on to
+the end. Since, in all probability, he could do the girl no good, and
+certainly she could do him none, he half wished that one or the other
+had crossed from Marseilles to Algiers on a different ship. What he
+needed was peace, not any new and feverish personal interest in life.
+Yes, decidedly he wished that he had never known Victoria Ray.
+
+But the wish did not live long. Suddenly her face, her eyes, came before
+him in the night. He heard her say that she would give him "half her
+star," and his heart grew sick with longing.
+
+"I hope to Heaven I'm not going to love that girl," he said aloud to the
+darkness. If no other woman came into his life, he might be able to get
+through it well enough with Margot. He could hunt and shoot, and do
+other things that consoled men for lack of something better. But if--he
+knew he must not let there be an "if." He must go on thinking of
+Victoria Ray as a child, a charming little friend whom he wished to
+help. Any other thought of her would mean ruin.
+
+Before dawn they were called, and started as the sun showed over the
+horizon.
+
+So they ran into the western country, near to the Morocco border. Dull
+at first, save for its flooding flowers, soon the way wound among dark
+mountains, from whose helmeted heads trailed the long plumes of white
+cascades, and whose feet--like the stone feet of Egyptian kings in
+ruined temples--were bathed by lakes that glimmered in the depths of
+gorges.
+
+It was a land of legends and dreams round about Tlemcen, the "Key of the
+West," city of beautiful mosques. The mountains were honeycombed with
+onyx mines; and rising out of wide plains were crumbling brown
+fortresses, haunted by the ghosts of long-dead Arabs who had buried
+hoards of money in secret hiding-places, and died before they could
+unearth their treasure. Tombs of kings and princes, and koubbahs of
+renowned marabouts, Arab saints, gleamed white, or yellow as old gold,
+under the faded silver of ancient olive trees, in fields that ran red
+with blood of poppies. Minarets jewelled like peacocks' tails soared
+above the tops of blossoming chestnuts. On low trees or bushes, guarding
+the graves of saints, fluttered many-coloured rags, left there by
+faithful men and women who had prayed at the shrine for health or
+fortune; and for every foot of ground there was some wild tale of war or
+love, an echo from days so long ago that history had mingled
+inextricably with lore of fairies.
+
+Nevill was excited and talkative as they drove into the old town, once
+the light of western Algeria. They passed in by the gateway of Oran, and
+through streets that tried to be French, but contrived somehow to be
+Arab. Nevill told stories of the days when Tlemcen had queened it over
+the west, and coined her own money; of the marabouts after whom the most
+famous mosques were named: Sidi-el-Haloui, the confectioner-saint from
+Seville, who preached to the children and made them sweetmeats; of the
+lawyer-saint, Sidi Aboul Hassan from Arabia, and others. But he did not
+speak of Josette Soubise, until suddenly he touched Stephen's arm as
+they passed the high wall of a garden.
+
+"There, that's where _she_ teaches," he said; and it was not necessary
+to add a name.
+
+Stephen glanced at him quickly. Nevill looked very young. His eyes no
+longer seemed to gaze at far-away things which no one else could see.
+All his interests were centred near at hand.
+
+"Don't you mean to stop?" Stephen asked, surprised that the car went on.
+
+"No; school's begun. We'll have to wait till the noon interval, and even
+then we shan't be allowed indoors, for a good many of the girls are over
+twelve, the age for veiling--_hadjabah_, they call it--when they're shut
+up, and no man, except near relations, can see their faces. Several of
+the girls are already engaged. I believe there's one, not fourteen,
+who's been divorced twice, though she's still interested in dolls.
+Weird, isn't it? Josette will talk with us in the garden. But we'll
+have time now to take rooms at the hotel and wash off the dust. To eat
+something too, if you're hungry."
+
+But Stephen was no hungrier than Nevill, whose excitement, perhaps, was
+contagious.
+
+The hotel was in a wide _place_, so thickly planted with acacias and
+chestnut trees as to resemble a shabby park. An Arab servant showed them
+to adjoining rooms, plain but clean, and a half-breed girl brought tins
+of hot water and vases of syringas. As for roses, she said in hybrid
+French, no one troubled about them--there were too many in Tlemcen. Ah!
+but it was a land of plenty! The gentlemen would be happy, and wish to
+stay a long time. There was meat and good wine for almost nothing, and
+beggars need not ask twice for bread--fine, white bread, baked as the
+Moors baked, across the border.
+
+As they bathed and dressed more carefully than they had dressed for the
+early-morning start, strange sounds came up from the square below, which
+was full of people, laughing, quarrelling, playing games, striking
+bargains, singing songs. Arab bootblacks clamoured for custom at the
+hotel-door, pushing one another aside, fiercely. Little boys in
+embroidered green or crimson jackets sat on the hard, yellow earth,
+playing an intricate game like "jack stones," and disputed so violently
+that men and even women stopped to remonstrate, and separate them; now a
+grave, prosperous Jew dressed in red (Jewish mourning in the province of
+Oran); then an old Kabyle woman of the plains, in a short skirt of fiery
+orange scarcely hiding the thin sticks of legs that were stained with
+henna half-way up the calves, like painted stockings. Moors from across
+the frontier--fierce men with eagle faces and striped cloaks--grouped
+together, whispering and gesticulating, stared at with suspicion by the
+milder Arabs, who attributed all the crimes of Tlemcen to the wild men
+from over the border. Black giants from the Negro quarter kept together,
+somewhat humble, yet laughing and happy. Slender, coffee-coloured youths
+drove miniature cows from Morocco, or tiny black donkeys, heavily laden
+and raw with sores, colliding with well-dressed Turks, who had the air
+of merchants, and looked as if they could not forget that Tlemcen had
+long been theirs before the French dominion. Bored but handsome officers
+rode through the square on Arab horses graceful as deer, and did not
+even glance at passing women, closely veiled in long white haicks.
+
+It was lively and amusing in the sunlight; but just as the two friends
+were ready to go out, the sky was swept with violet clouds. A storm
+threatened fiercely, but they started out despite its warning, turning
+deaf ears to the importunities of a Koulougli guide who wished to show
+them the mosques, "ver' cheap." He followed them, but they hurried on,
+pushing so sturdily through a flock of pink-headed sheep, which poured
+in a wave over the pavement, that they might have out-run the rain had
+they not been brought to a sudden standstill by a funeral procession.
+
+It was the strangest sight Stephen had seen yet, and he hardly noticed
+that, in a burst of sunlight, rain had begun to pelt down through the
+canopy of trees.
+
+The band of figures in brown burnouses marched quickly, with a sharp
+rustling of many slippered feet moving in unison, and golden spears of
+rain seemed to pierce the white turbans of the men who carried the bier.
+As they marched, fifty voices rose and fell wildly in a stirring chant,
+exciting and terrible as the beat-beat of a tom-tom, sometimes a shout
+of barbaric triumph, sometimes a mourning wail. Then, abruptly, a halt
+was made in the glittering rain, and the bearers were changed, because
+of the luck it brings Arab men to carry the corpse of a friend.
+
+Just in front of the two Englishmen the body rested for an instant,
+stretched out long and piteously flat, showing its thin shape through
+the mat of woven straw which wrapped it, only the head and feet being
+wound with linen. So, by and by, it would be laid, without a coffin, in
+its shallow grave in the Arab cemetery, out on the road to Sidi
+Bou-Medine.
+
+There were but a few seconds of delay. Then the new bearers lifted the
+bier by its long poles, and the procession moved swiftly, feverishly, on
+again, the wild chant trailing behind as it passed, like a torn
+war-banner. The thrill of the wailing crept through Stephen's veins, and
+roused an old, childish superstition which an Irish nurse had implanted
+in him when he was a little boy. According to Peggy Brian it was "a
+cruel bad omen" to meet a funeral, especially after coming into a new
+town. "Wait for a corpse," said she, "an' ye'll wait while yer luck goes
+by."
+
+"They're singing a song in praise of the dead man's good deeds, and of
+triumph for the joys he'll know in Paradise," explained Nevill. "It's
+only the women who weep and scratch their faces when those they love
+have died. The men rejoice, or try to. Soon, they are saying, this one
+who has gone will be in gardens fair as the gardens of Allah Himself,
+where sit beautiful houris, in robes woven of diamonds, sapphires, and
+rubies, each gem of which has an eye of its own that glitters through a
+vapour of smouldering ambergris, while fountains send up pearly spray in
+the shade of fragrant cedars."
+
+"No wonder the Mohammedan poor don't fear death, if they expect to
+exchange their hovels for such quarters," said Stephen. "I wish I
+understood Arabic."
+
+"It's a difficult language to keep in your mind, and I don't know it
+well," Nevill answered. "But Jeanne and Josette Soubise speak it like
+natives; and the other day when Miss Ray lunched with us, I thought her
+knowledge of Arabic wonderful for a person who'd picked it up from
+books."
+
+Stephen did not answer. He wished that Nevill had not brought the
+thought of Victoria into his mind at the moment when he was recalling
+his old nurse's silly superstition. Victoria laughed at superstitions,
+but he was not sure that he could laugh, in this barbaric land where it
+seemed that anything might happen.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+Nevill had not sent word to Josette Soubise that he was coming to see
+her. He wished to make the experiment of a surprise, although he
+insisted that Stephen should be with him. At the door in the high white
+wall of the school-garden, he asked an unveiled crone of a porteress to
+say merely that two gentlemen had called.
+
+"She'll suspect, I'm afraid," he muttered to Stephen as they waited,
+"even if her sister hasn't written that I thought of turning up. But she
+won't have time to invent a valid excuse, if she disapproves of the
+visit."
+
+In three or four minutes the old woman hobbled back, shuffling slippered
+feet along the tiled path between the gate and the low whitewashed
+house. Mademoiselle requested that ces Messieurs would give themselves
+the pain of walking into the garden. She would descend almost at once.
+
+They obeyed, Nevill stricken dumb by the thought of his coming
+happiness. Stephen would have liked to ask a question or two about the
+school, but he refrained, sure that if Nevill were forced into speech he
+would give random answers.
+
+This was being in love--the real thing! And Stephen dimly envied his
+friend, even though Caird seemed to have small hope of winning the girl.
+It was far better to love a woman you could never marry, than to be
+obliged to marry one you could never love.
+
+He imagined himself waiting to welcome Margot, beautiful Margot,
+returning from Canada to him. He would have to go to Liverpool, of
+course. She would be handsomer than ever, probably, and he could
+picture their meeting, seven or eight weeks from now. Would his face
+wear such an expression as Nevill's wore at this moment? He knew well
+that it would not.
+
+"She is coming!" said Nevill, under his breath.
+
+The door of the schoolhouse was opening, and Nevill moved forward as a
+tall and charming young woman appeared, like a picture in a dark frame.
+
+She was slender, with a tiny waist, though her bust was full, and her
+figure had the intensely feminine curves which artists have caused to be
+associated with women of the Latin races; her eyes were like those of
+her elder sister, but larger and more brilliant. So big and splendid
+they were that they made the smooth oval of her olive face seem small.
+Quantities of heavy black hair rippled away from a forehead which would
+have been square if the hair had not grown down in a point like a Marie
+Stuart cap. Her chin was pointed, with a deep cleft in the middle, and
+the dimples Nevill had praised flashed suddenly into being, as if a ray
+of sunshine had touched her pale cheeks.
+
+"Mon bon ami!" she exclaimed, holding out both hands in token of
+comradeship, and putting emphasis on her last word.
+
+"She's determined the poor chap shan't forget they're only friends,"
+thought Stephen, wishing that Caird had not insisted upon his presence
+at this first meeting. And in a moment he was being introduced to
+Mademoiselle Josette Soubise.
+
+"Did I surprise you?" asked Nevill, looking at her as if he could never
+tear his eyes away, though he spoke in an ordinary tone.
+
+"Ah, I know you want me to say 'yes'," she laughed. "I'd like to tell a
+white fib, to please you. But no, I am not quite surprised, for my
+sister wrote that you might come, and why. What a pity you had this long
+journey for nothing. My Kabyle maid, Mouni, has just gone to her home,
+far away in a little village near Michelet, in la Grande Kabylia. She is
+to be married to her cousin, the chief's son, whom she has always
+loved--but there were obstacles till now."
+
+"Obstacles can always be overcome," broke in Nevill.
+
+Josette would not understand any hidden meaning. "It is a great pity
+about Mouni," she went on. "Only four days ago she left. I gave her the
+price of the journey, for a wedding present. She is a good girl, and I
+shall miss her. But of course you can write to ask her questions. She
+reads a little French."
+
+"Perhaps we shall go ourselves," Nevill answered, glancing at Stephen's
+disappointed face. "For I know Miss Ray can't be here, or you would have
+said so."
+
+"No, she is not here," echoed Josette, looking astonished. "Jeanne wrote
+about the American young lady searching for her sister, but she did not
+say she might visit Tlemcen."
+
+"We hoped she would, that's all," explained Nevill. "She's left her
+hotel in Algiers in a mysterious way, not telling where she meant to go,
+although she assured us she'd be safe, and we needn't worry. However,
+naturally we do worry."
+
+"But of course. I see how it is." The dimples were gone, and the
+brightness of Josette's eyes was overcast. She looked at Nevill
+wistfully, and a flash of sympathetic understanding enlightened Stephen.
+No doubt she was generously solicitous for the fate of Victoria Ray, but
+there was something different from solicitude in her darkening eyes.
+
+"Good! she's jealous. She thinks Nevill's heart's been caught in the
+rebound," he told himself. But Nevill remained modestly unconscious.
+
+"Miss Ray may arrive yet," he suggested. "We'd better stop to-day,
+anyhow, on the chance; don't you think so, Stephen? and then, if there's
+no news of her when we get back to Algiers, go on to interview the bride
+in Grand Kabylia?"
+
+Stephen had not the heart to dispute the wisdom of this decision, though
+he was sure that, since Victoria was not in Tlemcen now, she would never
+come.
+
+"So you think we've made a long journey for nothing, Mademoiselle
+Josette?" said Nevill.
+
+"But yes. So it turns out."
+
+"Seeing an old friend doesn't count, then?"
+
+"Oh, well, that can seem but little--in comparison to what you hoped.
+Still, you can show Monsieur Knight the sights. He may not guess how
+beautiful they are. Have you told him there are things here as wonderful
+as in the Alhambra itself, things made by the Moors who were in
+Granada?"
+
+"I've told him about all I care most for in Tlemcen," returned Nevill,
+with that boyish demureness he affected sometimes. "But I'm not a
+competent cicerone. If you want Knight to do justice to the wonders of
+this place, you'll have to be our guide. We've got room for several
+large-sized chaperons in the car. Do come. Don't say you won't! I feel
+as if I couldn't stand it."
+
+His tone was so desperate that Josette laughed some of her brightness
+back again. "Then I suppose I mustn't refuse. And I should like
+going--after school hours. Madame de Vaux, who is the bride of a French
+officer, will join us, I think, for she and I are friends, and besides,
+she has had no chance to see things yet. She has been busy settling in
+her quarters--and I have helped her a little."
+
+"When can you start?" asked Nevill, enraptured at the prospect of a few
+happy hours snatched from fate.
+
+"Not till five."
+
+His face fell. "But that's cruel!"
+
+"It would be cruel to my children to desert them sooner. Don't forget I
+am malema--malema before all. And there will be time for seeing nearly
+everything. We can go to Sidi Bou-Medine, afterwards to the ruins of
+Mansourah by sunset. Meanwhile, show your friend the things near by,
+without me; the old town, with its different quarters for the Jews, the
+Arabs, and the Negroes. He will like the leather-workers and the bakers,
+and the weavers of haicks. And you will not need me for the Grande
+Mosquee, or for the Mosquee of Aboul Hassan, where Monsieur Knight will
+see the most beautiful mihrab in all the world. When he has looked at
+that, he cannot be sorry he has come to Tlemcen; and if he has regrets,
+Sidi Bou-Medine will take them away."
+
+"Has Sidi Bou-Medine the power to cure all sorrows?" Stephen asked,
+smiling.
+
+"Indeed, yes. Why, Sidi Bou-Medine himself is one of the greatest
+marabouts. You have but to take a pinch of earth from his tomb, and make
+a wish upon it. Only one wish, but it is sure to be granted, whatever it
+may be, if you keep the packet of earth afterwards, and wear it near
+your heart."
+
+"What a shame you never told me that before. The time I've wasted!"
+exclaimed Nevill. "But I'll make up for it now. Thank Heaven I'm
+superstitious."
+
+They had forgotten Stephen, and laughing into each other's eyes, were
+perfectly happy for the moment. Stephen was glad, yet he felt vaguely
+resentful that they could forget the girl for whose sake the journey to
+Tlemcen had ostensibly been undertaken. They were ready to squander
+hours in a pretence of sightseeing, hours which might have been spent in
+getting back to Algiers and so hastening on the expedition to Grand
+Kabylia. How selfish people in love could be! And charming as Josette
+Soubise was, it seemed strange to Stephen that she should stand for
+perfection to a man who had seen Victoria Ray.
+
+Nevill was imploring Josette to lunch with them, chaperoned by Madame de
+Vaux, and Josette was firmly refusing. Then he begged that they might
+leave money as a gift for the malema's scholars, and this offer she
+accepted, only regretting that the young men could not be permitted to
+give the _cadeau_ with their own hands. "My girls are so pretty," she
+said, "and it is a picture to see them at their embroidery frames, or
+the carpet making, their fingers flying, their eyes always on the
+coloured designs, which are the same as their ancestresses used a
+century ago, before the industry declined. I love them all, the dear
+creatures, and they love me, though I am a Roumia and an unbeliever. I
+ought to be happy in their affection, helping them to success. And now I
+must run back to my flock, or the lambs will be getting into mischief.
+Au revoir--five o'clock. You will find me waiting with Madame de Vaux."
+
+At luncheon, in the bare, cool dining-room of the hotel, Nevill was like
+a man in a dream. He sat half smiling, not knowing what he ate, hardly
+conscious of the talk and laughter of the French officers at another
+table. Just at the last, however, he roused himself. "I can't help being
+happy. I see her so seldom. And I keep turning over in my mind what new
+arguments in favour of myself I can bring forward when I propose this
+afternoon--for of course I shall propose, if you and the bride will
+kindly give me the chance. I know she won't have me--but I always do
+propose, on the principle that much dropping may wear away a stone."
+
+"Suppose you break the habit just for once," ventured Stephen.
+
+Nevill looked anxious. "Why, do you think the case is hopeless?"
+
+"On the contrary. But--well, I can't help feeling it would do you more
+good to show an absorbing interest in Miss Ray's affairs, this time."
+
+"So I have an absorbing interest," Nevill protested, remorsefully. "I
+don't want you to suppose I mean to neglect them. I assure you----"
+
+Stephen laughed, though a little constrainedly. "Don't apologise, my
+dear fellow. Miss Ray's no more to me than to you, except that I
+happened to make her acquaintance a few days sooner."
+
+"I know," Nevill agreed, mildly. Then, after a pause, which he earnestly
+occupied in crumbling bread. "Only I'm head over ears in love with
+another woman, while you're free to think of her, or any other girl,
+every minute of the day."
+
+Stephen's face reddened. "I am not free," he said in a low voice.
+
+"I beg your pardon. I hoped you were. I still think--you ought to be."
+Nevill spoke quickly, and without giving Stephen time to reply, he
+hurried on; "Miss Ray may arrive here yet. Or she may have found out
+about Mouni in some other way, and have gone to see her in Grand
+Kabylia--who knows?"
+
+"If she were merely going there to inquire about her sister, why should
+she have to make a mystery of her movements?"
+
+"Well, it's on the cards that whatever she wanted to do, she didn't care
+to be bothered with our troublesome advice and offers of help. Our
+interest was, perhaps, too pressing."
+
+"Mademoiselle Soubise is of that opinion, anyhow--in regard to you,"
+remarked Stephen.
+
+"What--that angel _jealous_? It's too good to be true! But I'll relieve
+her mind of any such idea."
+
+"If you'll take one more tip from me, I'd leave her mind alone for the
+present."
+
+"Why, you flinty-hearted reprobate?"
+
+"Well, I'm no authority. But all's fair in love and war. And sometimes
+an outsider sees features of the game which the players don't see."
+
+"That's true, anyhow," Nevill agreed. "Let's _both_ remember that--eh?"
+and he got up from the table abruptly, as if to keep Stephen from
+answering, or asking what he meant.
+
+They had several empty hours, between the time of finishing luncheon,
+and five o'clock, when they were to meet Mademoiselle Soubise and her
+chaperon, so they took Josette's advice and went sightseeing.
+
+Preoccupied as he was, Stephen could not be indifferent to the
+excursion, for Tlemcen is the shrine of gems in Arab architecture, only
+equalled at Granada itself. Though he was so ignorant still of eastern
+lore, that he hardly knew the meaning of the word mihrab, the arched
+recess looking towards Mecca, in the Mosque of the lawyer-saint Aboul
+Hassan, held him captive for many moments with its beauty. Its
+ornamentation was like the spread tail of Nevill's white peacock, or the
+spokes of a silver wheel incrusted with an intricate pattern in jewels.
+Not a mosque in town, or outside the gates, did they leave unvisited,
+lest, as Nevill said, Josette Soubise should ask embarrassing questions;
+and the last hour of probation they gave to the old town. There, as they
+stopped to look in at the workshops of the weavers, and the bakers, or
+stared at the hands of Fatma-Zora painted in henna on the doors of Jews
+and True Believers, crowds of ragged boys and girls followed them,
+laughing and begging as gaily as if begging were a game. Only this band
+of children, and heavily jewelled girls of Morocco or Spain, with
+unveiled, ivory faces and eyes like suns, looked at the Englishmen, as
+Stephen and Nevill passed the isolated blue and green houses, in front
+of which the women sat in a bath of sunshine. Arabs and Jews walked by
+proudly, and did not seem to see that there were strangers in their
+midst.
+
+When at last it was time to go back to the hotel, and motor to the Ecole
+Indigene, Josette was ready, plainly dressed in black. She introduced
+her friends to the bride, Madame de Vaux, a merry young woman, blonde by
+nature and art, who laughed always, like the children in the Arab town.
+She admired Knight far more than Caird, because she liked tall, dark
+men, her own husband being red and stout. Therefore, she would have been
+delighted to play the tactful chaperon, if Josette had not continually
+broken in upon her duet with Stephen, ordering them both to look at this
+or that.
+
+The country through which they drove after passing out of the gate in
+the modern French wall, might have been the south of England in
+midsummer, had it not been peopled by the dignified Arab figures which
+never lost their strangeness and novelty for Stephen. Here, in the west
+country, they glittered in finery like gorgeous birds: sky-blue jacket,
+scarlet fez and sash glowing behind a lacework of green branches netted
+with flowers, where a man hoed his fields or planted his garden.
+
+Hung with a tapestry of roses, immense brown walls lay crumbling--ruined
+gateways, and shattered traces of the triple fortifications which
+defended Tlemcen when the Almohades were in power. By a clear rill of
+water gushing along the roadside, a group of delicate broken arches
+marked the tomb of the "flying saint," Sidi Abou Ishad el Taiyer, an
+early Wright or Bleriot who could swim through the air; and though in
+his grave a chest of gold was said to be buried, no one--not even the
+lawless men from over the border--had ever dared dig for the treasure.
+Close by, under the running water, a Moor had found a huge lump of
+silver which must have lain for no one could tell how many years,
+looking like a grey stone under a sheet of glass; nevertheless, the
+neighbouring tomb had still remained inviolate, for Sidi Abou Ishad el
+Taiyer was a much respected saint, even more loved than the marabout who
+sent rain for the gift of a sacrificed fowl, or he who cured sore eyes
+in answer to prayer. Only Sidi Bou-Medine himself was more important;
+and presently (because the distance was short, though the car had
+travelled slowly) they came to the footpath in the hills which must be
+ascended on foot, to reach the shrine of the powerful saint, friend of
+great Sidi Abd el Kader.
+
+Already they could see the minaret of the mosque, high above the mean
+village which clustered round it, rising as a flame rises against a
+windless sky, while beneath this shining Giralda lay half-ruined houses
+rejuvenated with whitewash or coats of vivid blue. They passed up a
+narrow street redeemed from sordidness by a domed koubbah or two; and
+from the roofed balconies of cafes maures, Arabs looked down on them
+with large, dreamy eyes like clouded stars. All the glory and pride of
+the village was concentrated in the tomb and beautiful mosque of the
+saint whose name falls sweet on the ear as the music of a summer storm,
+the tinkle and boom of rain and thunder coming together: Sidi
+Bou-Medine.
+
+Toddling girls with henna-dyed hair, and miniature brown men, like
+blowing flower-petals in scarlet, yellow, and blue, who had swarmed up
+the street after the Roumis, stopped at the portals of the mosque and
+the sacred tomb. But there was a humming in the air like the song of
+bees, which floated rhythmically out from the zaouia, the school in the
+mosque where many boys squatted cross-legged before the aged Taleb who
+taught the Koran; bowing, swaying towards him, droning out the words of
+the Prophet, some half asleep, nodding against the onyx pillars.
+
+In the shadow of the mosque it was cool, though the crown of the
+minaret, gemmed with priceless tiles from Fez, blazed in the sun's rays
+as if it were on fire. Into this coolness the four strangers passed,
+involuntarily hushing their voices in the portico of decorated walls and
+hanging honeycombs of stucco whence, through great doors of ancient,
+greenish bronze (doors said to have arrived miraculously from across the
+sea), they found their way into a courtyard open to the sky, where a
+fountain waved silver plumes over a marble basin. Two or three dignified
+Arab men bathed their feet in preparation for the afternoon prayer, and
+tired travellers from a distance slept upon mats of woven straw, spread
+on tiles like a pavement of precious stones, or dozed in the little
+cells made for the students who came in the grand old days. The sons of
+Islam were reverent, yet happy and at home on the threshold of Allah's
+house, and Stephen began to understand, as Nevill and Josette already
+understood, something of the vast influence of the Mohammedan religion.
+Only Madame de Vaux remained flippant. In the car, she had laughed at
+the women muffled in their haicks, saying that as the men of Tlemcen
+were so tyrannical about hiding female faces, it was strange they did
+not veil the hens and cows. In the shadowy mosque, with its five naves,
+she giggled at the yellow babouches out of which her little high-heeled
+shoes slipped, and threatened to recite a French verse under the
+delicate arch of the pale blue mihrab.
+
+But Stephen was impressed with the serene beauty of the Moslem temple,
+where, between labyrinths of glimmering pillars like young ash trees in
+moonlight, across vistas of rainbow-coloured rugs like flower-beds, the
+worshippers looked out at God's blue sky instead of peering through
+thick, stained-glass windows; where the music was the murmur of running
+water, instead of sounding organ-pipes; and where the winds of heaven
+bore away the odours of incense before they staled. He wondered whether
+a place of prayer like this--white-walled, severely simple despite the
+veil-like adornment of arabesques--did not more tend to religious
+contemplation than a cathedral of Italy or Spain, with its bloodstained
+Christs, its Virgins, and its saints. Did this Arab art perhaps more
+truly express the fervour of faith which needs no extraneous
+elaborations, because it has no doubts? But presently calling up a
+vision of the high, dim aisles, the strong yet soaring columns, all the
+mysterious purity of gothic cathedrals, he convinced himself that, after
+all, the old monkish architects had the real secret of mystic
+aspirations in the human heart.
+
+When Josette and Nevill led the way out of the mosque, Stephen was in
+the right mood for the tomb of that ineffable saint of Islam, Shaoib ibn
+Husain el Andalousi, Sidi Bou-Medine. He was almost ready to believe in
+the extraordinary virtue of the earth which had the honour of covering
+the marabout's remains. It annoyed him that Madame de Vaux should laugh
+at the lowness of the doorway under which they had to stoop, and that
+she should make fun of the suspended ostrich eggs, the tinselled
+pictures and mirrors, the glass lustres and ancient lanterns, the spilt
+candle-wax of many colours, or the old, old flags which covered the
+walls and the high structure of carved wood which was the saint's last
+resting-place.
+
+A grave Arab who approved their air of respect, gave a pinch of earth
+each to Stephen and Nevill, wrapped in paper, repeating Josette's
+assurance that their wishes would be granted. It would be necessary, he
+added, to reflect long before selecting the one desire of the soul
+which was to be put above all others. But Nevill had no hesitation. He
+wished instantly, and tucked the tiny parcel away in the pocket nearest
+his heart.
+
+"And you, Monsieur?" asked Madame de Vaux, smiling at Stephen. "It does
+not appear easy to choose. Ah, now you have decided! Will you tell me
+what you wished?"
+
+"I think I mustn't do that. Saints favour those who can keep secrets,"
+said Stephen, teasingly. Yet he made his wish in earnest, after turning
+over several in his mind. To ask for his own future happiness, in spite
+of obstacles which would prove the marabout's power, was the most
+intelligent thing to do; but somehow the desire clamouring loudest at
+the moment was for Victoria, and the rest might go ungranted.
+
+"I wish that I may find her safe and happy," he said over the pinch of
+earth before putting it into what Josette named his "poche du coeur."
+
+"As for me," remarked Madame de Vaux, "I will not derange any of their
+Moslem saints, thank you. I have more influential ones of my own, who
+might be annoyed. And it is stuffy in this tomb. I am sure it is full of
+microbes. Let us go and see the ruined palace of the Black Sultan who,
+Josette says, founded everything here that was worth founding. That
+there should be a Black Sultan sounds like a fairy tale. And I like
+fairy tales next to bon-bons and new hats."
+
+So they made their pilgrimage to the third treasure of the hill-village;
+and then away to where the crumbling walls of Mansourah, and that great
+tower, which is one of the noblest Moorish relics in all Algeria, rise
+out of a flowering plain.
+
+Cherry blossoms fell in scented snow over their heads as the car ran
+back to Tlemcen, and out once more, through the Moorish Porte de Fez,
+past the reservoir built by a king for an Arab beauty to sail her boats
+upon. Sunset was near, and the sky blazed red as if Mansourah burned
+with ten thousand torches.
+
+The way led through vast blue lakes which were fields of periwinkles,
+and along the road trotted pink-robed children, whose heads were wrapped
+in kerchiefs of royal purple. They led sheep with golden-gleaming
+fleece, and at the tombs of marabouts they paused to pray, among groups
+of kneeling figures in long white cloaks and turbans. All the atmosphere
+swam with changing colours, such as come and go in the heart of a
+fire-opal.
+
+Very beautiful must have been the city of Mansourah, named after
+murdered Sultan el Mansour, the Victorious, who built its vast
+fortifications, its mosques and vanished palaces, its caravanserais and
+baths, in the seven years when he was besieging Tlemcen. And still are
+its ruins beautiful, after more than five centuries of pillage and
+destruction. Josette Soubise loved the place, and often came to it when
+her day's work was done, therefore she was happy showing it to Nevill
+and--incidentally--to the others.
+
+The great brown wall pricked with holes like an enormous wasp's nest,
+the ruined watch-towers, and the soaring, honey-coloured minaret with
+its intricate carvings, its marble pillars, its tiles and inset enamels
+iridescent as a Brazilian beetle's wing, all gleamed with a splendour
+that was an enchantment, in the fire of sunset. The scent of aromatic
+herbs, such as Arabs love and use to cure their fevers, was bitter-sweet
+in the fall of the dew, and birds cried to each other from hidden nests
+among the ruins.
+
+"Mussulmans think that the spirits of their dead fly back to visit their
+own graves, or places they have loved, in the form of birds," said
+Josette, looking up at the minaret, large marguerites with orange
+centres embroidering her black dress, as she stood knee-deep in their
+waving gold. "I half believe that these birds among the lovely carvings
+of the tower are the priests who used to read the Koran in the mosque,
+and could not bear to leave it. The birds in the walls are the soldiers
+who defended the city."
+
+As she spoke there was a flight of wings, black against the rose and
+mauve of the sunset. "There!" she exclaimed. "Arabs would call that an
+omen! To see birds flying at sundown has a special meaning for them. If
+a man wanted something, he would know that he could get it only by going
+in the direction the birds take."
+
+"Which way are they flying?" asked Stephen.
+
+All four followed the flight of wings with their eyes.
+
+"They are going south-east," said Nevill.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+If Victoria Ray had accepted Nevill Caird's invitation to be Lady
+MacGregor's guest and his, at Djenan el Djouad, many things might have
+been different. But she had wished to be independent, and had chosen to
+go to the Hotel de la Kasbah.
+
+When she went down to dinner in the _salle a manger_, shortly after
+seven o'clock on the evening of her arrival, only two other tables were
+occupied, for it was late in the season, and tourists were leaving
+Algiers.
+
+No one who had been on board the _Charles Quex_ was there, and Victoria
+saw that she was the only woman in the room. At one table sat a happy
+party of Germans, apparently dressed from head to foot by Dr. Jaeger,
+and at another were two middle-aged men who had the appearance of
+commercial travellers. By and by an elderly Jew came in, and dinner had
+reached the stage of peppery mutton ragout, when the door opened again.
+Victoria's place was almost opposite, and involuntarily, she glanced up.
+The handsome Arab who had crossed from Marseilles on the boat saluted
+her with grave courtesy as he met her look, and passed on, casting down
+his eyes. He was shown to a table at some distance, the manner of the
+Arab waiter who conducted him being so impressive, that Victoria was
+sure the newcomer must be a person of importance.
+
+He was beautifully dressed, as before, and the Germans stared at him
+frankly, but he did not seem to be aware of their existence. Special
+dishes arrived for him, and evidently he had been expected.
+
+There was but one waiter to serve the meal, and not only did he somewhat
+neglect the other diners for the sake of the latest arrival, but the
+landlord appeared, and stood talking with the Arab while he ate, with an
+air of respect and consideration.
+
+The Germans, who had nearly finished their dinner when Victoria came in,
+now left the table, using their toothpicks and staring with the
+open-eyed interest of children at the picturesque figure near the door.
+The commercial travellers and the Jew followed. Victoria also was ready
+to go, when the landlord came to her table, bowing.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he said, in French, "I am charged with a message from an
+Arab gentleman of distinction, who honours my house by his presence.
+Sidi Maieddine ben el Hadj Messaoud is the son of an Agha, and therefore
+he is a lord, and Mademoiselle need have no uneasiness that he would
+condescend to an indiscretion. He instructs me to present his respectful
+compliments to Mademoiselle, whom he saw on the ship which brought him
+home, after carrying through a mission in France. Seeing that
+Mademoiselle travelled alone, and intends perhaps to continue doing so,
+according to the custom of her courageous and intelligent countrywomen,
+Sidi Maieddine wishes to say that, as a person who has influence in his
+own land, he would be pleased to serve Mademoiselle, if she would honour
+him by accepting his offer in the spirit in which it is made: that is,
+as the chivalrous service of a gentleman to a lady. He will not dream of
+addressing Mademoiselle, unless she graciously permits."
+
+As the landlord talked on, Victoria glanced across the room at the Arab,
+and though his eyes were bent upon his plate, he seemed to feel the
+girl's look, as if by a kind of telepathy, instantly meeting it with
+what seemed to her questioning eyes a sincere and disarming gaze.
+
+"Tell Sidi Maieddine ben el Hadj Messaoud that I thank him," she
+answered, rewarded for her industry in keeping up French, which she
+spoke fluently, with the Parisian accent she had caught as a child in
+Paris. "It is possible that he can help me, and I should be glad to talk
+with him."
+
+"In that case Si Maieddine would suggest that Mademoiselle grant him a
+short interview in the private sitting-room of my wife, Madame Constant,
+who will be honoured," the fat man replied promptly. "It would not be
+wise for Mademoiselle to be seen by strangers talking with the
+distinguished gentleman, whose acquaintance she is to make. This,
+largely for her own sake; but also for his, or rather, for the sake of
+certain diplomatic interests which he is appointed to carry out.
+Officially, he is supposed to have left Algiers to-day. And it is by his
+permission that I mention the matter to Mademoiselle."
+
+"I will do whatever you think best," said Victoria, who was too glad of
+the opportunity to worry about conventionalities. She was so young, and
+inexperienced in the ways of society, that a small transgression against
+social laws appeared of little importance to a girl situated as she was.
+
+"Would the time immediately after dinner suit Mademoiselle, for Si
+Maieddine to pay his respects?"
+
+Victoria answered that she would be pleased to talk with Si Maieddine as
+soon as convenient to him, and Monsieur Constant hurried away to prepare
+his wife. While he was absent the Arab did not again look at Victoria,
+and she understood that this reserve arose from delicacy. Her heart
+began to beat, and she felt that the way to her sister might be opening
+at last. The fact that she did feel this, made her tell herself that it
+must be true. Instinct was not given for nothing!
+
+She thought, too, of Stephen Knight. He would be glad to-morrow, when
+meeting her at luncheon in his friend's house, to hear good news.
+Already she had been to see Jeanne Soubise, in the curiosity-shop, and
+had bought a string of amber prayer-beads. She had got an introduction
+to the Governor from the American Consul, whom she had visited before
+unpacking, lest the consular office should be closed for the day; and
+she had obtained an appointment at the palace for the next morning; but
+all that was not much to tell Mr. Knight. It seemed to her that even in
+a few hours she ought to have accomplished more. Now, however, the key
+of the door which opened into the golden silence might be waiting for
+her hand.
+
+In three or four minutes the landlord came back, and begged to show her
+his wife's _petit salon_. This time as she passed the Arab she bowed,
+and gave him a grateful smile. He rose, and stood with his head slightly
+bent until she had gone out, remaining in the dining-room until the
+landlord returned to say that he was expected by Mademoiselle.
+
+"Remember," Si Maieddine said in Arabic to the fat man, "everybody is to
+be discreet, now and later. I shall see that all are rewarded for
+obedience."
+
+"Thou art considerate, even of the humblest," replied the half-breed,
+using the word "thou," as all Arabs use it. "Thy presence is an honour
+for my house, and all in it is thine."
+
+Si Maieddine--who had never been in the Hotel de la Kasbah before, and
+would not have considered it worthy of his patronage if he had not had
+an object in coming--allowed himself to be shown the door of Madame
+Constant's salon. On the threshold, the landlord retired, and the young
+man was hardly surprised to find, on entering, that Madame was not in
+the room.
+
+Victoria was there alone; but free from self-consciousness as she always
+was, she received Si Maieddine without embarrassment. She saw no reason
+to distrust him, just because he was an Arab.
+
+Now, how glad she was that she had learned Arabic! She began to speak
+diffidently at first, stammering and halting a little, because, though
+she could read the language well after nine years of constant study,
+only once had she spoken with an Arab;--a man in New York from whom she
+had had a few lessons. Having learned what she could of the accent from
+phrase-books, her way had been to talk to herself aloud. But the flash
+of surprised delight which lit up the dark face told her that Si
+Maieddine understood.
+
+"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "My best hope was that French might come
+easily to thy lips, as I have little English."
+
+"I have a sister married to one of thy countrymen," Victoria explained
+at once. "I do not know where she is living, and it is in finding out,
+that I need help. Even on the ship I wished to ask thee if thou hadst
+knowledge of her husband, but to speak then seemed impossible. It is a
+fortunate chance that thou shouldst have come to this hotel, for I think
+thou wilt do what thou canst for me." Then she went on and told him that
+her sister was the wife of Captain Cassim ben Halim, who had once lived
+in Algiers.
+
+Si Maieddine who had dropped his eyes as she spoke of the fortunate
+chance which had brought him to the hotel, listened thoughtfully and
+with keen attention to her story, asking no questions, yet showing his
+interest so plainly that Victoria was encouraged to go on.
+
+"Didst thou ever hear the name of Cassim ben Halim?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, I have heard it," the Arab replied. "I have friends who knew him.
+And I myself have seen Cassim ben Halim."
+
+"Thou hast seen him!" Victoria cried, clasping her hands tightly
+together. She longed to press them over her heart, which was like a bird
+beating its wings against the bars of a cage.
+
+"Long ago. I am much younger than he."
+
+"Yes, I see that," Victoria answered. "But thou knewest him! That is
+something. And my sister. Didst thou ever hear of her?"
+
+"We of the Mussulman faith do not speak of the wives of our friends,
+even when our friends are absent. Yet--I have a relative in Algiers who
+might know something, a lady who is no longer young. I will go to her
+to-night, and all that is in her heart she will tell me. She has lived
+long in Algiers; and always when I come, I pay her my respects. But,
+there is a favour I would beg in return for any help I can give, and
+will give gladly. I am supposed to be already on my way south, to finish
+a diplomatic mission, and, for reasons connected with the French
+government, I have had to make it appear that I started to-day with my
+servant. There is also a reason, connected with Si Cassim, which makes
+it important that nothing I may do should be known to thy European
+friends. It is for his sake especially that I ask thy silence; and
+whatsoever might bring harm to him--if he be still upon the earth--would
+also harm thy sister. Wilt thou give me thy word, O White Rose of
+another land, that thou wilt keep thine own counsel?"
+
+"I give thee my word--and with it my trust," said the girl.
+
+"Then I swear that I will not fail thee. And though until I have seen my
+cousin I cannot speak positively, yet I think what I can do will be more
+than any other could. Wilt thou hold thyself free of engagements with
+thy European friends, until I bring news?"
+
+"I have promised to lunch to-morrow with people who have been kind, but
+rather than risk a delay in hearing from thee, I will send word that I
+am prevented from going."
+
+"Thou hast the right spirit, and I thank thee for thy good faith. But it
+may be well not to send that message. Thy friends might think it
+strange, and suspect thee of hiding something. It is better to give no
+cause for questionings. Go then, to their house, but say nothing of
+having met me, or of any new hope in thine heart. Yet let the hope
+remain, and be to thee like the young moon that riseth over the desert,
+to show the weary traveller a rill of sweet water in an oasis of date
+palms. And now I will bid thee farewell, with a night of dreams in which
+thy dearest desires shall be fulfilled before thine eyes. I go to my
+cousin, on thy business."
+
+"Good night, Sidi. Henceforth my hope is in thee." Victoria held out her
+hand, and Si Maieddine clasped it, bowing with the courtesy of his race.
+He was nearer to her than he had been before, and she noticed a perfume
+which hung about his clothing, a perfume that seemed to her like the
+East, heavy and rich, suggestive of mystery and secret things. It
+brought to her mind what she had read about harems, and beautiful,
+languid women, yet it suited Si Maieddine's personality, and somehow did
+not make him seem effeminate.
+
+"See," he said, in the poetic language which became him as his
+embroidered clothes and the haunting perfume became him; "see, how thine
+hand lies in mine like a pearl that has dropped into the hollow of an
+autumn leaf. But praise be to Allah, autumn and I are yet far apart. I
+am in my summer, as thou, lady, art in thine early spring. And I vow
+that thou shalt never regret confiding thy hand to my hand, thy trust to
+my loyalty."
+
+As he spoke, he released her fingers gently, and turning, went out of
+the room without another word or glance.
+
+When he had gone, Victoria stood still, looking at the door which Si
+Maieddine had shut noiselessly.
+
+If she had not lived during all the years since Saidee's last letter, in
+the hope of some such moment as this, she would have felt that she had
+come into a world of romance, as she listened to the man of the East,
+speaking the language of the East. But she had read too many Arabic
+tales and poems to find his speech strange. At school, her studies of
+her sister's adopted tongue had been confined to dry lesson-books, but
+when she had been free to choose her own literature, in New York and
+London, she had read more widely. People whom she had told of her
+sister's marriage, and her own mission, had sent her several rare
+volumes,--among others a valuable old copy of the Koran, and she had
+devoured them all, delighting in the facility which grew with practice.
+Now, it seemed quite simple to be talking with Sidi Maieddine ben el
+Hadj Messaoud as she had talked. It was no more romantic or strange
+than all of life was romantic and strange. Rather did she feel that at
+last she was face to face with reality.
+
+"He _does_ know something about Cassim," she said, half aloud, and
+searching her instinct, she still thought that she could trust him to
+keep faith with her. He was not playing. She believed that there was
+sincerity in his eyes.
+
+The next morning, when Victoria called at the Governor's palace, and
+heard that Captain Cassim ben Halim was supposed to have died in
+Constantinople, years ago, she was not cast down. "I know Si Maieddine
+doesn't think he's dead," she told herself.
+
+There was a note for her at the hotel, and though the writer had
+addressed the envelope to "Mademoiselle Ray," in an educated French
+handwriting, the letter inside was written in beautiful Arab lettering,
+an intentionally flattering tribute to her accomplishment.
+
+Si Maieddine informed her that his hope had been justified, and that in
+conversation with his cousin his own surmises had been confirmed. A
+certain plan was suggested, which he wished to propose to Mademoiselle
+Ray, but as it would need some discussion, there was not time to bring
+it forward before the hour when she must go out to keep her engagement.
+On her return, however, he begged that she would see him, in the salon
+of Madame Constant, where she would find him waiting. Meanwhile, he
+ventured to remind her that for the present, secrecy was even more
+necessary than he had at first supposed; he would be able to explain
+why, fully and satisfactorily, when they met in the afternoon.
+
+With this appointment to look forward to, it was natural that Victoria
+should excuse herself to Lady MacGregor earlier than most people cared
+to leave Djenan el Djouad. The girl was more excited than she had ever
+been in her life, and it was only by the greatest self-control that she
+kept--or believed that she kept--her manner as usual, while with Stephen
+in the white garden of lilies. She was happy, because she saw her feet
+already upon the path which would lead through the golden silence to her
+sister; but there was a drawback to her happiness--a fly in the amber,
+as in one of the prayer-beads she had bought of Jeanne Soubise: her
+secret had to be kept from the man of whom she thought as a very staunch
+friend. She felt guilty in talking with Stephen Knight, and accepting
+his sympathy as if she were hiding nothing from him; but she must be
+true to her promise, and Si Maieddine had the right to exact it, though
+of course Mr. Knight might have been excepted, if only Si Maieddine knew
+how loyal he was. But Si Maieddine did not know, and she could not
+explain. It was consoling to think of the time when Stephen might be
+told everything; and she wished almost unconsciously that it was his
+help which she had to rely upon now.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+True to his word, Si Maieddine was waiting in Madame Constant's hideous
+sitting-room, when Victoria returned to the hotel from Djenan el Djouad.
+
+To-day he had changed his grey bournous for a white one, and all his
+clothing was white, embroidered with silver.
+
+"It is written," he began in Arabic, as he rose to welcome the girl,
+"that the messenger who brings good tidings shall come in white. Now
+thou art prepared for happiness. Thou also hast chosen white; but even
+in black, thy presence would bring a blessing, O Rose of the West."
+
+The colour of the rose stained Victoria's cheeks, and Si Maieddine's
+eyes were warm as he looked at her. When she had given him her hand, he
+kissed his own, after touching it. "Be not alarmed, or think that I take
+a liberty, for it is but a custom of my people, in showing respect to
+man or woman," he explained. "Thou hast not forgotten thy promise of
+silence?"
+
+"No, I spoke not a word of thee, nor of the hope thou gavest me last
+night," Victoria answered.
+
+"It is well," he said. "Then I will keep nothing back from thee."
+
+They sat down, Victoria on a repulsive sofa of scarlet plush, the Arab
+on a chair equally offensive in design and colour.
+
+"Into the life of thy brother-in-law, there came a great trouble," he
+said. "It befell after the days when he was known by thee and thy sister
+in Paris. Do not ask what it was, for it would grieve me to refuse a
+request of thine. Shouldst thou ever hear this thing, it will not be
+from my lips. But this I will say--though I have friends among the
+French, and am loyal to their salt which I have eaten, and I think their
+country great--France was cruel to Ben Halim. Were not Allah above all,
+his life might have been broken, but it was written that, after a time
+of humiliation, a chance to win honour and glory such as he had never
+known, should be put in his way. In order to take this blessing and use
+it for his own profit and that of others, it was necessary that Ben
+Halim--son of a warrior of the old fighting days, when nomads of high
+birth were as kings in the Sahara, himself lately a captain of the
+Spahis, admired by women, envied of men--it was necessary that he should
+die to the world."
+
+"Then he is not really dead!" cried Victoria.
+
+The face of Si Maieddine changed, and wore that look which already the
+girl had remarked in Arab men she had passed among French crowds: a look
+as if a door had shut behind the bright, open eyes; as if the soul were
+suddenly closed.
+
+"Thy brother-in-law was living when last I heard of him," Maieddine
+answered, slowly.
+
+"And my sister?"
+
+"My cousin told me last night that Lella Saida was in good health some
+months ago when news came of her from a friend."
+
+"They call her Saida!" murmured the girl, half sadly; for that Saidee
+should tolerate such a change of name, seemed to signify some subtle
+alteration in her spirit. But she knew that "Lella" meant "Madame" in
+Arab society.
+
+"It is my cousin who spoke of the lady by that name. As for me, it is
+impossible that I should know anything of her. Thou wishest above all
+things to see thy sister?"
+
+"Above all things. For more than nine years it has been the one great
+wish of my life to go to her."
+
+"It is a long journey. Thou wouldst have to go far--very far."
+
+"What would it matter, if it were to the end of the world?"
+
+"As well try to reach the place where she is, as though it were beyond
+where the world ends, unless thou wert guided by one who knew the way."
+
+Victoria looked the Arab full in the face. "I have always been sure that
+God would lead me there, one day, soon or late," she said.
+
+"Thy God is my God, and Mohammed is his Prophet, as thy Christ was also
+among his Prophets. It is as thou sayest; Allah wills that thou shouldst
+make this journey, for He has sent me into thy life at the moment of thy
+need. I can take thee to thy sister's house, if thou wilt trust thyself
+to me. Not alone--I would not ask that. My cousin will take care of
+thee. She has her own reason for going on this great journey, a reason
+which in its way is as strong as thine, for it concerns her life or
+death. She is a noble lady of my race, who should be a Princess of
+Touggourt, for her grandfather was Sultan before the French conquered
+those warlike men of the desert, far south where Touggourt lies. Lella
+M'Barka Bent Djellab hears the voice of the Angel Azrail in her ears,
+yet her spirit is strong, and she believes it is written in the Book
+that she shall reach the end of her journey. This is the plan she and I
+have made; that thou leave the hotel to-day, towards evening, and drive
+(in a carriage which she will send)--to her house, where thou wilt spend
+the night. Early in the morning of to-morrow she can be ready to go,
+taking thee with her. I shall guard thee, and we shall have an escort
+which she and I will provide. Dost thou consent? Because if the idea
+pleases thee, there are many arrangements which must be made quickly.
+And I myself will take all trouble from thy shoulders in the matter of
+leaving the hotel. I am known and well thought of in Algiers and even
+the landlord here, as thou hast seen, has me in consideration, because
+my name is not strange to him. Thou needst not fear misconstruction of
+thine actions, by any one who is here."
+
+Si Maieddine added these arguments, seeing perhaps that Victoria
+hesitated before answering his question.
+
+"Thou art generous, and I have no fear," she said at last, with a faint
+emphasis which he could read as he chose. "But, since thou hast my word
+to be silent, surely thou wilt tell me where lies the end of the journey
+we must take?"
+
+"Even so, I cannot tell thee," Si Maieddine replied with decision which
+Victoria felt to be unalterable. "It is not for lack of trust in thee, O
+Rose, but for a reason which is not mine to explain. All I can do is to
+pledge my honour, and the honour of a princess, to conduct thee loyally
+to the house of thy sister's husband. If thou goest, it must be in the
+dress of an Arab lady, veiled from eyes which might spy upon thee; and
+so thou wilt be safe under the protection of my cousin."
+
+"My thanks to thee and to her--I will go," Victoria said, after a
+moment's pause.
+
+She was sure that Stephen Knight and his friend would prevent her from
+leaving Algiers with strangers, above all, in the company of Arabs, if
+they could know what was in her mind. But they were unjustly prejudiced,
+she thought. Her brother-in-law was of Arab blood, therefore she could
+not afford to have such prejudices, even if she were so inclined; and
+she must not hesitate before such a chance as Si Maieddine offered.
+
+The great difficulty she had experienced in learning anything about Ben
+Halim made it easy for her to believe that she could reach her sister's
+husband only through people of his own race, who knew his secrets. She
+was ready to agree with Si Maieddine that his God and her God had sent
+him at the right moment, and she would not let that moment pass her by.
+
+Others might say that she was wildly imprudent, that she was
+deliberately walking into danger; but she was not afraid. Always she
+trusted to her star, and now it had brought her to Algiers, she would
+not weaken in that trust. Common sense, in which one side of the girl's
+nature was not lacking, told her that this Arab might be deceiving her,
+that he might know no more of Ben Halim than she herself had told him
+yesterday; but she felt that he had spoken the truth, and feelings were
+more to her than common sense. She would go to the house which Si
+Maieddine said was the house of his cousin, and if there she found
+reason to doubt him, she had faith that even then no evil would be
+allowed to touch her.
+
+At seven o'clock, Si Maieddine said, Lella M'Barka would send a
+carriage. It would then be twilight, and as most people were in their
+homes by that hour, nobody would be likely to see her leave the hotel.
+The shutters of the carriage would be closed, according to the custom of
+Arab ladies, and on entering the vehicle Victoria would find a negress,
+a servant of Lella M'Barka Bent Djellab. This woman would dress her in a
+gandourah and a haick, while they were on their way to the house of
+Victoria's hostess, and on stepping out she would have the appearance of
+a lady of Algiers. Thus all trace of her would be lost, as one Arab
+carriage was exactly like another.
+
+Meanwhile, there would be time to pack, and write a letter which
+Victoria was determined to write. To satisfy Si Maieddine that she would
+not be indiscreet in any admission or allusion, she suggested
+translating for him every word she wrote into French or Arabic; but he
+refused this offer with dignity. She trusted him. He trusted her also.
+But he himself would post the letter at an hour too late for it to be
+delivered while she was still in Algiers.
+
+It was arranged that she should carry only hand-bags, as it would be too
+conspicuous to load and unload boxes. Her large luggage could be stored
+at the hotel until she returned or sent, and as Lella M'Barka intended
+to offer her an outfit suitable to a young Arab girl of noble birth, she
+need take from the hotel only her toilet things.
+
+So it was that Victoria wrote to Stephen Knight, and was ready for the
+second stage of what seemed the one great adventure to which her whole
+life had been leading up.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+Victoria did not wait in her room to be told that the carriage had come
+to take her away. It was better, Si Maieddine had said, that only a few
+people should know the exact manner of her going. A few minutes before
+seven, therefore, she went down to the entrance-hall of the hotel, which
+was not yet lighted. Her appearance was a signal for the Arab porter,
+who was waiting, to run softly upstairs and return with her hand
+luggage.
+
+For some moments Victoria stood near the door, interesting herself in a
+map of Algeria which hung on the wall. A clock began to strike as her
+eyes wandered over the desert, and was on the last stroke of seven, when
+a carriage drove up. It was drawn by two handsome brown mules with
+leather and copper harness which matched the colour of their shining
+coats, and was driven by a heavy, smooth-faced Negro in a white turban
+and an embroidered cafetan of dark blue. The carriage windows were
+shuttered, and as the black coachman pulled up his mules, he looked
+neither to the right nor to the left. It was the hotel porter who opened
+the door, and as Victoria stepped in without delay, he thrust two
+hand-bags after her, snapping the door sharply.
+
+It was almost dark inside the carriage, but she could see a white
+figure, which in the dimness had neither face nor definite shape; and
+there was a perfume as of aromatic amulets grown warm on a human body.
+
+"Pardon, lady, I am Hsina, the servant of Lella M'Barka Bent Djellab,
+sent to wait upon thee," spoke a soft and guttural voice, in Arabic.
+"Blessings be upon thee!"
+
+"And upon thee blessings," Victoria responded in the Arab fashion which
+she had learned while many miles of land and sea lay between her and the
+country of Islam. "I was told to expect thee."
+
+"Eihoua!" cried the woman, "The little pink rose has the gift of
+tongues!" As she grew accustomed to the twilight, Victoria made out a
+black face, and white teeth framed in a large smile. A pair of dark eyes
+glittered with delight as the Roumia answered in Arabic, although Arabic
+was not the language of the negress's own people. She chattered as she
+helped Victoria into a plain white gandourah. The white hat and hat-pins
+amused her, and when she had arranged the voluminous haick in spite of
+the joltings of the carriage, she examined these European curiosities
+with interest. Whenever she moved, the warm perfume of amulets grew
+stronger, overpowering the faint mustiness of the cushions and
+upholstery.
+
+"Never have I held such things in my hands!" Hsina gurgled. "Yet often
+have I wished that I might touch them, when driving with my mistress and
+peeping at the passers by, and the strange finery of foreign women in
+the French bazaars."
+
+Victoria listened politely, answering if necessary; yet her interest was
+concentrated in peering through the slits in the wooden shutter of the
+nearest window. She did not know Algiers well enough to recognize
+landmarks; but after driving for what seemed like fifteen or twenty
+minutes through streets where lights began to turn the twilight blue,
+she caught a glint of the sea. Almost immediately the trotting mules
+stopped, and the negress Hsina, hiding Victoria's hat in the folds of
+her haick, turned the handle of the door.
+
+Victoria looked out into azure dusk, and after the closeness of the
+shuttered carriage, thankfully drew in a breath of salt-laden air. One
+quick glance showed her a street near the sea, on a level not much above
+the gleaming water. There were high walls, evidently very old, hiding
+Arab mansions once important, and there were other ancient dwellings,
+which had been partly transformed for business or military uses by the
+French. The girl's hasty impression was of a melancholy neighbourhood
+which had been rich and stately long ago in old pirate days, perhaps.
+
+There was only time for a glance to right and left before a nailed door
+opened in the flatness of a whitewashed wall which was the front of an
+Arab house. No light shone out, but the opening of the door proved that
+some one had been listening for the sound of carriage wheels.
+
+"Descend, lady. I will follow with thy baggage," said Hsina.
+
+The girl obeyed, but she was suddenly conscious of a qualm as she had to
+turn from the blue twilight, to pass behind that half-open door into
+darkness, and the mystery of unknown things.
+
+Before she had time to put her foot to the ground the door was thrown
+wide open, and two stout Negroes dressed exactly alike in flowing white
+burnouses stepped out of the house to stand on either side the carriage
+door. Raising their arms as high as their heads they made two white
+walls of their long cloaks between which Victoria could pass, as if
+enclosed in a narrow aisle. Hsina came close upon her heels; and as they
+reached the threshold of the house the white-robed black servants
+dropped their arms, followed the two women, and shut the nailed door.
+Then, despite the dimness of the place, they bowed their heads turning
+aside as if humbly to make it evident that their unworthy eyes did not
+venture to rest upon the veiled form of their mistress's guest. As for
+Hsina, she, too, was veiled, though her age and ugliness would have
+permitted her face to be revealed without offence to Mussulman ideas of
+propriety. It was mere vanity on her part to preserve the mystery as
+dear to the heart of the Moslem woman as to the jealous prejudice of the
+man.
+
+A faint glittering of the walls told Victoria that the corridor she had
+entered was lined with tiles; and she could dimly see seats let in like
+low shelves along its length, on either side. It was but a short
+passage, with a turn into a second still shorter. At the end of this
+hung a dark curtain, which Hsina lifted for Victoria to pass on, round
+another turn into a wider hall, lit by an Arab lamp with glass panes
+framed in delicately carved copper. The chain which suspended it from
+cedar beams swayed slightly, causing the light to move from colour to
+colour of the old tiles, and to strike out gleams from the marble floor
+and ivory-like pillars set into the walls. The end of this corridor also
+was masked by a curtain of wool, dyed and woven by the hands of nomad
+tribes, tent-dwellers in the desert; and when Hsina had lifted it,
+Victoria saw a small square court with a fountain in the centre.
+
+It was not on a grand scale, like those in the palace owned by Nevill
+Caird; but the fountain was graceful and charming, ornamented with the
+carved, bursting pomegranates beloved by the Moors of Granada, and the
+marble columns which supported a projecting balcony were wreathed with
+red roses and honeysuckle.
+
+On each of the four sides of the quadrangle, paved with black and white
+marble, there were little windows, and large glass doors draped on the
+inside with curtains thin enough to show faint pink and golden lights.
+
+"O my mistress, Lella M'Barka, I have brought thy guest!" cried Hsina,
+in a loud, sing-song voice, as if she were chanting; whereupon one of
+the glass doors opened, letting out a rosy radiance, and a Bedouin
+woman-servant dressed in a striped foutah appeared on the threshold. She
+was old, with crinkled grey hair under a scarlet handkerchief, and a
+blue cross was tattooed between her eyes.
+
+"In the name of Lella M'Barka be thou welcome," she said. "My mistress
+has been suffering all day, and fears to rise, lest her strength fail
+for to-morrow's journey, or she would come forth to meet thee, O Flower
+of the West! As it is, she begs that thou wilt come to her. But first
+suffer me to remove thy haick, that the eyes of Lella M'Barka may be
+refreshed by thy beauty."
+
+She would have unfastened the long drapery, but Hsina put down
+Victoria's luggage, and pushing away the two brown hands, tattooed with
+blue mittens, she herself unfastened the veil. "No, this is _my_ lady,
+and my work, Fafann," she objected.
+
+"But it is my duty to take her in," replied the Bedouin woman,
+jealously. "It is the wish of Lella M'Barka. Go thou and make ready the
+room of the guest."
+
+Hsina flounced away across the court, and Fafann held open both the door
+and the curtains. Victoria obeyed her gesture and went into the room
+beyond. It was long and narrow, with a ceiling of carved wood painted in
+colours which had once been violent, but were now faded. The walls were
+partly covered with hangings like the curtains that shaded the glass
+door; but, on one side, between gold-embroidered crimson draperies, were
+windows, and in the white stucco above, showed lace-like openings,
+patterned to represent peacocks, the tails jewelled with glass of
+different colours. On the opposite side opened doors of dark wood inlaid
+with mother-o'-pearl; and these stood ajar, revealing rows of shelves
+littered with little gilded bottles, or piled with beautiful brocades
+that were shot with gold in the pink light of an Arab lamp.
+
+There was little furniture; only a few low, round tables, or maidas,
+completely overlaid with the snow of mother-o'-pearl; two or three
+tabourets of the same material, and, at one end of the room a low divan,
+where something white and orange-yellow and purple lay half buried in
+cushions.
+
+Though the light was dim, Victoria could see as she went nearer a thin
+face the colour of pale amber, and a pair of immense dark eyes that
+glittered in deep hollows. A thin woman of more than middle age, with
+black hair, silver-streaked, moved slightly and held out an emaciated
+hand heavy with rings. Her head was tied round with a silk handkerchief
+or takrita of pansy purple; she wore seroual, full trousers of soft
+white silk, and under a gold-threaded orange-coloured jacket or rlila, a
+blouse of lilac gauze, covered with sequins and open at the neck. On the
+bony arm which she held out to Victoria hung many bracelets, golden
+serpents of Djebbel Amour, and pearls braided with gold wire and coral
+beads. Her great eyes, ringed with kohl, had a tortured look, and there
+were hollows under the high cheek-bones. If she had ever been handsome,
+all beauty of flesh had now been drained away by suffering; yet stricken
+as she was there remained an almost indefinable distinction, an air of
+supreme pride befitting a princess of the Sahara.
+
+Her scorching fingers pressed Victoria's hand, as she gazed up at the
+girl's face with hungry curiosity and interest such as the Spirit of
+Death might feel in looking at the Spirit of Life.
+
+"Thou art fresh and fair, O daughter, as a lily bud opening in the spray
+of a fountain, and radiant as sunrise shining on a desert lake," she
+said in a weary voice, slightly hoarse, yet with some flutelike notes.
+"My cousin spoke but truth of thee. Thou art worthy of a reward at the
+end of that long journey we shall take together, thou, and he, and I. I
+have never seen thy sister whom thou seekest, but I have friends, who
+knew her in other days. For her sake and thine own, kiss me on my
+cheeks, for with women of my race, it is the seal of friendship."
+
+Victoria bent and touched the faded face under each of the great burning
+eyes. The perfume of _ambre_, loved in the East, came up to her
+nostrils, and the invalid's breath was aflame.
+
+"Art thou strong enough for a journey, Lella M'Barka?" the girl asked.
+
+"Not in my own strength, but in that which Allah will give me, I shall
+be strong," the sick woman answered with controlled passion. "Ever
+since I knew that I could not hope to reach Mecca, and kiss the sacred
+black stone, or pray in the Mosque of the holy Lella Fatima, I have
+wished to visit a certain great marabout in the south. The pity of Allah
+for a daughter who is weak will permit the blessing of this marabout,
+who has inherited the inestimable gift of Baraka, to be the same to me,
+body and soul, as the pilgrimage to Mecca which is beyond the power of
+my flesh. Another must say for me the Fatakah there. I believe that I
+shall be healed, and have vowed to give a great feast if I return to
+Algiers, in celebration of the miracle. Had it not been for my cousin's
+wish that I should go with thee, I should not have felt that the hour
+had come when I might face the ordeal of such a journey to the far
+south. But the prayer of Si Maieddine, who, after his father, is the
+last man left of his line, has kindled in my veins a fire which I
+thought had burnt out forever. Have no fear, daughter. I shall be ready
+to start at dawn to-morrow."
+
+"Does the marabout who has the gift of Baraka live near the place where
+I must go to find my sister?" Victoria inquired, rather timidly; for she
+did not know how far she might venture to question Si Maieddine's
+cousin.
+
+Lella M'Barka looked at her suddenly and strangely. Then her face
+settled into a sphinx-like expression, as if she had been turned to
+stone. "I shall be thy companion to the end of thy journey," she
+answered in a dull, tired tone. "Wilt thou visit thy room now, or wilt
+thou remain with me until Fafann and Hsina bring thy evening meal? I
+hope that thou wilt sup here by my side: yet if it pains thee to take
+food near one in ill health, who does not eat, speak, and thou shalt be
+served in another place."
+
+Victoria hastened to protest that she would prefer to eat in the company
+of her hostess, which seemed to please Lella M'Barka. She began to ask
+the girl questions about herself, complimenting her upon her knowledge
+of Arabic; and Victoria answered, though only half her brain seemed to
+be listening. She was glad that she had trusted Si Maieddine, and she
+felt safe in the house of his cousin; but now that she was removed from
+European influences, she could not see why the mystery concerning Ben
+Halim and the journey which would lead to his house, should be kept up.
+She had read enough books about Arab customs and superstitions to know
+that there are few saints believed to possess the gift of Baraka, the
+power given by Allah for the curing of all fleshly ills. Only the very
+greatest of the marabouts are supposed to have this power, receiving it
+direct from Allah, or inheriting it from a pious saint--father or more
+distant relative--who handed down the maraboutship. Therefore, if she
+had time and inclination, she could probably learn from any devout
+Mussulman the abiding places of all such famous saints as remained upon
+the earth. In that way, by setting her wits to work, she might guess the
+secret if Si Maieddine still tried to make a mystery of their
+destination. But, somehow, she felt that it would not be fair to seek
+information which he did not want her to have. She must go on trusting
+him, and by and by he would tell her all she wanted to know.
+
+Lella M'Barka had invited her guest to sit on cushions beside the divan
+where she lay, and the interest in her feverish eyes, which seldom left
+Victoria's face, was so intense as to embarrass the girl.
+
+"Thou hast wondrous hair," she said, "and when it is unbound it must be
+a fountain of living gold. Is it some kind of henna grown in thy
+country, which dyes it that beautiful colour?"
+
+Victoria told her that Nature alone was the dyer.
+
+"Thou art not yet affianced; that is well," murmured the invalid. "Our
+young girls have their hair tinted with henna when they are betrothed,
+that they may be more fair in the eyes of their husbands. But thou
+couldst scarcely be lovelier than thou art; for thy skin is of pearl,
+though there is no paint upon it, and thy lips are pink as rose petals.
+Yet a little messouak to make them scarlet, like coral, and kohl to
+give thine eyes lustre would add to thy brilliancy. Also the hand of
+woman reddened with henna is as a brazier of rosy flame to kindle the
+heart of a lover. When thou seest thy sister, thou wilt surely find that
+she has made herself mistress of these arts, and many more."
+
+"Canst thou tell me nothing of her, Lella M'Barka?"
+
+"Nothing, save that I have a friend who has said she was fair. And it is
+not many moons since I heard that she was blessed with health."
+
+"Is she happy?" Victoria was tempted to persist.
+
+"She should be happy. She is a fortunate woman. Would I could tell thee
+more, but I live the life of a mole in these days, and have little
+knowledge. Thou wilt see her with thine own eyes before long, I have no
+doubt. And now comes food which my women have prepared for thee. In my
+house, all are people of the desert, and we keep the desert customs,
+since my husband has been gathered to his fathers--my husband, to whose
+house in Algiers I came as a bride from the Sahara. Such a meal as thou
+wilt eat to-night, mayst thou eat often with a blessing, in the country
+of the sun."
+
+Fafann, who had softly left the room when the guest had been introduced,
+now came back, with great tinkling of khal-khal, and mnaguach, the huge
+earrings which hung so low as to strike the silver beads twisted round
+her throat. She was smiling, and pleasantly excited at the presence of a
+visitor whose arrival broke the tiresome monotony of an invalid's
+household. When she had set one of the pearly maidas in front of
+Victoria's seat of cushions, she held back the curtains for Hsina to
+enter, carrying a copper tray. This the negress placed on the maida, and
+uncovered a china bowl balanced in a silver stand, like a giant coffee
+cup of Moorish fashion. It contained hot soup, called cheurba, in which
+Hsina had put so much fell-fell, the red pepper loved by Arabs, that
+Victoria's lips were burned. But it was good, and she would not wince
+though the tears stung her eyes as she drank, for Lella M'Barka and the
+two servants were watching her eagerly.
+
+Afterwards came a kouskous of chicken and farina, which she ate with a
+large spoon whose bowl was of tortoiseshell, the handle of ivory tipped
+with coral. Then, when the girl hoped there might be nothing more,
+appeared tadjine, a ragout of mutton with artichokes and peas, followed
+by a rich preserve of melon, and many elaborate cakes iced with pink and
+purple sugar, and powdered with little gold sequins that had to be
+picked off as the cake was eaten. At last, there was thick, sweet
+coffee, in a cup like a little egg-shell supported in filigree gold (for
+no Mussulman may touch lip to metal), and at the end Fafann poured
+rosewater over Victoria's fingers, wiping them on a napkin of fine
+damask.
+
+"Now thou hast eaten and drunk, thou must allow thyself to be dressed by
+my women in the garments of an Arab maiden of high birth, which I have
+ready for thee," said Lella M'Barka, brightening with the eagerness of a
+little child at the prospect of dressing a beautiful new doll. "Fafann
+shall bring everything here, and thou shalt be told how to robe thyself
+afterwards. I wish to see that all is right, for to-morrow morning thou
+must arise while it is still dark, that we may start with the first
+dawn."
+
+Fafann and Hsina had forgotten their jealousies in the delight of the
+new play. They moved about, laughing and chattering, and were not
+chidden for the noise they made. From shelves behind the inlaid doors in
+the wall, they took down exquisite boxes of mother-o'-pearl and red
+tortoiseshell. Also there were small bundles wrapped in gold brocade,
+and tied round with bright green cord. These were all laid on a
+dim-coloured Kairouan rug, at the side of the divan, and the two women
+squatted on the floor to open them, while their mistress leaned on her
+thin elbow among cushions, and skins of golden jackal from the Sahara.
+
+From one box came wide trousers of white silk, like Lella M'Barka's;
+from another, vests of satin and velvet of pale shades embroidered with
+gold or silver. A fat parcel contained delicately tinted stockings and
+high-heeled slippers of different sizes. A second bundle contained
+blouses of thin silk and gauze, and in a pearl box were pretty little
+chechias of sequined velvet, caps so small as to fit the head closely;
+and besides these, there were sashes and gandourahs, and haicks white
+and fleecy, woven from the softest wool.
+
+When everything was well displayed, the Bedouin and the negress sprang
+up, lithe as leopards, and to Victoria's surprise began to undress her.
+
+"Please let me do it myself!" she protested, but they did not listen or
+understand, chattering her into silence, as if they had been lively
+though elderly monkeys. Giggling over the hooks and buttons which were
+comical to them, they turned and twisted her between their hands,
+fumbling at neck and waist with black fingers, and brown fingers
+tattooed blue, until she, too, began to laugh. She laughed herself into
+helplessness, and encouraged by her wild merriment, and Lella M'Barka's
+smiles and exclamations punctuated with fits of coughing, they set to
+work at pulling out hairpins, and the tortoise-shell combs that kept the
+Roumia's red gold waves in place. At last down tumbled the thick curly
+locks which Stephen Knight had thought so beautiful when they flowed
+round her shoulders in the Dance of the Shadow.
+
+The invalid made her kneel, just as she was in her petticoat, in order
+to pass long, ringed fingers through the soft masses, and lift them up
+for the pleasure of letting them fall. When the golden veil, as Lella
+M'Barka called it, had been praised and admired over and over again, the
+order was given to braid it in two long plaits, leaving the ends to curl
+as they would. Then, the game of dressing the doll could begin, but
+first the embroidered petticoat of batiste with blue ribbons at the top
+of its flounce, and the simple pretty little stays had to be examined
+with keen interest. Nothing like these things had ever been seen by
+mistress or servants, except in occasional peeps through shuttered
+carriage windows when passing French shops: for Lella M'Barka Bent
+Djellab, daughter of Princes of Touggourt, was what young Arabs call
+"vieux turban." She was old-fashioned in her ideas, would have no
+European furniture or decorations, and until to-night had never
+consented to know a Roumia, much less receive one into her house. She
+had felt that she was making a great concession in granting her cousin's
+request, but she had forgotten her sense of condescension in
+entertaining an unveiled girl, a Christian, now that she saw what the
+girl was like. She was too old and lonely to be jealous of Victoria's
+beauty; and as Si Maieddine, her favourite cousin, deigned to admire
+this young foreigner, Lella M'Barka took an unselfish pride in each of
+the American girl's charms.
+
+When she was dressed to all outward appearances precisely like the
+daughter of a high-born Arab family, Fafann brought a mirror framed in
+mother-o'-pearl, and Victoria could not help admiring herself a little.
+She wished half unconsciously that Stephen Knight could see her, with
+hair looped in two great shining braids on either side her face, under
+the sequined chechia of sapphire velvet; and then she was ashamed of her
+own vanity.
+
+Having been dressed, she was obliged to prove, before the three women
+would be satisfied, that she understood how each garment ought to be
+arranged; and later she had to try on a new gandourah, with a white
+burnouse such as women wear, and the haick she had worn in coming to the
+house. Hsina would help her in the morning, she was told, but it would
+be better that she should know how to do things properly for herself,
+since only Fafann would be with them on the journey, and she might
+sometimes be busy with Lella M'Barka when Victoria was dressing.
+
+The excitement of adorning the beautiful doll had tired the invalid. The
+dark lines under her eyes were very blue, and the flesh of her face
+seemed to hang loose, making her look piteously haggard. She offered but
+feeble objections when her guest proposed to say good night, and after a
+few more compliments and blessings, Victoria was able to slip away,
+escorted by the negress.
+
+The room where she was to sleep was on another side of the court from
+that of Lella M'Barka, but Hsina took great pains to assure her that
+there was nothing to fear. No one could come into this court; and
+she--Hsina--slept near by with Fafann. To clap the hands once would be
+to bring one of them instantly. And Hsina would wake her before dawn.
+
+Victoria's long, narrow sleeping room had the bed across one end, in
+Arab fashion. It was placed in an alcove and built into the wall, with
+pillars in front, of gilded wood, and yellow brocaded curtains of a
+curious, Oriental design. At the opposite end of the room stood a large
+cupboard, like a buffet, beautifully inlaid with mother-o'-pearl, and
+along the length of the room ran shelves neatly piled with
+bright-coloured bed-clothing, or ferrachiyas. Above these shelves texts
+from the Koran were exquisitely illuminated in red, blue and gold, like
+a frieze; and there were tinselled pictures of relatives of the Prophet,
+and of Mohammed's Angel-horse, Borak. The floor was covered with soft,
+dark-coloured rugs; and on a square of white linen was a huge copper
+basin full of water, with folded towels laid beside it.
+
+The bed was not uncomfortable, but Victoria could not sleep. She did not
+even wish to sleep. It was too wonderful to think that to-morrow she
+would be on her way to Saidee.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+
+Before morning light, Si Maieddine was in his cousin's house. Hsina had
+not yet called Victoria, but Lella M'Barka was up and dressed, ready to
+receive Maieddine in the room where she had entertained the Roumia girl
+last night. Being a near relation, Si Maieddine was allowed to see Lella
+M'Barka unveiled; and even in the pink and gold light of the hanging
+lamps, she was ghastly under her paint. The young man was struck with
+her martyred look, and pitied her; but stronger than his pity was the
+fear that she might fail him--if not to-day, before the journey's end.
+She would have to undergo a strain terrible for an invalid, and he could
+spare her much of this if he chose; but he would not choose, though he
+was fond of his cousin, and grateful in a way. To spare her would mean
+the risk of failure for him.
+
+Each called down salutations and peace upon the head of the other, and
+Lella M'Barka asked Maieddine if he would drink coffee. He thanked her,
+but had already taken coffee. And she? All her strength would be needed.
+She must not neglect to sustain herself now that everything depended
+upon her health.
+
+"My health!" she echoed, with a sigh, and a gesture of something like
+despair. "O my cousin, if thou knewest how I suffer, how I dread what
+lies before me, thou wouldst in mercy change thy plans even now. Thou
+wouldst go the short way to the end of our journey. Think of the
+difference to me! A week or eight days of travel at most, instead of
+three weeks, or more if I falter by the way, and thou art forced to
+wait."
+
+Maieddine's face hardened under her imploring eyes, but he answered with
+gentleness, "Thou knowest, my kind friend and cousin, that I would give
+my blood to save thee suffering, but it is more than my blood that thou
+askest now. It is my heart, for my heart is in this journey and what I
+hope from it, as I told thee yesterday. We discussed it all, thou and I,
+between us. Thou hast loved, and I made thee understand something of
+what I feel for this girl, whose beauty, as thou hast seen, is that of
+the houris in Paradise. Never have I found her like; and it may be I
+care more because of the obstacles which stand high as a wall between me
+and her. Because of the man who is her sister's husband, I must not fail
+in respect, or even seem to fail. I cannot take her and ride away, as I
+might with a maiden humbly placed, trusting to make her happy after she
+was mine. My winning must be done first, as is the way of the Roumis,
+and she will be hard to win. Already she feels that one of my race has
+stolen and hidden her sister; for this, in her heart, she fears and half
+distrusts all Arabs. A week would give me no time to capture her love,
+and when the journey is over it will be too late. Then, at best, I can
+see little of her, even if she be allowed to keep something of her
+European freedom. It is from this journey together--the long, long
+journey--that I hope everything. No pains shall be spared. No luxury
+shall she lack even on the hardest stretches of the way. She shall know
+that she owes all to my thought and care. In three weeks I can pull down
+that high wall between us. She will have learned to depend on me, to
+need me, to long for me when I am out of her sight, as the gazelle longs
+for a fountain of sweet water."
+
+"Poet and dreamer thou hast become, Maieddine," said Lella M'Barka with
+a tired smile.
+
+"I have become a lover. That means both and more. My heart is set on
+success with this girl: and yesterday thou didst promise to help. In
+return, I offered thee a present that is like the gift of new life to a
+woman, the amulet my father's dead brother rubbed on the sacred Black
+Stone at Mecca, touched by the foot of the Prophet. I assured thee that
+at the end of our journey I would persuade the marabout to make the
+amulet as potent for good to thee as the Black Stone itself, against
+which thou canst never cool the fever in thy forehead. Then, when he has
+used his power, and thou hast pressed the amulet on thy brows, thou
+mayst read the destiny of men and women written between their eyes, as a
+sand-diviner reads fate in the sands. Thou wilt become in thine own
+right a marabouta, and be sure of Heaven when thou diest. This blessing
+the marabout will give, not for thy sake, but for mine, because I will
+do for him certain things which he has long desired, and so far I have
+never consented to undertake. Thou wilt gain greatly through keeping thy
+word to me. Believing in thy courage and good faith, I have made all
+arrangements for the journey. Not once last night did I close my eyes in
+sleep. There was not a moment to rest, for I had many telegrams to send,
+and letters to write, asking my friends along the different stages of
+the way, after we have left the train, to lend me relays of mules or
+horses. I have had to collect supplies, to think of and plan out details
+for which most men would have needed a week's preparation, yet I have
+completed all in twelve hours. I believe nothing has been forgotten,
+nothing neglected. And can it be that my prop will fail me at the last
+moment?"
+
+"No, I will not fail thee, unless soul and body part," Lella M'Barka
+answered. "I but hoped that thou mightest feel differently, that in
+pity--but I see I was wrong to ask. I will pray that the amulet, and the
+hope of the divine benediction of the baraka may support me to the end."
+
+"I, too, will pray, dear cousin. Be brave, and remember, the journey is
+to be taken, in easy stages. All the comforts I am preparing are for
+thee, as well as for this white rose whose beauty has stolen the heart
+out of my breast."
+
+"It is true. Thou art kind, or I would not love thee even as I should
+have loved a son, had one been given me," said the haggard woman,
+meekly. "Does _she_ know that there will be three weeks or more of
+travelling?"
+
+"No. I told her vaguely that she could hardly hope to see her sister in
+less than a fortnight. I feared that, at first hearing, the thought of
+such distances, separating her from what she has known of life, might
+cause her to hesitate. But she will be willing to sacrifice herself and
+travel less rapidly than she hoped, when she sees that thou art weak and
+ailing. She has a heart with room in it for the welfare of others."
+
+"Most women have. It is expected of us." Lella M'Barka sighed again,
+faintly. "But she is all that thou describedst to me, of beauty and
+sweetness. When she has been converted to the True Faith, as thy wife,
+nothing will be lacking to make her perfect."
+
+Hsina appeared at the door. "Thy guest, O Lella M'Barka, is having her
+coffee, and is eating bread with it," she announced. "In a few minutes
+she will be ready. Shall I fetch her down while the gracious lord
+honours the house with his presence, or----"
+
+"My guest is a Roumia, and it is not forbidden that she show her face to
+men," answered Hsina's mistress. "She will travel veiled, because, for
+reasons that do not concern thee, it is wiser. But she is free to appear
+before the Lord Maieddine. Bring her; and remember this, when I am gone.
+If to a living soul outside this house thou speakest of the Roumia
+maiden, or even of my journey, worse things will happen to thee than
+tearing thy tongue out by the roots."
+
+"So thou saidst last night to me, and to all the others," the negress
+answered, like a sulky child. "As we are faithful, it is not necessary
+to say it again." Without waiting to be scolded for her impudence, as
+she knew she deserved, she went out, to return five minutes later with
+Victoria.
+
+Maieddine's eyes lighted when he saw the girl in Arab dress. It seemed
+to him that she was far more beautiful, because, like all Arabs, he
+detested the severe cut of a European woman's gowns. He loved bright
+colours and voluptuous outlines.
+
+It was only beginning to be daylight when they left the house and went
+out to the carriage in which Victoria had been driven the night before.
+She and Lella M'Barka were both veiled, though there was no eye to see
+them. Hsina and Fafann took out several bundles, wrapped in dark red
+woollen haicks, and the Negro servants carried two curious trunks of
+wood painted bright green, with coloured flowers and scrolls of gold
+upon them, and shining, flat covers of brass. In these was contained the
+luggage from the house; Maieddine's had already gone to the railway
+station. He wore a plain, dark blue burnous, with the hood up, and his
+chin and mouth were covered by the lower folds of the small veil which
+fell from his turban, as if he were riding in the desert against a wind
+storm. It would have been impossible even for a friend to recognize him,
+and the two women in their white veils were like all native women of
+wealth and breeding in Algiers. Hsina was crying, and Fafann, who
+expected to go with her mistress, was insufferably important. Victoria
+felt that she was living in a fairy story, and the wearing of the veil
+excited and amused her. She was happy, and looked forward to the journey
+itself as well as to the journey's end.
+
+There were few people in the railway station, and Victoria saw no
+European travellers. Maieddine had taken the tickets already, but he did
+not tell her the name of the place to which they were going by rail. She
+would have liked to ask, but as neither Si Maieddine nor Lella M'Barka
+encouraged questions, she reminded herself that she could easily read
+the names of the stations as they passed.
+
+Soon the train came in, and Maieddine put them into a first-class
+compartment, which was labelled "reserved," though all other Arabs were
+going second or third. Fafann arranged cushions and haicks for Lella
+M'Barka; and at six o'clock a feeble, sulky-sounding trumpet blew,
+signalling the train to move out of the station.
+
+Victoria was not sleepy, though she had lain awake thinking excitedly
+all night; but Lella M'Barka bade her rest, as the day would be tiring.
+No one talked, and presently Fafann began to snore. The girl's eyes met
+Si Maieddine's, and they smiled at each other. This made him seem to her
+more like an ordinary human being than he had seemed before.
+
+After a while, she dropped into a doze, and was surprised when she waked
+up, to find that it was nearly nine o'clock. Fafann had roused her by
+moving about, collecting bundles. Soon they would be "there." And as the
+train slowed down, Victoria saw that "there" was Bouira.
+
+This place was the destination of a number of Arab travellers, but the
+instant they were out of the train, these passengers appeared to melt
+away unobtrusively. Only one carriage was waiting, and that was for Si
+Maieddine and his party.
+
+It was a very different carriage from Lella M'Barka's, in Algiers; a
+vehicle for the country, Victoria thought it not unlike old-fashioned
+chaises in which farmers' families sometimes drove to Potterston, to
+church. It had side and back curtains of canvas, which were fastened
+down, and an Arab driver stood by the heads of two strong black mules.
+
+"This carriage belongs to a friend of mine, a Caid," Maieddine explained
+to Victoria. "He has lent it to me, with his driver and mules, to use as
+long as I wish. But we shall have to change the mules often, before we
+begin at last to travel in a different way."
+
+"How quickly thou hast arranged everything," exclaimed the girl.
+
+This was a welcome sign of appreciation, and Maieddine was pleased. "I
+sent the Caid a telegram," he said. "And there were many more telegrams
+to other places, far ahead. That is one good thing which the French have
+brought to our country. The telegraph goes to the most remote places in
+the Sahara. By and by, thou wilt see the poles striding away over desert
+dunes."
+
+"By and by! Dost thou mean to-day?" asked Victoria.
+
+"No, it will be many days before thou seest the great dunes. But thou
+wilt see them in the end, and I think thou wilt love them as I do.
+Meanwhile, there will be other things of interest. I shall not let thee
+tire of the way, though it be long."
+
+He helped them into the carriage, the invalid first, then Victoria, and
+got in after them; Fafann, muffled in her veil, sitting on the seat
+beside the driver.
+
+"By this time Mr. Knight has my letter, and has read it," the girl said
+to herself. "Oh, I do hope he won't be disgusted, and think me
+ungrateful. How glad I shall be when the day comes for me to explain."
+
+As it happened, the letter was in Maieddine's thoughts at the same
+moment. It occurred to him, too, that it would have been read by now. He
+knew to whom it had been written, for he had got a friend of his to
+bring him a list of passengers on board the _Charles Quex_ on her last
+trip from Marseilles to Algiers. Also, he had learned at whose house
+Stephen Knight was staying.
+
+Maieddine would gladly have forgotten to post the letter, and could have
+done so without hurting his conscience. But he had thought it might be
+better for Knight to know that Miss Ray was starting on a journey, and
+that there was no hope of hearing from her for a fortnight. Victoria had
+been ready to show him the letter, therefore she had not written any
+forbidden details; and Knight would probably feel that she must be left
+to manage her own affairs in her own way. No doubt he would be curious,
+and ask questions at the Hotel de la Kasbah, but Maieddine believed that
+he had made it impossible for Europeans to find out anything there, or
+elsewhere. He knew that men of Western countries could be interested in
+a girl without being actually in love with her; and though it was almost
+impossible to imagine a man, even a European, so cold as not to fall in
+love with Victoria at first sight, he hoped that Knight was blind enough
+not to appreciate her, or that his affections were otherwise engaged.
+After all, the two had been strangers when they came on the boat, or had
+met only once before, therefore the Englishman had no right to take
+steps unauthorized by the girl. Altogether, Maieddine thought he had
+reason to be satisfied with the present, and to hope in the future.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+
+Stephen and Nevill Caird returned from Tlemcen to Algiers, hoping for
+news of Victoria, but there was none; and after two days they left for
+Grand Kabylia.
+
+The prophetic birds at Mansourah had flown in a south-easterly
+direction, but when Stephen and Nevill started in search of Josette's
+maid Mouni, they turned full east, their faces looking towards the dark
+heights of Kabylia. It was not Victoria they hoped to find there,
+however, or Saidee her sister, but only a hint as to their next move.
+Nevertheless, Nevill was superstitious about the birds, and said to
+Stephen when the car had run them out of Algiers, past Maison Carre,
+into open country: "Isn't it queer how the birds follow us? I never saw
+so many before. They're always with us. It's just as if they'd passed on
+word, the way chupatties are passed on in India, eh? Or maybe Josette
+has told her protegees to look after us."
+
+And Stephen smiled, for Nevill's superstitions were engaging, rather
+than repulsive; and his quaintnesses were endearing him more and more to
+the man who had just taken up the dropped thread of friendship after
+eight or nine years. What an odd fellow Nevill was! Stephen thought,
+indulgently. No wonder he was worshipped by his servants, and even his
+chauffeur. No wonder Lady MacGregor adored her nephew, though treating
+him as if he were a little boy!
+
+One of Nevill's idiosyncrasies, after arranging everything to fit a
+certain plan, was to rush off at the last minute and do something
+entirely different. Last night--the night before starting for Grand
+Kabylia--he had begged Stephen to be ready by eight, at which time the
+car was ordered. At nine--having sat up till three o'clock writing
+letters, and then having visited a lately imported gazelle in its
+quarters--Nevill was still in his bath. At length he arrived on the
+scene, beaming, with a sulky chameleon in his pocket, and flew about
+giving last directions, until he suddenly discovered that there was a
+violent hurry, whereupon he began to be boyishly peevish with the
+chauffeur for not getting off an hour ago. No sooner had the car
+started, however, than he fell into a serious mood, telling Stephen of
+many things which he had thought out in the night--things which might be
+helpful in finding Victoria. He had been lying awake, it seemed,
+brooding on this subject, and it had occurred to him that, if Mouni
+should prove a disappointment, they might later discover something
+really useful by going to the annual ball at the Governor's palace. This
+festivity had been put off, on account of illness in the chief
+official's family; but it would take place in a fortnight or so now. All
+the great Aghas and Caids of the south would be there, and as Nevill
+knew many of them, he might be able to get definite information
+concerning Ben Halim. As for Saidee--to hear of Ben Halim was to hear of
+her. And then it was, in the midst of describing the ball, and the
+important men who would attend, that Nevill suddenly broke off to be
+superstitious about birds.
+
+It was true that the birds were everywhere! little greenish birds
+flitting among the trees; larger grey-brown birds flying low; fairy-like
+blue and yellow birds that circled round the car as it ran east towards
+the far, looming mountains of the Djurdjura; larks that spouted music
+like a fountain of jewels as they soared into the quivering blue; and
+great, stately storks, sitting in their nests on tall trees or tops of
+poles, silhouetted against the sky as they gazed indifferently down at
+the automobile.
+
+"Josette would tell us it's splendid luck to see storks on their
+nests," said Nevill. "Arabs think they bring good fortune to places.
+That's why people cut off the tops of the trees and make nests for them,
+so they can bless the neighbourhood and do good to the crops. Storks
+have no such menial work here as bringing babies. Arab babies have to
+come as best they can--sent into the world anyhow; for storks are men
+who didn't do their religious duties in the most approved style, so they
+have to revisit the world next time in the form of beneficent birds."
+
+But Nevill did not want to answer questions about storks and their
+habits. He had tired of them in a moment, and was passionately
+interested in mules. "There ought to be an epic written about the mules
+of North Africa!" he exclaimed. "I tell you, it's a great subject. Look
+at those poor brave chaps struggling to pull carts piled up with casks
+of beastly Algerian wine, through that sea of mud, which probably goes
+all the way through to China. Aren't they splendid? Wait till you've
+been in this country as long as I have, and you'll respect mules as I
+do, from army mules down to the lowest dregs of the mule kingdom. I
+don't ask you to love them--and neither do they. But how they work here
+in Africa--and never a groan! They go on till they drop. And I don't
+believe half of them ever get anything to eat. Some day I'm going to
+start a Rest Farm for tired mules. I shall pay well for them. A man I
+know did write a paean of praise for mules. I believe I'll have it
+translated into Arabic, and handed about as a leaflet. These natives are
+good to their horses, because they believe they have souls, but they
+treat their mules like the dirt under their feet." And Nevill began
+quoting here and there a verse or a line he remembered of the "mule
+music," chanting in time to the throbbing of the motor.
+
+     "Key A minor, measure common,
+     One and two and three and four and--
+     Every hoof-beat half a second
+     Every hoof-beat linked with heart-beat,
+     Every heart-beat nearer bursting.
+     Andantino sostenuto:
+     In the downpour or the dryness,
+     Hottest summer, coldest winter;
+     Sick and sore and old and feeble,
+     Hourly, hourly; daily, daily,
+     From the sunrise to the setting;
+     From the setting to the sunrise
+     Scarce a break in all the circle
+     For the rough and scanty eating,
+     For the scant and muddy drinking,
+     For the fitful, fearful resting,
+     For the master haunted-sleeping.
+     Dreams in dark of God's far heaven
+     Tempo primo; tempo sempre."
+
+And so, through pools of wild flowers and the blood of poppies, their
+road led to wild mountain scenery, then into the embrace of the
+Djurdjura mountains themselves--evil, snow-splashed, sterile-seeming
+mountains, until the car had passed the fortified town of Tizi Ouzou, an
+overgrown village, whose name Stephen thought like a drunken term of
+endearment. It was market-day there, and the long street was so full of
+Kabyles dressed apparently in low-necked woollen bags, of soldiers in
+uniform, of bold-eyed, scantily-clad children, and of dyed sheep and
+goats, that the car had to pass at a walk. Nevill bought a good deal of
+Kabyle jewellery, necklaces and long earrings, or boxes enamelled in
+crude greens and reds, blues and yellows. Not that he had not already
+more than he knew what to do with; but he could not resist the handsome
+unveiled girls, the wretched old women, or pretty, half-naked children
+who offered the work of the neighbouring hill villages, or family
+heirlooms. Sometimes he saw eyes which made him think of Josette's; but
+then, all beautiful things that he saw reminded him of her. She was an
+obsession. But, for a wonder, he had taken Stephen's advice in Tlemcen
+and had not proposed again. He was still marvelling at his own strength
+of mind, and asking himself if, after all, he had been wise.
+
+After Tizi Ouzou the mountains were no longer sterile-seeming. The road
+coiled up and up snakily, between rows of leering cactus; and far below
+the densely wooded heights lay lovely plains through which a great river
+wandered. There was a homely smell of mint, and the country did not look
+to Stephen like the Africa he had imagined. All the hill-slopes were
+green with the bright green of fig trees and almonds, even at heights so
+great that the car wallowed among clouds. This steep road was the road
+to Fort National--the "thorn in the eye of Kabylia," which pierces so
+deeply that Kabylia may writhe, but revolt no more. Already it was
+almost as if the car had brought them into another world. The men who
+occasionally emerged from the woolly white blankets of the clouds, were
+men of a very different type from the mild Kabyles of the plains they
+had met trooping along towards Algiers in search of work.
+
+These were brave, upstanding men, worthy of their fathers who revolted
+against French rule and could not be conquered until that thorn, Fort
+National, was planted deeply in heart and eye. Some were fair, and even
+red-haired, which would have surprised Stephen if he had not heard from
+Nevill that in old days the Christian slaves used to escape from Algiers
+and seek refuge in Kabylia, where they were treated as free men, and no
+questions were asked.
+
+Without Fort National, it seemed to Stephen that this strange Berber
+people would never have been forced to yield; for looking down from
+mountain heights as the motor sped on, it was as if he looked into a
+vast and intricate maze of valleys, and on each curiously pointed peak
+clung a Kabyle village that seemed to be inlaid in the rock like
+separate bits of scarlet enamel. It was the low house-roofs which gave
+this effect, for unlike the Arabs, whom the ancient Berber lords of the
+soil regard with scorn, the Kabyles build their dwellings of stone,
+roofed with red tiles.
+
+This was a wild, tormented world, broken into a hundred sharp mountain
+ridges which seemed to cut the sky, because between the high peaks and
+the tangled skein of far-away villages surged foaming seas of cloud,
+which appeared to separate high, bright peaks from shadowed vales, by
+incredible distances. As far as the eye could travel with utmost
+straining, away to the dark, imposing background of the Djurdjura range,
+billowed ridges and ravines, ravines and ridges, each pointing pinnacle
+or razor-shelf adorned with its coral-red hamlet, like a group of
+poisonous fungi, or the barnacles on a ship's steep side. Such an
+extraordinary landscape Stephen had never imagined, or seen except on a
+Japanese fan; and it struck him that the scene actually did resemble
+quaint prints picturing half-real, half-imaginary scenes in old Japan.
+
+"What a country for war! What a country for defence!" he said to
+himself, as Nevill's yellow car sped along the levels of narrow ridges
+that gave, on either hand, vertical views far down to fertile valleys,
+rushed into clouds of weeping rain, or out into regions of sunlight and
+rainbows.
+
+It was three o'clock when they reached Michelet, but they had not
+stopped for luncheon, as both were in haste to find Mouni: and Mouni's
+village was just beyond Michelet. Since Fort National, they had been in
+the heart of Grand Kabylia; and Michelet was even more characteristic of
+this strange mountain country, so different from transplanted Arabia
+below.
+
+Not an Arab lived here, in the long, straggling town, built on the crest
+of a high ridge. Not a minaret tower pointed skyward. The Kabyle place
+of worship had a roof of little more height or importance than those
+that clustered round it. The men were in striped brown gandourahs of
+camel's hair; the lovely unveiled women were wrapped in woollen foutahs
+dyed red or yellow, blue or purple, and from their little ears heavy
+rings dangled. The blue tattoo marks on their brown cheeks and
+foreheads, which in forgotten times had been Christian crosses, gave
+great value to their enormous, kohl-encircled eyes; and their teeth
+were very white as they smiled boldly, yet proudly, at Stephen and
+Nevill.
+
+There was a flight of steps to mount from the car to the hotel, and as
+the two men climbed the stairs they turned to look, across a profound
+chasm, to the immense mass of the Djurdjura opposite Michelet's thin
+ledge. From their point of view, it was like the Jungfrau, as Stephen
+had seen it from Muerren, on one of his few trips to Switzerland.
+Somehow, those little conventional potterings of his seemed pitiable
+now, they had been so easy to do, so exactly what other people did.
+
+It was long past ordinary luncheon time, and hunger constrained the two
+men to eat before starting out to find the village where Mouni and her
+people lived. It was so small a hamlet, that Nevill, who knew Kabylia
+well, had never heard of it until Josette Soubise wrote the name for him
+on one of her own cards. The landlord of the hotel at Michelet gave
+rapid and fluent directions how to go, saying that the distance was two
+miles, but as the way was a steep mountain path, les messieurs must go
+on foot.
+
+Immediately after lunching they started, armed with a present for the
+bride; a watch encrusted with tiny brilliants, which, following
+Josette's advice, they had chosen as the one thing of all others
+calculated to win the Kabyle girl's heart. "It will be like a fairy
+dream to her to have a watch of her own," Josette had said. "Her friends
+will be dying of envy, and she will enjoy that. Oh, she will search her
+soul and tell you everything she knows, if you but give her a watch!"
+
+For a little way the friends walked along the wild and beautiful road,
+which from Michelet plunges down the mountains toward Bougie and the
+sea; but soon they came to the narrow, ill-defined footpath described by
+the landlord. It led straight up a steep shoulder of rock which at its
+highest part became a ledge; and when they had climbed to the top, at a
+distance they could see a cluster of red roofs apparently falling down a
+precipice, at the far end.
+
+Here and there were patches of snow, white as fallen lily-petals on the
+pansy-coloured earth. Looking down was like looking from a high wave
+upon a vast sea of other waves, each wave carrying on its apex a few
+bits of broken red mosaic, which were Kabyle roofs; and the pale sky was
+streaked with ragged violet clouds exactly like the sky and clouds
+painted on screens by Japanese artists.
+
+They met not a soul as they walked, but while the village was still far
+away and unreal, the bark of guns, fired quickly one after the other,
+jarred their ears, and the mountain wind brought a crying of raitas,
+African clarionettes, and the dull, yet fierce beat of tom-toms.
+
+"Now I know why we've met no one," said Nevill. "The wedding feast's
+still on, and everybody who is anybody at Yacoua, is there. You know, if
+you're an Arab, or even a Kabyle, it takes you a week to be married
+properly, and you have high jinks every day: music and dancing and
+eating, and if you've money enough, above all you make the powder speak.
+Mouni's people are doing her well. What a good thing we've got the
+watch! Even with Josette's introduction we mightn't have been able to
+come near the bride, unless we had something to offer worth her having."
+
+The mountain village of Yacoua had no suburbs, no outlying houses. The
+one-story mud huts with their pointed red roofs, utterly unlike Arab
+dwellings, were huddled together, with only enough distance between for
+a man and a mule or a donkey to pass. The best stood in pairs, with a
+walled yard between; and as Stephen and Nevill searched anxiously for
+some one to point out the home of Mouni, from over a wall which seemed
+to be running down the mountain-side, came a white puff of smoke and a
+strident bang, then more, one after the other. Again the wailing of the
+raita began, and there was no longer any need to ask the way.
+
+"That's where the party is--in that yard," said Nevill, beginning to be
+excited. "Now, what sort of reception will they give us? That's the next
+question."
+
+"Can't we tell, the first thing, that we've come from Algiers with a
+present for the bride?" suggested Stephen.
+
+"We can if they understand Arabic," Nevill answered. "But the Kabyle
+lingo's quite different--Berber, or something racy of the soil. I ought
+to have brought Mohammed to interpret."
+
+So steeply did the yard between the low houses run downhill, that,
+standing at the top of a worn path like a seam in some old garment, the
+two Europeans could look over the mud wall. Squalid as were the mud huts
+and the cattle-yard connecting them, the picture framed in the square
+enclosure blazed with colour. It was barbaric, and beautiful in its
+savagery.
+
+Squatting on the ground, with the last rank against the house wall, were
+several rows of women, all unveiled, their uncovered arms jewelled to
+the elbows, embracing their knees. The afternoon sunlight shone on their
+ceremonial finery, setting fire to the red, blue and green enamel of
+their necklaces, their huge hoop earrings and the jewelled silver chains
+pinned to their scarlet or yellow head-wrappings, struck out strange
+gleams from the flat, round brooches which fastened their gaily striped
+robes on their shoulders, and turned their great dark eyes into brown
+topazes. Twenty or thirty men, dressed in their best burnouses, draped
+over new gandourahs, their heads swathed in clean white muslin turbans,
+sat on the opposite side of the court, watching the "powder play"
+furnished by two tall, handsome boys, who handled with delicate grace
+and skill old-fashioned, long-muzzled guns inlaid with coral and silver,
+heirlooms perhaps, and of some value even to antiquaries.
+
+While the powder spoke, nobody had a thought for anything else. All eyes
+were upon the boys with the guns, only travelling upward in ecstasy to
+watch the puffs of smoke that belched out round and white as fat
+snowballs. Then, when the music burst forth again, and a splendidly
+handsome young Kabyle woman ran forward to begin the wild dance of the
+body and of the hands--dear to the mountain men as to the nomads of the
+desert--every one was at first absorbed in admiration of her movements.
+But suddenly a child (one of a dozen in a row in front of all the women)
+tired of the show, less amusing to him than the powder play, and looking
+up, saw the two Roumis on the hill behind the wall. He nudged his
+neighbour, and the neighbour, who happened to be a little girl, followed
+with her eyes the upward nod of his head. So the news went round that
+strangers had come uninvited to the wedding-feast, and men began to
+frown and women to whisper, while the dancer lost interest in her own
+tinklings and genuflections.
+
+It was time for the intruders to make it known that business of some
+sort, not idle curiosity, had brought them on the scene, and Nevill
+stepped forward, holding out the visiting card given him by Josette, and
+the crimson velvet case containing the watch which Stephen had bought in
+Algiers.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+
+An elderly man, with a reddish beard, got up from the row of men grouped
+behind the musicians, and muttered to one of the youths who had been
+making the powder speak. They argued for a moment, and then the boy,
+handing his gun to the elder man, walked with dignity to a closed gate,
+large enough to let in the goats and donkeys pertaining to the two
+houses. This gate he opened half-way, standing in the aperture and
+looking up sullenly as the Roumis came down the narrow, slippery track
+which led to it.
+
+"Cebah el-kheir, ia Sidi--Good day, sir," said Nevill, agreeably, in his
+best Arabic. "Ta' rafi el-a' riya?--Do you speak Arabic?"
+
+The young man bowed, not yet conciliated. "Ach men sebba jit lhena, ia
+Sidi?--Why have you come here, sir?" he asked suspiciously, in very
+guttural Arabic.
+
+Relieved to find that they would have no great difficulty in
+understanding each other, Nevill plunged into explanations, pointing to
+Josette's card. They had come recommended by the malema at Tlemcen. They
+brought good wishes and a present to the bride of the village, the
+virtuous and beautiful Mouni, from whom they would gladly receive
+information concerning a European lady. Was this the house of her
+father? Would they be permitted to speak with her, and give this little
+watch from Algiers?
+
+Nevill made his climax by opening the velvet case, and the brown eyes of
+the Kabyle boy flashed with uncontrollable admiration, though his face
+remained immobile. He answered that this was indeed the house of
+Mouni's father, and he himself was the brother of Mouni. This was the
+last day of her wedding-feast, and in an hour she would go to the home
+of her husband. The consent of the latter, as well as of her father,
+must be asked before strangers could hope to speak with her.
+Nevertheless, the Roumis were welcome to enter the yard and watch the
+entertainment while Mouni's brother consulted with those most concerned
+in this business.
+
+The boy stood aside, inviting them to pass through the gate, and the
+Englishmen availed themselves of his courtesy, waiting just inside until
+the red-bearded man came forward. He and his son consulted together, and
+then a dark young man in a white burnous was called to join the
+conclave. He was a handsome fellow, with a haughtily intelligent face,
+and an air of breeding superior to the others.
+
+"This is my sister's husband. He too speaks Arabic, but my father not so
+much." The boy introduced his brother-in-law. "Messaud-ben-Arzen is the
+son of our Caid," (he spoke proudly). "Will you tell him and my father
+what your business is with Mouni?"
+
+Nevill broke into more explanations, and evidently they were
+satisfactory, for, while the dancing and the powder play were stopped,
+and the squatting ranks of guests stared silently, the two Roumis were
+conducted into the house.
+
+It was larger than most of the houses in the village, but apart from the
+stable of the animals through which the visitors passed, there was but
+one room, long and narrow, lighted by two small windows. The darkest
+corner was the bedroom, which had a platform of stone on which rugs were
+spread, and there was a lower mound of dried mud, roughly curtained off
+from the rest with two or three red and blue foutahs suspended on ropes
+made of twisted alfa, or dried grass. Toward the farther end, a hole in
+the floor was the family cooking-place, and behind it an elevation of
+beaten earth made a wide shelf for a long row of jars shaped like the
+Roman amphorae of two thousand years ago. Pegs driven into one of the
+walls were hung with gandourahs and a foutah or two; and of furniture,
+worthy of that name in the eyes of Europeans, there was none.
+
+At the bedroom end of the room, several women were gathered round a
+central object of interest, and though the light was dim after the vivid
+sunshine outside, the visitors guessed that the object of interest was
+the bride. Decorously they paused near the door, while a great deal of
+arguing went on, in which the shriller voices of women mingled with the
+guttural tones of the men. Nevill could catch no word, for they were
+talking their own Kabyle tongue which had come down from their
+forefathers the Berbers, lords of the land long years before the Arabs
+drove them into the high mountains. But at last the group opened, and a
+young woman stepped out with half-shy eagerness. She was loaded with
+jewels, and her foutah was barbarically splendid in colour, but she was
+almost as fair as her father; a slim creature with grey eyes, and brown
+curly hair that showed under her orange foulard.
+
+Proud of her French, she began talking in that language, welcoming the
+guests, telling them how glad she was to see friends of her dear
+Mademoiselle Soubise. But soon she must be gone to her husband's house,
+and already the dark young bridegroom, son of the Caid, was growing
+impatient. There was no time to be lost, if they were to learn anything
+of Ben Halim's wife.
+
+As a preface to what they wished to ask, Nevill made a presentation
+speech, placing the velvet watch-case in Mouni's hand, and she opened it
+with a kind of moan expressing intense rapture. Never had she seen
+anything so beautiful, and she would cheerfully have recalled every
+phase of her career from earliest babyhood, if by doing so she could
+have pleased the givers.
+
+"But yes," she answered to Nevill's first questions, "the beautiful lady
+whom I served was the wife of Sidi Cassim ben Halim. At first it was in
+Algiers that I lived with her, but soon we left, and went to the
+country, far, oh, very far away, going towards the south. The house was
+like a large farmhouse, and to me as a child--for I was but a child--it
+seemed fine and grand. Yet my lady was not pleased. She found it rough,
+and different from any place to which she was used. Poor, beautiful
+lady! She was not happy there. She cried a great deal, and each day I
+thought she grew paler than the day before."
+
+Mouni spoke in French, hesitating now and then for a word, or putting in
+two or three in Arabic, before she stopped to think, as she grew
+interested in her subject. Stephen understood almost all she said, and
+was too impatient to leave the catechizing to Nevill.
+
+"Whereabouts was this farmhouse?" he asked. "Can't you tell us how to
+find it?"
+
+Mouni searched her memory. "I was not yet thirteen," she said. "It is
+nine years since I left that place; and I travelled in a shut-up
+carriage, with a cousin, older than I, who had been already in the house
+of the lady when I came. She told her mistress of me, and I was sent
+for, because I was quick and lively in my ways, and white of face,
+almost as white as the beautiful lady herself. My work was to wait on
+the mistress, and help my cousin, who was her maid. Yamina--that was my
+cousin's name--could have told you more about the place in the country
+than I, for she was even then a woman. But she died a few months after
+we both left the beautiful lady. We left because the master thought my
+cousin carried a letter for her mistress, which he did not wish sent;
+and he gave orders that we should no longer live under his roof."
+
+"Surely you can remember where you went, and how you went, on leaving
+the farmhouse?" Stephen persisted.
+
+"Oh yes, we went back to Algiers. But it was a long distance, and took
+us many days, because we had only a little money, and Yamina would not
+spend it in buying tickets for the diligence, all the way. We walked
+many miles, and only took a diligence when I cried, and was too tired
+to move a step farther. At night we drove sometimes, I remember, and
+often we rested under the tents of nomads who were kind to us.
+
+"While I was with the lady, I never went outside the great courtyard. It
+is not strange that now, after all these years, I cannot tell you more
+clearly where the house was. But it was a great white house, on a hill,
+and round it was a high wall, with towers that overlooked the country
+beneath. And in those towers, which were on either side the big, wide
+gate, were little windows through which men could spy, or even shoot if
+they chose."
+
+"Did you never hear the name of any town that was near?" Stephen went
+on.
+
+"I do not think there was a town near; yet there was a village not far
+off to the south. I saw it from the hill-top, both as I went in at the
+gate with my cousin, and when, months later, I was sent away with her.
+We did not pass through it, because our road was to and from the north;
+and I do not even know the name of the village. But there was a cemetery
+outside it, where some of the master's ancestors and relations were
+buried. I heard my lady speak of it one day, when she cried because she
+feared to die and be laid there without ever again seeing her own
+country and her own people. Oh, and once I heard Yamina talk with
+another servant about an oasis called Bou-Saada. It was not near, yet I
+think it could be reached by diligence in a long day."
+
+"Good!" broke in Nevill. "There's our first real clue! Bou-Saada I know
+well. When people who come and visit me want a glimpse of the desert in
+a hurry, Bou-Saada is where I take them. One motors there from Algiers
+in seven or eight hours--through mountains at first, then on the fringe
+of the desert; but it's true, as Mouni says, going by diligence, and
+walking now and then, it would be a journey of days. Her description of
+the house on the hill, looking down over a village and cemetery, will be
+a big help. And Ben Halim's name is sure to be known in the country
+round, if he ever lived there."
+
+"He may have been gone for years," said Stephen. "And if there's a
+conspiracy of silence in Algiers, why not elsewhere?"
+
+"Well, at least we've got a clue, and will follow it up for all we know.
+By Jove, this is giving me a new interest in life!" And Nevill rubbed
+his hands in a boyish way he had. "Tell us what the beautiful lady was
+like," he went on to Mouni.
+
+"Her skin was like the snow on our mountain-tops when the sunrise paints
+the white with rose," answered Mouni. "Her hair was redder than the red
+of henna, and when it was unfastened it hung down below her waist. Her
+eyes were dark as a night without moon, and her teeth were little,
+little pearls. Yet for all her beauty she was not happy. She wasted the
+flower of her youth in sadness, and though the master was noble, and
+splendid as the sun to look upon, I think she had no love to give him,
+perhaps because he was grave and seldom smiled, or because she was a
+Roumia and could not suit herself to the ways of true believers."
+
+"Did she keep to her own religion?" asked Stephen.
+
+"That I cannot tell. I was too young to understand. She never talked of
+such things before me, but she kept to none of our customs, that I know.
+In the three months I served her, never did she leave the house, not
+even to visit the cemetery on a Friday, as perhaps the master would have
+allowed her to do, if she had wished."
+
+"Do you remember if she spoke of a sister?"
+
+"She had a photograph of a little girl, whose picture looked like
+herself. Once she told me it was her sister, but the next day the
+photograph was gone from its place, and I never saw it again. Yamina
+thought the master was jealous, because our lady looked at it a great
+deal."
+
+"Was there any other lady in that house," Nevill ventured, "or was yours
+the master's only wife?"
+
+"There was no other lady at that time," Mouni replied promptly.
+
+"So far, so good," said Nevill. "Well, Legs, I don't think there's any
+doubt we've got hold of the right end of the stick now. Mouni's
+beautiful lady and Miss Ray's sister Saidee are certainly one and the
+same. Ho for the white farmhouse on the hill!"
+
+"Must we go back to Algiers, or can we get to Bou-Saada from here?"
+Stephen asked.
+
+Nevill laughed. "You are in a hurry! Oh, we can get there from here all
+right. Would you like to start now?"
+
+Stephen's face reddened. "Why not, if we've found out all we can from
+this girl?" He tried to speak indifferently.
+
+Nevill laughed again. "Very well. There's nothing left then, except to
+say good-bye to the fair bride and her relations."
+
+He had expected to get back to Algiers that night, slipping away from
+the high passes of Grand Kabylia before dusk, and reaching home late, by
+lamplight. But now the plan was changed. They were not to see Algiers
+again until Stephen had made acquaintance with the desert. By setting
+off at once, they might arrive at Bou-Saada some time in the dark hours;
+and Nevill upset his old arrangements with good grace. Why should he
+mind? he asked, when Stephen apologized shame-facedly for his
+impatience. Bou-Saada was as good a place as any, except Tlemcen, and
+this adventure would give him an excuse for a letter, even two letters,
+to Josette Soubise. She would want to hear about Mouni's wedding, and
+the stately Kabyle home which they had visited. Besides she would be
+curious to know whether they found the white farmhouse on the hill, and
+if so, what they learned there of the beautiful lady and her mysterious
+fate. Oh yes, it would certainly mean two letters at least: one from
+Bou-Saada, one after the search for the farmhouse; and Nevill thought
+himself in luck, for he was not allowed to write often to Josette.
+
+After Michelet the road, a mere shelf projecting along a precipice,
+slants upward on its way to the Col de Tirouda, sharp as a knife aimed
+at the heart of the mountains. From far below clouds boil up as if the
+valleys smoked after a destroying fire, and through flying mists flush
+the ruddy earth, turning the white film to pinkish gauze. Crimson and
+purple stones shine like uncut jewels, and cascades of yellow gorse,
+under red-flowering trees, pour down over low-growing white flowers,
+which embroider the rose-coloured rocks.
+
+Then, suddenly, gone is the green Kabyle mountain-world, gone like a
+dream the tangle of ridges and chasms, the bright tapestry of fig trees
+and silver olives, dark karoubias (the wild locusts of John the Baptist)
+and climbing roses. Rough, coarse grass has eaten up the flowers, or
+winds sweeping down from the Col have killed them. Only a few stunted
+trees bend grotesquely to peer over the sheer sides of shadowed gorges
+as the road strains up and up, twisting like a scar left by a whip-lash,
+on the naked brown shoulders of a slave. So at last it flings a loop
+over the Col de Tirouda. Then, round a corner the wand of an invisible
+magician waves: darkness and winter cold become summer warmth and light.
+
+This light was the level golden glory of late afternoon when Stephen saw
+it from Nevill's car; and so green were the wide stretching meadows and
+shining rivers far below, that he seemed to be looking at them through
+an emerald, as Nero used to gaze at his gardens in Rome. Down the motor
+plunged towards the light, threading back and forth a network of
+zig-zags, until long before sunset they were in the warm lowlands,
+racing towards Bordj-bou Arreredj and Msila. Beyond Msila, they would
+follow the desert track which would bring them by and by to the oasis
+town of Bou-Saada.
+
+If Stephen had been a tourist, guide-book in hand, he would have
+delighted in the stony road among the mountains between Bordj-bou
+Arreredj and Msila; but it was the future, not the past, which held his
+thoughts to-day, and he had no more than a passing glance for ruined
+mosques and palaces. It was only after nightfall, far beyond the town of
+Msila, far beyond the vast plain of the Hodna, that his first dim
+glimpse of the desert thrilled him out of self-absorption.
+
+Even under the stars which crusted a moonless sky, the vast stretches of
+billowing sand glimmered faintly golden as a phosphorescent sea. And
+among the dimly gleaming waves of that endless waste the motor tossed,
+rocking on the rough track like a small boat in mid-ocean.
+
+Nowhere was there any sound except the throbbing of their machinery, and
+a fairy fiddling of unseen crickets, which seemed to make the silence
+more intense, under the great sparkling dome that hung over the gold.
+
+"Now I am in the place where she wished to be: the golden silence,"
+Stephen said to himself. And he found himself listening, as if for the
+call Victoria had promised to give if she needed him.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+
+On the top of a pale golden hill, partly sand, partly rock, rises a
+white wall with square, squat towers which look north and south, east
+and west. The wall and the towers together are like an ivory crown set
+on the hill's brow, and from a distance the effect is very barbaric,
+very impressive, for all the country round about is wild and desolate.
+Along the southern horizon the desert goes billowing in waves of gold,
+and rose, and violet, that fade into the fainter violet of the sky; and
+nearer there are the strange little mountains which guard the oasis of
+Bou-Saada, like a wall reared to hide a treasure from some dreaded
+enemy; and even the sand is heaped in fantastic shapes, resembling a
+troop of tawny beasts crouched to drink from deep pools of purple
+shadow. Northward, the crumpled waste rolls away like prairie land or
+ocean, faint green over yellow brown, as if grass seed had been
+sprinkled sparsely on a stormy sea and by some miracle had sprouted. And
+in brown wastes, bright emerald patches gleam, vivid and fierce as
+serpents' eyes, ringed round with silver. Far away to the east floats
+the mirage of a lake, calm as a blue lagoon. Westward, where desert
+merges into sky, are high tablelands, and flat-topped mountains with
+carved sides, desert architecture, such as might have suggested Egyptian
+temples and colossal sphinxes.
+
+Along the rough desert track beneath the hill, where bald stones break
+through sandy earth, camels come and go, passing from south to north,
+from north to south, marching slowly with rhythmic gait, as if to the
+sound of music which only they can hear, glancing from side to side with
+unutterable superciliousness, looking wistfully here and there at some
+miniature oasis thrown like a dark prayer-carpet on the yellow sand. Two
+or three in a band they go, led by desert men in blowing white, or again
+in a long train of twelve or twenty, their legs a moving lattice, their
+heart-shaped feet making a soft, swishing "pad-pad," on the hard road.
+
+The little windows of the squat, domed towers on the hill are like eyes
+that spy upon this road,--small, dark and secret eyes, very weary of
+seeing nothing better than camels since old days when there were
+razzias, and wars, something worth shutting stout gates upon.
+
+When, after three days of travelling, Victoria came southward along this
+road, and looked between the flapping carriage curtains at the white
+wall that crowned the dull gold hill, her heart beat fast, for the
+thought of the golden silence sprang to her mind. The gold did not burn
+with the fierce orange flames she had seen in her dreams--it was a
+bleached and faded gold, melancholy and almost sinister in colour; yet
+it would pass for gold; and a great silence brooded where prairie
+blended with desert. She asked no questions of Maieddine, for that was a
+rule she had laid upon herself; but when the carriage turned out of the
+rough road it had followed so long, and the horses began to climb a
+stony track which wound up the yellow hill to the white towers, she
+could hardly breathe, for the throbbing in her breast. Always she had
+only had to shut her eyes to see Saidee, standing on a high white place,
+gazing westward through a haze of gold. What if this were the high white
+place? What if already Si Maieddine was bringing her to Saidee?
+
+They had been only three days on the way so far, it was true, and she
+had been told that the journey would be very, very long. Still, Arabs
+were subtle, and Si Maieddine might have wanted to test her courage.
+Looking back upon those long hours, now, towards evening of the third
+day, it seemed to Victoria that she had been travelling for a week in
+the swaying, curtained carriage, with the slow-trotting mules.
+
+Just at first, there had been some fine scenery to hold her interest;
+far-off mountains of grim shapes, dark as iron, and spotted with snow as
+a leper is spotted with scales. Then had come low hills, following the
+mountains (nameless to her, because Maieddine had not cared to name
+them), and blue lakes of iris flowing over wide plains. But by and by
+the plains flattened to dullness; a hot wind ceaselessly flapped the
+canvas curtains, and Lella M'Barka sighed and moaned with the fatigue of
+constant motion. There was nothing but plain, endless plain, and
+Victoria had been glad, for her own sake as well as the invalid's, when
+night followed the first day. They had stopped on the outskirts of a
+large town, partly French, partly Arab, passing through and on to the
+house of a caid who was a friend of Si Maieddine's. It was a primitively
+simple house, even humble, it seemed to the girl, who had as yet no
+conception of the bareness and lack of comfort--according to Western
+ideas--of Arab country-houses. Nevertheless, when, after another tedious
+day, they rested under the roof of a village adel, an official below a
+caid, the first house seemed luxurious in contrast. During this last,
+third day, Victoria had been eager and excited, because of the desert,
+through one gate of which they had entered. She felt that once in the
+desert she was so close to Saidee in spirit that they might almost hear
+the beating of each other's hearts, but she had not expected to be near
+her sister in body for many such days to come: and the wave of joy that
+surged over her soul as the horses turned up the golden hill towards the
+white towers, was suffocating in its force.
+
+The nearer they came, the less impressive seemed the building. After
+all, it was not the great Arab stronghold it had looked from far away,
+but a fortified farmhouse a century old, at most. Climbing the hill,
+too, Victoria saw that the golden colour was partly due to a monstrous
+swarm of ochre-hued locusts, large as young canary birds, which had
+settled, thick as yellow snow, over the ground. They were resting after
+a long flight, and there were millions and millions of them, covering
+the earth in every direction as far as the eye could reach. Only a few
+were on the wing, but as the carriage stopped before the closed gates,
+fat yellow bodies came blundering against the canvas curtains, or fell
+plumply against the blinkers over the mules' eyes.
+
+Si Maieddine got down from the carriage, and shouted, with a peculiar
+call. There was no answering sound, but after a wait of two or three
+minutes the double gates of thick, greyish palm-wood were pulled open
+from inside, with a loud creak. For a moment the brown face of an old
+man, wrinkled as a monkey's, looked out between the gates, which he held
+ajar; then, with a guttural cry, he threw both as far back as he could,
+and rushing out, bent his white turban over Maieddine's hand. He kissed
+the Sidi's shoulder, and a fold of his burnous, half kneeling, and
+chattering Arabic, only a word of which Victoria could catch here and
+there. As he chattered, other men came running out, some of them
+Negroes, all very dark, and they vied with one another in humble kissing
+of the master's person, at any spot convenient to their lips.
+
+Politely, though not too eagerly, he made the gracious return of seeming
+to kiss the back of his own hand, or his fingers, where they had been
+touched by the welcoming mouths, but in reality he kissed air. With a
+gesture, he stopped the salutations at last, and asked for the Caid, to
+whom, he said, he had written, sending his letter by the diligence.
+
+Then there were passionate jabberings of regret. The Caid, was away, had
+been away for days, fighting the locusts on his other farm, west of
+Aumale, where there was grain to save. But the letter had arrived, and
+had been sent after him, immediately, by a man on horseback. This
+evening he would certainly return to welcome his honoured guest. The
+word was "guest," not "guests," and Victoria understood that she and
+Lella M'Barka would not see the master of the house. So it had been at
+the other two houses: so in all probability it would be at every house
+along their way unless, as she still hoped, they had already come to the
+end of the journey.
+
+The wide open gates showed a large, bare courtyard, the farmhouse, which
+was built round it, being itself the wall. On the outside, no windows
+were visible except those in the towers, and a few tiny square apertures
+for ventilation, but the yard was overlooked by a number of small glass
+eyes, all curtained.
+
+As the carriage was driven in, large yellow dogs gathered round it,
+barking; but the men kicked them away, and busied themselves in chasing
+the animals off to a shed, their white-clad backs all religiously turned
+as Si Maieddine helped the ladies to descend. Behind a closed window a
+curtain was shaking; and M'Barka had not yet touched her feet to the
+ground when a negress ran out of a door that opened in the same distant
+corner of the house. She was unveiled, like Lella M'Barka's servants in
+Algiers, and, with Fafann, she almost carried the tired invalid towards
+the open door. Victoria followed, quivering with suspense. What waited
+for her behind that door? Would she see Saidee, after all these years of
+separation?
+
+"I think I'm dying," moaned Lella M'Barka. "They will never take me away
+from this house alive. White Rose, where art thou? I need thy hand under
+my arm."
+
+Victoria tried to think only of M'Barka, and to wait with patience for
+the supreme moment--if it were to come. Even if she had wished it, she
+could not have asked questions now.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+
+It was midnight when Nevill's car ran into the beautiful oasis town,
+guarded by the most curious mountains of the Algerian desert, and they
+were at their strangest, cut out clear as the painted mountains of stage
+scenery, in the light of the great acetylene lamps. Stephen thought them
+like a vast, half-burned Moorish city of mosques and palaces, over which
+sand-storms had raged for centuries, leaving only traces here and there
+of a ruined tower, a domed roof, or an ornamental frieze.
+
+Of the palms he could see nothing, except the long, dark shape of the
+oasis among the pale sand-billows; but early next morning he and Nevill
+were up and out on the roof of the little French hotel, while sunrise
+banners marched across the sky. Stephen had not known that desert dunes
+could be bright peach-pink, or that a river flowing over white stones
+could look like melted rubies, or that a few laughing Arab girls,
+ankle-deep in limpid water, could glitter in morning light like jewelled
+houris in celestial gardens. But now that he knew, he would never forget
+his first desert picture.
+
+The two men stood on the roof among the bubbly domes for a long time,
+looking over the umber-coloured town and the flowing oasis which swept
+to Bou-Saada's brown feet like a tidal wave. It was not yet time to go
+and ask questions of the Caid, whom Nevill knew.
+
+Stephen was advised not to drink coffee in the hotel before starting on
+their quest. "We shall have to swallow at least three cups each of _cafe
+maure_ at the Caid's house, and perhaps a dash of tea flavoured with
+mint, on top of all, if we don't want to begin by hurting our host's
+feelings," Nevill said. So they fasted, and fed their minds by walking
+through Bou-Saada in its first morning glory. Already the old part of
+the town was alive, for Arabs love the day when it is young, even as
+they love a young girl for a bride.
+
+The Englishmen strolled into the cool, dark mosque, where heavy Eastern
+scents of musk and benzoin had lain all night like fugitives in
+sanctuary, and where the roof was held up by cypress poles instead of
+marble pillars, as in the grand mosques of big cities. By the time they
+were ready to leave, dawn had become daylight, and coming out of the
+brown dusk, the town seemed flooded with golden wine, wonderful,
+bubbling, unbelievable gold, with scarlet and purple and green figures
+floating in it, brilliant as rainbow fish.
+
+The Caid lived near the old town, in an adobe house, with a garden which
+was a tangle of roses and pomegranate blossoms, under orange trees and
+palms. And there were narrow paths of hard sand, the colour of old gold,
+which rounded up to the centre, and had little runnels of water on
+either side. The sunshine dripped between the long fingers of the palm
+leaves, to trail in a lacy pattern along the yellow paths, and the sound
+of the running water was sweet.
+
+It was in this garden that the Caid gave his guests the three cups of
+coffee each, followed by the mint-flavoured tea which Nevill had
+prophesied. And when they had admired a tame gazelle which nibbled cakes
+of almond and honey from their hands, the Caid insisted on presenting it
+to his good friend, Monsieur Caird.
+
+Over the cups of _cafe maure_, they talked of Captain Cassim ben Halim,
+but their host could or would tell them nothing beyond the fact that Ben
+Halim had once lived for a little while not far from Bou-Saada. He had
+inherited from his father a country house, about fifty kilometres
+distant, but he had never stayed there until after retiring from the
+army, and selling his place in Algiers. Then he had spent a few months
+in the country. The Caid had met him long ago in Algiers, but had not
+seen him since. Ben Halim had been ill, and had led a retired life in
+the country, receiving no one. Afterward he had gone away, out of
+Algeria. It was said that he had died abroad a little later. Of that,
+the Caid was not certain; but in any case the house on the hill was now
+in the possession of the Caid of Ain Dehdra, Sidi Elaid ben Sliman, a
+distant cousin of Ben Halim, said to be his only living relative.
+
+Then their host went on to describe the house with the white wall, which
+looked down upon a cemetery and a village. His description was almost
+precisely what Mouni's had been, and there was no doubt that the place
+where she had lived with the beautiful lady was the place of which he
+spoke. But of the lady herself they could learn nothing. The Caid had no
+information to give concerning Ben Halim's family.
+
+He pressed them to stay, and see all the beauties of the oasis. He would
+introduce them to the marabout at El Hamel, and in the evening they
+should see a special dance of the Ouled Nails. But they made excuses
+that they must get on, and bade the Caid good-bye after an hour's talk.
+As for the _gazelle approvoisee_, Nevill named her Josette, and hired an
+Arab to take her to Algiers by the diligence, with explicit instructions
+as to food and milk.
+
+Swarms of locusts flew into their faces, and fell into the car, or were
+burned to death in the radiator, as they sped along the road towards the
+white house on the golden hill. They started from Bou-Saada at ten
+o'clock, and though the road was far from good, and they were not always
+sure of the way, the noon heat was scarcely at its height when Stephen
+said: "There it is! That must be the hill and the white wall with the
+towers."
+
+"Yes, there's the cemetery too," answered Nevill. "We're seeing it on
+our left side, as we go, I hope that doesn't mean we're in for bad
+luck."
+
+"Rot!" said Stephen, promptly. Yet for all his scorn of Nevill's
+grotesque superstitions, he was not in a confident mood. He did not
+expect much good from this visit to Ben Halim's old country house. And
+the worst was, that here seemed their last chance of finding out what
+had become of Saidee Ray, if not of her sister.
+
+The sound of the motor made a brown face flash over the top of the tall
+gate, like a Jack popping out of his box.
+
+"La Sidi, el Caid?" asked Nevill. "Is he at home?"
+
+The face pretended not to understand; and having taken in every detail
+of the strangers' appearance and belongings, including the motor-car, it
+disappeared.
+
+"What's going to happen now?" Stephen wanted to know.
+
+Nevill looked puzzled. "The creature isn't too polite. Probably it's
+afraid of Roumis, and has never been spoken to by one before. But I hope
+it will promptly scuttle indoors and fetch its master, or some one with
+brains and manners."
+
+Several minutes passed, and the yellow motor-car continued to advertise
+its presence outside the Caid's gate by panting strenuously. The face
+did not show itself again; and there was no evidence of life behind the
+white wall, except the peculiarly ominous yelping of Kabyle dogs.
+
+"Let's pound on the gate, and show them we mean to get in," said
+Stephen, angry-eyed.
+
+But Nevill counselled waiting. "Never be in a hurry when you have to do
+with Arabs. It's patience that pays."
+
+"Here come two chaps on horseback," Stephen said, looking down at the
+desert track that trailed near the distant cluster of mud houses, which
+were like square blocks of gold in the fierce sunshine. "They seem to be
+staring up at the car. I wonder if they're on their way here!"
+
+"It may be the Caid, riding home with a friend, or a servant," Nevill
+suggested. "If so, I'll bet my hat there are other eyes than ours
+watching for him, peering out through some spy-hole in one of the
+gate-towers."
+
+His guess was right. It was the Caid coming home, and Maieddine was with
+him; for Lella M'Barka had been obliged to rest for three days at the
+farmhouse on the hill, and the Caid's guest had accompanied him before
+sunrise this morning to see a favourite white mehari, or racing camel,
+belonging to Sidi Elaid ben Sliman, which was very ill, in care of a
+wise man of the village. Now the mehari was dead, and as Maieddine
+seemed impatient to get back, they were riding home, in spite of the
+noon heat.
+
+Maieddine had left the house reluctantly this morning. Not that he could
+often see Victoria, who was nursing M'Barka, and looking so wistful that
+he guessed she had half hoped to find her sister waiting behind the
+white wall on the golden hill.
+
+Though he could expect little of the girl's society, and there was
+little reason to fear that harm would come to her, or that she would
+steal away in his absence, still he had hated to ride out of the gate
+and leave her. If the Caid had not made a point of his coming, he would
+gladly have stayed behind. Now, when he looked up and saw a yellow
+motor-car at the gate, he believed that his feeling had been a
+presentiment, a warning of evil, which he ought so have heeded.
+
+He and the Caid were a long way off when he caught sight of the car, and
+heard its pantings, carried by the clear desert air. He could not be
+certain of its identity, but he prided himself upon his keen sight and
+hearing, and where they failed, instinct stepped in. He was sure that it
+was the car which had waited for Stephen Knight when the _Charles Quex_
+came in, the car of Nevill Caird, about whom he had made inquiries
+before leaving Algiers. Maieddine knew, of course, that Victoria had
+been to the Djenan el Djouad, and he was intensely suspicious as well as
+jealous of Knight, because of the letter Victoria had written. He knew
+also that the two Englishmen had been asking questions at the Hotel de
+la Kasbah; and he was not surprised to see the yellow car in front of
+the Caid's gates. Now that he saw it, he felt dully that he had always
+known it would follow him.
+
+If only he had been in the house, it would not have mattered. He would
+have been able to prevent Knight and Caird from seeing Victoria, or even
+from having the slightest suspicion that she was, or had been, there. It
+was the worst of luck that he should be outside the gates, for now he
+could not go back while the Englishmen were there. Knight would
+certainly recognize him, and guess everything that he did not know.
+
+Maieddine thought very quickly. He dared not ride on, lest the men in
+the car should have a field-glass. The only thing was to let Ben Sliman
+go alone, so that, if eyes up there on the hill were watching, it might
+seem that the Caid was parting from some friend who lived in the
+village. He would have to trust Elaid's discretion and tact, as he knew
+already he might trust his loyalty. Only--the situation was desperate.
+Tact, and an instinct for the right word, the frank look, were worth
+even more than loyalty at this moment. And one never quite knew how far
+to trust another man's judgment. Besides, the mischief might have been
+done before Ben Sliman could arrive on the scene; and at the thought of
+what might happen, Maieddine's heart seemed to turn in his breast. He
+had never known a sensation so painful to body and mind, and it was
+hideous to feel helpless, to know that he could do only harm, and not
+good, by riding up the hill. Nevertheless, he said to himself, if he
+should see Victoria come out to speak with these men, he would go. He
+would perhaps kill them, and the chauffeur too. Anything rather than
+give up the girl now; for the sharp stab of the thought that he might
+lose her, that Stephen Knight might have her, made him ten times more in
+love than he had been before. He wished that Allah might strike the men
+in the yellow car dead; although, ardent Mussulman as he was, he had no
+hope that such a glorious miracle would happen.
+
+"It is those men from Algiers of whom I told thee," he said to the Caid.
+"I must stop below. They must not recognize me, or the dark one who was
+on the ship, will guess. Possibly he suspects already that I stand for
+something in this affair."
+
+"Who can have sent them to my house?" Ben Sliman wondered. The two drew
+in their horses and put on the manner of men about to bid each other
+good-bye.
+
+"I hope, I am almost sure, that they know nothing of _her_, or of me.
+Probably, when inquiring about Ben Halim, in order to hear of her
+sister, and so find out where she has gone, they learned only that Ben
+Halim once lived here. If thy servants are discreet, it may be that no
+harm will come from this visit."
+
+"They will be discreet. Have no fear," the Caid assured him. Yet it was
+on his tongue to say; "the lady herself, when she hears the sound of the
+car, may do some unwise thing." But he did not finish the sentence. Even
+though the young girl--whom he had not seen--was a Roumia, obsessed with
+horrible, modern ideas, which at present it would be dangerous to try
+and correct, he could not discuss her with Maieddine. If she showed
+herself to the men, it could not be helped. What was to be, would be.
+Mektub!
+
+"Far be it from me to distrust my friend's servants," said Maieddine;
+"but if in their zeal they go too far and give an impression of
+something to hide, it would be as bad as if they let drop a word too
+many."
+
+"I will ride on and break any such impression if it has been made," Ben
+Sliman consoled him. "Trust me. I will be as gracious to these Roumis as
+if they were true believers."
+
+"I do trust thee completely," answered the younger man. "While they are
+at thy gates, or within them, I must wait with patience. I cannot remain
+here in the open--yet I wish to be within sight, that I may see with my
+own eyes all that happens. What if I ride to one of the black tents, and
+ask for water to wash the mouth of my horse? If they have it not, it is
+no matter."
+
+"Thine is a good thought," said Ben Sliman, and rode on, putting his
+slim white Arab horse to a trot.
+
+To the left from the group of adobe houses, and at about the same
+distance from the rough track on which they had been riding, was a
+cluster of nomad tents, like giant bats with torpid wings spread out
+ink-black on the gold of the desert. A little farther off was another
+small encampment of a different tribe; and their tents were brown,
+striped with black and yellow. They looked like huge butterflies
+resting. But Maieddine thought of no such similes. He was a child of the
+Sahara, and used to the tents and the tent-dwellers. His own father, the
+Agha, lived half the year in a great tent, when he was with his douar,
+and Maieddine had been born under the roof of camel's hair. His own
+people and these people were not kin, and their lives lay far apart; yet
+a man of one nomad tribe understands all nomads, though he be a chief's
+son, and they as poor as their own ill-fed camels. His pride was his
+nomad blood, for all men of the Sahara, be they princes or
+camel-drivers, look with scorn upon the sedentary people, those of the
+great plain of the Tell, and fat eaters of ripe dates in the cities.
+
+The eight or ten black tents were gathered round one, a little higher, a
+little less ragged than the others--the tent of the Kebir, or headman;
+but it was humble enough. There would have been room and to spare for a
+dozen such under the _tente sultane_ of the Agha, at his douar south of
+El Aghouat.
+
+As Maieddine rode up, a buzz of excitement rose in the hive. Some one
+ran to tell the Kebir that a great Sidi was arriving, and the headman
+came out from his tent, where he had been meditating or dozing after the
+chanting of the midday prayer--the prayer of noon.
+
+He was a thin, elderly man, with an eagle eye to awe his women-folk, and
+an old burnous of sheep's wool, which was of a deep cream colour because
+it had not been washed for many years. Yet he smelt good, with a smell
+that was like the desert, and there was no foul odour in the miniature
+douar, as in European dwellings of the very poor. There is never a smell
+of uncleanliness about Arabs, even those people who must perform most of
+the ablutions prescribed by their religion with sand instead of water.
+But the Saharian saying is that the desert purifies all things.
+
+The Kebir was polite though not servile to Maieddine, and while the
+horse borrowed from the Caid was having its face economically sprinkled
+with water from a brown goat-skin, black coffee was being hospitably
+prepared for the guest by the women of the household, unveiled of
+course, as are all women of the nomad tribes, except those of highest
+birth.
+
+Maieddine did not want the coffee, but it would have been an insult to
+refuse, and he made laboured conversation with the Kebir, his eyes and
+thoughts fixed on the Caid's gate and the yellow motor-car. He hardly
+saw the tents, beneath whose low-spread black wings eyes looked out at
+him, as the bright eyes of chickens look out from under the mother-hen's
+feathers. They were all much alike, though the Kebir's, as befitted his
+position, was the best, made of wide strips of black woollen material
+stitched together, spread tightly over stout poles, and pegged down into
+the hard sand. There was a partition dividing the tent in two, a
+partition made of one or two old haicks, woven by hand, and if Maieddine
+had been interested, he could have seen his host's bedding arranged for
+the day; a few coarse rugs and _frechias_ piled up carelessly, out of
+the way. There was a bale of camels' hair, ready for weaving, and on top
+of it a little boy was curled up asleep. From the tent-poles hung an
+animal's skin, drying, and a cradle of netted cords in which swung and
+slept a swaddled baby no bigger than a doll. It was a girl, therefore
+its eyes were blackened with kohl, and its eyebrows neatly sketched on
+with paint, as they had been since the unfortunate day of its birth,
+when the father grumbled because it was not a "child," but only a
+worthless female.
+
+The mother of the four weeks' old doll, a fine young woman tinkling with
+Arab silver, left her carpet-weaving to grind the coffee, while her
+withered mother-in-law brightened with brushwood the smouldering fire of
+camel-dung. The women worked silently, humbly, though they would have
+been chattering if the great Sidi stranger had not been there; but two
+or three little children in orange and scarlet rags played giggling
+among the rubbish outside the tent--a broken bassour-frame, or
+palanquin, waiting to be mended; date boxes, baskets, and wooden plates;
+old kous-kous bowls, bundles of alfa grass, chicken feathers, and an
+infant goat with its mother.
+
+The sound of children's shrill laughter, which passed unnoticed by the
+parents, who had it always in their ears, rasped Maieddine's nerves, and
+he would have liked to strike or kick the babies into silence. Most
+Arabs worship children, even girls, and are invariably kind to them, but
+to-day Maieddine hated anything that ran about disturbingly and made a
+noise.
+
+Now the Caid had reached the gate, and was talking to the men in the
+motor-car. Would he send them away? No, the gate was being opened by a
+servant. Ben Sliman must have invited the Roumis in. Possibly it was a
+wise thing to do, yet how dangerous, how terribly dangerous, with
+Victoria perhaps peeping from one of the tiny windows at the women's
+corner of the house, which looked on the court! They could not see her
+there, but she could see them, and if she were tired of travelling and
+dancing attendance on a fidgety invalid--if she repented her promise to
+keep the secret of this journey?
+
+Maieddine's experience of women inclined him to think that they always
+did forget their promises to a man the moment his back was turned.
+Victoria was different from the women of his race, or those he had met
+in Paris, yet she was, after all, a woman; and there was no truer saying
+than that you might more easily prophesy the direction of the wind than
+say what a woman was likely to do. The coffee which the Kebir handed him
+made him feel sick, as if he had had a touch of the sun. What was
+happening up there on the hill, behind the gates which stood half open?
+What would she do--his Rose of the West?
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+
+It was a relief to Stephen and Nevill to see one of the horsemen coming
+up the rough hill-track to the gate, and to think that they need no
+longer wait upon the fears or inhospitable whims of the Arab servants on
+the other side of the wall.
+
+As soon as the rider came near enough for his features to be sketched in
+clearly, Nevill remembered having noticed him at one or two of the
+Governor's balls, where all Arab dignitaries, even such lesser lights as
+caids and adels show themselves. But they had never met. The man was not
+one of the southern chiefs whom Nevill Caird had entertained at his own
+house.
+
+Stephen thought that he had never seen a more personable man as the Caid
+rode up to the car, saluting courteously though with no great warmth.
+
+His face was more tanned than very dark by nature, but it seemed brown
+in contrast to his light hazel eyes. His features were commanding, if
+not handsome, and he sat his horse well. Altogether he was a notable
+figure in his immensely tall white turban, wound with pale grey-brown
+camel's-hair rope, his grey cloth burnous, embroidered with gold, flung
+back over an inner white burnous, his high black boots, with wrinkled
+brown tops, and his wonderful Kairouan hat of light straw, embroidered
+with a leather applique of coloured flowers and silver leaves,
+steeple-crowned, and as big as a cart-wheel, hanging on his shoulders.
+
+He and Nevill politely wished the blessings of Allah and Mohammed his
+Prophet upon each other, and Nevill then explained the errand which had
+brought him and his friend to the Caid's house.
+
+The Caid's somewhat heavy though intelligent face did not easily show
+surprise. It changed not at all, though Stephen watched it closely.
+
+"Thou art welcome to hear all I can tell of my dead relation, Ben
+Halim," he said. "But I know little that everybody does not know."
+
+"It is certain, then, that Ben Halim is dead?" asked Nevill. "We had
+hoped that rumour lied."
+
+"He died on his way home after a pilgrimage to Mecca," gravely replied
+the Caid.
+
+"Ah!" Nevill caught him up quickly. "We heard that it was in
+Constantinople."
+
+Ben Sliman's expression was slightly strained. He glanced from Nevill's
+boyish face to Stephen's dark, keen one, and perhaps fancied suspicion
+in both. If he had intended to let the Englishmen drive away in their
+motor-car without seeing the other side of his white wall, he now
+changed his mind. "If thou and thy friend care to honour this poor farm
+of mine by entering the gates, and drinking coffee with me," he said,
+"We will afterwards go down below the hill to the cemetery where my
+cousin's body lies buried. His tombstone will show that he was El Hadj,
+and that he had reached Mecca. When he was in Constantinople, he had
+just returned from there."
+
+Possibly, having given the invitation by way of proving that there was
+nothing to conceal, Ben Sliman hoped it would not be accepted; but he
+was disappointed. Before the Caid had reached the top of the hill,
+Nevill had told his chauffeur to stop the motor, therefore the restless
+panting had long ago ceased, and when Ben Sliman looked doubtfully at
+the car, as if wondering how it was to be got in without doing damage to
+his wall, Nevill said that the automobile might stay where it was. Their
+visit would not be long.
+
+"But the longer the better," replied the Caid. "When I have guests, it
+pains me to see them go."
+
+He shouted a word or two in Arabic, and instantly the gates were opened.
+The sketchily clad brown men inside had only been waiting for a signal.
+
+"I regret that I cannot ask my visitors into the house itself, as I have
+illness there," Ben Sliman announced; "but we have guest rooms here in
+the gate-towers. They are not what I could wish for such distinguished
+personages, but thou canst see, Sidi, thou and thy friend, that this is
+a simple farmhouse. We make no pretension to the luxury of towns, but we
+do what we can."
+
+As he spoke, the brown men were scuttling about, one unfastening the
+door of a little tower, which stuck as if it had not been opened for a
+long time, another darting into the house, which appeared silent and
+tenantless, a third and fourth running to a more distant part, and
+vanishing also through a dark doorway.
+
+The Caid quickly ushered his guests into the tower room, but not so
+quickly that the eyes of a girl, looking through a screened window, did
+not see and recognize both. The servant who had gone ahead unbarred a
+pair of wooden shutters high up in the whitewashed walls of the tower,
+which was stiflingly close, with a musty, animal odour. As the opening
+of the shutters gave light, enormous black-beetles which seemed to
+Stephen as large as pigeon's eggs, crawled out from cracks between wall
+and floor, stumbling awkwardly about, and falling over each other. It
+was a disgusting sight, and did not increase the visitors' desire to
+accept the Caid's hospitality for any length of time. It may be that he
+had thought of this. But even if he had, the servants were genuinely
+enthusiastic in their efforts to make the Roumis at home. The two who
+had run farthest returned soonest. They staggered under a load of large
+rugs wrapped in unbleached sheeting, and a great sack stuffed full of
+cushions which bulged out at the top. The sheeting they unfastened,
+and, taking no notice of the beetles, hurriedly spread on the rough
+floor several beautifully woven rugs of bright colours. Then, having
+laid four or five on top of one another, they clawed the cushions out of
+the sack, and placed them as if on a bed.
+
+Hardly had they finished, when the first servant who had disappeared
+came back, carrying over his arm a folding table, and dishes in his
+hands. The only furniture already in the tower consisted of two long,
+low wooden benches without backs; and as the servant from the house set
+up the folding table, he who had opened the windows placed the benches,
+one on either side. At the same moment, through the open door, a man
+could be seen running with a live lamb flung over his shoulder.
+
+"Good heavens, what is he going to do with that?" Stephen asked,
+stricken with a presentiment.
+
+"I'm afraid," Nevill answered quickly in English, "that it's going to be
+killed for our entertainment." His pink colour faded, and in Arabic he
+begged the Caid to give orders that, if the lamb were for them, its life
+be spared, as they were under a vow never to touch meat. This was the
+first excuse he could think of; and when, to his joy, a message was sent
+after the slayer of innocence, he added that, very unfortunately, they
+had a pressing engagement which would tear them away from the Caid's
+delightful house all too soon.
+
+Perhaps the Caid's face expressed no oppressive regret, yet he said
+kindly that he hoped to keep his guests at least until next morning. In
+the cool of the day they would see the cemetery; they would return, and
+eat the evening meal. It would then be time to sleep. And with a gesture
+he indicated the rugs and cushions, under which the beetles were now
+buried like mountain-dwellers beneath an avalanche.
+
+Nevill, still pale, thanked his host earnestly, complimented the rugs,
+and assured the Caid that, of course, they would be extraordinarily
+comfortable, but even such inducements did not make it possible for
+them to neglect their duty elsewhere.
+
+"In any case we shall now eat and drink together," said Ben Sliman,
+pointing to the table, and towards a servant now arriving from the house
+with a coffee-tray. The dishes had been set down on the bare board, and
+one contained the usual little almond cakes, the other, a conserve of
+some sort bathed in honey, where already many flies were revelling. The
+servant who had spread the table, quietly pulled the flies out by their
+wings, or killed them on the edge of the dish.
+
+Nevill, whiter than before, accepted cordially, and giving Stephen a
+glance of despair, which said: "Noblesse oblige," he thrust his fingers
+into the honey, where there were fewest flies, and took out a sweetmeat.
+Stephen did the same. All three ate, and drank sweet black _cafe maure_.
+Once the Caid turned to glance at something outside the door, and his
+secretive, light grey eyes were troubled. As they ate and drank, they
+talked, Nevill tactfully catechizing, the Caid answering with pleasant
+frankness. He did not inquire why they wished to have news of Ben Halim,
+who had once lived in the house for a short time, and had now long been
+dead. Perhaps he wished to give the Roumis a lesson in discretion; but
+as their friendliness increased over the dripping sweets, Nevill
+ventured to ask a crucial question. What had become of Ben Halim's
+American wife?
+
+Then, for the first time, the Caid frowned, very slightly, but it was
+plain to see he thought a liberty had been taken which, as host, he was
+unable to resent.
+
+"I know nothing of my dead cousin's family," he said. "No doubt its
+members went with him, if not to Mecca, at least a part of the way, and
+if any such persons wished to return to Europe after his death, it is
+certain they would have been at liberty to do so. This house my cousin
+wished me to have, and I took possession of it in due time, finding it
+empty and in good order. If you search for any one, I should advise
+searching in France or, perhaps, in America. Unluckily, there I cannot
+help. But when it is cool, we will go to the cemetery. Let us go after
+the prayer, the prayer of _Moghreb_."
+
+But Nevill was reluctant. So was Stephen, when the proposal was
+explained. They wished to go while it was still hot, or not at all. It
+may be that even this eccentric proposal did not surprise or grieve the
+Caid, though as a rule he was not fond of being out of doors in the
+glare of the sun.
+
+He agreed to the suggestion that the motor-car should take all three
+down the hill, but said that he would prefer to walk back.
+
+The "teuf-teuf" of the engine began once more outside the white gates;
+and for the second time Victoria flew to the window, pressing her face
+against the thick green moucharabia which excluded flies and prevented
+any one outside from seeing what went on within.
+
+"Calm thyself, O Rose," urged the feeble voice of Lella M'Barka. "Thou
+hast said these men are nothing to thee."
+
+"One is my friend," the girl pleaded, with a glance at the high couch of
+rugs on which M'Barka lay.
+
+"A young girl cannot have a man for a friend. He may be a lover or a
+husband, but never a friend. Thou knowest this in thy heart, O Rose, and
+thou hast sworn to me that never hast thou had a lover."
+
+Victoria did not care to argue. "I am sure he has come here to try and
+find me. He is anxious. That is very good of him--all the more, because
+we are nothing to each other. How can I let him go away without a word?
+It is too hard-hearted. I do think, if Si Maieddine were here, he would
+say so too. He would let me see Mr. Knight and just tell him that I'm
+perfectly safe and on the way to my sister. That once she lived in this
+house, and I hoped to find her here, but----"
+
+"Maieddine would not wish thee to tell the young man these things, or
+any other things, or show thyself to him at all," M'Barka persisted,
+lifting herself on the bed in growing excitement. "Dost thou not guess,
+he runs many dangers in guiding thee to the wife of a man who is as one
+dead? Dost thou wish to ruin him who risks his whole future to content
+thee?"
+
+"No, of course I would do nothing which could bring harm to Si
+Maieddine," Victoria said, the eagerness dying out of her voice. "I have
+kept my word with him. I have let nobody know--nobody at all. But we
+could trust Mr. Knight and Mr. Caird. And to see them there, in the
+courtyard, and let them go--it is too much!"
+
+"Why shouldst thou consider me, whom thou hast known but a few days,
+when thou wouldst be hurrying on towards thy sister Saida? Yet it will
+surely be my death if thou makest any sign to those men. My heart would
+cease to beat. It beats but weakly now."
+
+With a sigh, Victoria turned away from the moucharabia, and crossing the
+room to M'Barka, sat down on a rug by the side of her couch. "I do
+consider thee," she said. "If it were not for thee and Si Maieddine, I
+might not be able to get to Saidee at all; so I must not mind being
+delayed a few days. It is worse for thee than for me, because thou art
+suffering."
+
+"When a true believer lies ill for more than three days, his sins are
+all forgiven him," M'Barka consoled herself. She put out a hot hand, and
+laid it on Victoria's head. "Thou art a good child. Thou hast given up
+thine own will to do what is right."
+
+"I'm not quite sure at this moment that I am doing what is right,"
+murmured Victoria. "But I can't make thee more ill than thou art, so I
+must let Mr. Knight go. And probably I shall never see him, never hear
+of him again. He will look for me, and then he will grow tired, and
+perhaps go home to England before I can write to let him know I am safe
+with Saidee." Her voice broke a little. She bent down her head, and
+there were tears in her eyes.
+
+She heard the creaking of the gate as it shut. The motor-car had gone
+panting away. For a moment it seemed as if her heart would break. Just
+one glimpse had she caught of Stephen's face, and it had looked to her
+more than ever like the face of a knight who would fight to the death
+for a good cause. She had not quite realized how noble a face it was, or
+how hard it would be to let it pass out of her life. He would always
+hate her if he guessed she had sat there, knowing he had come so far for
+her sake?--she was sure it was for her sake--and had made no sign. But
+he would not guess. And it was true, as Lella M'Barka said, he was
+nothing to her. Saidee was everything. And she was going to Saidee. She
+must think only of Saidee, and the day of their meeting.
+
+        *        *        *        *        *        *        *
+
+Stephen had never seen an Arab cemetery; and it seemed to him that this
+Mussulman burial-place, scattered over two low hills, in the midst of
+desert wastes, was beautiful and pathetic. The afternoon sunshine beat
+upon the koubbahs of marabouts, and the plastered graves or headstones
+of less important folk; but so pearly pale were they all that the golden
+quality of the light was blanched as if by some strange, white magic,
+and became like moonlight shining on a field of snow.
+
+There were no names on any of the tombs, even the grandest. Here and
+there on a woman's grave was a hand of Fatma, or a pair of the Prophet's
+slippers; and on those of a few men were turbans carved in marble, to
+tell that the dead had made pilgrimage to Mecca. All faces were turned
+towards the sacred city, as Mussulmans turn when they kneel to pray, in
+mosque or in desert; and the white slabs, narrow or broad, long or
+short, ornamental or plain, flat or roofed with fantastic maraboutic
+domes, were placed very close together. At one end of the cemetery, only
+bits of pottery marked the graves; yet each bit was a little different
+from the other, meaning as much to those who had placed them there as
+names and epitaphs in European burial grounds. On the snowy headstones
+and flat platforms, drops of rose-coloured wax from little candles, lay
+like tears of blood shed by the mourners, and there was a scattered
+spray of faded orange blossoms, brought by some loving hand from a
+far-away garden in an oasis.
+
+"Here lies my cousin, Cassim ben Halim," said the Caid, pointing to a
+grave comparatively new, surmounted at the head with a carved turban.
+Nearer to it than any other tomb was that of a woman, beautified with
+the Prophet's slippers.
+
+"Is it possible that his wife lies beside him?" Stephen made Nevill ask.
+
+"It is a lady of his house. I can say no more. When his body was brought
+here, hers was brought also, in a coffin, which is permitted to the
+women of Islam, with the request that it should be placed near my
+cousin's tomb. This was done; and it is all I can tell, because it is
+all I know."
+
+The Arab looked the Englishman straight in the eyes as he answered; and
+Stephen felt that in this place, so simple, so peaceful, so near to
+nature's heart, it would be difficult for a man to lie to another, even
+though that man were a son of Islam, the other a "dog of a Christian."
+For the first time he began to believe that Cassim ben Halim had in
+truth died, and that Victoria Ray's sister was perhaps dead also. Her
+death alone could satisfactorily explain her long silence. And against
+the circumstantial evidence of this little grave, adorned with the
+slippers of the Prophet, there was only a girl's impression--Victoria's
+feeling that, if Saidee were dead, she "must have known."
+
+The two friends stood for a while by the white graves, where the
+sunshine lay like moonlight on snow; and then, because there was nothing
+more for them to do in that place, they thanked the Caid, and made ready
+to go their way. Again he politely refused their offer to drive him up
+to his own gate, and bade them good-bye when they had got into the car.
+He stood and watched it go bumping away over the rough, desert road,
+pieces of which had been gnawed off by a late flood, as a cake is bitten
+round the edge by a greedy child.
+
+They had had enough of motor-cars for that day, up there on the hill!
+The Caid was glad when the sound died. The machine was no more suited to
+his country, he thought, than were the men of Europe who tore about the
+world in it, trying to interfere in other people's business.
+
+"El hamdou-lillah! God be praised!" he whispered, as the yellow
+automobile vanished from sight and Maieddine came out from the cluster
+of black tents in the yellow sand.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+
+Next day, Lella M'Barka was well enough to begin the march again. They
+started, in the same curtained carriage, at that moment before dawn
+while it is still dark, and a thin white cloth seems spread over the
+dead face of night. Then day came trembling along the horizon, and the
+shadows of horses and carriage grew long and grotesquely deformed. It
+was the time, M'Barka said, when Chitan the devil, and the evil Djenoun
+that possess people's minds and drive them insane, were most powerful;
+and she would hardly listen when Victoria answered that she did not
+believe in Djenoun.
+
+In a long day, they came to Bou-Saada, reaching the hidden oasis after
+nightfall, and staying in the house of the Caid with whom Stephen and
+Nevill had talked of Ben Halim. Lella M'Barka was related to the Caid's
+wife, and was so happy in meeting a cousin after years of separation,
+that the fever in her blood was cooled; and in the morning she was able
+to go on.
+
+Then came two days of driving to Djelfa, at first in a country strange
+enough to be Djinn-haunted, a country of gloomy mountains, and deep
+water-courses like badly healed wounds; passing through dry river-beds,
+and over broken roads with here and there a bordj where men brought
+water to the mules, in skins held together with ropes of straw. At last,
+after a night, not too comfortable, spent in a dismal bordj, they came
+to a wilderness which any fairytale-teller would have called the end of
+the world. The road had dwindled to a track across gloomy desert, all
+the more desolate, somehow, because of the dry asparto grass growing
+thinly among stones. Nothing seemed to live or move in this world,
+except a lizard that whisked its grey-green length across the road, a
+long-legged bird which hopped gloomily out of the way, or a few ragged
+black and white sheep with nobody to drive them. In the heat of the day
+nothing stirred, not even the air, though the distance shimmered and
+trembled with heat; but towards night jackals padded lithely from one
+rock shelter to another. The carriage drove through a vast plain, rimmed
+with far-away mountains, red as porphyry, but fading to purple at the
+horizon. Victoria felt that she would never come to the end of this
+plain, that it must finish only with eternity; and she wished in an
+occasional burst of impatience that she were travelling in Nevill
+Caird's motor-car. She could reach her sister in a third of the time!
+She told herself that these thoughts were ungrateful to Maieddine, who
+was doing so much for her sake, and she kept up her spirits whether they
+dragged on tediously, or stopped by the way to eat, or to let M'Barka
+rest. She tried to control her restlessness, but feared that Maieddine
+saw it, for he took pains to explain, more than once, how necessary was
+the detour they were making. Along this route he had friends who were
+glad to entertain them at night, and give them mules or horses, and
+besides, it was an advantage that the way should be unfrequented by
+Europeans. He cheered her by describing the interest of the journey
+when, by and by, she would ride a mehari, sitting in a bassour, made of
+branches heated and bent into shape like a great cage, lined and draped
+with soft haoulis of beautiful colours, and comfortably cushioned. It
+would not be long now before they should come to the douar of his father
+the Agha, beyond El Aghouat. She would have a wonderful experience
+there; and according to Maieddine, all the rest of the journey would be
+an enchantment. Never for a moment would he let her tire. Oh, he would
+promise that she should be half sorry when the last day came! As for
+Lella M'Barka, the Rose of the West need not fear, for the bassour was
+easy as a cradle to a woman of the desert; and M'Barka, rightfully a
+princess of Touggourt, was desert-born and bred.
+
+Queer little patches of growing grain, or miniature orchards enlivened
+the dull plain round the ugly Saharian town of Djelfa, headquarters of
+the Ouled Nails. The place looked unprepossessingly new and French, and
+obtrusively military; dismal, too, in the dusty sand which a wailing
+wind blew through the streets; but scarcely a Frenchman was to be seen,
+except the soldiers. Many Arabs worked with surprising briskness at the
+loading or unloading of great carts, men of the Ouled Nails, with eyes
+more mysterious than the eyes of veiled women; tall fellows wearing high
+shoes of soft, pale brown leather made for walking long distances in
+heavy sand; and Maieddine said that there was great traffic and commerce
+between Djelfa and the M'Zab country, where she and he and M'Barka would
+arrive presently, after passing his father's douar.
+
+Maieddine was uneasy until they were out of Djelfa, for, though few
+Europeans travelled that way, and the road is hideous for motors, still
+it was not impossible that a certain yellow car had slipped in before
+them, to lie in wait. The Caid's house, where they spent that night, was
+outside the town, and behind its closed doors and little windows there
+was no fear of intruders. It was good to be sure of shelter and security
+under a friend's roof; and so far, in spite of the adventure at Ben
+Sliman's, everything was going well enough. Only--Maieddine was a little
+disappointed in Victoria's manner towards himself. She was sweet and
+friendly, and grateful for all he did, but she did not seem interested
+in him as a man. He felt that she was eager to get on, that she was
+counting the days, not because of any pleasure they might bring in his
+society, but to make them pass more quickly. Still, with the deep-rooted
+patience of the Arab, he went on hoping. His father, Agha of the
+Ouled-Serrin, reigned in the desert like a petty king. Maieddine thought
+that the douar and the Agha's state must impress her; and the journey
+on from there would be a splendid experience, different indeed from this
+interminable jogging along, cramped up in a carriage, with M'Barka
+sighing, or leaning a heavy head on the girl's shoulder. Out in the
+open, Victoria in her bassour, he on the horse which he would take from
+his father's goum, travelling would be pure joy. And Maieddine had been
+saving up many surprises for that time, things he meant to do for the
+girl, which must turn her heart towards him.
+
+Beyond Djelfa, on the low mountains that alone broke the monotony
+of the dismal plain, little watch-towers rose dark along the
+sky-line--watch-towers old as Roman days. Sometimes the travellers met a
+mounted man wearing a long, hooded cloak over his white burnous; a
+cavalier of the Bureau Arabe, or native policeman on his beat, under the
+authority of a civil organization more powerful in the Sahara than the
+army. These men, riding alone, saluted Si Maieddine almost with
+reverence, and Lella M'Barka told Victoria, with pride, that her cousin
+was immensely respected by the French Government. He had done much for
+France in the far south, where his family influence was great, and he
+had adjusted difficulties between the desert men and their rulers. "He
+is more tolerant than I, to those through whom Allah has punished us for
+our sins," said the woman of the Sahara. "I was brought up in an older
+school; and though I may love one of the Roumis, as I have learned to
+love thee, oh White Rose, I cannot love whole Christian nations.
+Maieddine is wiser than I, yet I would not change my opinions for his;
+unless, as I often think, he really----" she stopped suddenly, frowning
+at herself. "This dreariness is not _our_ desert," she explained eagerly
+to the girl, as the horses dragged the carriage over the sandy earth,
+through whose hard brown surface the harsh, colourless blades of _drinn_
+pricked like a few sparse hairs on the head of a shrivelled old man. "In
+the Sahara, there are four kinds of desert, because Allah put four
+angels in charge, giving each his own portion. The Angel of the Chebka
+was cold of nature, with no kindness in his heart, and was jealous of
+the others; so the Chebka is desolate, sown with sharp rocks which were
+upheaved from under the earth before man came, and its dark ravines are
+still haunted by evil spirits. The Angel of the Hameda was careless, and
+forgot to pray for cool valleys and good water, so the Hameda hardened
+into a great plateau of rock. The Angel of the Gaci was loved by a
+houri, who appeared to him and danced on the firm sand of his desert.
+Vanishing, she scattered many jewels, and fruits from the celestial
+gardens which turned into beautifully coloured stones as they fell, and
+there they have lain from that day to this. But best of all was the
+Angel of the Erg, our desert--desert of the shifting dunes, never twice
+the same, yet always more beautiful to-day than yesterday; treacherous
+to strangers, but kind as the bosom of a mother to her children. The
+first three angels were men, but the fourth and best is the angel woman
+who sows the heaven with stars, for lamps to light her own desert, and
+all the world beside, even the world of infidels."
+
+M'Barka and Maieddine both talked a great deal of El Aghouat, which
+M'Barka called the desert pearl, next in beauty to her own wild
+Touggourt, and Maieddine laughingly likened the oasis-town to Paris. "It
+is the Paris of our Sahara," he said, "and all the desert men, from
+Caids to camel-drivers, look forward to its pleasures."
+
+He planned to let the girl see El Aghouat for the first time at sunset.
+That was to be one of his surprises. By nature he was dramatic; and the
+birth of the sun and the death of the sun are the great dramas of the
+desert. He wished to be the hero of such a drama for Victoria, with El
+Aghouat for his background; for there, he was leading her in at the gate
+of his own country.
+
+When they had passed the strange rock-shape known as the Chapeau de
+Gendarme, and the line of mountains which is like the great wall of
+China, Maieddine defied the danger he had never quite ceased to fear
+during the five long days since the adventure on the other side of
+Bou-Saada. He ordered the carriage curtains to be rolled up as tightly
+as they would go, and Victoria saw a place so beautiful that it was like
+the secret garden of some Eastern king. It was as if they had driven
+abruptly over the edge of a vast bowl half filled with gold dust, and
+ringed round its rim with quivering rosy flames. Perhaps the king of the
+garden had a dragon whose business it was to keep the fire always alight
+to prevent robbers from coming to steal the gold dust; and so ardently
+had it been blazing there for centuries, that all the sky up to the
+zenith had caught fire, burning with so dazzling an intensity of violet
+that Victoria thought she could warm her hands in its reflection on the
+sand. In the azure crucible diamonds were melting, boiling up in a
+radiant spray, but suddenly the violet splendour was cooled, and after a
+vague quivering of rainbow tints, the celestial rose tree of the Sahara
+sunset climbed blossoming over the whole blue dome, east, west, north
+and south.
+
+In the bottom of the golden bowl, there was a river bed to cross, on a
+bridge of planks, but among the burning stones trickled a mere runnel of
+water, bright as spilt mercury. And Maieddine chose the moment when the
+minarets of El Aghouat rose from a sea of palms, to point out the
+strange, pale hills crowned by old koubbahs of marabouts and the
+military hospital. He told the story of the Arab revolt of fifty odd
+years ago; and while he praised the gallantry of the French, Victoria
+saw in his eyes, heard in the thrill of his voice, that his admiration
+was for his own people. This made her thoughtful, for though it was
+natural enough to sympathize with the Arabs who had stood the siege and
+been reconquered after desperate fighting, until now his point of view
+had seemed to be the modern, progressive, French point of view. Quickly
+the question flashed through her mind--"Is he letting himself go,
+showing me his real self, because I'm in the desert with him, and he
+thinks I'll never go back among Europeans?"
+
+She shivered a little at the thought, but she put it away with the doubt
+of Maieddine that came with it. Never had he given her the least cause
+to fear him, and she would go on trusting in his good faith, as she had
+trusted from the first.
+
+Still, there was that creeping chill, in contrast to the warm glory of
+the sunset, which seemed to shame it by giving a glimpse of the desert's
+heart, which was Maieddine's heart. She hurried to say how beautiful was
+El Aghouat; and that night, in the house of the Caid, (an uncle of
+Maieddine's on his mother's side), as the women grouped round her,
+hospitable and admiring, she reproached herself again for her suspicion.
+The wife of the Caid was dignified and gentle. There were daughters
+growing up, and though they knew nothing, or seemed to know nothing, of
+Saidee, they were sure that, if Maieddine knew, all was well. Because
+they were his cousins they had seen and been seen by him, and the young
+girls poured out all the untaught romance of their little dim souls in
+praise of Maieddine. Once they were on the point of saying something
+which their mother seemed to think indiscreet, and checked them quickly.
+Then they stopped, laughing; and their laughter, like the laughter of
+little children, was so contagious that Victoria laughed too.
+
+There was some dreadful European furniture of sprawling, "nouveau art"
+design in the guest-room which she and Lella M'Barka shared; and as
+Victoria lay awake on the hard bed, of which the girls were proud, she
+said to herself that she had not been half grateful enough to Si
+Maieddine. For ten years she had tried to find Saidee, and until the
+other day she had been little nearer her heart's desire than when she
+was a child, hoping and longing in the school garret. Now Maieddine had
+made the way easy--almost too easy, for the road to the golden silence
+had become so wonderful that she was tempted to forget her haste to
+reach the end.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+
+"There is my father's douar," said Si Maieddine; and Victoria's eyes
+followed his pointing finger.
+
+Into a stony and desolate waste had billowed one golden wave of sand,
+and on the fringe of this wave, the girl saw a village of tents, black
+and brown, lying closely together, as a fleet of dark fishing-boats lie
+in the water. There were many little tents, very flat and low, crouched
+around one which even at a distance was conspicuous for its enormous
+size. It looked like a squatting giant among an army of pigmies; and the
+level light of late afternoon gave extraordinary value to its colours,
+which were brighter and newer than those of the lesser tents. As their
+swaying carriage brought the travellers nearer, Victoria could see deep
+red and brown stripes, separated by narrow bands of white. For
+background, there was a knot of trees; for they had come south of El
+Aghouat to the strange region of dayas, where the stony desolation is
+broken by little emerald hollows, running with water, like big round
+bowls stuck full of delicate greenery and blossoms.
+
+Suddenly, as Victoria looked, figures began running about, and almost
+before she had time to speak, ten or a dozen men in white, mounted on
+horses, came speeding across the desert.
+
+A stain of red showed in Maieddine's cheeks, and his eyes lighted up.
+"They have been watching, expecting us," he said. "Now my father is
+sending men to bid us welcome."
+
+"Perhaps he is coming himself," said Victoria, for there was one figure
+riding in the centre which seemed to her more splendidly dignified than
+the others, though all were magnificent horsemen.
+
+"No. It would not be right that the Agha himself should come to meet his
+son," Maieddine explained. "Besides he would be wearing a scarlet
+burnous, embroidered with gold. He does me enough honour in sending out
+the pick of his goum, which is among the finest of the Sahara."
+
+Victoria had picked up a great deal of desert lore by this time, and
+knew that the "pick of the goum" would mean the best horses in the
+Agha's stables, the crack riders among his trained men--fighting men,
+such as he would give to the Government, if Arab soldiers were needed.
+
+The dozen cavaliers swept over the desert, making the sand fly up under
+the horses' hoofs in a yellow spray; and nearing the carriage they
+spread themselves in a semi-circle, the man Victoria had mistaken for
+the Agha riding forward to speak to Maieddine.
+
+"It is my brother-in-law, Abderrhaman ben Douadi," exclaimed Maieddine,
+waving his hand.
+
+M'Barka pulled her veil closer, and because she did so, Victoria hid her
+face also, rather than shock the Arab woman's prejudices.
+
+At a word from his master, the driver stopped his mules so quickly as to
+bring them on their haunches, and Maieddine sprang out. He and his
+brother-in-law, a stately dark man with a short black beard under an
+eagle nose, exchanged courtesies which seemed elaborate to Victoria's
+European ideas, and Si Abderrhaman did not glance at the half-lowered
+curtains behind which the women sat.
+
+The men talked for a few minutes; then Maieddine got into the carriage
+again; and surrounded by the riders, it was driven rapidly towards the
+tents, rocking wildly in the sand, because now it had left the desert
+road and was making straight for the zmala.
+
+The Arab men on their Arab horses shouted as they rode, as if giving a
+signal; and from the tents, reddened now by the declining sun, came
+suddenly a strange crying in women's voices, shrill yet sweet; a sound
+that was half a chant, half an eerie yodeling, note after note of
+"you-you!--you-you!" Out from behind the zeribas, rough hedges of dead
+boughs and brambles which protected each low tent, burst a tidal wave of
+children, some gay as little bright butterflies in gorgeous dresses,
+others wrapped in brilliant rags. From under the tents women appeared,
+unveiled, and beautiful in the sunset light, with their heavy looped
+braids and their dangling, clanking silver jewellery. "You-you!
+you-you!" they cried, dark eyes gleaming, white teeth flashing. It was
+to be a festival for the douar, this fortunate evening of the son and
+heir's arrival, with a great lady of his house, and her friend, a Roumia
+girl. There was joy for everyone, for the Agha's relatives, and for each
+man, woman and child in the zmala, mighty ones, or humble members of the
+tribe, the Ouled-Serrin. There would be feasting, and after dark, to
+give pleasure to the Roumia, the men would make the powder speak. It was
+like a wedding; and best of all, an exciting rumour had gone round the
+douar, concerning the foreign girl and the Agha's son, Si Maieddine.
+
+The romance in Victoria's nature was stirred by her reception; by the
+white-clad riders on their slender horses, and the wild "you-yous" of
+the women and little girls. Maieddine saw her excitement and thrilled to
+it. This was his great hour. All that had gone before had been leading
+up to this day, and to the days to come, when they would be in the fiery
+heart of the desert together, lost to all her friends whom he hated with
+a jealous hatred. He helped M'Barka to descend from the carriage: then,
+as she was received at the tent door by the Agha himself, Maieddine
+forgot his self-restraint, and swung the girl down, with tingling hands
+that clasped her waist, as if at last she belonged to him.
+
+Half fearful of what he had done, lest she should take alarm at his
+sudden change of manner, he studied her face anxiously as he set her
+feet to the ground. But there was no cause for uneasiness. So far from
+resenting the liberty he had taken after so many days of almost
+ostentatious respect, Victoria was not even thinking of him, and her
+indifference would have been a blow, if he had not been too greatly
+relieved to be hurt by it. She was looking at his father, the Agha, who
+seemed to her the embodiment of some biblical patriarch. All through her
+long desert journey, she had felt as if she had wandered into a dream of
+the Old Testament. There was nothing there more modern than "Bible
+days," as she said to herself, simply, except the French quarters in the
+few Arab towns through which they had passed.
+
+Not yet, however, had she seen any figure as venerable as the Agha's,
+and she thought at once of Abraham at his tent door. Just such a man as
+this Abraham must have been in his old age. She could even imagine him
+ready to sacrifice a son, if he believed it to be the will of Allah; and
+Maieddine became of more importance in her eyes because of his
+relationship to this kingly patriarch of the Sahara.
+
+Having greeted his niece, Lella M'Barka, and passed her hospitably into
+the tent where women were dimly visible, the Agha turned to Maieddine
+and Victoria.
+
+"The blessing of Allah be upon thee, O my son," he said, "and upon thee,
+little daughter. My son's messenger brought word of thy coming, and thou
+art welcome as a silver shower of rain after a long drought in the
+desert. Be thou as a child of my house, while thou art in my tent."
+
+As she gave him her hand, her veil fell away from her face, and he saw
+its beauty with the benevolent admiration of an old man whose blood has
+cooled. He was so tall that the erect, thin figure reminded Victoria of
+a lonely desert palm. The young girl was no stern critic, and was more
+inclined to see good than evil in every one she met; therefore to her
+the long snowy beard, the large dreamy eyes under brows like
+Maieddine's, and the slow, benevolent smile of the Agha meant nobility
+of character. Her heart was warm for the splendid old man, and he was
+not unaware of the impression he had made. As he bowed her into the tent
+where his wife and sister and daughter were crowding round M'Barka, he
+said in a low voice to Maieddine: "It is well, my son. Being a man, and
+young, thou couldst not have withstood her. When the time is ripe, she
+will become a daughter of Islam, because for love of thee, she will wish
+to fulfil thine heart's desire."
+
+"She does not yet know that she loves me," Maieddine answered. "But when
+thou hast given me the white stallion El Biod, and I ride beside the
+girl in her bassour through the long days and the long distances, I
+shall teach her, in the way the Roumi men teach their women to love."
+
+"But if thou shouldst not teach her?"
+
+"My life is in it, and I shall teach her," said Maieddine. "But if
+Chitan stands between, and I fail--which I will not do--why, even so, it
+will come to the same thing in the end, because----"
+
+"Thou wouldst say----"
+
+"It is well to know one's own meaning, and to speak of--date stones. Yet
+with one's father, one can open one's heart. He to whom I go has need of
+my services, and what he has for twelve months vainly asked me to do, I
+will promise to do, for the girl's sake, if I cannot win her without."
+
+"Take care! Thou enterest a dangerous path," said the old man.
+
+"Yet often I have thought of entering there, before I saw this girl's
+face."
+
+"There might be a great reward in this life, and in the life beyond. Yet
+once the first step is taken, it is irrevocable. In any case, commit me
+to nothing with him to whom thou goest. He is eaten up with zeal. He is
+a devouring fire--and all is fuel for that fire."
+
+"I will commit thee to nothing without thy full permission, O my
+father."
+
+"And for thyself, think twice before thou killest the sheep. Remember
+our desert saying. 'Who kills a sheep, kills a bee. Who kills a bee,
+kills a palm, and who kills a palm, kills seventy prophets.'"
+
+"I would give my sword to the prophets to aid them in killing those who
+are not prophets."
+
+"Thou art faithful. Yet let the rain of reason fall on thy head and on
+thine heart, before thou givest thy sword into the hand of him who waits
+thine answer."
+
+"Thine advice is of the value of many dates, even of the _deglet nour_,
+the jewel date, which only the rich can eat."
+
+The old man laid his hand, still strong and firm, on his son's shoulder,
+and together they went into the great tent, that part of it where the
+women were, for all were closely related to them, excepting the Roumia,
+who had been received as a daughter of the house.
+
+        *        *        *        *        *        *        *
+
+When it was evening, the douar feasted, in honour of the guests who had
+come to the _tente sultane_. The Agha had given orders that two sheep
+should be killed. One was for his own household; his relatives, his
+servants, many of whom lived under the one vast roof of red, and white,
+and brown. His daughter, and her husband who assisted him in many ways,
+and was his scribe, or secretary, had a tent of their own close by, next
+in size to the Agha's; but they were bidden to supper in the great tent
+that night, for the family reunion. And because there was a European
+girl present, the women ate with the men, which was not usual.
+
+The second sheep was for the humbler folk of the zmala, and they roasted
+it whole in an open space, over a fire of small, dry wood, and of dead
+palm branches brought on donkey back twenty miles across the desert,
+from the nearest oasis town, also under dominion of the Agha. He had a
+house and garden there; but he liked best to be in his douar, with only
+his tent roof between him and the sky. Also it made him popular with
+the tribe of which he was the head, to spend most of his time with them
+in the desert. And for some reasons of which he never spoke, the old man
+greatly valued this popularity, though he treasured also the respect of
+the French, who assured his position and revenues.
+
+The desert men had made a ring round the fire, far from the green
+_daya_, so that the blowing sparks might not reach the trees. They sat
+in a circle, on the sand, with a row of women on one side, who held the
+smallest children by their short skirts; and larger children, wild and
+dark, as the red light of the flames played over their faces, fed the
+fire with pale palm branches. There was no moon, but a fountain of
+sparks spouted towards the stars; and though it was night, the sky was
+blue with the fierce blue of steel. Some of the Agha's black Soudanese
+servants had made kous-kous of semolina with a little mutton and a great
+many red peppers. This they gave to the crowd, in huge wooden bowls; and
+the richer people boiled coffee which they drank themselves, and offered
+to those sitting nearest them.
+
+When everybody had eaten, the powder play began round the fire, and at
+each explosion the women shrilled out their "you-you, you-you!" But this
+was all for the entertainment of outsiders. Inside the Agha's tent, the
+family took their pleasure more quietly.
+
+Though a house of canvas, there were many divisions into rooms. The
+Agha's wife had hers, separated completely from her sister's, and there
+was space for guests, besides the Agha's own quarters, his reception
+room, his dining-room (invaded to-night by all his family) the kitchen,
+and sleeping place for a number of servants.
+
+There were many dishes besides the inevitable cheurba, or Arab soup, the
+kous-kous, the mechoui, lamb roasted over the fire. Victoria was almost
+sickened by the succession of sweet things, cakes and sugared preserves,
+made by the hands of the Agha's wife, Alonda, who in the Roumia's eyes
+was as like Sarah as the Agha was like Abraham. Yet everything was
+delicious; and after the meal, when the coffee came, lagmi the desert
+wine distilled from the heart of a palm tree, was pressed upon Victoria.
+All drank a little, for, said Lella Alonda, though strong drink was
+forbidden by the Prophet, the palms were dear to him, and besides, in
+the throats of good men and women, wine was turned to milk, as Sidi
+Aissa of the Christians turned water to wine at the marriage feast.
+
+When they had finished at last, a Soudanese woman poured rose-water over
+their hands, from a copper jug, and wiped them with a large damask
+napkin, embroidered by Aichouch, the pretty, somewhat coquettish married
+daughter of the house, Maieddine's only sister. The rose-water had been
+distilled by Lella Fatma, the widowed sister of Alonda, who shared the
+hospitality of the Agha's roof, in village or douar. Every one
+questioned Victoria, and made much of her, even the Agha; but, though
+they asked her opinions of Africa, and talked of her journey across the
+sea, they did not speak of her past life or of her future. Not a word
+was said concerning her mission, or Ben Halim's wife, the sister for
+whom she searched.
+
+While they were still at supper, the black servants who had waited upon
+them went quietly away, but slightly raised the heavy red drapery which
+formed the partition between that room and another. They looped up the
+thick curtain only a little way, but there was a light on the other
+side, and Victoria, curious as to what would happen next, spied the
+servants' black legs moving about, watched a rough wooden bench placed
+on the blue and crimson rugs of Djebel Amour, and presently saw other
+black legs under a white burnous coil themselves upon the low seat.
+
+Then began strange music, the first sound of which made Victoria's heart
+leap. It was the first time she had heard the music of Africa, except a
+distant beating of tobols coming from a black tent across desert
+spaces, while she had lain at night in the house of Maieddine's friends;
+or the faint, pure note of a henna-dyed flute in the hand of some boy
+keeper of goats--a note pure as the monotonous purling of water, heard
+in the dark.
+
+But this music was so close to her, that it was like the throbbing of
+her own heart. And it was no sweet, pure trickle of silver, but the cry
+of passion, passion as old and as burning as the desert sands outside
+the lighted tent. As she listened, struck into pulsing silence, she
+could see the colour of the music; a deep crimson, which flamed into
+scarlet as the tom-tom beat, or deepened to violent purple, wicked as
+belladonna flowers. The wailing of the raita mingled with the heavy
+throbbing of the tom-tom, and filled the girl's heart with a vague
+foreboding, a yearning for something she had not known, and did not
+understand. Yet it seemed that she must have both known and understood
+long ago, before memory recorded anything--perhaps in some forgotten
+incarnation. For the music and what it said, monotonously yet fiercely,
+was old as the beginnings of the world, old and changeless as the
+patterns of the stars embroidered on the astrological scroll of the sky.
+The hoarse derbouka, and the languorous ghesbah joined in with the
+savage tobol and the strident raita; and under all was the tired
+heart-beat of the bendir, dull yet resonant, and curiously exciting to
+the nerves.
+
+Victoria's head swam. She wondered if it were wholly the effect of the
+African music, or if the lagmi she had sipped was mounting to her brain.
+She grew painfully conscious of every physical sense, and it was hard to
+sit and listen. She longed to spring up and dance in time to the
+droning, and throbbing, and crying of the primitive instruments which
+the Negroes played behind the red curtain. She felt that she must dance,
+a new, strange dance the idea of which was growing in her mind, and
+becoming an obsession. She could see it as if she were looking at a
+picture; yet it was only her nerves and her blood that bade her dance.
+Her reason told her to sit still. Striving to control herself she shut
+her eyes, and would have shut her ears too, if she could. But the music
+was loud in them. It made her see desert rivers rising after floods, and
+water pounding against the walls of underground caverns. It made her
+hear the wild, fierce love-call of a desert bird to its mate.
+
+She could bear it no longer. She sprang up, her eyes shining, her cheeks
+red. "May I dance for you to that music, Lella Alonda?" she said to the
+Agha's wife. "I think I could. I long to try."
+
+Lella Alonda, who was old, and accustomed only to the dancing of the
+Almehs, which she thought shameful, was scandalized at the thought that
+the young girl would willingly dance before men. She was dumb, not
+knowing what answer to give, that need not offend a guest, but which
+might save the Roumia from indiscretion.
+
+The Agha, however, was enchanted. He was a man of the world still,
+though he was aged now, and he had been to Paris, as well as many times
+to Algiers. He knew that European ladies danced with men of their
+acquaintance, and he was curious to see what this beautiful child wished
+to do. He glanced at Maieddine, and spoke to his wife: "Tell the little
+White Rose to dance; that it will give us pleasure."
+
+"Dance then, in thine own way, O daughter," Lella Alonda was forced to
+say; for it did not even occur to her that she might disobey her
+husband.
+
+Victoria smiled at them all; at M'Barka and Aichouch, and Aichouch's
+dignified husband, Si Abderrhaman: at Alonda and the Agha, and at
+Maieddine, as, when a child, she would have smiled at her sister, when
+beginning a dance made up from one of Saidee's stories.
+
+She had told Stephen of an Eastern dance she knew, but this was
+something different, more thrilling and wonderful, which the wild music
+put into her heart. At first, she hardly knew what was the meaning she
+felt impelled to express by gesture and pose. The spirit of the desert
+sang to her, a song of love, a song old as the love-story of Eve; and
+though the secret of that song was partly hidden from her as yet, she
+must try to find it out for herself, and picture it to others, by
+dancing.
+
+Always before, when she danced, Victoria had called up the face of her
+sister, to keep before her eyes as an inspiration. But now, as she bent
+and swayed to catch the spirit's whispers, as wheat sways to the whisper
+of the wind, it was a man's face she saw. Stephen Knight seemed to stand
+in the tent, looking at her with a curiously wistful, longing look, over
+the heads of the Arab audience, who sat on their low divans and piled
+carpets.
+
+She thrilled to the look, and the desert spirit made her screen her face
+from it, with a sequined gauze scarf which she wore. For a few measures
+she danced behind the glittering veil, then with a sudden impulse which
+the music gave, she tossed it back, holding out her arms, and smiling up
+to Stephen's eyes, above the brown faces, with a sweet smile very
+mysterious to the watchers. Consciously she called to Stephen then, as
+she had promised she would call, if she should ever need him, for
+somehow she did need and want him;--not for his help in finding Saidee:
+she was satisfied with all that Maieddine was doing--but for herself.
+The secret of the music which she had been trying to find out, was in
+his eyes, and learning it slowly, made her more beautiful, more womanly,
+than she had ever been before. As she danced on, the two long plaits of
+her red hair loosened and shook out into curls which played round her
+white figure like flames. Her hands fluttered on the air as they rose
+and fell like the little white wings of a dove; and she was dazzling as
+a brandished torch, in the ill-lit tent with its dark hangings.
+
+M'Barka had given her a necklace of black beads which the negresses had
+made of benzoin and rose leaves and spices, held in shape with pungent
+rezin. Worn on the warm flesh, the beads gave out a heady perfume, which
+was like the breath of the desert. It made the girl giddy, and it grew
+stronger and sweeter as she danced, seeming to mingle with the crying
+of the raita and the sobbing of the ghesbah, so that she confused
+fragrance with music, music with fragrance.
+
+Maieddine stared at her, like a man who dreams with his eyes open. If he
+had been alone, he could have watched her dance on for hours, and wished
+that she would never stop; but there were other men in the tent, and he
+had a maddening desire to snatch the girl in his arms, smothering her in
+his burnous, and rushing away with her into the desert.
+
+Her dancing astonished him. He did not know what to make of it, for she
+had told him nothing about herself, except what concerned her errand in
+Africa. Though he had been in Paris when she was there, he had been
+deeply absorbed in business vital to his career, and had not heard of
+Victoria Ray the dancer, or seen her name on the hoardings.
+
+Like his father, he knew that European women who danced were not as the
+African dancers, the Ouled Nails and the girls of Djebel Amour. But an
+Arab may have learned to know many things with his mind which he cannot
+feel with his heart; and with his heart Maieddine felt a wish to blind
+Abderrhaman, because his eyes had seen the intoxicating beauty of
+Victoria as she danced. He was ferociously angry, but not with the girl.
+Perhaps with himself, because he was powerless to hide her from others,
+and to order her life as he chose. Yet there was a kind of delicious
+pain in knowing himself at her mercy, as no Arab man could be at the
+mercy of an Arab woman.
+
+The sight of Victoria dancing, had shot new colours into his existence.
+He understood her less, and valued her more than before, a thousand
+times more, achingly, torturingly more. Since their first meeting on the
+boat, he had admired the American girl immensely. Her whiteness, the
+golden-red of her hair, the blueness of her eyes had meant perfection
+for him. He had wanted her because she was the most beautiful creature
+he had seen, because she was a Christian and difficult to win; also
+because the contrast between her childishness and brave independence
+was piquant. Apart from that contrast, he had not thought much about her
+nature. He had looked upon her simply as a beautiful girl, who could not
+be bought, but must be won. Now she had become a bewildering houri.
+Nothing which life could give him would make up for the loss of her.
+There was nothing he would not do to have her, or at least to put her
+beyond the reach of others.
+
+If necessary, he would even break his promise to the Agha.
+
+While she danced inside the great tent, outside in the open space round
+the fire, the dwellers in the little tents sat with their knees in their
+arms watching the dancing of two young Negroes from the Soudan. The
+blacks had torn their turbans from their shaven heads, and thrown aside
+their burnouses. Naked to their waists, with short, loose trousers, and
+sashes which other men seized, to swing the wearers round and round,
+their sweating skin had the gloss of ebony. It was a whirlwind of a
+dance, and an old wizard with a tom-tom, and a dark giant with metal
+castanets made music for the dancers, taking eccentric steps themselves
+as they played. The Soudanese fell into an ecstasy of giddiness, running
+about on their hands and feet like huge black tarantulas, or turning
+themselves into human wheels, to roll through the bed of the dying fire
+and out on the other side, sending up showers of sparks. All the while,
+they uttered a barking chant, in time to the wicked music, which seemed
+to shriek for war and bloodshed; and now and then they would dash after
+some toddling boy, catch him by the scalp-lock on his shaved head (left
+for the grasp of Azrail the death-angel) and force him to join the
+dance.
+
+Mean-faced Kabyle dogs, guarding deserted tents, howled their hatred of
+the music, while far away, across desert spaces, jackals cried to one
+another. And the scintillating network of stars was dimmed by a thin
+veil of sand which the wind lifted and let fall, as Victoria lifted and
+let fall the spangled scarf that made her beauty more mysterious, more
+desirable, in the eyes of Maieddine.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+
+"In the name of the All-Merciful and Pitiful! We seek refuge with the
+Lord of the Day, against the sinfulness of beings created by Him;
+against all evil, and against the night, lest they overcome us
+suddenly."
+
+It was the Prayer of the Dawn, El Fejur; and Victoria heard it cried in
+the voices of the old men of the zmala, early in the morning, as she
+dressed to continue her journey.
+
+Every one was astir in the _tente sultane_, behind the different curtain
+partitions, and outside were the noises of the douar, waking to a new
+day. The girl could not wait for the coffee that Fafann would bring her,
+for she was eager to see the caravan that Si Maieddine was assembling.
+As soon as she was ready she stole out into the dim dawn, more mystic in
+the desert than moon-rise or moon-setting. The air was crisp and
+tingling, and smelled of wild thyme, the herb that nomad women love, and
+wear crushed in their bosoms, or thrust up their nostrils. The camels
+had not come yet, for the men of the douar had not finished their
+prayer. In the wide open space where they had watched the dance last
+night, now they were praying, sons of Ishmael, a crowd of prostrate
+white figures, their faces against the sand.
+
+Victoria stood waiting by the big tent, but she had not much need for
+patience. Soon the desert prayer was over, and the zmala was buzzing
+with excitement, as it had buzzed when the travellers arrived.
+
+The Soudanese Negroes who had danced the wild dance appeared leading two
+white meharis, running camels, aristocrats of the camel world. On the
+back of each rose a cage-like bassour, draped with haoulis, striped
+rose-colour and purple. The desert beasts moved delicately, on legs
+longer and more slender than those of pack-camels, their necks swaying
+like the necks of swans who swim with the tide. Victoria thought them
+like magnificent, four-legged cousins of ostriches, and the
+superciliousness of their expressions amused her; the look they had of
+elderly ladies, dissatisfied with every one but themselves, and
+conscious of being supremely "well-connected." "A camel cannot see its
+own hump, but it can see those of others," she had heard M'Barka say.
+
+As Victoria stood alone in the dawn, laughing at the ghostly meharis,
+and looking with interest at the heavily laden pack-camel and the mule
+piled up with tents and mattresses, Maieddine came riding round from
+behind the great tent, all in white, on a white stallion. Seeing the
+girl, he tested her courage, and made a bid for her admiration by
+reining El Biod in suddenly, making him stand erect on his hind feet,
+pawing the air and dancing. But Roumia as she was, and unaccustomed to
+such manoeuvres, she neither ran back nor screamed. She was not ashamed
+to show her admiration of man and horse, and Maieddine did not know that
+her thoughts were more of El Biod the white, "drinker of air," the
+saddle of crimson velvet and tafilet leather embroidered in gold, and
+the bridle from Figuig, encrusted with silver, than of the rider.
+
+"This is the horse of whom I told thee," Maieddine said, letting El Biod
+come down again on all four feet. "He was blessed as a foal by having
+the magical words 'Bissem Allah' whispered over him as he drew the first
+draught of his mother's milk. But thou wilt endow him with new gifts if
+thou touchest his forehead with thy hand. Wilt thou do that, for his
+sake, and for mine?"
+
+Victoria patted the flesh-coloured star on the stallion's white face,
+not knowing that, if a girl's fingers lie between the eyes of an Arab's
+horse, it is as much as to say that she is ready to ride with him to the
+world's end. But Maieddine knew, and the thought warmed his blood. He
+was superstitious, like all Arabs, and he had wanted a sign of success.
+Now he had it. He longed to kiss the little fingers as they rested on El
+Biod's forehead, but he said to himself, "Patience; it will not be long
+before I kiss her lips."
+
+"El Biod is my citadel," he smiled to her. "Thou knowest we have the
+same word for horse and citadel in Arabic? And that is because a brave
+stallion is a warrior's citadel, built on the wind, a rampart between
+him and the enemy. And we think the angels gave a horse the same heart
+as a man, that he might be our friend as well as servant, and carry us
+on his back to Paradise. Whether that is true or not, to-day El Biod and
+I are already on the threshold of Paradise, because we are thy guides,
+thy guardians through the desert which we love."
+
+As he made this speech, Maieddine watched the girl's face anxiously, to
+see whether she would resent the implication, but she only smiled in her
+frank way, knowing the Arab language to be largely the language of
+compliment; and he was encouraged. Perhaps he had been over-cautious
+with her, he thought; for, after all, he had no reason to believe that
+she cared for any man, and as he had a record of great successes with
+women, why be so timid with an unsophisticated girl? Each day, he told
+himself, he would take another and longer step forward; but for the
+moment he must be content. He began to talk about the meharis and the
+Negroes who would go with them and the beasts of burden.
+
+When it was time for Victoria and M'Barka to be helped into their
+bassourahs, Maieddine would not let the Soudanese touch the meharis. It
+was he who made the animals kneel, pulling gently on the bridle attached
+to a ring in the left nostril of each; and both subsided gracefully in
+haughty silence instead of uttering the hideous gobbling which common
+camels make when they get down and get up, or when they are loaded or
+unloaded. These beasts, Guelbi and Mansour, had been bought from Moors,
+across the border where Oran and Morocco run together, and had been
+trained since babyhood by smugglers for smuggling purposes. "If a man
+would have a silent camel," said Maieddine, "he must get him from
+smugglers. For the best of reasons their animals are taught never to
+make a noise."
+
+M'Barka was to have Fafann in the same bassour, but Victoria would have
+her rose and purple cage to herself. Maieddine told her how, as the
+camel rose, she must first bow forward, then bend back; and, obeying
+carefully, she laughed like a child as the tall mehari straightened the
+knees of his forelegs, bearing his weight upon them as if on his feet,
+then got to his hind feet, while his "front knees," as she called them,
+were still on the ground, and last of all swung himself on to all four
+of his heart-shaped feet. Oh, how high in the air she felt when Guelbi
+was up, ready to start! She had had no idea that he was such a tall,
+moving tower, under the bassour.
+
+"What a sky-scraping camel!" she exclaimed. And then had to explain to
+Maieddine what she meant; for though he knew Paris, for him America
+might as well have been on another planet.
+
+He rode beside Victoria's mehari, when good-byes had been said,
+blessings exchanged, and the little caravan had started. Looking out
+between the haoulis which protected her from sun and wind, the handsome
+Arab on his Arab horse seemed far below her, as Romeo must have seemed
+to Juliet on her balcony; and to him the fair face, framed with dazzling
+hair was like a guiding star.
+
+"Thou canst rest in thy bassour?" he asked. "The motion of thy beast
+gives thee no discomfort?"
+
+"No. Truly it is a cradle," she answered. "I had read that to ride on a
+camel was misery, but this is like being rocked on the bough of a tree
+when the wind blows."
+
+"To sit in a bassour is very different from riding on a saddle, or even
+on a mattress, as the poor Bedouin women sometimes ride, or the dancers
+journeying from one place to another. I would not let thee travel with
+me unless I had been able to offer thee all the luxuries which a sultana
+might command. With nothing less would I have been content, because to
+me thou art a queen."
+
+"At least thou hast given me a beautiful moving throne," laughed
+Victoria; "and because thou art taking me on it to my sister, I'm happy
+to-day as a queen."
+
+"Then, if thou art happy, I also am happy," he said. "And when an Arab
+is happy, his lips would sing the song that is in his heart. Wilt thou
+be angry or pleased if I sing thee a love-song of the desert?"
+
+"I cannot be angry, because the song will not really be for me,"
+Victoria answered with the simplicity which had often disarmed and
+disconcerted Maieddine. "And I shall be pleased, because in the desert
+it is good to hear desert songs."
+
+This was not exactly the answer which he had wanted, but he made the
+best of it, telling himself that he had not much longer to wait.
+
+"Leaders of camels sing," he said, "to make the beasts' burdens weigh
+less heavily. But thy mehari has no burden. Thou in thy bassour art
+lighter on his back than a feather on the wing of a dove. My song is for
+my own heart, and for thine heart, if thou wilt have it, not for Guelbi,
+though the meaning of Guelbi is 'heart of mine.'"
+
+Then Maieddine sang as he rode, his bridle lying loose, an old Arab
+song, wild and very sad, as all Arab music sounds, even when it is the
+cry of joy:
+
+     "Truly, though I were to die, it would be naught,
+     If I were near my love, for whom my bosom aches,
+     For whom my heart is beating.
+
+     "Yes, I am to die, but death is nothing
+     O ye who pass and see me dying,
+     For I have kissed the eyes, the mouth that I desired."
+
+"But that is a sad song," said Victoria, when Maieddine ceased his
+tragic chant, after many verses.
+
+"Thou wouldst not say so, if thou hadst ever loved. Nothing is sad to a
+lover, except to lose his love, or not to have his love returned."
+
+"But an Arab girl has no chance to love," Victoria argued. "Her father
+gives her to a man when she is a child, and they have never even spoken
+to each other until after the wedding."
+
+"We of the younger generation do not like these child marriages,"
+Maieddine apologized, eagerly. "And, in any case, an Arab man, unless he
+be useless as a mule without an eye, knows how to make a girl love him
+in spite of herself. We are not like the men of Europe, bound down by a
+thousand conventions. Besides, we sometimes fall in love with women not
+of our own race. These we teach to love us before marriage."
+
+Victoria laughed again, for she felt light-hearted in the beautiful
+morning. "Do Arab men always succeed as teachers?"
+
+"What is written is written," he answered slowly. "Yet it is written
+that a strong man carves his own fate. And for thyself, wouldst thou
+know what awaits thee in the future?"
+
+"I trust in God and my star."
+
+"Thou wouldst not, then, that the desert speak to thee with its tongue
+of sand out of the wisdom of all ages?"
+
+"What dost thou mean?"
+
+"I mean that my cousin, Lella M'Barka, can divine the future from the
+sand of the Sahara, which gave her life, and life to her ancestors for a
+thousand years before her. It is a gift. Wilt thou that she exercise it
+for thee to-night, when we camp?"
+
+"There is hardly any real sand in this part of the desert," said
+Victoria, seeking some excuse not to hear M'Barka's prophecies, yet not
+to hurt M'Barka's feelings, or Maieddine's. "It is all far away, where
+we see the hills which look golden as ripe grain. And we cannot reach
+those hills by evening."
+
+"My cousin always carries the sand for her divining. Every night she
+reads in the sand what will happen to her on the morrow, just as the
+women of Europe tell their fate by the cards. It is sand from the dunes
+round Touggourt; and mingled with it is a little from Mecca, which was
+brought to her by a holy man, a marabout. It would give her pleasure to
+read the sand for thee."
+
+"Then I will ask her to do it," Victoria promised.
+
+As the day grew, its first brightness faded. A wind blew up from the
+south, and slowly darkened the sky with a strange lilac haze, which
+seemed tangible as thin silk gauze. Behind it the sun glimmered like a
+great silver plate, and the desert turned pale, as in moonlight.
+Although the ground was hard under the camels' feet, the wind carried
+with it from far-away spaces a fine powder of sand which at last forced
+Victoria to let down the haoulis, and Maieddine and the two Negroes to
+cover their faces with the veils of their turbans, up to the eyes.
+
+"It will rain this afternoon," M'Barka prophesied from between her
+curtains.
+
+"No," Maieddine contradicted her. "There has been rain this month, and
+thou knowest better than I do that beyond El Aghouat it rains but once
+in five years. Else, why do the men of the M'Zab country break their
+hearts to dig deep wells? There will be no rain. It is but a sand-storm
+we have to fear."
+
+"Yet I feel in the roots of my hair and behind my eyes that the rain is
+coming."
+
+Maieddine shrugged his shoulders, for an Arab does not twice contradict
+a woman, unless she be his wife. But the lilac haze became a pall of
+crape, and the noon meal was hurried. Maieddine saved some of the
+surprises he had brought for a more favourable time. Hardly had they
+started on again, when rain began to fall, spreading over the desert in
+a quivering silver net whose threads broke and were constantly mended
+again. Then the rough road (to which the little caravan did not keep)
+and all the many diverging tracks became wide silver ribbons, lacing
+the plain broken with green dayas. A few minutes more--incredibly few,
+it seemed to Victoria--and the dayas were deep lakes, where the water
+swirled and bubbled round the trunks of young pistachio trees. A torrent
+poured from the mourning sky, and there was a wild sound of marching
+water, which Victoria could hear, under the haoulis which sheltered her.
+No water came through them, for the arching form of the bassour was like
+the roof of a tent, and the rain poured down on either side. She peeped
+out, enjoying her own comfort, while pitying Maieddine and the Negroes;
+but all three had covered their thin burnouses with immensely thick,
+white, hooded cloaks, woven of sheep's wool, and they had no air of
+depression. By and by they came to an oued, which should have been a
+dry, stony bed without a trickle of water; but half an hour's downpour
+had created a river, as if by black magic; and Victoria could guess the
+force at which it was rushing, by the stout resistance she felt Guelbi
+had to make, as he waded through.
+
+"A little more, and we could not have crossed," said Maieddine, when
+they had mounted up safely on the other side of the oued.
+
+"Art thou not very wet and miserable?" the girl asked sympathetically.
+
+"I--miserable?" he echoed. "I--who am privileged to feast upon the
+deglet nour, in my desert?"
+
+Victoria did not understand his metaphor, for the deglet nour is the
+finest of all dates, translucent as amber, sweet as honey, and so dear
+that only rich men or great marabouts ever taste it. "The deglet nour?"
+she repeated, puzzled.
+
+"Dost thou not know the saying that the smile of a beautiful maiden is
+the deglet nour of Paradise, and nourishes a man's soul, so that he can
+bear any discomfort without being conscious that he suffers?"
+
+"I did not know that Arab men set women so high," said Victoria,
+surprised; for now the rain had stopped, suddenly as it began, and she
+could look out again from between the curtains. Soon they would dry in
+the hot sun.
+
+"Thou hast much to learn then, about Arab men," Maieddine answered, "and
+fortunate is thy teacher. It is little to say that we would sacrifice
+our lives for the women we love, because for us life is not that great
+treasure it is to the Roumis, who cling to it desperately. We would do
+far more than give our lives for the beloved woman, we Arabs. We would
+give our heads, which is the greatest sacrifice a man of Islam could
+make."
+
+"But is not that the same thing as giving life?"
+
+"It is a thousandfold more. It is giving up the joy of eternity. For we
+are taught to believe that if a man's head is severed from his body, it
+alone goes to Paradise. His soul is maimed. It is but a bodiless head,
+and all celestial joys are for ever denied to it."
+
+"How horrible!" the girl exclaimed. "Dost thou really believe such a
+thing?"
+
+He feared that he had made a mistake, and that she would look upon him
+as an alien, a pagan, with whom she could have no sympathy. "If I am
+more modern in my ideas than my forefathers," he said tactfully, "I must
+not confess it to a Roumia, must I, oh Rose of the West?--for that would
+be disloyal to Islam. Yet if I did believe, still would I give my head
+for the love of the one woman, the star of my destiny, she whose sweet
+look deserves that the word 'ain' should stand for bright fountain, and
+for the ineffable light in a virgin's eyes."
+
+"I did not know until to-day, Si Maieddine, that thou wert a poet,"
+Victoria told him.
+
+"All true Arabs are poets. Our language--the literary, not the common
+Arabic--is the language of poets, as thou must have read in thy books.
+But I have now such inspiration as perhaps no man ever had; and thou
+wilt learn other things about me, while we journey together in the
+desert."
+
+As he said this he looked at her with a look which even her simplicity
+could not have mistaken if she had thought of it; but instantly the
+vision of Saidee came between her eyes and his. The current of her ideas
+was abruptly changed. "How many days now," she asked suddenly, "will the
+journey last?"
+
+His face fell. "Art thou tired already of this new way of travelling,
+that thou askest me a question thou hast not once asked since we
+started?"
+
+"Oh no, no," she reassured him. "I love it. I am not tired at all.
+But--I did not question thee at first because thou didst not desire me
+to know thy plans, while I was still within touch of Europeans. Thou
+didst not put this reason in such words, for thou wouldst not have let
+me feel I had not thy full trust. But it was natural thou shouldst not
+give it, when thou hadst so little acquaintance with me, and I did not
+complain. Now it is different. Even if I wished, I could neither speak
+nor write to any one I ever knew. Therefore I question thee."
+
+"Art thou impatient for the end?" he wanted to know, jealously.
+
+"Not impatient. I am happy. Yet I should like to count the days, and say
+each night, 'So many more times must the sun rise and set before I see
+my sister.'"
+
+"Many suns must rise and set," Maieddine confessed doggedly.
+
+"But--when first thou planned the journey, thou saidst; 'In a fortnight
+thou canst send thy friends news, I hope.'"
+
+"If I had told thee then, that it must be longer, wouldst thou have come
+with me? I think not. For thou sayest I did not wholly trust thee. How
+much less didst thou trust me?"
+
+"Completely. Or I would not have put myself in thy charge."
+
+"Perhaps thou art convinced of that now, when thou knowest me and Lella
+M'Barka, and thou hast slept in the tent of my father, and in the houses
+of my friends. But I saw in thine eyes at that time a doubt thou didst
+not wish to let thyself feel, because through me alone was there a way
+to reach thy sister. I wished to bring thee to her, for thy sake, and
+for her sake, though I have never looked upon her face and never
+shall----"
+
+"Why dost thou say 'never shall'?" the girl broke in upon him suddenly.
+
+The blood mounted to his face. He had made a second mistake, and she was
+very quick to catch him up.
+
+"It was but a figure of speech," he corrected himself.
+
+"Thou dost not mean that she's shut up, and no man allowed to see her?"
+
+"I know nothing. Thou wilt find out all for thyself. But thou wert
+anxious to go to her, at no matter what cost, and I feared to dishearten
+thee, to break thy courage, while I was still a stranger, and could not
+justify myself in thine eyes. Now, wilt thou forgive me an evasion,
+which was to save thee anxiety, if I say frankly that, travel as we may,
+we cannot reach our journey's end for many days yet?"
+
+"I must forgive thee," said Victoria, with a sigh. "Yet I do not like
+evasions. They are unworthy."
+
+"I am sorry," Maieddine returned, so humbly that he disarmed her. "It
+would be terrible to offend thee."
+
+"There can be no question of offence," she consoled him. "I am very,
+very grateful for all thou hast done for me. I often lie awake in the
+night, wondering how I can repay thee everything."
+
+"When we come to the end of the journey, I will tell thee of a thing
+thou canst do, for my happiness," Maieddine said in a low voice, as if
+half to himself.
+
+"Wilt thou tell me now to what place we are going? I should like to
+know, and I should like to hear thee describe it."
+
+He did not speak for a moment. Then he said slowly; "It is a grief to
+deny thee anything, oh Rose, but the secret is not mine to tell, even to
+thee."
+
+"The secret!" she echoed. "Thou hast never called it a secret."
+
+"If I did not use that word, did I not give thee to understand the same
+thing?"
+
+"Thou meanest, the secret about Cassim, my sister's husband?"
+
+"Cassim ben Halim has ceased to live."
+
+Victoria gave a little cry. "Dead! But thou hast made me believe, in
+spite of the rumours, that he lived."
+
+"I cannot explain to thee," Maieddine answered gloomily, as if hating to
+refuse her anything. "In the end, thou wilt know all, and why I had to
+be silent."
+
+"But my sister?" the girl pleaded. "There is no mystery about her? Thou
+hast concealed nothing which concerns Saidee?"
+
+"Thou hast my word that I will take thee to the place where she is. Thou
+gavest me thy trust. Give it me again."
+
+"I have not taken it away. It is thine," said Victoria.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+
+That night they spent in a caravanserai, because, after the brief deluge
+of rain, the ground was too damp for camping, when an invalid was of the
+party. When they reached the place after sunset, the low square of the
+building was a block of marble set in the dull gold of the desert,
+carved in dazzling white against a deep-blue evening sky. Like Ben
+Halim's house, it was roughly fortified, with many loopholes in the
+walls, for it had been built to serve the uses of less peaceful days
+than these. Within the strong gates, on one side were rooms for guests,
+each with its own door and window opening into the huge court. On
+another side of the square were the kitchens and dining-room, as well as
+living-place for the Arab landlord and his hidden family; and opposite
+was a roofed, open-fronted shelter for camels and other animals, the
+ground yellow with sand and spilt fodder. Water overflowed from a small
+well, making a pool in the courtyard, in which ducks and geese waddled,
+quacking, turkey-cocks fought in quiet corners, barked at impotently by
+Kabyle puppies. Tall, lean hounds or sloughis, kept to chase the desert
+gazelles, wandered near the kitchens, in the hope of bones, and camels
+gobbled dismally as their tired drivers forced them to their knees, or
+thrust handfuls of date stones down their throats. There were sheep,
+too, and goats; and even a cow, the "perpetual mother" loved and valued
+by Arabs.
+
+M'Barka refused to "read the sand" that night, when Maieddine suggested
+it. The sand would yield up its secrets only under the stars, she said,
+and wished to wait until they should be in the tents.
+
+All night, outside Victoria's open but shuttered window, there was a
+stealthy stirring of animals in the dark, a gliding of ghostly ducks, a
+breathing of sheep and camels. And sometimes the wild braying of a
+donkey or the yelp of a dog tore the silence to pieces.
+
+The next day was hot; so that at noon, when they stopped to eat, the
+round blot of black shadow under one small tree was precious as a black
+pearl. And there were flies. Victoria could not understand how they
+lived in the desert, miles from any house, miles from the tents of
+nomads; where there was no vegetation, except an occasional scrubby
+tree, or a few of the desert gourds which the Arabs use to cure the bite
+of scorpions. But she had not seen the cages of bones, sometimes
+bleached like old ivory, sometimes of a dreadful red, which told of
+wayside tragedies. Always when they had come in sight of a skeleton,
+Maieddine had found some excuse to make the girl look in another
+direction; for he wanted her to love the desert, not to feel horror of
+its relentlessness.
+
+Now for the first time he had full credit for his cleverness as an
+organizer. Never before had they been so remote from civilization. When
+travelling in the carriage, stopping each night at the house of some
+well-to-do caid or adel, it had been comparatively easy to provide
+supplies; but to-day, when jellied chicken and cream-cheese, almond
+cakes and oranges appeared at luncheon, and some popular French mineral
+water (almost cool because the bottles had been wrapped in wet blanket)
+fizzed in the glasses, Victoria said that Si Maieddine must have a tame
+djinn for a slave.
+
+"Wait till evening," he told her. "Then perhaps thou mayest see
+something to please thee." But he was delighted with her compliments,
+and made her drink water from the glass out of which he had drunk, that
+she might be sure of his good faith in all he had sworn to her
+yesterday. "They who drink water from the same cup have made an eternal
+pact together," he said. "I should not dare to be untrue, even if I
+would. And thou--I think that thou wilt be true to me."
+
+"Why, certainly I will," answered Victoria, with the pretty American
+accent which Stephen Knight had admired and smiled at the night he heard
+it first. "Thou art one of my very best friends."
+
+Maieddine looked down into the glass and smiled, as if he were a
+crystal-gazer, and could see something under the bright surface, that no
+one else could see.
+
+Night folded down over the desert, hot and velvety, like the wings of a
+mother-bird covering her children; but before darkness fell, the tents
+glimmered under the stars. There were two only, a large one for the
+women, and one very small for Maieddine. The Negroes would roll
+themselves in their burnouses, and lie beside the animals. But
+sleeping-time had not come yet; and it was the Soudanese who prepared
+the evening meal.
+
+One of them was a good cook, and for that reason Maieddine had begged
+him from the Agha. He made desert bread, by mixing farina with salted
+water, and baking it on a flat tin supported by stones over a fire of
+dry twigs. When the thin loaf was crisply brown on top, the man took it
+off the fire, and covered it up, on the tin, because it was to be eaten
+hot.
+
+While Victoria waited for all to be got ready, she strolled a little
+away from the tents and the group of resting animals, having promised
+Maieddine to avoid the tufts of alfa grass, for fear of vipers which
+sometimes lurked among them. He would have liked to go with her, but the
+unfailing tact of the Arab told him that she wished to be alone with her
+thoughts, and he could only hope that they might be of him.
+
+Here, it was no longer beautiful desert. They had passed the charming
+region of dayas, and were entering the grim world through which, long
+ago, the ever harried M'Zabites had fled to find a refuge beyond the
+reach of greedy pursuers. Nevertheless the enchantment of the Sahara, in
+all its phases, had taken hold of Victoria. She did not now feel that
+the desert was a place where a tired soul might find oblivion, though
+once she had imagined that it would be a land of forgetfulness. Arabs
+say, in talking idly to Europeans, that men forget their past in the
+desert, but she doubted if they really forgot, in these vast spaces
+where there was so much time to think. She herself began to feel that
+the illimitable skies, where flamed sunsets and sunrises whose miracles
+no eye saw, might teach her mysteries she had snatched at and lost, in
+dreams. The immensity of the desert sent her soul straining towards the
+immensity of the Beyond; and almost, in flashes elusive as the light on
+a bird's wing, she understood what eternity might mean. She felt that
+the last days of her childhood had been left behind, on the threshold of
+these mysterious spaces, this vastness into which she had plunged, as
+into an ocean. Yet she did not regret the loss, if it were a loss.
+Never, she thought, whatever might happen, would she wish not to have
+known this experience, not to have entered upon this great adventure,
+whose end Maieddine still hid behind a veil of secrecy.
+
+It was true, as she had told him, that she was not impatient, though she
+would have liked to count the days like the beads of a rosary. She
+looked forward to each one, as to the discovery of a beautiful thing new
+to the world and to her; for though the spaces surrounding her were wide
+beyond thinking, they were not empty. As ships, great and small, sail
+the sea, so sailed the caravans of the nomad tribes in the desert which
+surges on unchecked to Egypt: nomads who come and go, north and south,
+east and west, under the burning sun and the throbbing stars, as Allah
+has written their comings and goings in His book: men in white,
+journeying with their women, their children, and their trains of beasts,
+singing as they pass, and at night under the black tents resting to the
+music of the tom-tom and raita.
+
+Victoria's gaze waded through the shadows that flow over the desert at
+evening, deep and blue and transparent as water. She searched the
+distances for the lives that must be going on somewhere, perhaps not far
+away, though she would never meet them. They, and she, were floating
+spars in a great ocean; and it made the ocean more wonderful to know
+that the spars were there, each drifting according to its fate.
+
+The girl drew into her lungs the strong air of the desert, born of the
+winds which bring life or death to its children.
+
+The scent of the wild thyme, which she could never again disentangle
+from thoughts of the Sahara, was very sweet, even insistent. She knew
+that it was loved by nomad women; and she let pictures rise before her
+mind of gorgeous dark girls on camels, in plumed red bassourahs, going
+from one desert city to another, to dance--cities teeming with life,
+which she would never see among these spaces that seemed empty as the
+world before creation. She imagined the ghosts of these desert beauties
+crowding round her in the dusk, bringing their fragrance with them, the
+wild thyme they had loved in life, crushed in their bosoms; pathetic
+ghosts, who had not learned to rise beyond what they had once desired,
+therefore compelled to haunt the desert, the only world which they had
+known. In the wind that came sighing to her ears from the dark ravines
+of the terrible chebka, she seemed to hear battle-songs and groans of
+desert men who had fought and died ages ago, whose bones had crumbled
+under her feet, perhaps, and whose descendants had not changed one whit
+in religion, custom, or thought, or even in dress.
+
+Victoria was glad that Maieddine had let her have these desert thoughts
+alone, for they made her feel at home in the strange world her fancy
+peopled; but the touch of the thyme-scented ghosts was cold. It was good
+to turn back at last towards the tents, and see how the camp-fire
+crimsoned the star-dusk.
+
+"Thou wert happy alone?" Maieddine questioned her jealously.
+
+"I was not alone."
+
+He understood. "I know. The desert voices spoke to thee, of the desert
+mystery which they alone can tell; voices we can hear only by listening
+closely."
+
+"That was the thought in my mind. How odd thou shouldst put it into
+words."
+
+"Dost thou think it odd? But I am a man of the desert. I held back, for
+thee to go alone and hear the voices, knowing they would teach thee to
+understand me and my people. I knew, too, that the spirits would be
+kind, and say nothing to frighten thee. Besides, thou didst not go to
+them quite alone, for thine own white angel walked on thy right hand, as
+always."
+
+"Thou makest poetical speeches, Si Maieddine."
+
+"It is no poetry to speak of thy white angel. We believe that each one
+of us has a white angel at his right hand, recording his good actions.
+But ordinary mortals have also their black angels, keeping to the left,
+writing down wicked thoughts and deeds. Hast thou not seen men spitting
+to the left, to show despite of their black angels? But because thy soul
+is never soiled by sinful thoughts, there was no need for a black angel,
+and whilst thou wert still a child, Allah discharged him of his
+mission."
+
+"And thou, Si Maieddine, dost thou think, truly, that a black angel
+walks ever at thy left side?"
+
+"I fear so." Maieddine glanced to the left, as if he could see a dark
+figure writing on a slate. Things concerning Victoria must have been
+written on that slate, plans he had made, of which neither his white
+angel nor hers would approve. But, he told himself, if they had to be
+carried out, she would be to blame, for driving him to extremes. "Whilst
+thou art near me," he said aloud, "my black angel lags behind, and if
+thou wert to be with me forever, I----"
+
+"Since that cannot be, thou must find a better way to keep him in the
+background," Victoria broke in lightly. But Si Maieddine's compliments
+were oppressive. She wished it were not the Arab way to pay so many. He
+had been different at first; and feeling the change in him with a faint
+stirring of uneasiness, she hurried her steps to join M'Barka.
+
+The invalid reclined on a rug of golden jackal skins, and rested a thin
+elbow on cushions of dyed leather, braided in intricate strips by
+Touareg women. Victoria sat beside her, Maieddine opposite, and Fafann
+waited upon them as they ate.
+
+After supper, while the Bedouin woman saw that everything was ready for
+her mistress and the Roumia, in their tent, M'Barka spread out her
+precious sand from Mecca and the dunes round her own Touggourt. She had
+it tied up in green silk, such as is used for the turbans of men who
+have visited Mecca, lined with a very old Arab brocade, purple and gold,
+like the banners that drape the tombs of marabouts. She opened the bag
+carefully, until it lay flat on the ground in front of her knees, the
+sand piled in the middle, as much perhaps as could have been heaped on a
+soup plate.
+
+For a moment she sat gazing at the sand, her lips moving. She looked wan
+as old ivory in the dying firelight, and in the hollows of her immense
+eyes seemed to dream the mysteries of all ages. "Take a handful of
+sand," she said to Victoria. "Hold it over thine heart. Now, wish with
+the whole force of thy soul."
+
+Victoria wished to find Saidee safe, and to be able to help her, if she
+needed help.
+
+"Put back the sand, sprinkling it over the rest."
+
+The girl, though not superstitious, could not help being interested,
+even fascinated. It seemed to her that the sand had a magical sparkle.
+
+M'Barka's eyes became introspective, as if she waited for a message, or
+saw a vision. She was as strange, as remote from modern womanhood as a
+Cassandra. Presently she started, and began trailing her brown fingers
+lightly over the sand, pressing them down suddenly now and then, until
+she had made three long, wavy lines, the lower ones rather like
+telegraphic dots and dashes.
+
+"Lay the forefinger of thy left hand on any figure in these lines," she
+commanded. "Now on another--yet again, for the third time. That is all
+thou hast to do. The rest is for me."
+
+She took from some hiding-place in her breast a little old note-book,
+bound in dark leather, glossy from constant use. With it came a perfume
+of sandalwood. Turning the yellow leaves of the book, covered with fine
+Arab lettering, she read in a murmuring, indistinct voice, that sounded
+to Victoria like one of those desert voices of which Maieddine had
+spoken. Also she measured spaces between the figures the girl had
+touched, and counted monotonously.
+
+"Thy wish lies a long way from thee," she said at last. "A long way!
+Thou couldst never reach it of thyself--never, not till the end of the
+world. I see thee--alone, very helpless. Thou prayest. Allah sends thee
+a man--a strong man, whose brain and heart and arm are at thy service.
+Allah is great!"
+
+"Tell her what the man is like, cousin," Maieddine prompted, eagerly.
+
+"He is dark, and young. He is not of thy country, oh Rose of the West,
+but trust him, rely upon him, or thou art undone. In thy future, just
+where thou hast ceased to look for them, I see troubles and
+disappointments, even dangers. That is the time, above all others, to
+let thyself be guided by the man Allah has sent to be thy prop. He has
+ready wit and courage. His love for thee is great. It grows and grows.
+He tells thee of it; and thou--thou seest between him and thee a
+barrier, high and fearful as a wall with sharp knives on top. For thine
+eyes it is impassable. Thine heart is sad; and thy words to him will
+pierce his soul with despair. But think again. Be true to thyself and to
+thy star. Speak another word, and throw down that high barrier, as the
+wall of Jericho was thrown down. Thou canst do it. All will depend on
+the decision of a moment--thy whole future, the future of the man, and
+of a woman whose face I cannot see."
+
+M'Barka smoothed away the tracings in the sand.
+
+"What--is there no more?" asked Maieddine.
+
+"No, it is dark before my eyes now. The light has gone from the sand. I
+can still tell her a few little things, perhaps. Such things as the
+luckiest colours to wear, the best days to choose for journeys. But she
+is different from most girls. I do not think she would care for such
+hints."
+
+"All colours are lucky. All days are good," said Victoria. "I thank thee
+for what thou hast told me, Lella M'Barka."
+
+She did not wish to hear more. What she had heard was more than enough.
+Not that she really believed that M'Barka could see into the future; but
+because of the "dark man." Any fortune-teller might introduce a dark man
+into the picture of a fair girl's destiny; but the allusions were so
+marked that Victoria's vague unrestfulness became distress. She tried to
+encourage herself by thinking of Maieddine's dignified attitude, from
+the beginning of their acquaintance until now. And even now, he had
+changed only a little. He was too complimentary, that was all; and the
+difference in his manner might arise from knowing her more intimately.
+Probably Lella M'Barka, like many elderly women of other and newer
+civilizations, was over-romantic; and the best thing was to prevent her
+from putting ridiculous ideas into Maieddine's head. Such ideas would
+spoil the rest of the journey for both.
+
+"Remember all I have told thee, when the time comes," M'Barka warned
+her.
+
+"Yes--oh yes, I will remember."
+
+"Now it is my turn. Read the sand for me," said Maieddine.
+
+M'Barka made as if she would wrap the sand in its bag. "I can tell thy
+future better another time. Not now. It would not be wise. Besides, I
+have done enough. I am tired."
+
+"Look but a little way along the future, then, and say what thou seest.
+I feel that it will bring good fortune to touch the sand where the hand
+of Ourieda has touched it."
+
+Always now, he spoke of Victoria, or to her, as "Rose" (Ourieda in
+Arabic); but as M'Barka gave her that name also, the girl could hardly
+object.
+
+"I tell thee, instead it may bring thee evil."
+
+"For good or evil, I will have the fortune now," Maieddine insisted.
+
+"Be it upon thy head, oh cousin, not mine. Take thy handful of sand, and
+make thy wish."
+
+Maieddine took it from the place Victoria had touched, and his wish was
+that, as the grains of sand mingled, so their destinies might mingle
+inseparably, his and hers.
+
+M'Barka traced the three rows of mystic signs, and read her notebook,
+mumbling. But suddenly she let it drop into her lap, covering the signs
+with both thin hands.
+
+"What ails thee?" Maieddine asked, frowning.
+
+"I saw thee stand still and let an opportunity slip by."
+
+"I shall not do that."
+
+"The sand has said it. Shall I stop, or go on?"
+
+"Go on."
+
+"I see another chance to grasp thy wish. This time thou stretchest out
+thine hand. I see thee, in a great house--the house of one thou knowest,
+whose name I may not speak. Thou stretchest out thine hand. The chance
+is given thee----"
+
+"What then?"
+
+"Then--I cannot tell thee, what then. Thou must not ask. My eyes are
+clouded with sleep. Come Ourieda, it is late. Let us go to our tent."
+
+"No," said Maieddine. "Ourieda may go, but not thou."
+
+Victoria rose quickly and lightly from among the jackal skins and
+Touareg cushions which Maieddine had provided for her comfort. She bade
+him good night, and with all his old calm courtesy he kissed his hand
+after it had pressed hers. But there was a fire of anger or impatience
+in his eyes.
+
+Fafann was in the tent, waiting to put her mistress to bed, and to help
+the Roumia if necessary. The mattresses which had come rolled up on the
+brown mule's back, had been made into luxurious looking beds, covered
+with bright-coloured, Arab-woven blankets, beautiful embroidered sheets
+of linen, and cushions slipped into fine pillow-cases. Folding frames
+draped with new mosquito nettings had been arranged to protect the
+sleepers' hands and faces; and there was a folding table on which stood
+French gilt candlesticks and a glass basin and water-jug, ornamented
+with gilded flowers; just such a basin and jug as Victoria had seen in
+the curiosity-shop of Mademoiselle Soubise. There were folded towels,
+too, of silvery damask.
+
+"What wonderful things we have!" the girl exclaimed. "I don't see how we
+manage to carry them all. It is like a story of the 'Arabian Nights,'
+where one has but to rub a lamp, and a powerful djinn brings everything
+one wants."
+
+"The Lord Maieddine is the powerful djinn who has brought all thou
+couldst possibly desire, without giving thee even the trouble to wish
+for things," said Fafann, showing her white teeth, and glancing sidelong
+at the Roumia. "These are not all. Many of these things thou hast seen
+already. Yet there are more." Eagerly she lifted from the ground, which
+was covered with rugs, a large green earthern jar. "It is full of
+rosewater to bathe thy face, for the water of the desert here is
+brackish, and harsh to the skin, because of saltpetre. The Sidi ordered
+enough rosewater to last till Ghardaia, in the M'Zab country. Then he
+will get thee more."
+
+"But it is for us both--for Lella M'Barka more than for me," protested
+Victoria.
+
+Fafann laughed. "My mistress no longer spends time in thinking of her
+skin. She prays much instead; and the Sidi has given her an amulet which
+touched the sacred Black Stone at Mecca. To her, that is worth all the
+rest; and it is worth this great journey, which she takes with so much
+pain. The rosewater, and the perfumes from Tunis, and the softening
+creams made in the tent of the Sidi's mother, are all offered to thee."
+
+"No, no," the girl persisted, "I am sure they are meant more for Lella
+M'Barka than for me. She is his cousin."
+
+"Hast thou never noticed the caravans, when they have passed us in the
+desert, how it is always the young and beautiful women who rest in the
+bassourahs, while the old ones trot after the camels?"
+
+"I have noticed that, and it is very cruel."
+
+"Why cruel, oh Roumia? They have had their day. And when a man has but
+one camel, he puts upon its back his treasure, the joy of his heart. A
+man must be a man, so say even the women. And the Sidi is a man, as well
+as a great lord. He is praised by all as a hunter, and for the
+straightness of his aim with a gun. He rides, thou seest, as if he were
+one with his horse, and as he gallops in the desert, so would he gallop
+to battle if need be, for he is brave as the Libyan lion, and strong as
+the heroes of old legends. Yet there is nothing too small for him to
+bend his mind upon, if it be for thy pleasure and comfort. Thou shouldst
+be proud, instead of denying that all the Sidi does is for thee. My
+mistress would tell thee so, and many women would be dying of envy,
+daughters of Aghas and even of Bach Aghas. But perhaps, as thou art a
+Roumia, thou hast different feelings."
+
+"Perhaps," answered Victoria humbly, for she was crushed by Fafann's
+fierce eloquence. And for a moment her heart was heavy; but she would
+not let herself feel a presentiment of trouble.
+
+"What harm can happen to me?" she asked. "I haven't been guided so far
+for nothing. Si Maieddine is an Arab, and his ways aren't like the ways
+of men I've known, that's all. My sister's husband was his friend--a
+great friend, whom he loved. What he does is more for Cassim's sake
+than mine."
+
+Her cheeks were burning after the long day of sun, and because of her
+thoughts; yet she was not glad to bathe them with Si Maieddine's
+fragrant offering of rosewater, some of which Fafann poured into the
+glass basin.
+
+Not far away Maieddine was still sitting by the fire with M'Barka.
+
+"Tell me now," he said. "What didst thou see?"
+
+"Nothing clearly. Another time, cousin. Let me have my mind fresh. I am
+like a squeezed orange."
+
+"Yet I must know, or I shall not sleep. Thou art hiding something."
+
+"All was vague--confused. I saw as through a torn cloud. There was the
+great house. Thou wert there, a guest. Thou wert happy, thy desire
+granted, and then--by Allah, Maieddine, I could not see what happened;
+but the voice of the sand was like a storm in my ears, and the knowledge
+came to me suddenly that thou must not wait too long for thy wish--the
+wish made with the sand against thine heart."
+
+"Thou couldst not see my wish. Thou art but a woman."
+
+"I saw, because I am a woman, and I have the gift. Thou knowest I have
+the gift. Do not wait too long, or thou mayest wait for ever."
+
+"What wouldst thou have me do?"
+
+"It is not for me to advise. As thou saidst, I am but a woman.
+Only--_act_! That is the message of the sand. And now, unless thou
+wouldst have my dead body finish the journey in the bassour, take me to
+my tent."
+
+Maieddine took her to the tent. And he asked no more questions. But all
+night he thought of what M'Barka had said, and the message of the sand.
+It was a dangerous message, yet the counsel was after his own heart.
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+
+In the morning he was still brooding over the message; and as they
+travelled through the black desert on the way to Ghardaia and the hidden
+cities of the M'Zab, he fell into long silences. Then, abruptly, he
+would rouse himself to gaiety and animation, telling old legends or new
+tales, strange dramas of the desert, very seldom comedies; for there are
+few comedies in the Sahara, except for the children.
+
+Sometimes he was in danger of speaking out words which said themselves
+over and over in his head. "If I 'wait too long, I may wait for ever.'
+Then, by Allah, I will not wait." But he kept his tongue in control,
+though his brain was hot as if he wore no turban, under the blaze of the
+sun. "I will leave things as they are while we are in this black
+Gehenna," he determined. "What is written is written. Yet who has seen
+the book of the writing? And there is a curse on all this country, till
+the M'Zab is passed."
+
+After Bou-Saada, he had gradually forgotten, or almost forgotten, his
+fears. He had been happy in the consciousness of power that came to him
+from the desert, where he was at home, and Europeans were helpless
+strangers. But now, M'Barka's warnings had brought the fears back, like
+flapping ravens. He had planned the little play of the sand-divining,
+and at first it had pleased him. M'Barka's vision of the dark man who
+was not of Victoria's country could not have been better; and because he
+knew that his cousin believed in the sand, he was superstitiously
+impressed by her prophecy and advice. In the end, he had forced her to
+go on when she would have stopped, yet he was angry with her for
+putting doubts into his mind, doubts of his own wisdom and the way to
+succeed. With a girl of his own people, or indeed with any girl, if he
+had not loved too much, he would have had no doubts. But he did not know
+how it was best to treat Victoria. His love for her was so strong, that
+it was like fear, and in trying to understand her, he changed his mind a
+dozen times a day. He was not used to this uncertainty, and hated to
+think that he could be weak. Would she turn from him, if he broke the
+tacit compact of loyal friendship which had made her trust him as a
+guide? He could not tell; though an Arab girl would scorn him for
+keeping it. "Perhaps at heart all women are alike," he thought. "And if,
+now that I am warned, I should risk waiting, I would be no man." At
+last, the only question left in his mind was, "When?"
+
+For two days they journeyed through desolation, in a burnt-out world
+where nothing had colour except the sad violet sky which at evening
+flamed with terrible sunsets, cruelly beautiful as funeral pyres. The
+fierce glow set fire to the black rocks which pointed up like dragons'
+teeth, and turned them to glittering copper; polishing the dead white
+chalk of the chebka to the dull gleam of dirty silver. Far away there
+were always purple hills, behind which it seemed that hope and beauty
+might come to life again; but travelling from morning to night they
+never appeared any nearer. The evil magic of the black desert, which
+Maieddine called accursed because of the M'Zabites, made the beautiful
+hills recede always, leaving only the ugly brown waves of hardened
+earth, which were disheartening to climb, painful to descend.
+
+At last, in the midst of black squalor, they came to an oasis like a
+bright jewel fallen in the trough of swine. It was Berryan, the first
+town of the M'Zabites, people older than the Arabs, and hated by them
+with a hatred more bitter than their loathing for Jews.
+
+Maieddine would not pass through the town, since it could be avoided,
+because in his eyes the Beni-M'Zab were dogs, and in their eyes he,
+though heir to an agha, would be as carrion.
+
+Sons of ancient Phoenicians, merchants of Tyre and Carthage, there never
+had been, never would be, any lust for battle in the hearts of the
+M'Zabites. Their warfare had been waged by cunning, and through
+mercenaries. They had fled before Arab warriors, driven from place to
+place by brave, scornful enemies, and now, safely established in their
+seven holy cities, protected by vast distances and the barrier of the
+black desert, they revenged their wrongs with their wits, being rich,
+and great usurers. Though Mussulmans in these days, the schisms with
+which they desecrated the true religion were worse in the eyes of
+Maieddine than the foolish faith of Christians, who, at least, were not
+backsliders. He would not even point out to Victoria the strange minaret
+of the Abadite mosque at Berryan, which tapered like a brown obelisk
+against the shimmering sky, for to him its very existence was a
+disgrace.
+
+"Do not speak of it; do not even look at it," he said to her, when she
+exclaimed at the great Cleopatra Needle. But she did look, having none
+of his prejudices, and he dared not bid her let down the curtains of her
+bassour, as he would if she had been a girl of his own blood.
+
+The extraordinary city, whose crowded, queerly-built houses were blocks
+of gold in the sunlight, seemed beautiful to Victoria, coming in sight
+of it suddenly after days in the black desert. The other six cities,
+called holy by the Beni-M'Zab, were far away still. She knew this,
+because Maieddine had told her they would not descend into the Wady
+M'Zab till next day. Berryan and Guerrara were on the upper plateau; and
+Victoria could hardly bear to pass by, for Berryan was by far the most
+Eastern-seeming place she had seen. She wondered if, should she ask him
+as a favour, Maieddine would rest there that night, instead of camping
+somewhere farther on, in the hideous desert; for already it was late
+afternoon. But she would ask nothing of him now, for he was no longer
+quite the trusty friend she had persuaded herself to think him. One
+night, since the sand-divining, she had had a fearful dream concerning
+Maieddine. Outside her tent she had heard a soft padding sound, and
+peeping from under the flap, she had seen a splendid, tawny tiger, who
+looked at her with brilliant topaz eyes which fascinated her so that she
+could not turn away. But she knew that the animal was Maieddine; that
+each night he changed himself into a tiger; and that as a tiger he was
+more his real self than when by day he appeared as a man.
+
+They filed past Berryan; the meharis, the white stallion, the
+pack-camel, and the mule, in slow procession, along a rough road which
+wound close to the green oasis. And from among the palm trees men and
+women and little children, gorgeous as great tropical birds, in their
+robes of scarlet, ochre-yellow, and emerald, peered at the little
+caravan with cynical curiosity. Victoria looked back longingly, for she
+knew that the way from Berryan to the Wady M'Zab would be grim and
+toilsome under the burning sun. Hill after hill, they mounted and
+descended; hills stony yet sandy, always the same dull colour, and so
+shapeless as to daze the brain with their monotony. But towards evening,
+when the animals had climbed to the crest of a hill like a dingy wave,
+suddenly a white obelisk shot up, pale and stiff as a dead man's finger.
+Tops of tall palms were like the dark plumes on the heads of ten
+thousand dancing women of the Sahara, and as a steep descent began,
+there glittered the five hidden cities, like a strange fairyland lost in
+the desert. The whole Wady M'Zab lay under the eyes of the travellers,
+as if they looked down over the rim of an immense cup. Here, some who
+were left of the sons of Tyre and Carthage dwelt safe and snug,
+crouching in the protection of the valley they had found and reclaimed
+from the abomination of desolation.
+
+It seemed to Victoria that she looked on one of the great sights of the
+world: the five cities, gleaming white, and glowing bronze, closely
+built on their five conical hills, which rose steeply from the flat
+bottom of the gold-lined cup--Ghardaia, Beni-Isguen, Bou-Noura, Melika,
+and El-Ateuf. The top of each hill was prolonged to a point by the
+tapering minaret of one of those Abadite mosques which the girl thought
+the most Eastern of all things imported from the East. The oasis which
+gave wealth to the M'Zabites surged round the towns like a green sea at
+ebb tide, sucked back from a strand of gold; and as the caravan wound
+down the wonderful road with which the Beni-M'Zab had traced the sheer
+side of their enchanted cup, the groaning of hundreds of well-chains
+came plaintively up on the wind.
+
+The well-stones had the obelisk shape of the minarets, in miniature; and
+Negroes--freed slaves of the rich M'Zabites--running back and forth in
+pairs, to draw the water, were mere struggling black ants, seen from the
+cup's rim. The houses of the five towns were like bleached skeletons,
+and the arches that spanned the dark, narrow streets were their ribs.
+
+Arrived at the bottom of the cup, it was necessary to pass through the
+longest and only modern street of Ghardaia, the capital of the M'Zab. A
+wind had sprung up, to lift the sand which sprinkled the hard-trodden
+ground with thick powder of gold dust, and whirl it westward against the
+fire of sunset, red as a blowing spray of blood. "It is a sign of
+trouble when the sand of the desert turns to blood," muttered Fafann to
+her mistress, quoting a Bedouin proverb.
+
+The men of the M'Zab do not willingly give lodging to strangers, least
+of all to Arabs; and at Beni-Isguen, holy city and scene of strange
+mysteries, no stranger may rest for the night. But Maieddine, respected
+by the ruling power, as by his own people, had a friend or two at every
+Bureau Arabe and military station. A French officer stationed at
+Ghardaia had married a beautiful Arab girl of good family distantly
+related to the Agha of the Ouled-Serrin, and being at Algiers on
+official business, his wife away at her father's tent, he had promised
+to lend his house, a few miles out of the town, to Si Maieddine. It was
+a long, low building of toub, the sun-dried sand-blocks of which most
+houses are made in the ksour, or Sahara villages, but it had been
+whitewashed, and named the Pearl.
+
+There they slept, in the cool shadow of the oasis, and early next
+morning went on.
+
+As soon as they had passed out of this hidden valley, where a whole race
+of men had gathered for refuge and wealth-building, Victoria felt,
+rather than saw, a change in Maieddine. She hardly knew how to express
+it to herself, unless it was that he had become more Arab. His
+courtesies suggested less the modern polish learned from the French (in
+which he could excel when he chose) than the almost royal hospitality of
+some young Bey escorting a foreign princess through his dominions.
+Always "_tres-male_," as Frenchwomen pronounced him admiringly, Si
+Maieddine began to seem masculine in an untamed, tigerish way. He was
+restless, and would not always be contented to ride El Biod, beside the
+tall, white mehari, but would gallop far ahead, and then race back to
+rejoin the little caravan, rushing straight at the animals as if he must
+collide with them, then, at the last instant, when Victoria's heart
+bounded, reining in his horse, so that El Biod's forefeet--shod
+Arab-fashion--pawed the air, and the animal sat upon his haunches,
+muscles straining and rippling under the creamlike skin.
+
+Or, sometimes, Maieddine would spring from the white stallion's back,
+letting El Biod go free, while his master marched beside Guelbi, with
+that panther walk that the older races, untrammelled by the civilization
+of towns, have kept unspoiled.
+
+The Arab's eyes were more brilliant, never dreamy now, and he looked at
+Victoria often, with disconcerting steadiness, instead of lowering his
+eyelids as men of Islam, accustomed to the mystery of the veil,
+unconsciously do with European women whom they respect, though they do
+not understand.
+
+So they went on, travelling the immeasurable desert; and Victoria had
+not asked again, since Maieddine's refusal, the name of the place to
+which they were bound. M'Barka seemed brighter, as if she looked
+forward to something, each day closer at hand; and her courage would
+have given Victoria confidence, even if the girl had been inclined to
+forebodings. They were going somewhere, Lella M'Barka knew where, and
+looked forward joyously to arriving. The girl fancied that their
+destination was the same, though at first she had not thought so. Words
+that M'Barka let drop inadvertently now and then, built up this
+impression in her mind.
+
+The "habitude du Sud," as Maieddine called it, when occasionally they
+talked French together, was gradually taking hold of the girl. Sometimes
+she resented it, fearing that by this time it must have altogether
+enslaved Saidee, and dreading the insidious fascination for herself;
+sometimes she found pleasure and peace in it; but in every mood the
+influence was hard to throw off.
+
+"The desert has taken hold of thee," Maieddine said one day, when he had
+watched her in silence for a while, and seen the rapt look in her eyes.
+"I knew the time would come, sooner or later. It has come now."
+
+"No," Victoria answered. "I do not belong to the desert."
+
+"If not to-day, then to-morrow," he finished, as if he had not heard.
+
+They were going on towards Ouargla. So much he had told her, though he
+had quickly added, "But we shall not stop there." He was waiting still,
+though they were out of the black desert and the accursed land of the
+renegades. He was not afraid of anything or anyone here, in this
+vastness, where a European did not pass once a year, and few Arabs, only
+the Spahis, carrying mails from one Bureau Arabe to another, or tired
+soldiers changing stations. The beautiful country of the golden dunes,
+with its horizon like a stormy sea, was the place of which he said in
+his thoughts, "It shall happen there."
+
+On the other side of Ghardaia, even when Victoria had ceased to be
+actually impatient for her meeting with Saidee, she had longed to know
+the number of days, that she might count them. But now she had drunk so
+deep of the colour and the silence that, in spite of herself, she was
+passing beyond that phase. What were a few days more, after so many
+years? She wondered how she could have longed to go flying across the
+desert in Nevill Caird's big motor-car; nevertheless, she never ceased
+to wish for Stephen Knight. Her thoughts of him and of the desert were
+inextricably and inexplicably mingled, more than ever since the night
+when she had danced in the Agha's tent, and Stephen's face had come
+before her eyes, as if in answer to her call. Constantly she called him
+now. When there was some fleeting, beautiful effect of light or shadow,
+she said, "How I wish he were here to see that!" She never named him in
+her mind. He was "he": that was name enough. Yet it did not occur to her
+that she was "in love" with Knight. She had never had time to think
+about falling in love. There had always been Saidee, and dancing; and to
+Victoria, the desire to make money enough to start out and find her
+sister, had taken the place which ideas of love and marriage fill in
+most girls' heads. Therefore she did not know what to make of her
+feeling for Stephen. But when a question floated into her brain, she
+answered it simply by explaining that he was different from any other
+man she had met; and that, though she had known him only a few days,
+from the first he had seemed more a friend than Si Maieddine, or any one
+else whom she knew much better than Stephen.
+
+As they travelled, she had many thoughts which pleased her--thoughts
+which could have come to her nowhere else except in the desert, and
+often she talked to herself, because M'Barka could not understand her
+feelings, and she did not wish to make Maieddine understand.
+
+"Burning, burning," was the adjective which she repeated oftenest, in an
+almost awestruck whisper, as her eyes travelled over immense spaces; for
+she thought that the desert might have dropped out of the sun. The
+colour of sand and sky was colour on fire, blazing. The whole Sahara
+throbbed with the unimaginable fire of creative cosmic force, deep,
+vital orange, needed by the primitive peoples of the earth who had not
+risen high enough yet to deserve or desire the finer vibrations.
+
+As she leaned out of the bassour, the heat of the sun pressed on her
+lightly veiled head, like the golden lid of a golden box. She could feel
+it as an actual weight; and invisible behind it a living power which
+could crush her in an instant, as the paw of a lion might crush a flower
+petal.
+
+Africa itself was this savage power, fierce as fire, ever smouldering,
+sometimes flaming with the revolt of Islam against other creeds; but the
+heart of the fire was the desert. Only the shady seguias in the oasis
+towns cooled it, like children's fingers on a madman's forehead; or the
+sound of a boy's flute in a river bed, playing the music of Pan,
+changeless, monotonous yet thrilling, as the music of earth and all
+Nature.
+
+There were tracts in the desert which colour-blind people might have
+hated; but Victoria grew to think the dreariest stretches beautiful; and
+even the occasional plagues of flies which irritated M'Barka beyond
+endurance, only made Victoria laugh.
+
+Sometimes came caravans, in this billowing immensity between the M'Zab
+and Ouargla--city of Solomon, whither the Queen of Sheba rode on her
+mehari: caravans blazing red and yellow, which swept like slow lines of
+flame across the desert, going east towards the sunrise, or west where
+the sunset spreads over the sky like a purple fan opening, or the tail
+of a celestial peacock.
+
+What Victoria had once imagined the desert to be of vast emptiness, and
+what she found it to be of teeming life, was like the difference between
+a gold-bright autumn leaf seen by the naked eye, and the same leaf
+swarming under a powerful microscope.
+
+The girl never tired of following with her eyes the vague tracks of
+caravans that she could see dimly sketched upon the sand, vanishing in
+the distance, like lines traced on the water by a ship. She would be
+gazing at an empty horizon when suddenly from over the waves of the
+dunes would appear a dark fleet; a procession of laden camels like a
+flotilla of boats in a desolate sea.
+
+They were very effective, as they approached across the desert, these
+silent, solemn beasts, but Victoria pitied them, because they were made
+to work till they fell, and left to die in the shifting sand, when no
+longer useful to their unloving masters.
+
+"My poor dears, this is only one phase," she would say to them as they
+plodded past, their feet splashing softly down on the sand like big wet
+sponges, leaving heart-shaped marks behind, which looked like violets as
+the hollows filled up with shadow. "Wait till your next chance on earth.
+I'm sure it will make up for everything."
+
+But Maieddine told her there was no need to be sorry for the sufferings
+of camels, since all were deserved. Once, he said, they had been men--a
+haughty tribe who believed themselves better than the rest of the world.
+They broke off from the true religion, and lest their schism spread,
+Allah turned the renegades into camels. He compelled them to bear the
+weight of their sins in the shape of humps, and also to carry on their
+backs the goods of the Faithful, whose beliefs they had trampled under
+foot. While keeping their stubbornness of spirit they must kneel to
+receive their loads, and rise at the word of command. Remembering their
+past, they never failed to protest with roarings, against these
+indignities, nor did their faces ever lose the old look of sullen pride.
+But, in common with the once human storks, they had one consolation.
+Their sins expiated, they would reincarnate as men; and some other
+rebellious tribe would take their place as camels.
+
+Five days' journeying from Ghardaia brought the travellers to a desert
+world full of movement and interest. There were many caravans going
+northward. Pretty girls smiled at them from swaying red bassourahs,
+sitting among pots and pans, and bundles of finery. Little children in
+nests of scarlet rags, on loaded camels, clasped squawking cocks and
+hens, tied by the leg. Splendid Negroes with bare throats like columns
+of black marble sang strange, chanting songs as they strode along.
+White-clad Arabs whose green turbans told that they had been to Mecca,
+walked beside their young wives' camels. Withered crones in yellow
+smocks trudged after the procession, driving donkeys weighed down with
+sheepskins full of oil. Baby camels with waggling, tufted humps followed
+their mothers. Slim grey sloughis and Kabyle dogs quarrelled with each
+other, among flocks of black and white goats; and at night, the sky
+pulsed with the fires of desert encampments, rosy as northern lights.
+
+Just before the walled city of Ouargla, Victoria saw her first mirage,
+clear as a dream between waking and sleeping. It was a salt lake, in
+which Guelbi and the other animals appeared to wade knee-deep in azure
+waves, though there was no water; and the vast, distant oasis hovered so
+close that the girl almost believed she had only to stretch out her hand
+and touch the trunks of the crowding palm trees.
+
+M'Barka was tired, and they rested for two days in the strange Ghuara
+town, the "City of Roses," founded (according to legend), by Solomon,
+King of Jerusalem, and built for him by djenoum and angels in a single
+night. They lived as usual in the house of the Caid, whose beautiful
+twin daughters told Victoria many things about the customs of the Ghuara
+people, descendants of the ancient Garamantes. How much happier and
+freer they were than Arab girls, how much purer though gayer was the
+life at Ouargla, Queen of the Oases, than at any other less enlightened
+desert city; how marvellous was the moulet-el-rass, the dance cure for
+headache and diseases of the brain; how wonderful were the women
+soothsayers; and what a splendid thing it was to see the bridal
+processions passing through the streets, on the one day of the year when
+there is marrying and giving in marriage in Ouargla.
+
+The name of the prettier twin was Zorah, and she had black curls which
+fell straight down over her brilliant eyes, under a scarlet head-dress.
+"Dost thou love Si Maieddine?" she asked the Roumia, with a kind of
+innocent boldness.
+
+"As a friend who has been very kind," Victoria answered.
+
+"Not as a lover, oh Roumia?" Zorah, like all girls of Ouargla, was proud
+of her knowledge of Arabic.
+
+"No. Not as a lover."
+
+"Is there then one of thine own people whom thou lovest as a lover, Rose
+of the West?"
+
+"I have no lover, little white moon."
+
+"Si Maieddine will be thy lover, whether thou desirest him or not."
+
+"Thou mistakest, oh Zorah."
+
+"I do not mistake. If thou dost not yet know I am right, thou wilt know
+before many days. When thou findest out all that is in his heart for
+thee, remember our talk to-day, in the court of oranges."
+
+"I will tell thee thou wert wrong in this same court of oranges when I
+pass this way again without Si Maieddine."
+
+The Ghuara girl shook her head, until her curls seemed to ring like
+bells of jet. "Something whispers to my spirit that thou wilt never
+again pass this way, oh Roumia; that never again will we talk together
+in this court of oranges."
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+
+If it had not been for Zorah and her twin sister Khadijah, Maieddine
+would have said to himself at Ouargla, "Now my hour has come." But
+though his eyes saw not even the shadow of a woman in the Caid's house,
+his ears heard the laughter of young girls, in which Victoria's voice
+mingled; and besides, he knew, as Arabs contrive to know everything
+which concerns others, that his host had daughters. He was well aware of
+the freemasonry existing among the wearers of veils, the dwellers behind
+shut doors; and though Victoria was only a Roumia, the Caid's daughters
+would joyfully scheme to help her against a man, if she asked their
+help.
+
+So he put the hour-hand of his patience a little ahead; and Victoria and
+he were outwardly on the same terms as before when they left Ouargla,
+and passed on to the region of the low dunes, shaped like the tents of
+nomads buried under sand, the region of beautiful jewelled stones of all
+colours, and the region of the chotts, the desert lakes, like sad,
+wide-open eyes in a dead face.
+
+As they drew near to the Zaouia of Temacin, and the great oasis city of
+Touggourt, the dunes increased in size, surging along the horizon in
+turbulent golden billows. M'Barka knew that she was close to her old
+home, the ancient stronghold of her royal ancestors, those sultans who
+had owned no master under Allah; for though it was many years since she
+had come this way, she remembered every land-mark which would have meant
+nothing to a stranger. She was excited, and longed to point out historic
+spots to Victoria, of whom she had grown fond; but Maieddine had
+forbidden her to speak. He had something to say to the girl before
+telling her that they were approaching another city of the desert.
+Therefore M'Barka kept her thoughts to herself, not chatting even with
+Fafann; for though she loved Victoria, she loved Maieddine better. She
+had forgiven him for bringing her the long way round, sacrificing her to
+his wish for the girl's society, because the journey was four-fifths
+finished, and instead of being worse, her health was better. Besides,
+whatever Maieddine wanted was for the Roumia's good, or would be
+eventually.
+
+When they were only a short march from Touggourt, and could have reached
+there by dark, Maieddine nevertheless ordered an early halt. The tents
+were set up by the Negroes among the dunes, where not even the tall
+spire of Temacin's mosque was visible. And he led the little caravan
+somewhat out of the track, where no camels were likely to pass within
+sight, to a place where there were no groups of black tents in the
+yellow sand, and where the desert, in all its beauty, appeared lonelier
+than it was in reality.
+
+By early twilight the camp was made, and the Soudanese were preparing
+dinner. Never once in all the Sahara journey had there been a sunset of
+such magical loveliness, it seemed to Maieddine, and he took it as a
+good omen.
+
+"If thou wilt walk a little way with me, Ourieda," he said, "I will show
+thee something thou hast never seen yet. When my cousin is rested, and
+it is time for supper, I will bring thee back."
+
+Together they mounted and descended the dunes, until they could no
+longer see the camp or the friendly smoke of the fire, which rose
+straight up, a scarf of black gauze, against a sky of green and lilac
+shot with crimson and gold. It was not the first time that Victoria had
+strolled away from the tents at sunset with Maieddine, and she could not
+refuse, yet this evening she would gladly have stayed with Lella
+M'Barka.
+
+The sand was curiously crisp under their feet as they walked, and the
+crystallized surface crackled as if they were stepping on thin, dry
+toast. By and by they stood still on the summit of a dune, and Maieddine
+took from the hood of his burnous a pair of field-glasses of the most
+modern make.
+
+"Look round thee," he said. "I have had these with me since our start,
+but I saved them for to-day, to give thee a surprise."
+
+Victoria adjusted the glasses, which were very powerful, and cried out
+at what she saw. The turmoil of the dunes became a battle of giants.
+Sand waves as high as the sky rushed suddenly towards her, towering far
+above her head, as if she were a fly in the midst of a stormy ocean. The
+monstrous yellow shapes came closing in from all sides, threatening to
+engulf her. She felt like a butterfly in a cage of angry lions.
+
+"It is terrible!" she exclaimed, letting the glasses fall from her eyes.
+The cageful of lions sat down, calmed, but now that the butterfly had
+seen them roused, never could they look the same again.
+
+The effect upon the girl was exactly what Maieddine had wanted. For once
+Victoria acted as he expected her to do in given circumstances. "She is
+only a woman after all," he thought.
+
+"If thou wert alone in this sea of gold, abandoned, to find thine own
+way, with no guide but the stars, then indeed thou mightst say 'it is
+terrible,'" he answered. "For these waves roll between thee and the
+north, whence thou hast come, and still higher between thee and the
+desired end of thy journey. So high are they, that to go up and down is
+like climbing and descending mountains, one after another, all day, day
+after day. And beyond, where thou must soon go if thou art to find thy
+sister, there are no tracks such as those we have followed thus far. In
+these shifting sands, not only men and camels, but great caravans, and
+even whole armies have been lost and swallowed up for ever. For
+gravestones, they have only the dunes, and no man will know where they
+lie till the world is rolled up as a scroll in the hand of Allah."
+
+Victoria grew pale.
+
+"Always before thou hast tried to make me love the desert," she said,
+slowly. "If there were anything ugly to see, thou hast bidden me turn my
+head the other way, or if I saw something dreadful thou wouldst at once
+begin to chant a song of happiness, to make me forget. Why dost thou
+wish to frighten me now?"
+
+"It is not that I mean to give thee pain, Ourieda." Maieddine's voice
+changed to a tone that was gentle and pleading. "It is only that I would
+have thee see how powerless thou wouldst be alone among the dunes, where
+for days thou mightst wander, meeting no man. Or if thou hadst any
+encounter, it might be with a Touareg, masked in blue, with a long knife
+at his belt, and in his breast a heart colder than steel."
+
+"I see well enough that I would be powerless alone," Victoria repeated.
+"Dost thou need to tell me that?"
+
+"It may be not," said Maieddine. "But there is a thing I need to tell
+thee. My need is very sore. Because I have kept back the words I have
+burned to speak, my soul is on fire, oh Rose! I love thee. I die for
+thee. I must have thee for mine!"
+
+He snatched both her hands in his, and crushed them against his lips.
+Then, carried away by the flower-like touch of her flesh, he let her
+hands go, and caught her to his heart, folding her in his burnous as if
+he would hide her even from the eye of the sun in the west. But she
+threw herself back, and pushed him away, with her palms pressed against
+his breast. She could feel under her hands a great pounding as of a
+hammer that would beat down a yielding wall.
+
+"Thou art no true Arab!" she cried at him.
+
+The words struck Maieddine in a vulnerable place; perhaps the only one.
+
+He had expected her to exclaim, to protest, to struggle, and to beg
+that he would let her go. But what she said was a sharp, unlooked for
+stab. Above all things except his manhood, he prided himself on being a
+true Arab. Involuntarily he loosened his clasp of her waist, and she
+seized the chance to wrench herself free, panting a little, her eyes
+dilated. But as she twisted herself out of his arms, he caught her by
+the wrist. He did not grasp it tightly enough to hurt, yet the grip of
+his slim brown hand was like a bracelet of iron. She knew that she could
+not escape from it by measuring her strength against his, or even by
+surprising him with some quick movement; for she had surprised him once,
+and he would be on guard not to let it happen again. Now she did not
+even try to struggle, but stood still, looking up at him steadily. Yet
+her heart also was like a hammer that beat against a wall; and she
+thought of the endless dunes in whose turmoil she was swallowed up. If
+Stephen Knight were here--but he was far away; and Maieddine, whom she
+had trusted, was a man who served another God than hers. His thoughts of
+women were not as Stephen's thoughts.
+
+"Think of thy white angel," she said. "He stands between thee and me."
+
+"Nay, he gives thee to me," Maieddine answered. "I mean no harm to thee,
+but only good, as long as we both shall live. My white angel wills that
+thou shalt be my wife. Thou shalt not say I am no true Arab. I am true
+to Allah and my own manhood when I tell thee I can wait no longer."
+
+"But thou art not true to me when thou wouldst force me against my will
+to be thy wife. We have drunk from the same cup. Thou art pledged to
+loyalty."
+
+"Is it disloyal to love?"
+
+"Thy love is not true love, or thou wouldst think of me before thyself."
+
+"I think of thee before all the world. Thou art my world. I had meant to
+wait till thou wert in thy sister's arms; but since the night when I saw
+thee dance, my love grew as a fire grows that feeds upon rezin. If I
+offend thee, thou alone art to blame. Thou wert too beautiful that
+night. I have been mad since then. And now thou must give me thy word
+that thou wilt marry me according to the law of Islam. Afterwards, when
+we can find a priest of thine own religion, we will stand before him."
+
+"Let my hand go, Si Maieddine, if thou wishest me to talk further with
+thee," Victoria said.
+
+He smiled at her and obeyed; for he knew that she could not escape from
+him, therefore he would humour her a little. In a few more moments he
+meant to have her in his arms again.
+
+His smile gave the girl no hope. She thought of Zorah and the court of
+the oranges.
+
+"What wilt thou do if I say I will not be thy wife?" she asked, in a
+quiet voice; but there was a fluttering in her throat.
+
+A spark lit in his eyes. The moon was rising now, as the sun set, and
+the two lights, silver and rose, touched his face, giving it an unreal
+look, as if he were a statue of bronze which had "come alive," Victoria
+thought, just as she had "come alive" in her statue-dance. He had never
+been so handsome, but his dark splendour was dreadful to her, for he did
+not seem like a human man whose heart could be moved to mercy.
+
+For an instant he gave her no answer, but his eyes did not leave hers.
+"Since thou askest me that question, I would make thee change thy 'no'
+into 'yes.' But do not force me to be harsh with thee, oh core of my
+heart, oh soul of my soul! I tell thee fate has spoken. The sand has
+spoken--sand gathered from among these dunes. It is for that reason in
+part that I brought thee here."
+
+"The sand-divining!" Victoria exclaimed. "Lella M'Barka told thee----"
+
+"She told me not to wait. And her counsel was the counsel of my own
+heart. Look, oh Rose, where the moon glitters on the sand--the sand that
+twined thy life with mine. See how the crystals shape themselves like
+little hands of Fatma; and they point from thee to me, from me to thee.
+The desert has brought us together. The desert gives us to one another.
+The desert will never let us part."
+
+Victoria's eyes followed his pointing gesture. The sand-crystals
+sparkled in the sunset and moonrise, like myriads of earthbound
+fireflies. Their bright facets seemed to twinkle at her with cold, fairy
+eyes, waiting to see what she would do, and she did not know. She did
+not know at all what she would do.
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+
+"Dost thou wish me to hate thee, Si Maieddine?" she asked.
+
+"I do not fear thy hate. When thou belongest to me, I will know how to
+turn it into love."
+
+"Perhaps if I were a girl of thine own people thou wouldst know, but I
+see now that thy soul and my soul are far apart. If thou art so wicked,
+so treacherous, they will never be nearer together."
+
+"The Koran does not teach us to believe that the souls of women are as
+ours."
+
+"I have read. And if there were no other reason than that, it would be
+enough to put a high wall between me and a man of thy race."
+
+For the first time Maieddine felt anger against the girl. But it did not
+make him love or want her the less.
+
+"Thy sister did not feel that," he said, almost menacingly.
+
+"Then the more do I feel it. Is it wise to use her as an argument?"
+
+"I need no argument," he answered, sullenly. "I have told thee what is
+in my mind. Give me thy love, and thou canst bend me as thou wilt.
+Refuse it, and I will break thee. No! do not try to run from me. In an
+instant I should have thee in my arms. Even if thou couldst reach
+M'Barka, of what use to grasp her dress and cry to her for help against
+me? She would not give it. My will is law to her, as it must be to thee
+if thou wilt not learn wisdom, and how to hold me by a thread of silk, a
+thread of thy silky hair. No one would listen to thee. Not Fafann, not
+the men of the Soudan. It is as if we two were alone in the desert.
+Dost thou understand?"
+
+"Thou hast made me understand. I will not try to run. Thou hast the
+power to take me, since thou hast forgotten thy bond of honour, and thou
+art stronger than I. Yet will I not live to be thy wife, Si Maieddine.
+Wouldst thou hold a dead girl in thine arms?"
+
+"I would hold thee dead or living. Thou wouldst be living at first; and
+a moment with thine heart beating against mine would be worth a
+lifetime--perhaps worth eternity."
+
+"Wouldst thou take me if--if I love another man?"
+
+He caught her by the shoulders, and his hands were hard as steel.
+"Darest thou to tell me that thou lovest a man?"
+
+"Yes, I dare," she said. "Kill me if thou wilt. Since I have no earthly
+help against thee, kill my body, and let God take my spirit where thou
+canst never come. I love another man."
+
+"Tell me his name, that I may find him."
+
+"I will not. Nothing thou canst do will make me tell thee."
+
+"It is that man who was with thee on the boat."
+
+"I said I would not tell thee."
+
+He shook her between his hands, so that the looped-up braids of her hair
+fell down, as they had fallen when she danced, and the ends loosened
+into curls. She looked like a pale child, and suddenly a great
+tenderness for her melted his heart. He had never known that feeling
+before, and it was very strange to him; for when he had loved, it had
+been with passion, not with tenderness.
+
+"Little white star," he said, "thou art but a babe, and I will not
+believe that any man has ever touched thy mouth with his lips. Am I
+right?"
+
+"Yes, because he does not love me. It is I who love him, that is all,"
+she answered naively. "I only knew how I really felt when thou saidst
+thou wouldst make me love thee, for I was so sure that never, never
+couldst thou do that. And I shall love the other man all my life, even
+though I do not see him again."
+
+"Thou shalt never see him again. For a moment, oh Rose, I hated thee,
+and I saw thy face through a mist red as thy blood and his, which I
+wished to shed. But thou art so young--so white--so beautiful. Thou hast
+come so far with me, and thou hast been so sweet. There is a strange
+pity for thee in my breast, such as I have never known for any living
+thing. I think it must be that thou hast magic in thine eyes. It is as
+if thy soul looked out at me through two blue windows, and I could fall
+down and worship, Allah forgive me! I knew no man had kissed thee. And
+the man thou sayest thou lovest is but a man in a dream. This is my
+hour. I must not let my chance slip by, M'Barka told me. Yet promise me
+but one thing and I will hold thee sacred--I swear on the head of my
+father."
+
+"What is the one thing?"
+
+"That if thy sister Lella Saida puts thine hand in mine, thou wilt be my
+wife."
+
+The girl's face brightened, and the great golden dunes, silvering now in
+moonlight, looked no longer like terrible waves ready to overwhelm her.
+She was sure of Saidee, as she was sure of herself.
+
+"That I will promise thee," she said.
+
+He looked at her thoughtfully. "Thou hast great confidence in thy
+sister."
+
+"Perfect confidence."
+
+"And I----" he did not finish his sentence. "I am glad I did not wait
+longer," he went on instead. "Thou knowest now that I love thee, that
+thou hast by thy side a man and not a statue. And I have not let my
+chance slip by, because I have gained thy promise."
+
+"If Saidee puts my hand in thine."
+
+"It is the same thing."
+
+"Thou dost not know my sister."
+
+"But I know----" Again he broke off abruptly. There were things it were
+better not to say, even in the presence of one who would never be able
+to tell of an indiscretion. "It is a truce between us?" he asked.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Forget, then, that I frightened thee."
+
+"Thou didst not frighten me. I did not know what to do, and I thought I
+might have to die without seeing Saidee. Yet I was not afraid, I
+think--I hope--I was not afraid."
+
+"Thou wilt not have to die without seeing thy sister. Now, more than
+before, I shall be in haste to put thee in her charge. But thou wilt die
+without seeing again the face of that man whose name, which thou wouldst
+not speak, shall be as smoke blown before the wind. Never shalt thou see
+him on earth, and if he and I meet I will kill him."
+
+Victoria shut her eyes, and pressed her hands over them. She felt very
+desolate, alone with Maieddine among the dunes. She would not dare to
+call Stephen now, lest he should hear and come. Nevertheless she could
+not be wholly unhappy, for it was wonderful to have learned what love
+was. She loved Stephen Knight.
+
+"Thou wilt let me go back to M'Barka?" she said to Maieddine.
+
+"I will take thee back," he amended. "Because I have thy promise."
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+
+On a flat white roof, which bubbled up here and there in rounded domes,
+a woman stood looking out over interminable waves of yellow sand, a vast
+golden silence which had no end on her side of the horizon, east, west,
+north, or south.
+
+No veil hid her face, but folds of thin woollen stuff beautifully woven,
+and dyed blue, almost as dark as indigo, fell from her head nearly to
+her feet, over a loose robe of orange-red, cut low in the neck, with
+sleeves hiding the elbows. She looked towards the west, shading her eyes
+with her hand: and the sun near its setting streamed over her face and
+hair, chiselling her features in marble, brightening her auburn hair to
+fiery gold, giving her brown eyes the yellow tints of a topaz, or of the
+amber beads which hung in a long chain, as far down as her knees.
+
+From the white roof many things could be seen besides the immense
+monotonous dunes along whose ridges orange fire seemed to play
+unceasingly against the sky.
+
+There was the roof of the Zaouia mosque, with its low, white domes
+grouped round the minaret, as somewhere below the youngest boys of the
+school grouped round the taleb, or teacher. On the roof of the mosque
+bassourah frames were in the making, splendid bassourahs, which, when
+finished, would be the property of the great marabout, greatest of all
+living marabouts, lord of the Zaouia, lord of the desert and its people,
+as far as the eye could reach, and farther.
+
+There were other roofs, too, bubbling among the labyrinth of square open
+courts and long, tunnel-like, covered and uncovered corridors which
+formed the immense, rambling Zaouia, or sacred school of Oued Tolga.
+Things happened on these roofs which would have interested a stranger,
+for there was spinning of sheep's wool, making of men's burnouses,
+fashioning of robes for women, and embroidering of saddles; but the
+woman who looked towards the west with the sun in her eyes was tired of
+the life on sun-baked roofs and in shadowed courts.
+
+The scent of orange blossoms in her own little high-walled garden came
+up to her; yet she had forgotten that it was sweet, for she had never
+loved it. The hum of the students' voices, faintly heard through the
+open-work of wrought-iron windows, rasped her nerves, for she had heard
+it too often; and she knew that the mysterious lessons, the lessons
+which puzzled her, and constantly aroused her curiosity, were never
+repeated aloud by the classes, as were these everlasting chapters of the
+Koran.
+
+Men sleeping on benches in the court of the mosque, under arches in the
+wall, waked and drank water out of bulging goatskins, hanging from huge
+hooks. Pilgrims washed their feet in the black marble basin of the
+trickling fountain, for soon it would be time for moghreb, the prayer of
+the evening.
+
+Far away, eighteen miles distant across the sands, she could see the
+twenty thousand domes of Oued Tolga, the desert city which had taken its
+name from the older Zaouia, and the oued or river which ran between the
+sacred edifice on its golden hill, and the ugly toub-built village,
+raised above danger of floods on a foundation of palm trunks.
+
+Far away the domes of the desert city shimmered like white fire in the
+strange light that hovers over the Sahara before the hour of sunset.
+Behind those distant, dazzling bubbles of unearthly whiteness, the
+valley-like oases of the southern desert, El Souf, dimpled the yellow
+dunes here and there with basins of dark green. Near by, a little to the
+left of the Zaouia hill, such an oasis lay, and the woman on the white
+roof could look across a short stretch of sand, down into its green
+depths. She could watch the marabout's men repairing the sloping
+sand-walls with palm trunks, which kept them from caving in, and saved
+the precious date-palms from being engulfed in a yellow tide. It was the
+marabout's own private oasis, and brought him in a large income every
+year. But everything was the marabout's. The woman on the roof was sick
+to death of his riches, his honours, his importance, for she was the
+marabout's wife; and in these days she loved him as little as she loved
+the orange garden he had given her, and all the things that were hers
+because she was his.
+
+It was very still in the Zaouia of Oued Tolga. The only sound was the
+droning of the boys' voices, which came faintly from behind iron
+window-gratings below, and that monotonous murmur emphasized the
+silence, as the humming of bees in a hive makes the stillness of a
+garden in summer more heavy and hot.
+
+No noises came from the courts of the women's quarters, or those of the
+marabout's guests, and attendants, and servants; not a voice was raised
+in that more distant part of the Zaouia where the students lived, and
+where the poor were lodged and fed for charity's sake. No doubt the
+village, across the narrow river in its wide bed, was buzzing with life
+at this time of day; but seldom any sound there was loud enough to break
+the slumberous silence of the great Zaouia. And the singing of the men
+in the near oasis who fought the sand, the groaning of the well-cords
+woven of palm fibre which raised the buckets of hollowed palm-trunks,
+was as monotonous as the recitation of the Koran. The woman had heard it
+so often that she had long ago ceased to hear it at all.
+
+She looked westward, across the river to the ugly village with the dried
+palm-leaves on its roofs, and far away to the white-domed city, the
+dimpling oases and the mountainous dunes that towered against a flaming
+sky; then eastward, towards the two vast desert lakes, or chotts, one of
+blue water, the other of saltpetre, which looked bluer than water, and
+had pale edges that met the sand like snow on gold. Above the lake of
+water suddenly appeared a soaring line of white, spreading and mounting
+higher, then turning from white to vivid rose. It was the flamingoes
+rising and flying over the chott, the one daily phenomenon of the desert
+which the woman on the roof still loved to watch. But her love for the
+rosy line against the blue was not entirely because of its beauty,
+though it was startlingly beautiful. It meant something for which she
+waited each evening with a passionate beating of her heart under the
+orange-coloured robe and the chain of amber beads. It meant sunset and
+the coming of a message. But the doves on the green tiled minaret of the
+Zaouia mosque had not begun yet to dip and wheel. They would not stir
+from their repose until the muezzin climbed the steps to call the hour
+of evening prayer, and until they flew against the sunset the message
+could not come.
+
+She must wait yet awhile. There was nothing to do till the time of hope
+for the message. There was never anything else that she cared to do
+through the long days from sunrise to sunset, unless the message gave
+her an incentive when it came.
+
+In the river-bed, the women and young girls had not finished their
+washing, which was to them not so much labour as pleasure, since it gave
+them their opportunity for an outing and a gossip. In the bed of shining
+sand lay coloured stones like jewels, and the women knelt on them,
+beating wet bundles of scarlet and puce with palm branches. The watcher
+on the roof knew that they were laughing and chattering together though
+she could not hear them. She wondered dimly how many years it was since
+she had laughed, and said to herself that probably she would never laugh
+again, although she was still young, only twenty-eight. But that was
+almost old for a woman of the East. Those girls over there, wading
+knee-deep in the bright water to fill their goatskins and curious white
+clay jugs, would think her old. But they hardly knew of her existence.
+She had married the great marabout, therefore she was a marabouta, or
+woman saint, merely because she was fortunate enough to be his wife, and
+too highly placed for them to think of as an earthly woman like
+themselves. What could it matter whether such a radiantly happy being
+were young or old? And she smiled a little as she imagined those poor
+creatures picturing her happiness. She passed near them sometimes going
+to the Moorish baths, but the long blue drapery covered her face then,
+and she was guarded by veiled negresses and eunuchs. They looked her way
+reverently, but had never seen her face, perhaps did not know who she
+was, though no doubt they had all heard and gossipped about the romantic
+history of the new wife, the beautiful Ouled Nail, to whom the marabout
+had condescended because of her far-famed, her marvellous, almost
+incredible loveliness, which made her a consort worthy of a saint.
+
+The river was a mirror this evening, reflecting the sunset of crimson
+and gold, and the young crescent moon fought for and devoured, then
+vomited forth again by strange black cloud-monsters. The old brown
+palm-trunks, on which the village was built, were repeated in the still
+water, and seemed to go down and down, as if their roots might reach to
+the other side of the world.
+
+Over the crumbling doorways of the miserable houses bleached skulls and
+bones of animals were nailed for luck. The red light of the setting sun
+stained them as if with blood, and they were more than ever disgusting
+to the watcher on the white roof. They were the symbols of superstitions
+the most Eastern and barbaric, ideas which she hated, as she was
+beginning to hate all Eastern things and people.
+
+The streak of rose which meant a flock of flying flamingoes had faded
+out of the sky. The birds seemed to have vanished into the sunset, and
+hardly had they gone when the loud crystalline voice of the muezzin
+began calling the faithful to prayer. Work stopped for the day. The men
+and youths of the Zaouia climbed the worn stairs to the roof of the
+mosque, where, in their white turbans and burnouses, they prostrated
+themselves before Allah, going down on their faces as one man. The doves
+of the minaret--called Imams, because they never leave the mosque or
+cease to prostrate themselves, flying head downwards--began to wheel and
+cry plaintively. The moment when the message might come was here at
+last.
+
+The white roof had a wall, which was low in places, in others very high,
+so high that no one standing behind it could be seen. This screen of
+whitewashed toub was arranged to hide persons on the roof from those on
+the roof of the mosque; but window-like openings had been made in it,
+filled in with mashrabeyah work of lace-like pattern; an art brought to
+Africa long ago by the Moors, after perfecting it in Granada. And this
+roof was not the only one thus screened and latticed. There was another,
+where watchers could also look down into the court of the fountain, at
+the carved doors taken from the Romans, and up to the roof of the mosque
+with all its little domes. From behind those other lace-like windows in
+the roof-wall, sparkled such eyes as only Ouled Nail girls can have; but
+the first watcher hated to think of those eyes and their wonderful
+fringe of black lashes. It was an insult to her that they should
+beautify this house, and she ignored their existence, though she had
+heard her negresses whispering about them.
+
+While the faithful prayed, a few of the wheeling doves flew across from
+the mosque to the roof where the woman waited for a message. At her feet
+lay a small covered basket, from which she took a handful of grain. The
+dove Imams forgot their saintly manners in an unseemly scramble as the
+white hand scattered the seeds, and while they disputed with one
+another, complaining mournfully, another bird, flying straight to the
+roof from a distance, suddenly joined them. It was white, with feet like
+tiny branches of coral, whereas the doves from the mosque were grey, or
+burnished purple.
+
+The woman had been pale, but when the bird fluttered down to rest on the
+open basket of grain, colour rushed to her face, as if she had been
+struck on each cheek with a rose. None of the doves of the mosque were
+tame enough to sit on the basket, which was close to her feet, though
+they sidled round it wistfully; but the white bird let her stroke its
+back with her fingers as it daintily pecked the yellow grains.
+
+Very cautiously she untied a silk thread fastened to a feather under the
+bird's wing. As she did so it fluttered both wings as if stretching them
+in relief, and a tiny folded paper attached to the cord fell into the
+basket. Instantly the woman laid her hand over it. Then she looked
+quickly, without moving her head, towards the square opening at a corner
+of the roof where the stairway came up. No one was there. Nobody could
+see her from the roof of the mosque, and her roof was higher than any of
+the others, except that which covered the private rooms of the marabout.
+But the marabout was away, and no one ever came out on his roof when he
+was absent.
+
+She opened the folded bit of white paper, which was little more than two
+inches square, and was covered on one side with writing almost
+microscopically small. The other side was blank, but the woman had no
+doubt that the letter was for her. As she read, the carrier-pigeon went
+on pecking at the seeds in the basket, and the doves of the mosque
+watched it enviously.
+
+The writing was in French, and no name was at the beginning or the end.
+
+"Be brave, my beautiful one, and dare to do as your heart prompts.
+Remember, I worship you. Ever since that wonderful day when the wind
+blew aside your veil for an instant at the door of the Moorish bath, the
+whole world has been changed for me. I would die a thousand deaths if
+need be for the joy of rescuing you from your prison. Yet I do not wish
+to die. I wish to live, to take you far away and make you so happy that
+you will forget the wretchedness and failure of the past. A new life
+will begin for both of us, if you will only trust me, and forget the
+scruples of which you write--false scruples, believe me. As he had a
+wife living when he married you, and has taken another since, surely
+you cannot consider that you are bound by the law of God or man? Let me
+save you from the dragon, as fairy princesses were saved in days of old.
+If I might speak with you, tell you all the arguments that constantly
+suggest themselves to my mind, you could not refuse. I have thought of
+more than one way, but dare not put my ideas on paper, lest some unlucky
+chance befall our little messenger. Soon I shall have perfected the
+cypher. Then there will not be the same danger. Perhaps to-morrow night
+I shall be able to send it. But meanwhile, for the sake of my love, give
+me a little hope. If you will try to arrange a meeting, to be settled
+definitely when the cypher is ready, twist three of those glorious
+threads of gold which you have for hair round the cord when you send the
+messenger back."
+
+All the rosy colour had died away from the woman's face by the time she
+had finished reading the letter. She folded it again into a tiny square
+even smaller than before, and put it into one of the three or four
+little engraved silver boxes, made to hold texts from the Koran, which
+hung from her long amber necklace. Her eyes were very wide open, but she
+seemed to see nothing except some thought printed on her brain like a
+picture.
+
+On the mosque roof a hundred men of the desert knelt praying in the
+sunset, their faces turned towards Mecca. Down in the fountain-court,
+the marabout's lazy tame lion rose from sleep and stretched himself,
+yawning as the clear voice of the muezzin chanted from the minaret the
+prayer of evening, "Allah Akbar, Allah il Allah, Mohammed r'soul Allah."
+
+The woman did not know that she heard the prayer, for as her eyes saw a
+picture, so did her ears listen to a voice which she had heard only
+once, but desired beyond all things to hear again. To her it was the
+voice of a saviour-knight; the face she saw was glorious with the
+strength of manhood, and the light of love. Only to think of the voice
+and face made her feel that she was coming to life again, after lying
+dead and forgotten in a tomb for many years of silence.
+
+Yes, she was alive now, for he had waked her from a sleep like death;
+but she was still in the tomb, and it seemed impossible to escape from
+it, even with the help of a saviour-knight. If she said "yes" to what he
+asked, as she was trying to make herself believe she had a moral and
+legal right to do, they would be found out and killed, that was all.
+
+She was not brave. The lassitude which is a kind of spurious resignation
+poisons courage, or quenches it as water quenches fire. Although she
+hated her life, if it could be called life, had no pleasure in it, and
+had almost forgotten how to hope, still she was afraid of being
+violently struck down.
+
+Not long ago a woman in the village had tried to leave her husband with
+a man she loved. The husband found out, and having shot the man before
+her eyes, stabbed her with many wounds, one for each traitorous kiss,
+according to the custom of the desert; not one knife-thrust deep enough
+to kill; but by and by she had died from the shock of horror, and loss
+of blood. Nobody blamed the husband. He had done the thing which was
+right and just. And stories like this came often to the ears of the
+woman on the roof through her negresses, or from the attendants at the
+Moorish bath.
+
+The man she loved would not be shot like the wretched Bedouin, who was
+of no importance except to her for whom his life was given; but
+something would happen. He would be taken ill with a strange disease, of
+which he would die after dreadful suffering; or at best his career would
+be ruined; for the greatest of all marabouts was a man of immense
+influence. Because of his religious vow to wear a mask always like a
+Touareg, none of the ruling race had ever seen the marabout's features,
+yet his power was known far and wide--in Morocco; all along the caravan
+route to Tombouctou; in the capital of the Touaregs; in Algiers; and
+even in Paris itself.
+
+She reminded herself of these things, and at one moment her heart was
+like ice in her breast; but at the next, it was like a ball of fire; and
+pulling out three long bright hairs from her head, she twisted them
+round the cord which the carrier-pigeon had brought. Before tying it
+under his wing again, she scattered more yellow seeds for the dove
+Imams, because she did not want them to fly away until she was ready to
+let her messenger go. Thus there was the less danger that the
+carrier-pigeon would be noticed. Only Noura, her negress, knew of him.
+Noura had smuggled him into the Zaouia, and she herself had trained him
+by giving him food that he liked, though his home was at Oued Tolga, the
+town.
+
+The birds from the mosque had waited for their second supply, for the
+same programme had been carried out many times before, and they had
+learned to expect it.
+
+When they finished scrambling for the grain which the white pigeon could
+afford to scorn, they fluttered back to the minaret, following a leader.
+But the carrier flew away straight and far, his little body vanishing at
+last as if swallowed up in the gold of the sunset. For he went west,
+towards the white domes of Oued Tolga.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+
+Still the woman stood looking after the bird, but the sun had dropped
+behind the dunes, and she no longer needed to shade her eyes with her
+hand. There was nothing more to expect till sunset to-morrow, when
+something might or might not happen. If no message came, then there
+would be only dullness and stagnation until the day when the Moorish
+bath was sacredly kept for the great ladies of the marabout's household.
+There were but two of these, yet they never went to the bath together,
+nor had they ever met or spoken to one another. They were escorted to
+the bath by their attendants at different hours of the same day; and
+later their female servants were allowed to go, for no one but the women
+of the saintly house might use the baths that day.
+
+The woman on the white roof in the midst of the golden silence gazed
+towards the west, though she looked for no event of interest; and her
+eyes fixed themselves mechanically upon a little caravan which moved
+along the yellow sand like a procession of black insects. She was so
+accustomed to search the desert since the days, long ago, when she had
+actually hoped for friends to come and take her away, that she could
+differentiate objects at greater distances than one less trained to
+observation. Hardly thinking of the caravan, she made out, nevertheless,
+that it consisted of two camels, carrying bassourahs, a horse and Arab
+rider, a brown pack camel, and a loaded mule, driven by two men who
+walked.
+
+They had evidently come from Oued Tolga, or at least from that
+direction, therefore it was probable that their destination was the
+Zaouia; otherwise, as it was already late, they would have stopped in
+the city all night. Of course, it was possible that they were on their
+way to the village, but it was a poor place, inhabited by very poor
+people, many of them freed Negroes, who worked in the oases and lived
+mostly upon dates. No caravans ever went out from there, because no man,
+even the richest, owned more than one camel or donkey; and nobody came
+to stay, unless some son of the miserable hamlet, who had made a little
+money elsewhere, and returned to see his relatives. But on the other
+hand, numerous caravans arrived at the Zaouia of Oued Tolga, and
+hundreds of pilgrims from all parts of Islam were entertained as the
+marabout's guests, or as recipients of charity.
+
+Dimly, as she detached her mind from the message she had sent, the woman
+began to wonder about this caravan, because of the bassourahs, which
+meant that there were women among the travellers. There were
+comparatively few women pilgrims to the Zaouia, except invalids from the
+town of Oued Tolga, or some Sahara encampment, who crawled on foot, or
+rode decrepit donkeys, hoping to be cured of ailments by the magic power
+of the marabout, the power of the Baraka. The woman who watched had
+learned by this time not to expect European tourists. She had lived for
+eight years in the Zaouia, and not once had she seen from her roof a
+European, except a French government-official or two, and a few--a very
+few--French officers. Never had any European women come. Tourists were
+usually satisfied with Touggourt, three or four days nearer
+civilisation. Women did not care to undertake an immense and fatiguing
+journey among the most formidable dunes of the desert, where there was
+nothing but ascending and descending, day after day; where camels
+sometimes broke their legs in the deep sand, winding along the fallen
+side of a mountainous dune, and where a horse often had to sit on his
+haunches, and slide with his rider down a sand precipice.
+
+She herself had experienced all these difficulties, so long ago now
+that she had half forgotten how she had hated them, and the fate to
+which they were leading her. But she did not blame other women for not
+coming to Oued Tolga.
+
+Occasionally some caid or agha of the far south would bring his wife who
+was ill or childless to be blessed by the marabout; and in old days they
+had been introduced to the marabouta, but it was years now since she had
+been asked, or even allowed, to entertain strangers. She thought,
+without any active interest, as she looked at the nodding bassourahs,
+growing larger and larger, that a chief was coming with his women, and
+that he would be disappointed to learn that the marabout was away from
+home. It was rather odd that the stranger had not been told in the city,
+for every one knew that the great man had gone a fortnight ago to the
+province of Oran. Several days must pass before he could return, even
+if, for any reason, he came sooner than he was expected. But it did not
+matter much to her, if there were to be visitors who would have the pain
+of waiting. There was plenty of accommodation for guests, and there were
+many servants whose special duty it was to care for strangers. She would
+not see the women in the bassourahs, nor hear of them unless some gossip
+reached her through the talk of the negresses.
+
+Still, as there was nothing else which she wished to do, she continued
+to watch the caravan.
+
+By and by it passed out of sight, behind the rising ground on which the
+village huddled, with its crowding brown house-walls that narrowed
+towards the roofs. The woman almost forgot it, until it appeared again,
+to the left of the village, where palm logs had been laid in the river
+bed, making a kind of rough bridge, only covered when the river was in
+flood. It was certain now that the travellers were coming to the Zaouia.
+
+The flame of the sunset had died, though clouds purple as pansies
+flowered in the west. The gold of the dunes paled to silver, and the
+desert grew sad, as if it mourned for a day that would never live again.
+Far away, near Oued Tolga, where the white domes of the city and the
+green domes of the oasis palms all blended together in shadow, fires
+sprang up in the camps of nomads, like signals of danger.
+
+The woman on the roof shivered. The chill of the coming night cooled her
+excitement. She was afraid of the future, and the sadness which had
+fallen upon the desert was cold in her heart. The caravan was not far
+from the gate of the Zaouia, but she was tired of watching it. She
+turned and went down the narrow stairs that led to her rooms, and to the
+little garden where the fragrance of orange blossoms was too sweet.
+
+
+
+
+XXXV
+
+
+The caravan stopped in front of the Zaouia gate. There were great iron
+doors in a high wall of toub, which was not much darker in colour than
+the deep gold of the desert sand; and because it was after sunset the
+doors were closed.
+
+One of the Negroes knocked, and called out something inarticulate and
+guttural in a loud voice.
+
+Almost at once the gate opened, and a shadowy figure hovered inside. A
+name was announced, which was instantly shouted to a person unseen, and
+a great chattering began in the dusk. Men ran out, and one or two kissed
+the hand of the rider on the white horse. They explained volubly that
+the lord was away, but the newcomer checked them as soon as he could,
+saying that he had heard the news in the city. He had with him ladies,
+one a relative of his own, another who was connected with the great lord
+himself, and they must be entertained as the lord would wish, were he
+not absent.
+
+The gates, or doors, of iron were thrown wide open, and the little
+procession entered a huge open court. On one side was accommodation for
+many animals, as in a caravanserai, with a narrow roof sheltering thirty
+or forty stalls; and here the two white meharis were made to kneel, that
+the women might descend from their bassourahs. There were three, all
+veiled, but the arms of one were bare and very brown. She moved stiffly,
+as if cramped by sitting for a long time in one position; nevertheless,
+she supported her companion, whose bassour she had shared. The two
+Soudanese Negroes remained in this court with their animals, which the
+servants of the Zaouia, began helping them to unload; but the master of
+the expedition, with the two ladies of his party and Fafann, was now
+obliged to walk. Several men of the Zaouia acted as their guides,
+gesticulating with great respect, but lowering their eyelids, and
+appearing not to see the women.
+
+They passed through another court, very large, though not so immense as
+the first, for no animals were kept there. Instead of stalls for camels
+and horses, there were roughly built rooms for pilgrims of the poorer
+class, with little, roofless, open-sided kitchens, where they could cook
+their own food. Beyond was the third court, with lodging for more
+important persons, and then the travellers were led through a labyrinth
+of corridors, some roofed with palm branches, others open to the air,
+and still more covered in with the toub blocks of which the walls were
+built. Along the sides were crumbling benches of stucco, on which old
+men lay rolled up in their burnouses; or here and there a door of
+rotting palm wood hung half open, giving a glimpse into a small, dim
+court, duskily red with the fire of cooking in an open-air kitchen. From
+behind these doors came faint sounds of chanting, and spicy smells of
+burning wood and boiling peppers. It was like passing through a
+subterranean village; and little dark children, squatting in doorways,
+or flattening their bodies against palm trunks which supported palm
+roofs, or flitting ahead of the strangers, in the thick, musky scented
+twilight, were like shadowy gnomes.
+
+By and by, as the newcomers penetrated farther into the mysterious
+labyrinth of the vast Zaouia, the corridors and courts became less
+ruined in appearance. The walls were whitewashed; the palm-wood doors
+were roughly carved and painted in bright colours, which could be seen
+by the flicker of lamps set high in little niches. Each tunnel-like
+passage had a carved archway at the end, and at last they entered one
+which was closed in with beautiful doors of wrought iron.
+
+Through the rich network they could see into a court where everything
+glimmered white in moonlight. They had come to the court of the mosque,
+which had on one side an entrance to the private house of the marabout,
+the great Sidi El Hadj Mohammed ben Abd-el-Kader.
+
+        *        *        *        *        *        *        *
+
+"Lella Saida, oh light of the young moon, if it please thee, thou hast
+two guests come from very far off," announced an old negress to the
+woman who had been looking out over the golden silence of the desert.
+
+It was an hour since she had come down from the roof, and having eaten a
+little bread, with soup, she lay on a divan writing in a small book.
+Several tall copper lamps with open-work copper shades, jewelled and
+fringed with coloured glass, gave a soft and beautiful light to the
+room. It had pure white walls, round which, close to the ceiling, ran a
+frieze of Arab lettering, red, and black, and gold. The doors and
+window-blinds and little cupboards were of cedar, so thickly inlaid with
+mother-o'-pearl, that only dark lines of the wood defined the white
+patterning of leaves and flowers.
+
+The woman had thrown off the blue drapery that had covered her head, and
+her auburn hair glittered in the light of the lamp by which she wrote.
+She looked up, vexed.
+
+"Thou knowest, Noura, that for years I have received no guests," she
+said, in a dialect of the Soudan, in which most Saharian mistresses of
+Negro servants learn to talk. "I can see no one. The master would not
+permit me to do so, even if I wished it, which I do not."
+
+"Pardon, loveliest lady. But this is another matter. A friend of our
+lord brings these visitors to thee. One is kin of his. She seeks to be
+healed of a malady, by the power of the Baraka. But the other is a
+Roumia."
+
+The wife of the great marabout shut the book in which she had been
+writing, and her mind travelled quickly to the sender of the
+carrier-pigeon. A European woman, the first who had ever come to the
+Zaouia in eight years! It must be that she had a message from him.
+Somehow he had contrived this visit. She dared ask no more questions.
+
+"I will see these ladies," she said. "Let them come to me here."
+
+"Already the old one is resting in the guest-house," answered the
+negress. "She has her own servant, and she asks to see thee no earlier
+than to-morrow, when she has rested, and is able to pay thee her
+respects. It is the other, the young Roumia, who begs to speak with thee
+to-night."
+
+The wife of the marabout was more certain than ever that her visitor
+must come from the sender of the pigeon. She was glad of an excuse to
+talk with his messenger alone, without waiting.
+
+"Go fetch her," she directed. "And when thou hast brought her to the
+door I shall no longer need thee, Noura."
+
+Her heart was beating fast. She dreaded some final decision, or the need
+to make a decision, yet she knew that she would be bitterly disappointed
+if, after all, the European woman were not what she thought. She shut up
+the diary in which she wrote each night, and opening one of the wall
+cupboards near her divan, she put it away on a shelf, where there were
+many other small volumes, a dozen perhaps. They contained the history of
+her life during the last nine years, since unhappiness had isolated her,
+and made it necessary to her peace of mind, almost to her sanity, to
+have a confidant. She closed the inlaid doors of the cupboard, and
+locked them with a key which hung from a ribbon inside her dress.
+
+Such a precaution was hardly needed, since the writing was all in
+English, and she had recorded the events of the last few weeks
+cautiously and cryptically. Not a soul in the marabout's house could
+read English, except the marabout himself; and it was seldom he honoured
+her with a visit. Nevertheless, it had become a habit to lock up the
+books, and she found a secretive pleasure in it.
+
+She had only time to slip the ribbon back into her breast, and sit down
+stiffly on the divan, when the door was opened again by Noura.
+
+"O Lella Saida, I have brought the Roumia," the negress announced.
+
+A slim figure in Arab dress came into the room, unfastening a white veil
+with fingers that trembled with impatience. The door shut softly. Noura
+had obeyed instructions.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+
+For ten years Victoria had been waiting for this moment, dreaming of it
+at night, picturing it by day. Now it had come.
+
+There was Saidee standing before her, found at last. Saidee, well and
+safe, and lovely as ever, hardly changed in feature, and yet--there was
+something strange about her, something which stopped the joyous beating
+of the girl's heart. It was almost as if she had died and come to
+Heaven, to find that Heaven was not Heaven at all, but a cold place of
+fear.
+
+She was shocked at the impression, blaming herself. Surely Saidee did
+not know her yet, that was all; or the surprise was too great. She
+wished she had sent word by the negress. Though that would have seemed
+banal, it would have been better than to see the blank look on Saidee's
+face, a look which froze her into a marble statue. But it was too late
+now. The only thing left was to make the best of a bad beginning.
+
+"Oh, darling!" Victoria cried. "Have I frightened you? Dearest--my
+beautiful one, it's your little sister. All these years I've been
+waiting--waiting to find a way. You knew I would come some day, didn't
+you?"
+
+Tears poured down her face. She tried to believe they were tears of joy,
+such as she had often thought to shed at sight of Saidee. She had been
+sure that she could not keep them back, and that she would not try. They
+should have been sweet as summer rain, but they burned her eyes and her
+cheeks as they fell. Saidee was silent. The girl held out her arms,
+running a step or two, then, faltering, she let her arms fall. They felt
+heavy and stiff, as if they had been turned to wood. Saidee did not
+move. There was an expression of dismay, even of fear on her face.
+
+"You don't know me!" Victoria said chokingly. "I've grown up, and I must
+seem like a different person--but I'm just the same, truly. I've loved
+you so, always. You'll get used to seeing me changed. You--you don't
+think I'm somebody else pretending to be Victoria, do you? I can tell
+you all the things we used to do and say. I haven't forgotten one. Oh,
+Saidee, dearest, I've come such a long way to find you. Do be glad to
+see me--do!"
+
+Her voice broke. She put out her hands pleadingly--the childish hands
+that had seemed pathetically pretty to Stephen Knight.
+
+A look of intense concentration darkened Saidee's eyes. She appeared to
+question herself, to ask her intelligence what was best to do. Then the
+tense lines of her face softened. She forced herself to smile, and
+leaning towards Victoria, clasped the slim white figure in her arms,
+holding it tightly, in silence. But over the girl's shoulder, her eyes
+still seemed to search an answer to their question.
+
+When she had had time to control her voice and expression, she spoke,
+releasing her sister, taking the wistful face between her hands, and
+gazing at it earnestly. Then she kissed lips and cheeks.
+
+"Victoria!" she murmured. "Victoria! I'm not dreaming you?"
+
+"No, no, darling," the girl answered, more hopefully. "No wonder you're
+dazed. This--finding you, I mean--has been the object of my life, ever
+since your letters stopped coming, and I began to feel I'd lost you.
+That's why I can't realize your being struck dumb with the surprise of
+it. Somehow, I've always felt you'd be expecting me. Weren't you? Didn't
+you know I'd come when I could?"
+
+Saidee shook her head, looking with extraordinary, almost feverish,
+interest at the younger girl, taking in every detail of feature and
+complexion, all the exquisite outlines of extreme youth, which she had
+lost.
+
+"No," she said slowly. "I thought I was dead to the world. I didn't
+think it would be possible for anyone to find me, even you."
+
+"But--you are glad--now I'm here?" Victoria faltered.
+
+"Of course," Saidee answered unhesitatingly. "I'm
+delighted--enchanted--for my own sake. If I'm frightened, if you think
+me strange--_farouche_--it's because I'm so surprised, and because--can
+you believe it?--this is the first time I've spoken English with any
+human being for nine years--perhaps more. I almost forget--it seems a
+century. I talk to myself--so as not to forget. And every night I write
+down what has happened, or rather what I've thought, because things
+hardly ever do happen here. The words don't come easily. They sound so
+odd in my own ears. And then--there's another reason why I'm afraid.
+It's on your account. I'd better tell you. It wouldn't be fair not to
+tell. I--how are you going to get away again?"
+
+She almost whispered the last words, and spoke them as if she were
+ashamed. But she watched the girl's face anxiously.
+
+Victoria slipped a protecting arm round her waist. "We are going away
+together, dearest," she said. "Unless you're too happy and contented.
+But, my Saidee--you don't look contented."
+
+Saidee flushed faintly. "You mean--I look old--haggard?"
+
+"No--no!" the girl protested. "Not that. You've hardly changed at all,
+except--oh, I hardly know how to put it in words. It's your expression.
+You look sad--tired of the things around you."
+
+"I am tired of the things around me," Saidee said. "Often I've felt like
+a dead body in a grave with no hope of even a resurrection. What were
+those lines of Christina Rossetti's I used to say over to myself at
+first, while it still seemed worth while to revolt? Some one was buried,
+had been buried for years, yet could think and feel, and cry out against
+the doom of lying 'under this marble stone, forgotten, alone.' Doesn't
+it sound agonizing--desperate? It just suited me. But now--now----"
+
+"Are things better? Are you happier?" Victoria clasped her sister
+passionately.
+
+"No. Only I'm past caring so much. If you've come here, Babe, to take me
+away, it's no use. I may as well tell you now. This is prison. And you
+must escape, yourself, before the gaoler comes back, or it will be a
+life-sentence for you, too."
+
+It warmed Victoria's heart that her sister should call her "Babe"--the
+old pet name which brought the past back so vividly, that her eyes
+filled again with tears.
+
+"You shall not be kept in prison!" she exclaimed. "It's
+monstrous--horrible! I was afraid it would be like this. That's why I
+had to wait and make plenty of money. Dearest, I'm rich. Everything's
+for you. You taught me to dance, and it's by dancing I've earned such a
+lot--almost a fortune. So you see, it's yours. I've got enough to bribe
+Cassim to let you go, if he likes money, and isn't kind to you. Because,
+if he isn't kind, it must be a sign he doesn't love you, really."
+
+Saidee laughed, a very bitter laugh. "He does like money. And he doesn't
+like me at all--any more."
+
+"Then--" Victoria's face brightened--"then he will take the ten thousand
+dollars I've brought, and he'll let you go away with me."
+
+"Ten thousand dollars!" Saidee laughed again. "Do you know who
+Cassim--as you call him--is?"
+
+The girl looked puzzled. "Who he is?"
+
+"I see you don't know. The secret's been kept from you, somehow, by his
+friend who brought you here. You'll tell me how you came; but first I'll
+answer your question. The Cassim ben Halim you knew, has been dead for
+eight years."
+
+"They told me so in Algiers. But--do you mean--have you married again?"
+
+"I said the Cassim ben Halim you knew, is dead. The Cassim _I_ knew, and
+know now, is alive--and one of the most important men in Africa, though
+we live like this, buried among the desert dunes, out of the world--or
+what you'd think the world."
+
+"My world is where you are," Victoria said.
+
+"Dear little Babe! Mine is a terrible world. You must get out of it as
+soon as you can, or you'll never get out at all."
+
+"Never till I take you with me."
+
+"Don't say that! I must send you away. I _must_--no matter how hard it
+may be to part from you," Saidee insisted. "You don't know what you're
+talking about. How should you? I suppose you must have heard
+_something_. You must anyhow suspect there's a secret?"
+
+"Yes, Si Maieddine told me that. He said, when I talked of my sister,
+and how I was trying to find her, that he'd once known Cassim. I had to
+agree not to ask questions,--and he would never say for certain whether
+Cassim was dead or not, but he promised sacredly to bring me to the
+place where my sister lived. His cousin Lella M'Barka Bent Djellab was
+with us,--very ill and suffering, but brave. We started from Algiers,
+and he made a mystery even of the way we came, though I found out the
+names of some places we passed, like El Aghouat and Ghardaia----"
+
+Saidee's eyes widened with a sudden flash. "What, you came here by El
+Aghouat and Ghardaia?"
+
+"Yes. Isn't that the best way?"
+
+"The best, if the longest is the best. I don't know much about North
+Africa geographically. They've taken care I shouldn't know! But I--I've
+lately found out from--a person who's made the journey, that one can get
+here from Algiers in a week or eight days. Seventeen hours by train to
+Biskra: Biskra to Touggourt two long days in a diligence, or carriage
+with plenty of horses; Touggourt to Oued Tolga on camel or horse, or
+mule, in three or four days going up and down among the great dunes. You
+must have been weeks travelling."
+
+"We have. I----"
+
+"How very queer! What could Si Maieddine's reason have been? Rich Arabs
+love going by train whenever they can. Men who come from far off to see
+the marabout always do as much of the journey as possible by rail. I
+hear things about all important pilgrims. Then why did Si Maieddine
+bring you by El Aghouat and Ghardaia--especially when his cousin's an
+invalid? It couldn't have been just because he didn't want you to be
+seen, because, as you're dressed like an Arab girl no one could guess he
+was travelling with a European."
+
+"His father lives near El Aghouat," Victoria reminded her sister. And
+Maieddine had used this fact as one excuse, when he admitted that they
+might have taken a shorter road. But in her heart the girl had guessed
+why the longest way had been chosen. She did not wish to hide from
+Saidee things which concerned herself, yet Maieddine's love was his
+secret, not hers, therefore she had not meant to tell of it, and she was
+angry with herself for blushing. She blushed more and more deeply, and
+Saidee understood.
+
+"I see! He's in love with you. That's why he brought you here. How
+_clever_ of him! How like an Arab!"
+
+For a moment Saidee was silent, thinking intently. It could not be
+possible, Victoria told herself, that the idea pleased her sister. Yet
+for an instant the white face lighted up, as if Saidee were relieved of
+heavy anxiety.
+
+She drew Victoria closer, with an arm round her waist. "Tell me about
+it," she said. "How you met him, and everything."
+
+The girl knew she would have to tell, since her sister had guessed, but
+there were many other things which it seemed more important to say and
+hear first. She longed to hear all, all about Saidee's existence, ever
+since the letters had stopped; why they had stopped; and whether the
+reason had anything to do with the mystery about Cassim. Saidee seemed
+willing to wait, apparently, for details of Victoria's life, since she
+wanted to begin with the time only a few weeks ago, when Maieddine had
+come into it. But the girl would not believe that this meant
+indifference. They must begin somewhere. Why should not Saidee be
+curious to hear the end part first, and go back gradually? Saidee's
+silence had been a torturing mystery for years, whereas about her, her
+simple past, there was no mystery to clear up.
+
+"Yes," she agreed. "But you promised to tell me about yourself
+and--and----"
+
+"I know. Oh, you shall hear the whole story. It will seem like a romance
+to you, I suppose, because you haven't had to live it, day by day, year
+by year. It's sordid reality to me--oh, _how_ sordid!--most of it. But
+this about Maieddine changes everything. I must hear what's
+happened--quickly--because I shall have to make a plan. It's very
+important--dreadfully important. I'll explain, when you've told me more.
+But there's time to order something for you to eat and drink, first, if
+you're tired and hungry. You must be both, poor child--poor, pretty
+child! You _are_ pretty--lovely. No wonder Maieddine--but what will you
+have. Which among our horrid Eastern foods do you hate least?"
+
+"I don't hate any of them. But don't make me eat or drink now, please,
+dearest. I couldn't. By and by. We rested and lunched this side of the
+city. I don't feel as if I should ever be hungry again. I'm so----"
+Victoria stopped. She could not say: "I am so happy," though she ought
+to have been able to say that. What was she, then, if not happy? "I'm so
+excited," she finished.
+
+Saidee stroked the girl's hand, softly. On hers she wore no ring, not
+even a wedding ring, though Cassim had put one on her finger, European
+fashion, when she was a bride. Victoria remembered it very well, among
+the other rings he had given during the short engagement. Now all were
+gone. But on the third finger of the left hand was the unmistakable mark
+a ring leaves if worn for many years. The thought passed through
+Victoria's mind that it could not be long since Saidee had ceased to
+wear her wedding ring.
+
+"I don't want to be cruel, or frighten you, my poor Babe," she said,
+"but--you've walked into a trap in coming here, and I've got to try and
+save you. Thank heaven my husband's away, but we've no time to lose.
+Tell me quickly about Maieddine. I've heard a good deal of him, from
+Cassim, in old days; but tell me all that concerns him and you. Don't
+skip anything, or I can't judge."
+
+Saidee's manner was feverishly emphatic, but she did not look at
+Victoria. She watched her own hand moving back and forth, restlessly,
+from the girl's finger-tips, up the slender, bare wrist, and down again.
+
+Victoria told how she had seen Maieddine on the boat, coming to Algiers;
+how he had appeared later at the hotel, and offered to help her,
+hinting, rather than saying, that he had been a friend of Cassim's, and
+knew where to find Cassim's wife. Then she went on to the story of the
+journey through the desert, praising Maieddine, and hesitating only when
+she came to the evening of his confession and threat. But Saidee
+questioned her, and she answered.
+
+"It came out all right, you see," she finished at last. "I knew it must,
+even in those few minutes when I couldn't help feeling a little afraid,
+because I seemed to be in his power. But of course I wasn't really.
+God's power was over his, and he felt it. Things always _do_ come out
+right, if you just _know_ they will."
+
+Saidee shivered a little, though her hand on Victoria's was hot. "I wish
+I could think like that," she half whispered. "If I could, I----"
+
+"What, dearest?"
+
+"I should be brave, that's all. I've lost my spirit--lost faith, too--as
+I've lost everything else. I used to be quite a good sort of girl; but
+what can you expect after ten years shut up in a Mussulman harem? It's
+something in my favour that they never succeeded in 'converting' me, as
+they almost always do with a European woman when they've shut her
+up--just by tiring her out. But they only made me sullen and stupid. I
+don't believe in anything now. You talk about 'God's power.' He's never
+helped me. I should think 'things came right' more because Maieddine
+felt you couldn't get away from him, then and later, and because he
+didn't want to offend the marabout, than because God troubled to
+interfere. Besides, things _haven't_ come right. If it weren't for
+Maieddine, I might smuggle you away somehow, before the marabout
+arrives. But now, Maieddine will be watching us like a lynx--or like an
+Arab. It's the same thing where women are concerned."
+
+"Why should the marabout care what I do?" asked Victoria. "He's nothing
+to us, is he?--except that I suppose Cassim must have some high position
+in his Zaouia."
+
+"A high position! I forgot, you couldn't know--since Maieddine hid
+everything from you. An Arab man never trusts a woman to keep a secret,
+no matter how much in love he may be. He was evidently afraid you'd tell
+some one the great secret on the way. But now you're here, he won't care
+what you find out, because he knows perfectly well that you can never
+get away."
+
+Victoria started, and turned fully round to stare at her sister with
+wide, bright eyes. "I can and I will get away!" she exclaimed. "With
+you. Never without you, of course. That's why I came, as I said. To take
+you away if you are unhappy. Not all the marabouts in Islam can keep
+you, dearest, because they have no right over you--and this is the
+twentieth century, not hundreds of years ago, in the dark ages."
+
+"Hundreds of years in the future, it will still be the dark ages in
+Islam. And this marabout thinks he _has_ a right over me."
+
+"But if you know he hasn't?"
+
+"I'm beginning to know it--beginning to feel it, anyhow. To feel that
+legally and morally I'm free. But law and morals can't break down
+walls."
+
+"I believe they can. And if Cassim----"
+
+"My poor child, when Cassim ben Halim died--at a very convenient time
+for himself--Sidi El Hadj Mohammed ben Abd-el-Kadr appeared to claim
+this maraboutship, left vacant by the third marabout in the line, an
+old, old man whose death happened a few weeks before Cassim's. This
+present marabout was his next of kin--or so everybody believes. And
+that's the way saintships pass on in Islam, just as titles and estates
+do in other countries. Now do you begin to understand the mystery?"
+
+"Not quite. I----"
+
+"You heard in Algiers that Cassim had died in Constantinople?"
+
+"Yes. The Governor himself said so."
+
+"The Governor believes so. Every one believes--except a wretched
+hump-backed idiot in Morocco, who sold his inheritance to save himself
+trouble, because he didn't want to leave his home, or bother to be a
+marabout. Perhaps he's dead by this time, in one way or another. I
+shouldn't be surprised. If he is, Maieddine and Maieddine's father, and
+a few other powerful friends of Cassim's, are the only ones left who
+know the truth, even a part of it. And the great Sidi El Hadj Mohammed
+himself."
+
+"Oh, Saidee--Cassim is the marabout!"
+
+"Sh! Now you know the secret that's kept me a prisoner in his house
+long, long after he'd tired of me, and would have got rid of me if he'd
+dared--and if he hadn't been afraid in his cruel, jealous way, that I
+might find a little happiness in my own country. And worse still, it's
+the secret that will keep you a prisoner, too, unless you make up your
+mind to do the one thing which can possibly help you."
+
+"What thing?" Victoria could not believe that the answer which darted
+into her mind was the one Saidee really meant to give.
+
+Saidee's lips opened, but with the girl's eyes gazing straight into
+hers, it was harder to speak than she had thought. Out of them looked a
+highly sensitive yet brave spirit, so true, so loving and loyal, that
+disloyalty to it was a crime--even though another love demanded it.
+
+"I--I hate to tell you," she stammered. "Only, what can I do? If
+Maieddine hadn't loved you--but if he hadn't, you wouldn't be here. And
+being here, we--we must just face the facts. The man who calls himself
+my husband--I can't think of him as being that any more--is like a king
+in this country. He has even more power than most kings have nowadays.
+He'll give you to Maieddine when he comes home, if Maieddine asks him,
+as of course he will. Maieddine wouldn't have given you up, there in the
+desert, if he hadn't been sure he could bribe the marabout to do exactly
+what he wanted."
+
+"But why can't I bribe him?" Victoria persisted, hopefully. "If he's
+truly tired of you, my money----"
+
+"He'd laugh at you for offering it, and say you might keep it for a
+_dot_. He's too rich to be tempted with money, unless it was far more
+than you or I have ever seen. From his oasis alone he has an income of
+thousands and thousands of dollars; and presents--large ones and small
+ones--come to him from all over North Africa--from France, even. All the
+Faithful in the desert, for hundreds of miles around, give him their
+first and best dates of the year, their first-born camels, their first
+foals, and lambs, and mules, in return for his blessing on their palms
+and flocks. He has wonderful rugs, and gold plate, and jewels, more than
+he knows what to do with, though he's very charitable. He's obliged to
+be, to keep up his reputation and the reputation of the Zaouia.
+Everything depends on that--all his ambitions, which he thinks I hardly
+know. But I do know. And that's why I know that Maieddine will be able
+to bribe him. Not with money: with something Cassim wants and values far
+more than money. You wouldn't understand what I mean unless I explained
+a good many things, and it's hardly the time for explaining more now.
+You must just take what I say for granted, until I can tell you
+everything by and by. But there are enormous interests mixed up with the
+marabout's ambitions--things which concern all Africa. Is it likely
+he'll let you and me go free to tell secrets that would ruin him and his
+hopes for ever?"
+
+"We wouldn't tell."
+
+"Didn't I say that an Arab never trusts a woman? He'd kill us sooner
+than let us go. And you've learned nothing about Arab men if you think
+Maieddine will give you up and see you walk out of his life after all
+the trouble he's taken to get you tangled up in it. That's why we've got
+to look facts in the face. You meant to help me, dear, but you can't.
+You can only make me miserable, because you've spoiled your happiness
+for my sake. Poor little Babe, you've wandered far, far out of the zone
+of happiness, and you can never get back. All you can do is to make the
+best of a bad bargain."
+
+"I asked you to explain that, but you haven't yet."
+
+"You must--promise Maieddine what he asks, before Cassim comes back from
+South Oran."
+
+This was the thing Victoria had feared, but could not believe Saidee
+would propose. She shrank a little, and Saidee saw it. "Don't
+misunderstand," the elder woman pleaded in the soft voice which
+pronounced English almost like a foreign language. "I tell you, we can't
+choose what we _want_ to do, you and I. If you wait for Cassim to be
+here, it will come to the same thing, but it will be fifty times worse,
+because then you'll have the humiliation of being forced to do what you
+might seem to do now of your own free will."
+
+"I can't be forced to marry Maieddine. Nothing could make me do it. He
+knows that already, unless----"
+
+"Unless what? Why do you look horrified?"
+
+"There's one thing I forgot to tell you about our talk in the desert. I
+promised him I would say 'yes' in case something happened--something I
+thought then couldn't happen."
+
+"But you find now it could?"
+
+"Oh, no--no, I don't believe it could."
+
+"You'd better tell me what it is."
+
+"That you--I said, I would promise to marry him if _you wished_ it. He
+asked me to promise that, and I did, at once."
+
+A slow colour crept over Saidee's face, up to her forehead. "You trusted
+me," she murmured.
+
+"And I do now--with all my heart. Only you've lived here, out of the
+world, alone and sad for so long, that you're afraid of things I'm not
+afraid of."
+
+"I'm afraid because I know what cause there is for fear. But you're
+right. My life has made me a coward. I can't help it."
+
+"Yes, you can--I've come to help you help it."
+
+"How little you understand! They'll use you against me, me against you.
+If you knew I were being tortured, and you could save me by marrying
+Maieddine, what would you do?"
+
+Victoria's hand trembled in her sister's, which closed on it nervously.
+"I would marry him that very minute, of course. But such things don't
+happen."
+
+"They do. That's exactly what will happen, unless you tell Maieddine
+you've made up your mind to say 'yes'. You can explain that it's by my
+advice. He'll understand. But he'll respect you, and won't be furious at
+your resistance, and want to revenge himself on you in future, as he
+will if you wait to be forced into consenting."
+
+Victoria sprang up and walked away, covering her face with her hands.
+Her sister watched her as if fascinated, and felt sick as she saw how
+the girl shuddered. It was like watching a trapped bird bleeding to
+death. But she too was in the trap, she reminded herself. Really, there
+was no way out, except through Maieddine. She said this over and over in
+her mind. There was no other way out. It was not that she was cruel or
+selfish. She was thinking of her sister's good. There was no doubt of
+that, she told herself: no doubt whatever.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+
+Victoria felt as if all her blood were beating in her brain. She could
+not think, and dimly she was glad that Saidee did not speak again. She
+could not have borne more of those hatefully specious arguments.
+
+For a moment she stood still, pressing her hands over her eyes, and
+against her temples. Then, without turning, she walked almost blindly to
+a window that opened upon Saidee's garden. The little court was a silver
+cube of moonlight, so bright that everything white looked alive with a
+strange, spiritual intelligence. The scent of the orange blossoms was
+lusciously sweet. She shrank back, remembering the orange-court at the
+Caid's house in Ouargla. It was there that Zorah had prophesied: "Never
+wilt thou come this way again."
+
+"I'm tired, after all," the girl said dully, turning to Saidee, but
+leaning against the window frame. "I didn't realize it before. The
+perfume--won't let me think."
+
+"You look dreadfully white!" exclaimed Saidee. "Are you going to faint?
+Lie down here on this divan. I'll send for something."
+
+"No, no. Don't send. And I won't faint. But I want to think. Can I go
+out into the air--not where the orange blossoms are?"
+
+"I'll take you on to the roof," Saidee said. "It's my favourite
+place--looking over the desert."
+
+She put her arm round Victoria, leading her to the stairway, and so to
+the roof.
+
+"Are you better?" she asked, miserably. "What can I do for you?"
+
+"Let's not speak for a little while, please. I can think now. Soon I
+shall be well. Don't be anxious about me, darling."
+
+Very gently she slipped away from Saidee's arm that clasped her waist;
+and the softness of the young voice, which had been sharp with pain,
+touched the elder woman. She knew that the girl was thinking more of
+her, Saidee, than of herself.
+
+Victoria leaned on the white parapet, and looked down over the desert,
+where the sand rippled in silvery lines and waves, like water in
+moonlight.
+
+"The golden silence!" she thought.
+
+It was silver now, not golden; but she knew that this was the place of
+her dream. On a white roof like this, she had seen Saidee stand with
+eyes shaded from the sun in the west; waiting for her, calling for her,
+or so she had believed. Poor Saidee! Poor, beautiful Saidee; changed in
+soul, though so little changed in face! Could it be that she had never
+called in spirit to her sister?
+
+Victoria bowed her head, and tears fell from her eyes upon her cold bare
+arms, crossed on the white wall.
+
+Saidee did not want her. Saidee was sorry that she had come. Her coming
+had only made things worse.
+
+"I wish--" the girl was on the point of saying to herself--"I wish I'd
+never been born." But before the words shaped themselves fully in her
+mind--terrible words, because she had felt the beauty and sacred meaning
+of life--the desert spoke to her.
+
+"Saidee does want you," the spirit of the wind and the glimmering sands
+seemed to say. "If she had not wanted you, do you think you would have
+been shown this picture, with your sister in it, the picture which
+brought you half across the world? She called once, long ago, and you
+heard the call. You were allowed to hear it. Are you so weak as to
+believe, just because you're hurt and suffering, that such messages
+between hearts mean nothing? Saidee may not know that she wants you, but
+she does, and needs you more than ever before. This is your hour of
+temptation. You thought everything was going to be wonderfully easy,
+almost too easy, and instead, it is difficult, that's all. But be brave
+for Saidee and yourself, now and in days to come, for you are here only
+just in time."
+
+The pure, strong wind blowing over the dunes was a tonic to Victoria's
+soul, and she breathed it eagerly. Catching at the robe of faith, she
+held the spirit fast, and it stayed with her.
+
+Suddenly she felt at peace, sure as a child that she would be taught
+what to do next. There was her star, floating in the blue lake of the
+sky, like a water lily, where millions of lesser lilies blossomed.
+
+"Dear star," she whispered, "thank you for coming. I needed you just
+then."
+
+"Are you better?" asked Saidee in a choked voice.
+
+Victoria turned away from sky and desert to the drooping figure of the
+woman, standing in a pool of shadow, dark as fear and treachery.
+
+"Yes, dearest one, I am well again, and I won't have to worry you any
+more." The girl gently wound two protecting arms round her sister.
+
+"What have you decided to do?"
+
+Victoria could feel Saidee's heart beating against her own.
+
+"I've decided to pray about deciding, and then to decide. Whatever's
+best for you, I will do, I promise."
+
+"And for yourself. Don't forget that I'm thinking of you. Don't believe
+it's _all_ cowardice."
+
+"I don't believe anything but good of my Saidee."
+
+"I envy you, because you think you've got Someone to pray to. I've
+nothing. I'm--alone in the dark."
+
+Victoria made her look up at the moon which flooded the night with a sea
+of radiance. "There is no dark," she said. "We're together--in the
+light."
+
+"How hopeful you are!" Saidee murmured. "I've left hope so far behind,
+I've almost forgotten what it's like."
+
+"Maybe it's always been hovering just over your shoulder, only you
+forgot to turn and see. It can't be gone, because I feel sure that truth
+and knowledge and hope are all one."
+
+"I wonder if you'll still feel so when you've married a man of another
+race--as I have?"
+
+Victoria did not answer. She had to conquer the little cold thrill of
+superstitious fear which crept through her veins, as Saidee's words
+reminded her of M'Barka's sand-divining. She had to find courage again
+from "her star," before she could speak.
+
+"Forgive me, Babe!" said Saidee, stricken by the look in the lifted
+eyes. "I wish I needn't remind you of anything horrid to-night--your
+first night with me after all these years. But we have so little time.
+What else can I do?"
+
+"I shall know by to-morrow what we are to do," Victoria said cheerfully.
+"Because I shall take counsel of the night."
+
+"You're a very odd girl," the woman reflected aloud. "When you were a
+tiny thing, you used to have the weirdest thoughts, and do the quaintest
+things. I was sure you'd grow up to be absolutely different from any
+other human being. And so you have, I think. Only an extraordinary sort
+of girl could ever have made her way without help from Potterston,
+Indiana, to Oued Tolga in North Africa."
+
+"I _had_ help--every minute. Saidee--did you think of me sometimes, when
+you were standing here on this roof?"
+
+"Yes, of course I thought of you often--only not so often lately as at
+first, because for a long time now I've been numb. I haven't thought
+much or cared much about anything, or--or any one except----"
+
+"Except----"
+
+"Except--except myself, I'm afraid." Saidee's face was turned away from
+Victoria's. She looked toward Oued Tolga, the city, whither the
+carrier-pigeon had flown.
+
+"I wondered," she went on hastily, "what had become of you, and if you
+were happy, and whether by this time you'd nearly forgotten me. You were
+such a baby child when I left you!"
+
+"I won't believe you really wondered if I could forget. You, and
+thoughts of you, have made my whole life. I was just living for the time
+when I could earn money enough to search for you--and preparing for it,
+of course, so as to be ready when it came."
+
+Saidee still looked toward Oued Tolga, where the white domes shimmered,
+far away in the moonlight, like a mirage. Was love a mirage, too?--the
+love that called for her over there, the love whose voice made the
+strings of her heart vibrate, though she had thought them broken and
+silent for ever. Victoria's arms round her felt strong and warm, yet
+they were a barrier. She was afraid of the barrier, and afraid of the
+girl's passionate loyalty. She did not deserve it, she knew, and she
+would be more at ease--she could not say happier, because there was no
+such word as happiness for her--without it. Somehow she could not bear
+to talk of Victoria's struggle to come to her rescue. The thought of all
+the girl had done made her feel unable to live up to it, or be grateful.
+She did not want to be called upon to live up to any standard. She
+wanted--if she wanted anything--simply to go on blindly, as fate led.
+But she felt that near her fate hovered, like the carrier-pigeon; and
+some terrible force within herself, which frightened her, seemed ready
+to push away or destroy anything that might come between her and that
+fate. She knew that she ought to question Victoria about the past years
+of their separation, one side of her nature was eager to hear the story.
+But the other side, which had gained strength lately, forced her to
+dwell upon less intimate things.
+
+"I suppose Mrs. Ray managed to keep most of poor father's money?" she
+said.
+
+"Mrs. Ray died when I was fourteen, and after that Mr. Potter lost
+everything in speculation," the girl answered.
+
+"Everything of yours, too?"
+
+"Yes. But it didn't matter, except for the delay. My dancing--_your_
+dancing really, dearest, because if it hadn't been for you I shouldn't
+have put my heart into it so--earned me all I needed."
+
+"I said you were extraordinary! But how queer it seems to hear those
+names again. Mrs. Ray. Mr. Potter. They're like names in a dream. How
+wretched I used to think myself, with Mrs. Ray in Paris, when she was so
+jealous and cross! But a thousand times since, I've wished myself back
+in those days. I was happy, really. I was free. Life was all before me."
+
+"Dearest! But surely you weren't miserable from the very first,
+with--with Cassim?"
+
+"No-o. I suppose I wasn't. I was in love with him. It seemed very
+interesting to be the wife of such a man. Even when I found that he
+meant to make me lead the life of an Arab woman, shut up and veiled, I
+liked him too well to mind much. He put it in such a romantic way,
+telling me how he worshipped me, how mad with jealousy he was even to
+think of other men seeing my face, and falling in love with it. He
+thought every one must fall in love! All girls like men to be
+jealous--till they find out how sordid jealousy can be. And I was so
+young--a child. I felt as if I were living in a wonderful Eastern poem.
+Cassim used to give me the most gorgeous presents, and our house in
+Algiers was beautiful. My garden was a dream--and how he made love to me
+in it! Besides, I was allowed to go out, veiled. It was rather fun being
+veiled--in those days, I thought so. It made me feel mysterious, as if
+life were a masquerade ball. And the Arab women Cassim let me know--a
+very few, wives and sisters of his friends--envied me immensely. I loved
+that--I was so silly. And they flattered me, asking about my life in
+Europe. I was like a fairy princess among them, until--one day--a woman
+told me a thing about Cassim. She told me because she was spiteful and
+wanted to make me miserable, of course, for I found out afterwards she'd
+been expressly forbidden to speak, on account of my 'prejudices'--they'd
+all been forbidden. I wouldn't believe at first,--but it was true--the
+others couldn't deny it. And to prove what she said, the woman took me
+to see the boy, who was with his grandmother--an aunt of Maieddine's,
+dead now."
+
+"The boy?"
+
+"Oh, I forgot. I haven't explained. The thing she told was, that Cassim
+had a wife living when he married me."
+
+"Saidee!--how horrible! How horrible!"
+
+"Yes, it was horrible. It broke my heart." Saidee was tingling with
+excitement now. Her stiff, miserable restraint was gone in the feverish
+satisfaction of speaking out those things which for years had corroded
+her mind, like verdigris. She had never been able to talk to anyone in
+this way, and her only relief had been in putting her thoughts on paper.
+Some of the books in her locked cupboard she had given to a friend, the
+writer of to-day's letter, because she had seen him only for a few
+minutes at a time, and had been able to say very little, on the one
+occasion when they had spoken a few words to each other. She had wanted
+him to know what a martyrdom her life had been. Involuntarily she talked
+to her sister, now, as she would have talked to him, and his face rose
+clearly before her eyes, more clearly almost than Victoria's, which her
+own shadow darkened, and screened from the light of the moon as they
+stood together, clasped in one another's arms.
+
+"Cassim thought it all right, of course," she went on. "A Mussulman may
+have four wives at a time if he likes--though men of his rank don't, as
+a rule, take more than one, because they must marry women of high birth,
+who hate rivals in their own house. But he was too clever to give me a
+hint of his real opinions in Paris. He knew I wouldn't have looked at
+him again, if he had--even if he hadn't told me about the wife herself.
+She had had this boy, and gone out of her mind afterwards, so she wasn't
+living with Cassim--that was the excuse he made when I taxed him with
+deceiving me. Her father and mother had taken her back. I don't know
+surely whether she's living or dead, but I believe she's dead, and her
+body buried beside the grave supposed to be Cassim's. Anyhow, the boy's
+living, and he's the one thing on earth Cassim loves better than
+himself."
+
+"When did you find out about--about all this?" Victoria asked, almost
+whispering.
+
+"Eight months after we were married I heard about his wife. I think
+Cassim was true to me, in his way, till that time. But we had an awful
+scene. I told him I'd never live with him again as his wife, and I never
+have. After that day, everything was different. No more happiness--not
+even an Arab woman's idea of happiness. Cassim began to hate me, but
+with the kind of hate that holds and won't let go. He wouldn't listen
+when I begged him to set me free. Instead, he wouldn't let me go out at
+all, or see anyone, or receive or send letters. He punished me by
+flirting outrageously with a pretty woman, the wife of a French officer.
+He took pains that I should hear everything, through my servants. But
+his cruelty was visited on his own head, for soon there came a dreadful
+scandal. The woman died suddenly of chloral poisoning, after a quarrel
+with her husband on Cassim's account, and it was thought she'd taken too
+much of the drug on purpose. The day after his wife's death, the officer
+shot himself. I think he was a colonel; and every one knew that Cassim
+was mixed up in the affair. He had to leave the army, and it seemed--he
+thought so himself--that his career was ruined. He sold his place in
+Algiers, and took me to a farm-house in the country where we lived for a
+while, and he was so lonely and miserable he would have been glad to
+make up, but how could I forgive him? He'd deceived me too horribly--and
+besides, in my own eyes I wasn't his wife. Surely our marriage wouldn't
+be considered legal in any country outside Islam, would it? Even you, a
+child like you, must see that?"
+
+"I suppose so," Victoria answered, sadly. "But----"
+
+"There's no 'but.' I thought so then. I think so a hundred times more
+now. My life's been a martyrdom. No one could blame me if--but I was
+telling you about what happened after Algiers. There was a kind of armed
+truce between us in the country, though we lived only like two
+acquaintances under the same roof. For months he had nobody else to talk
+to, so he used to talk with me--quite freely sometimes, about a plan
+some powerful Arabs, friends of his--Maieddine and his father among
+others--were making for him. It sounded like a fairy story, and I used
+to think he must be going mad. But he wasn't. It was all true about the
+plot that was being worked. He knew I couldn't betray him, so it was a
+relief to his mind, in his nervous excitement, to confide in me."
+
+"Was it a plot against the French?"
+
+"Indirectly. That was one reason it appealed to Cassim. He'd been proud
+of his position in the army, and being turned out, or forced to go--much
+the same thing--made him hate France and everything French. He'd have
+given his life for revenge, I'm sure. Probably that's why his friends
+were so anxious to put him in a place of power, for they were men whose
+watchword was 'Islam for Islam.' Their hope was--and is--to turn France
+out of North Africa. You wouldn't believe how many there are who hope
+and band themselves together for that. These friends of Cassim's
+persuaded and bribed a wretched cripple--who was next of kin to the last
+marabout, and ought to have inherited--to let Cassim take his place.
+Secretly, of course. It was a very elaborate plot--it had to be. Three
+or four rich, important men were in it, and it would have meant ruin if
+they'd been found out.
+
+"Cassim would really have come next in succession if it hadn't been for
+the hunchback, who lived in Morocco, just over the border. If he had any
+conscience, I suppose that thought soothed it. He told me that the real
+heir--the cripple--had epileptic fits, and couldn't live long, anyhow.
+The way they worked their plan out was by Cassim's starting for a
+pilgrimage to Mecca. I had to go away with him, because he was afraid to
+leave me. I knew too much. And it was simpler to take me than to put me
+out of the way."
+
+"Saidee--he would never have murdered you?" Victoria whispered.
+
+"He would if necessary--I'm sure of it. But it was safer not. Besides,
+I'd often told him I wanted to die, so that was an incentive to keep me
+alive. I didn't go to Mecca. I left the farm-house with Cassim, and he
+took me to South Oran, where he is now. I had to stay in the care of a
+marabouta, a terrible old woman, a bigot and a tyrant, a cousin of
+Cassim's, on his mother's side, and a sister of the man who invented the
+whole plot. The idea was that Cassim should seem to be drowned in the
+Bosphorus, while staying at Constantinople with friends, after his
+pilgrimage to Mecca. But luckily for him there was a big fire in the
+hotel where he went to stop for the first night, so he just disappeared,
+and a lot of trouble was saved. He told me about the adventure, when he
+came to Oran. The next move was to Morocco. And from Morocco he
+travelled here, in place of the cripple, when the last marabout died,
+and the heir was called to his inheritance. That was nearly eight years
+ago."
+
+"And he's never been found out?"
+
+"No. And he never will be. He's far too clever. Outwardly he's hand in
+glove with the French. High officials and officers come here to consult
+with him, because he's known to have immense influence all over the
+South, and in the West, even in Morocco. He's masked, like a Touareg,
+and the French believe it's because of a vow he made in Mecca. No one
+but his most intimate friends, or his own people, have ever seen the
+face of Sidi Mohammed since he inherited the maraboutship, and came to
+Oued Tolga. He must hate wearing his mask, for he's as handsome as he
+ever was, and just as vain. But it's worth the sacrifice. Not only is he
+a great man, with everything--or nearly everything--he wants in the
+world, but he looks forward to a glorious revenge against the French,
+whose interests he pretends to serve."
+
+"How can he revenge himself? What power has he to do that?" the girl
+asked. She had a strange impression that Saidee had forgotten her, that
+all this talk of the past, and of the marabout, was for some one else of
+whom her sister was thinking.
+
+"He has tremendous power," Saidee answered, almost angrily, as if she
+resented the doubt. "All Islam is at his back. The French humour him,
+and let him do whatever he likes, no matter how eccentric his ways may
+be, because he's got them to believe he is trying to help the Government
+in the wildest part of Algeria, the province of Oran--and with the
+Touaregs in the farthest South; and that he promotes French interests in
+Morocco. Really, he's at the head of every religious secret society in
+North Africa, banded together to turn Christians out of Mussulman
+countries. The French have no idea how many such secret societies exist,
+and how rich and powerful they are. Their dear friend, the good, wise,
+polite marabout assures them that rumours of that sort are nonsense. But
+some day, when everything's ready--when Morocco and Oran and Algeria and
+Tunisia will obey the signal, all together, then they'll have a
+surprise--and Cassim ben Halim will be revenged."
+
+"It sounds like the weavings of a brain in a dream," Victoria said.
+
+"It will be a nightmare-dream, no matter how it ends;--maybe a nightmare
+of blood, and war, and massacre. Haven't you ever heard, or read, how
+the Mussulman people expect a saviour, the Moul Saa, as they call
+him--the Man of the Hour, who will preach a Holy War, and lead it
+himself, to victory?"
+
+"Yes, I've read that----"
+
+"Well, Cassim hopes to be the Moul Saa, and deliver Islam by the sword.
+I suppose you wonder how I know such secrets, or whether I do really
+know them at all. But I do. Some things Cassim told me himself, because
+he was bursting with vanity, and simply had to speak. Other things I've
+seen in writing--he would kill me if he found out. And still other
+things I've guessed. Why, the boys here in the Zaouia are being brought
+up for the 'great work,' as they call it. Not all of them--but the most
+important ones among the older boys. They have separate classes.
+Something secret and mysterious is taught them. There are boys from
+Morocco and Oran, and sons of Touareg chiefs--all those who most hate
+Christians. No other zaouia is like this. The place seethes with hidden
+treachery and sedition. Now you can see where Si Maieddine's power over
+Cassim comes in. The Agha, his father, is one of the few who helped make
+Cassim what he is, but he's a cautious old man, the kind who wants to
+run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. Si Maieddine's cautious too,
+Cassim has said. He approves the doctrines of the secret societies, but
+he's so ambitious that without a very strong incentive to turn against
+them, in act he'd be true to the French. Well, now he has the incentive.
+You."
+
+"I don't understand," said Victoria. Yet even as she spoke, she began to
+understand.
+
+"He'll offer to give himself, and to influence the Agha and the Agha's
+people--the Ouled-Sirren--if Cassim will grant his wish. And it's no use
+saying that Cassim can't force you to marry any man. You told me
+yourself, a little while ago, that if you saw harm coming to me----"
+
+"Oh don't--don't speak of that again, Saidee!" the girl cried, sharply.
+"I've told you--yes--that I'll do anything--anything on earth to save
+you pain, or more sorrow. But let's hope--let's pray."
+
+"There is no hope. I've forgotten how to pray," Saidee answered, "and
+God has forgotten me."
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+
+There was no place for a guest in that part of the marabout's house
+which had been allotted to Saidee. She had her bedroom and
+reception-room, her roof terrace, and her garden court. On the ground
+floor her negresses lived, and cooked for their mistress and themselves.
+She did not wish to have Victoria with her, night and day, and so she
+had quietly directed Noura to make up a bed in the room which would have
+been her boudoir, if she had lived in Europe. When the sisters came down
+from the roof, the bed was ready.
+
+In the old time Victoria had slept with her sister; and her greatest
+happiness as a child had been the "bed-talks," when Saidee had whispered
+her secret joys or troubles, and confided in the little girl as if she
+had been a "grown-up."
+
+Hardly a night had passed since their parting, that Victoria had not
+thought of those talks, and imagined herself again lying with her head
+on Saidee's arm, listening to stories of Saidee's life. She had taken it
+for granted that she would be put in her sister's room, and seeing the
+bed made up, and her luggage unpacked in the room adjoining, was a blow.
+She knew that Saidee must have given orders, or these arrangements would
+not have been made, and again she felt the dreadful sinking of the heart
+which had crushed her an hour ago. Saidee did not want her. Saidee was
+sorry she had come, and meant to keep her as far off as possible. But
+the girl encouraged herself once more. Saidee might think now that she
+would rather have been left alone. But she was mistaken. By and by she
+would find out the truth, and know that they needed each other.
+
+"I thought you'd be more comfortable here, than crowded in with me,"
+Saidee explained, blushing faintly.
+
+"Yes, thank you, dear," said Victoria quietly. She did not show her
+disappointment, and seemed to take the matter for granted, as if she had
+expected nothing else; but the talk on the roof had brought back
+something into Saidee's heart which she could not keep out, though she
+did not wish to admit it there. She was sorry for Victoria, sorry for
+herself, and more miserable than ever. Her nerves were rasped by an
+intolerable irritation as she looked at the girl, and felt that her
+thoughts were being read. She had a hideous feeling, almost an
+impression, that her face had been lifted off like a mask, and that the
+workings of her brain were open to her sister's eyes, like the exposed
+mechanism of a clock.
+
+"Noura has brought some food for you," she went on hastily. "You must
+eat a little, before you go to bed--to please me."
+
+"I will," Victoria assured her. "You mustn't worry about me at all."
+
+"You'll go to sleep, won't you?--or would you rather talk--while you're
+eating, perhaps?"
+
+The girl looked at the woman, and saw that her nerves were racked; that
+she wanted to go, but did not wish her sister to guess.
+
+"You've talked too much already," Victoria said. "The surprise of my
+coming gave you a shock. Now you must rest and get over it, so you can
+be strong for to-morrow. Then we'll make up our minds about everything."
+
+"There's only one way to make up our minds," Saidee insisted, dully.
+
+Victoria did not protest. She kissed her sister good-night, and gently
+refused help from Noura. Then Saidee went away, followed by the negress,
+who softly closed the door between the two rooms. Her mistress had not
+told her to do this, but when it was done, she did not say, "Open the
+door." Saidee was glad that it was shut, because she felt that she could
+think more freely. She could not bear the idea that her thoughts and
+life were open to the criticism of those young, blue eyes, which the
+years since childhood had not clouded. Nevertheless, when Noura had
+undressed her, and she was alone, she saw Victoria's eyes looking at her
+sweetly, sadly, with yearning, yet with no reproach. She saw them as
+clearly as she had seen a man's face, a few hours earlier; and now his
+was dim, as Victoria's face had been dim when his was clear.
+
+It was dark in the room, except for the moon-rays which streamed through
+the lacelike open-work of stucco, above the shuttered windows, making
+jewelled patterns on the wall--pink, green, and golden, according to the
+different colours of the glass. There was just enough light to reflect
+these patterns faintly in the mirrors set in the closed door, opposite
+which Saidee lay in bed; and to her imagination it was as if she could
+see through the door, into a lighted place beyond. She wondered if
+Victoria had gone to bed; if she were sleeping, or if she were crying
+softly--crying her heart out with bitter grief and disappointment she
+would never confess.
+
+Victoria had always been like that, even as a little girl. If Saidee did
+anything to hurt her, she made no moan. Sometimes Saidee had teased her
+on purpose, or tried to make her jealous, just for fun.
+
+As memories came crowding back, the woman buried her face in the pillow,
+striving with all her might to shut them out. What was the use of making
+herself wretched? Victoria ought to have come long, long ago, or not at
+all.
+
+But the blue eyes would look at her, even when her own were shut; and
+always there was the faint light in the mirror, which seemed to come
+through the door.
+
+At last Saidee could not longer lie still. She had to get up and open
+the door, to see what her sister was really doing. Very softly she
+turned the handle, for she hoped that by this time Victoria was asleep;
+but as she pulled the door noiselessly towards her, and peeped into the
+next room, she saw that one of the lamps was burning. Victoria had not
+yet gone to bed. She was kneeling beside it, saying her prayers, with
+her back towards the door.
+
+So absorbed was she in praying, and so little noise had Saidee made,
+that the girl heard nothing. She remained motionless on her knees, not
+knowing that Saidee was looking at her.
+
+A sharp pain shot through the woman's heart. How many times had she
+softly opened their bedroom door, coming home late after a dance, to
+find her little sister praying, a small, childish form in a long white
+nightgown, with quantities of curly red hair pouring over its shoulders!
+
+Sometimes Victoria had gone to sleep on her knees, and Saidee had waked
+her up with a kiss.
+
+Just as she had looked then, so she looked now, except that the form in
+the long, white nightgown was that of a young girl, not a child. But the
+thick waves of falling hair made it seem childish.
+
+"She is praying for me," Saidee thought; and dared not close the door
+tightly, lest Victoria should hear. By and by it could be done, when the
+light was out, and the girl dropped asleep.
+
+Meanwhile, she tiptoed back to her bed, and sat on the edge of it, to
+wait. At last the thread of light, fine as a red-gold hair, vanished
+from the door; but as it disappeared a line of moonlight was drawn in
+silver along the crack. Victoria must have left her windows wide open,
+or there would not have been light enough to paint this gleaming streak.
+
+Saidee sat on her bed for nearly half an hour, trying to concentrate her
+thoughts on the present and future, yet unable to keep them from flying
+back to the past, the long-ago past, which lately had seemed unreal, as
+if she had dreamed it; the past when she and Victoria had been all the
+world to each other.
+
+There was no sound in the next room, and when Saidee was weary of her
+strained position, she crossed the floor on tiptoe again, to shut the
+door. But she could not resist a temptation to peep in.
+
+It was as she had expected. Victoria had left the inlaid cedar-wood
+shutters wide open, and through the lattice of old wrought-iron,
+moonlight streamed. The room was bright with a silvery twilight, like a
+mysterious dawn; but because the bed-linen and the embroidered silk
+coverlet were white, the pale radiance focused round the girl, who lay
+asleep in a halo of moonbeams.
+
+"She looks like an angel," Saidee thought, and with a curious mingling
+of reluctance and eagerness, moved softly toward the bed, her little
+velvet slippers from Tunis making no sound on the thick rugs.
+
+Very well the older woman remembered an engaging trick of the child's, a
+way of sleeping with her cheek in her hand, and her hair spread out like
+a golden coverlet for the pillow. Just so she was lying now; and in the
+moonlight her face was a child's face, the face of the dear, little,
+loving child of ten years ago. Like this Victoria had lain when her
+sister crept into their bedroom in the Paris flat, the night before the
+wedding, and Saidee had waked her by crying on her eyelids. Cassim's
+unhappy wife recalled the clean, sweet, warm smell of the child's hair
+when she had buried her face in it that last night together. It had
+smelled like grape-leaves in the hot sun.
+
+"If you don't come back to me, I'll follow you all across the world,"
+the little girl had said. Now, she had kept her promise. Here she
+was--and the sister to whom she had come, after a thousand sacrifices,
+was wishing her back again at the other end of the world, was planning
+to get rid of her.
+
+Suddenly, it was as if the beating of Saidee's heart broke a tight band
+of ice which had compressed it. A fountain of tears sprang from her
+eyes. She fell on her knees beside the bed, crying bitterly.
+
+"Childie, childie, comfort me, forgive me!" she sobbed.
+
+Victoria woke instantly. She opened her eyes, and Saidee's wet face was
+close to hers. The girl said not a word, but wrapped her arms round her
+sister, drawing the bowed head on to her breast, and then she crooned
+lovingly over it, with little foolish mumblings, as she used to do in
+Paris when Mrs. Ray's unkindness had made Saidee cry.
+
+"Can you forgive me?" the woman faltered, between sobs.
+
+"Darling, as if there were anything to forgive!" The clasp of the girl's
+arms tightened. "Now we're truly together again. How I love you! How
+happy I am!"
+
+"Don't--I don't deserve it," Saidee stammered. "Poor little Babe! I was
+cruel to you. And you'd come so far."
+
+"You weren't cruel!" Victoria contradicted her, almost fiercely.
+
+"I was. I was jealous--jealous of you. You're so young and
+beautiful--just what I was ten years ago, only better and prettier.
+You're what I can never be again--what I'd give the next ten years to
+be. Everything's over with me. I'm old--old!"
+
+"You're not to say such things," cried Victoria, horrified. "You weren't
+jealous. You----"
+
+"I was. I am now. But I want to confess. You must let me confess, if
+you're to help me."
+
+"Dearest, tell me anything--everything you choose, but nothing you don't
+choose. And nothing you say can make me love you less--only more."
+
+"There's a great deal to tell," Saidee said, heavily "And I'm
+tired--sick at heart. But I can't rest now, till I've told you."
+
+"Wouldn't you come into bed?" pleaded Victoria humbly. "Then we could
+talk, the way we used to talk."
+
+Saidee staggered up from her knees, and the girl almost lifted her on to
+the bed. Then she covered her with the thyme-scented linen sheet, and
+the silk coverlet under which she herself lay. For a moment they were
+quite still, Saidee lying with her head on Victoria's arm. But at last
+she said, in a whisper, as if her lips were dry: "Did you know I was
+sorry you'd come?"
+
+"I knew you thought you were sorry," the girl answered. "Yet I hoped
+that you'd find out you weren't, really. I prayed for you to find
+out--soon."
+
+"Did you guess why I was sorry?"
+
+"Not--quite."
+
+"I told you I--that it was for your sake."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Didn't you believe it?"
+
+"I--felt there was something else, beside."
+
+"There was!" Saidee confessed. "You know now--at least you know part. I
+was jealous. I am still--but I'm ashamed of myself. I'm sick with shame.
+And I do love you!"
+
+"Of course--of course you do, darling."
+
+"But--there's somebody else I love. A man. And I couldn't bear to think
+he might see you, because you're so much younger and fresher than I."
+
+"You mean--Cassim?"
+
+"No. Not Cassim."
+
+Silence fell between the two. Victoria did not speak; and suddenly
+Saidee was angry with her for not speaking.
+
+"If you're shocked, I won't go on," she said. "You can't help me by
+preaching."
+
+"I'm not shocked," the girl protested. "Only sorry--so sorry. And even
+if I wanted to preach, I don't know how."
+
+"There's nothing to be shocked about," Saidee said, her tears dry, her
+voice hard as it had been at first. "I've seen him three times. I've
+talked with him just once. But we love each other. It's the first and
+only real love of my life. I was too young to know, when I met Cassim.
+That was a fascination. I was in love with romance. He carried me off my
+feet, in spite of myself."
+
+"Then, dearest Saidee, don't let yourself be carried off your feet a
+second time."
+
+"Why not?" Saidee asked, sharply. "What incentive have I to be true to
+Cassim?"
+
+"I'm not thinking about Cassim. I'm thinking of you. All one's world
+goes to pieces so, if one isn't true to oneself."
+
+"_He_ says I can't be true to myself if I stay here. He doesn't consider
+that I'm Cassim's wife. I _thought_ myself married, but was I, when he
+had a wife already? Would any lawyer, or even clergyman, say it was a
+legal marriage?"
+
+"Perhaps not," Victoria admitted. "But----"
+
+"Just wait, before you go on arguing," Saidee broke in hotly, "until
+I've told you something you haven't heard yet. Cassim has another wife
+now--a lawful wife, according to his views, and the views of his people.
+He's had her for a year. She's a girl of the Ouled Nail tribe, brought
+up to be a dancer. But Cassim saw her at Touggourt, where he'd gone on
+one of his mysterious visits. He doesn't dream that I know the whole
+history of the affair, but I do, and have known, since a few days after
+the creature was brought here as his bride. She's as ignorant and silly
+as a kitten, and only a child in years. She told her 'love story' to one
+of her negresses, who told Noura--who repeated it to me. Perhaps I
+oughtn't to have listened, but why not?"
+
+Victoria did not answer. The clouds round Saidee and herself were dark,
+but she was trying to see the blue beyond, and find the way into it,
+with her sister.
+
+"She's barely sixteen now, and she's been here a year," Saidee went on.
+"She hadn't begun to dance yet, when Cassim saw her, and took her away
+from Touggourt. Being a great saint is very convenient. A marabout can
+do what he likes, you know. Mussulmans are forbidden to touch alcohol,
+but if a marabout drinks wine, it turns to milk in his throat. He can
+fly, if he wants to. He can even make French cannon useless, and
+withdraw the bullets from French guns, in case of war, if the spirit of
+Allah is with him. So by marrying a girl brought up for a dancer,
+daughter of generations of dancing women, he washes all disgrace from
+her blood, and makes her a female saint, worthy to live eternally. The
+beautiful Miluda's a marabouta, if you please, and when her baby is
+taken out by the negress who nurses it, silly, bigoted people kneel and
+kiss its clothing."
+
+"She has a baby!" murmured Victoria.
+
+"Yes, only a girl, but better than nothing--and she hopes to be more
+fortunate next time. She isn't jealous of me, because I've no children,
+not even a girl, and because for that reason Cassim could repudiate me
+if he chose. She little knows how desperately I wish he would. She
+believes--Noura says--that he keeps me here only because I have no
+people to go to, and he's too kind-hearted to turn me out alone in the
+world, when my youth's past. You see--she thinks me already old--at
+twenty-eight! Of course the real reason that Cassim shuts me up and
+won't let me go, is because he knows I could ruin not only him, but the
+hopes of his people. Miluda doesn't dream that I'm of so much importance
+in his eyes. The only thing she's jealous of is the boy, Mohammed, who's
+at school in the town of Oued Tolga, in charge of an uncle. Cassim
+guesses how Miluda hates the child, and I believe that's the reason he
+daren't have him here. He's afraid something might happen, although the
+excuse he makes is, that he wants his boy to learn French, and know
+something of French ways. That pleases the Government--and as for the
+Arabs, no doubt he tells them it's only a trick to keep French eyes shut
+to what's really going on, and to his secret plans. Now, do you still
+say I ought to consider myself married to Cassim, and refuse to take any
+happiness if I can get it?"
+
+"The thing is, what would make you happy?" Victoria said, as if thinking
+aloud.
+
+"Love, and life. All that women in Europe have, and take for granted,"
+Saidee answered passionately.
+
+"How could it come to you?" the girl asked.
+
+"I would go to it, and find it with the man who's ready to risk his life
+to save me from this hateful prison, and carry me far away. Now, I've
+told you everything, exactly as it stands. That's why I was sorry you
+came, just when I was almost ready to risk the step. I was sure you'd be
+horrified if you found out, and want to stop me. Besides, if he should
+see you--but I won't say that again. I know you wouldn't try to take him
+away from me, even if you tried to take me from him. I don't know why
+I've told you, instead of keeping the whole thing secret as I made up my
+mind to do at first. Nothing's changed. I can't save you from Maieddine,
+but--there's one difference. I _would_ save you if I could. Just at
+first, I was so anxious for you to be out of the way of my
+happiness--the chance of it--that the only thing I longed for was that
+you should be gone."
+
+Victoria choked back a sob that rose in her throat, but Saidee felt,
+rather than heard it, as she lay with her burning head on the girl's
+arm.
+
+"I don't feel like that now," she said. "I peeped in and saw you
+praying--perhaps for me--and you looked just as you used, when you were
+a little girl. Then, when I came in, and you were asleep, I--I couldn't
+stand it. I broke down. I love you, dear little Babe. The ice is gone
+out of my heart. You've melted it. I'm a woman again; but just because
+I'm a woman, I won't give up my other love to please you or any one. I
+tell you that, honestly."
+
+Victoria made no reply for a moment, though Saidee waited defiantly,
+expecting a protest or an argument. Then, at last, the girl said: "Will
+you tell me something about this man?"
+
+Saidee was surprised to receive encouragement. It was a joy to speak of
+the subject that occupied all her thoughts, and wonderful to have a
+confidante.
+
+"He's a captain in the Chasseurs d'Afrique," she said. "But he's not
+with his regiment. He's an expert in making desert wells, and draining
+marshes. That's the business which has brought him to the far South,
+now. He's living at Oued Tolga--the town, I mean; not the Zaouia. A well
+had to be sunk in the village, and he was superintending. I watched him
+from my roof, though it was too far off to see his face. I don't know
+exactly what made me do it--I suppose it was Fate, for Cassim says we
+all have our fate hung round our necks--but when I went to the Moorish
+bath, between here and the village, I let my veil blow away from my face
+as I passed close to him and his party of workers. No one else saw,
+except he. It was only for a second or two, but we looked straight into
+each other's eyes; and there was something in his that seemed to draw my
+soul out of me. It was as if, in that instant, I told him with a look
+the whole tragedy of my life. And his soul sprang to mine. There was
+never anything like it. You can't imagine what I felt, Babe."
+
+"Yes. I--think I can," Victoria whispered, but Saidee hardly heard, so
+deeply was she absorbed in the one sweet memory of many years.
+
+"It was in the morning," the elder woman went on, "but it was hot, and
+the sun was fierce as it beat down on the sand. He had been working, and
+his face was pale from the heat. It had a haggard look under brown
+sunburn. But when our eyes met, a flush like a girl's rushed up to his
+forehead. You never saw such a light in human eyes! They were
+illuminated as if a fire from his heart was lit behind them. I knew he
+had fallen in love with me--that something would happen: that my life
+would never be the same again.
+
+"The next time I went to the bath, he was there; and though I held my
+veil, he looked at me with the same wonderful look, as if he could see
+through it. I felt that he longed to speak, but of course he could not.
+It would have meant my ruin.
+
+"In the baths, there's an old woman named Bakta--an attendant. She
+always comes to me when I go there. She's a great character--knows
+everything that happens in every house, as if by magic; and loves to
+talk. But she can keep secrets. She is a match-maker for all the
+neighbourhood. When there's a young man of Oued Tolga, or of any village
+round about, who wants a wife, she lets him know which girl who comes
+to the baths is the youngest and most beautiful. Or if a wife is in love
+with some one, Bakta contrives to bring letters from him, and smuggle
+them to the young woman while she's at the Moorish bath. Well, that day
+she gave me a letter--a beautiful letter.
+
+"I didn't answer it; but next time I passed, I opened my veil and smiled
+to show that I thanked him. Because he had laid his life at my feet. If
+there was anything he could do for me, he would do it, without hope of
+reward, even if it meant death. Then Bakta gave me another letter. I
+couldn't resist answering, and so it's gone on, until I seem to know
+this man, Honore Sabine, better than any one in the world; though we've
+only spoken together once."
+
+"How did you manage it?" Victoria asked the question mechanically, for
+she felt that Saidee expected it of her.
+
+"Bakta managed, and Noura helped. He came dressed like an Arab woman,
+and pretended to be old and lame, so that he could crouch down and use a
+stick as he walked, to disguise his height. Bakta waited--and we had no
+more than ten minutes to say everything. Ten hours wouldn't have been
+enough!--but we were in danger every instant, and he was afraid of what
+might happen to me, if we were spied upon. He begged me to go with him
+then, but I dared not. I couldn't decide. Now he writes to me, and he's
+making a cypher, so that if the letters should be intercepted, no one
+could read them. Then he hopes to arrange a way of escape if--if I say
+I'll do what he asks."
+
+"Which, of course, you won't," broke in Victoria. "You couldn't, even
+though it were only for his sake alone, if you really love him. You'd be
+too unhappy afterwards, knowing that you'd ruined his career in the
+army."
+
+"I'm more to him than a thousand careers!" Saidee flung herself away
+from the girl's arm. "I see now," she went on angrily, "what you were
+leading up to, when you pretended to sympathize. You were waiting for a
+chance to try and persuade me that I'm a selfish wretch. I may be
+selfish, but--it's as much for his happiness as mine. It's just as I
+thought it would be. You're puritanical. You'd rather see me die, or go
+mad in this prison, than have me do a thing that's unconventional,
+according to your schoolgirl ideas."
+
+"I came to take you out of prison," said Victoria.
+
+"And you fell into it yourself!" Saidee retorted quickly. "You broke the
+spring of the door, and it will be harder than ever to open. But"--her
+voice changed from reproach to persuasion--"Honore might save us both.
+If only you wouldn't try to stop my going with him, you might go too.
+Then you wouldn't have to marry Maieddine. There's a chance--just a
+chance. For heaven's sake do all you can to help, not to hinder. Don't
+you see, now that you're here, there are a hundred more reasons why I
+must say 'yes' to Captain Sabine?"
+
+"If I did see that, I'd want to die now, this minute," Victoria
+answered.
+
+"How cruel you are! How cruel a girl can be to a woman. You pretend that
+you came to help me, and the one only thing you can do, you refuse to
+do. You say you want to get me away. I tell you that you can't--and you
+can't get yourself away. Perhaps Honore can do what you can't, but
+you'll try to prevent him."
+
+"If I _could_ get you away, would you give him up--until you were free
+to go to him without spoiling both your lives?"
+
+"What do you mean?" Saidee asked.
+
+"Please answer my question."
+
+Saidee thought for a moment. "Yes. I would do that. But what's the use
+of talking about it? You! A poor little mouse caught in a trap!"
+
+"A mouse once gnawed a net, and set free a whole lion," said Victoria.
+"Give me a chance to think, that's all I ask, except--except--that you
+love me meanwhile. Oh, darling, don't be angry, will you? I can't bear
+it, if you are."
+
+Saidee laid her head on the girl's arm once more, and they kissed each
+other.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+
+Maieddine did not try to see Victoria, or send her any message.
+
+In spite of M'Barka's vision in the sand, and his own superstition, he
+was sure now that nothing could come between him and his wish. The girl
+was safe in the marabout's house, to which he had brought her, and it
+was impossible for her to get away without his help, even if she were
+willing to go, and leave the sister whom she had come so far to find.
+Maieddine knew what he could offer the marabout, and knew that the
+marabout would willingly pay even a higher price than he meant to ask.
+
+He lived in the guest-house, and had news sometimes from his cousin
+Lella M'Barka in her distant quarters. She was tired, but not ill, and
+the two sisters were very kind to her.
+
+So three days passed, and the doves circled and moaned round the minaret
+of the Zaouia mosque, and were fed at sunset on the white roof, by hands
+hidden from all eyes save eyes of birds.
+
+On the third day there was great excitement at Oued Tolga. The marabout,
+Sidi El Hadj Mohammed ben Abd el Kadr, came home, and was met on the way
+by many people from the town and the Zaouia.
+
+His procession was watched by women on many roofs--with reverent
+interest by some; with joy by one woman who was his wife; with fear and
+despair by another, who had counted on his absence for a few days
+longer. And Victoria stood beside her sister, looking out over the
+golden silence towards the desert city of Oued Tolga, with a pair of
+modern field-glasses sent to her by Si Maieddine.
+
+Maieddine himself went out to meet the marabout, riding El Biod, and
+conscious of unseen eyes that must be upon him. He was a notable figure
+among the hundreds which poured out of town, and villages, and Zaouia,
+in honour of the great man's return; the noblest of all the desert men
+in floating white burnouses, who rode or walked, with the sun turning
+their dark faces to bronze, their eyes to gleaming jewels. But even
+Maieddine himself became insignificant as the procession from the Zaouia
+was joined by that from the city,--the glittering line in the midst of
+which Sidi El Hadj Mohammed sat high on the back of a grey mehari.
+
+From very far off Victoria saw the meeting, looking through the glasses
+sent by Maieddine, those which he had given her once before, bidding her
+see how the distant dunes leaped forward.
+
+Then as she watched, and the procession came nearer, rising and falling
+among the golden sand-billows, she could plainly make out the majestic
+form of the marabout. The sun blazed on the silver cross of his saddle,
+and the spear-heads of the banners which waved around him; but he was
+dressed with severe simplicity, in a mantle of green silk, with the
+green turban to which he had earned the right by visiting Mecca. The
+long white veil of many folds, which can be worn only by a descendant of
+the Prophet, flowed over the green cloak; and the face below the eyes
+was hidden completely by a mask of thin black woollen stuff, such as has
+been named "nun's veiling" in Europe. He was tall, and no longer
+slender, as Victoria remembered Cassim ben Halim to have been ten years
+ago; but all the more because of his increasing bulk, was his bearing
+majestic as he rode on the grey mehari, towering above the crowd. Even
+the Agha, Si Maieddine's father, had less dignity than that of this
+great saint of the southern desert, returning like a king to his people,
+after carrying through a triumphant mission.
+
+"If only he had been a few days later!" Saidee thought.
+
+And Victoria felt an oppressive sense of the man's power, wrapping round
+her and her sister like a heavy cloak. But she looked above and beyond
+him, into the gold, and with all the strength of her spirit she sent out
+a call to Stephen Knight.
+
+"I love you. Come to me. Save my sister and me. God, send him to us. He
+said he would come, no matter how far. Now is the time. Let him come."
+
+The silence of the golden sea was broken by cries of welcome to the
+marabout, praises of Allah and the Prophet who had brought him safely
+back, shouts of men, and wailing "you-yous" of women, shrill voices of
+children, and neighing of horses.
+
+Up the side of the Zaouia hill, lame beggars crawled out of the river
+bed, each hurrying to pass the others--hideous deformities, legless,
+noseless, humpbacked, twisted into strange shapes like brown pots
+rejected by the potter, groaning, whining, eager for the marabout's
+blessing, a supper, and a few coins. Those who could afford a copper or
+two were carried through the shallow water on the backs of half-naked,
+sweating Negroes from the village; but those who had nothing except
+their faith to support them, hobbled or crept over the stones, wetting
+their scanty rags; laughed at by black and brown children who feared to
+follow, because of the djinn who lived in a cave of evil yellow stones,
+guarding a hidden spring which gushed into the river.
+
+On Miluda's roof there was music, which could be heard from another
+roof, nearer the minaret where the doves wheeled and moaned; and perhaps
+the marabout himself could hear it, as he approached the Zaouia; but
+though it called him with a song of love and welcome, he did not answer
+the call at once. First he took Maieddine into his private reception
+room, where he received only the guests whom he most delighted to
+honour.
+
+There, though the ceiling and walls were decorated in Arab fashion, with
+the words, El Afia el Bakia, "eternal health," inscribed in lettering of
+gold and red, opposite the door, all the furniture was French, gilded,
+and covered with brocade of scarlet and gold. The curtains draped over
+the inlaid cedar-wood shutters of the windows were of the same brocade,
+and the beautiful old rugs from Turkey and Persia could not soften its
+crudeness. The larger reception room from which this opened had still
+more violent decorations, for there the scarlet mingled with vivid blue,
+and there were curiosities enough to stock a museum--presents sent to
+the marabout from friends and admirers all over the world. There were
+first editions of rare books, illuminated missals, dinner services of
+silver and gold, Dresden and Sevres, and even Royal Worcester; splendid
+crystal cases of spoons and jewellery; watches old and new; weapons of
+many countries, and an astonishing array of clocks, all ticking, and
+pointing to different hours. But the inner room, which only the intimate
+friends of Sidi Mohammed ever saw, was littered with no such incongruous
+collection. On the walls were a few fine pictures by well-known French
+artists of the most modern school, mostly representing nude women; for
+though the Prophet forbade the fashioning of graven images, he made no
+mention of painting. There were comfortable divans, and little tables,
+on which were displayed boxes of cigars and cigarettes, and egg-shell
+coffee-cups in filigree gold standards.
+
+In this room, behind shut doors, Maieddine told his errand, not
+forgetting to enumerate in detail the great things he could do for the
+Cause, if his wish were granted. He did not speak much of Victoria, or
+his love for her, but he knew that the marabout must reckon her beauty
+by the price he was prepared to pay; and he gave the saint little time
+to picture her fascinations. Nor did Sidi Mohammed talk of the girl, or
+of her relationship to one placed near him; and his face (which he
+unmasked with a sigh of relief when he and his friend were alone) did
+not change as he listened, or asked questions about the services
+Maieddine would render the Cause. At first he seemed to doubt the
+possibility of keeping such promises, some of which depended upon the
+Agha; but Maieddine's enthusiasm inspired him with increasing
+confidence. He spoke freely of the great work that was being done by the
+important societies of which he was the head; of what he had
+accomplished in Oran, and had still to accomplish; of the arms and
+ammunition smuggled into the Zaouia and many other places, from France
+and Morocco, brought by the "silent camels" in rolls of carpets and
+boxes of dates. But, he added, this was only a beginning. Years must
+pass before all was ready, and many more men, working heart and soul,
+night and day, were needed. If Maieddine could help, well and good. But
+would the Agha yield to his influence?
+
+"Not the Agha," Maieddine answered, "but the Agha's people. They are my
+people, too, and they look to me as their future head. My father is old.
+There is nothing I cannot make the Ouled-Sirren do, nowhere I cannot bid
+them go, if I lead."
+
+"And wilt thou lead in the right way? If I give thee thy desire, wilt
+thou not forget, when it is already thine?" the marabout asked. "When a
+man wears a jewel on his finger, it does not always glitter so brightly
+as when he saw and coveted it first."
+
+"Not always. But in each man's life there is one jewel, supreme above
+others, to possess which he eats the heart, and which, when it is his,
+becomes the star of his life, to be worshipped forever. Once he has seen
+the jewel, the man knows that there is nothing more glorious for him
+this side heaven; that it is for him the All of joy, though to others,
+perhaps, it might not seem as bright. And there is nothing he would not
+do to have and to keep it."
+
+The marabout looked intently at Maieddine, searching his mind to the
+depths; and the face of each man was lit by an inner flame, which gave
+nobility to his expression. Each was passionately sincere in his way,
+though the way of one was not the way of the other.
+
+In his love Maieddine was true, according to the light his religion and
+the unchanging customs of his race had given him. He intended no wrong
+to Victoria, and as he was sure that his love was an honour for her, he
+saw no shame in taking her against what she mistakenly believed to be
+her wish. Her confession of love for another man had shocked him at
+first, but now he had come to feel that it had been but a stroke of
+diplomacy on her part, and he valued her more than ever for her
+subtlety. Though he realized dimly that with years his passion for her
+might cool, it burned so hotly now that the world was only a frame for
+the picture of her beauty. And he was sure that never in time to come
+could he forget the thrill of this great passion, or grudge the price he
+now offered and meant to pay.
+
+Cassim ben Halim had begun his crusade under the name and banner of the
+marabout, in the fierce hope of revenge against the power which broke
+him, and with an entirely selfish wish for personal aggrandizement. But
+as the years went on, he had converted himself to the fanaticism he
+professed. Sidi El Hadj Mohammed ben Abd el Kadr had created an ideal
+and was true to it. Still a selfish sensualist on one side of his
+nature, there was another side capable of high courage and
+self-sacrifice for the one cause which now seemed worth a sacrifice. To
+the triumph of Islam over usurpers he was ready to devote his life, or
+give his life; but having no mercy upon himself if it came to a question
+between self and the Cause, he had still less mercy upon others, with
+one exception; his son. Unconsciously, he put the little boy above all
+things, all aims, all people. But as for Saidee's sister, the child he
+remembered, who had been foolish enough and irritating enough to find
+her way to Oued Tolga, he felt towards her, in listening to the story of
+her coming, as an ardent student might feel towards a persistent midge
+which disturbed his studies. If the girl could be used as a pawn in his
+great game, she had a certain importance, otherwise none--except that
+her midge-like buzzings must not annoy him, or reach ears at a
+distance.
+
+Both men were naturally schemers, and loved scheming for its own sake,
+but never had either pitted his wits against the other with less
+intention of hiding his real mind. Each was in earnest, utterly sincere,
+therefore not ignoble; and the bargain was struck between the two with
+no deliberate villainy on either side. The marabout promised his wife's
+sister to Maieddine with as little hesitation as a patriarch of Israel,
+three thousand years ago, would have promised a lamb for the sacrificial
+altar. He stipulated only that before the marriage Maieddine should
+prove, not his willingness, but his ability to bring his father's people
+into the field.
+
+"Go to the douar," he said, "and talk with the chief men. Then bring
+back letters from them, or send if thou wilt, and the girl shall be thy
+wife. I shall indeed be gratified by the connection between thine
+illustrious family and mine."
+
+Maieddine had expected this, though he had hoped that his eloquence
+might persuade the marabout to a more impulsive agreement. "I will do
+what thou askest," he answered, "though it means delay, and delay is
+hard to bear. When I passed through the douar, my father's chief caids
+were on the point of leaving for Algiers, to do honour to the Governor
+by showing themselves at the yearly ball. They will have started before
+I can reach the douar again, by the fastest travelling, for as thou
+knowest, I should be some days on the way."
+
+"Go then to Algiers, and meet them. That is best, and will be quicker,
+since journeying alone, thou canst easily arrive at Touggourt in three
+days from here. In two more, by taking a carriage and relays of horses,
+thou canst be at Biskra; and after that, there remains but the seventeen
+hours of train travelling."
+
+"How well thou keepest track of all progress, though things were
+different when thou wast last in the north," Maieddine said.
+
+"It is my business to know all that goes on in my own country, north,
+south, east, and west. When wilt thou start?"
+
+"To-night."
+
+"Thou art indeed in earnest! Thou wilt of course pay thine own respects
+to the Governor? I will send him a gift by thee, since there is no
+reason he should not know that we have met. The mission on which thou
+wert ostensibly travelling brought thee to the south."
+
+"I will take thy gift and messages with pleasure." Maieddine said. "It
+was expected that I should return for the ball, and present myself in
+place of my father, who is too old now for such long journeys; but I
+intended to make my health an excuse for absence. I should have pleaded
+a touch of the sun, and a fever caught in the marshes while carrying out
+the mission. Indeed, it is true that I am subject to fever. However, I
+will go, since thou desirest. The ball, which was delayed, is now fixed
+for a week from to-morrow. I will show myself for some moments, and the
+rest of the night I can devote to a talk with the caids. I know what the
+result will be. And a fortnight from to-morrow thou wilt see me here
+again with the letters."
+
+"I believe thou wilt not fail," the marabout answered. "And neither will
+I fail thee."
+
+
+
+
+XL
+
+
+On the night of the Governor's ball, it was four weeks to the day since
+Stephen Knight and Nevill Caird had inquired for Victoria Ray at the
+Hotel de la Kasbah, and found her gone.
+
+For rather more than a fortnight, they had searched for her quietly
+without applying to the police; but when at the end of that time, no
+letter had come, or news of any kind, the police were called into
+consultation. Several supposed clues had been followed, and had led to
+nothing; but Nevill persuaded Stephen to hope something from the ball.
+If any caids of the south knew that Roumis had a secret reason for
+questioning them, they would pretend to know nothing, or give misleading
+answers; but if they were drawn on to describe their own part of the
+country, and the facilities for travelling through it, news of those who
+had lately passed that way might be inadvertently given.
+
+Stephen was no longer in doubt about his feelings for Victoria. He knew
+that he had loved her ever since the day when she came to Nevill's
+house, and they talked together in the lily garden. He knew that the one
+thing worth living for was to find her; but he expected no happiness
+from seeing her again, rather the contrary. Margot would soon be coming
+back to England from Canada, and he planned to meet her, and keep all
+his promises. Only, he must be sure first that Victoria Ray was safe. He
+had made up his mind by this time that, if necessary, Margot would have
+to wait for him. He would not leave Algeria until Victoria had been
+found. It did not matter whether this decision were right or wrong, he
+would stick to it. Then, he would atone by doing as well as he could by
+Margot. She should have no cause of complaint against him in the future,
+so far as his love for Victoria was concerned; but he did not mean to
+try and kill it. Love for such a girl was too sacred to kill, even
+though it meant unhappiness for him. Stephen meant to guard it always in
+his heart, like a lamp to light him over the dark places; and there
+would be many dark places he knew in a life lived with Margot.
+
+Through many anxious days he looked forward to the Governor's ball,
+pinning his faith to Nevill's predictions; but when the moment came, his
+excitement fell like the wind at sunset. It did not seem possible that,
+after weeks of suspense, he should have news now, or ever. He went with
+Nevill to the summer palace, feeling dull and depressed. But perhaps the
+depression was partly the effect of a letter from Margot Lorenzi in
+Canada, received that morning. She said that she was longing to see him,
+and "hurrying all she knew," to escape from her friends, and get back to
+"dear London, and her darling White Knight."
+
+"I'm an ass to expect anything from coming here," he thought, as he saw
+the entrance gates of the palace park blazing with green lights in a
+trellis of verdure. The drive and all the paths that wound through the
+park were bordered with tiny lamps, and Chinese lanterns hung from the
+trees. There was sure to be a crush, and it seemed absurd to hope that
+even Nevill's cajoleries could draw serious information from Arab guests
+in such a scene as this.
+
+The two young men went into the palace, passing through a big veranda
+where French officers were playing bridge, and on into a charming court,
+where Turkish coffee was being served. Up from this court a staircase
+led to the room where the Governor was receiving, and at each turn of
+the stairs stood a Spahi in full dress uniform, with a long white haick.
+Nevill was going on ahead, meaning to introduce Stephen to the Governor
+before beginning his search for acquaintances among the Arab chiefs who
+grouped together over the coffee cups. But, turning to speak to Stephen,
+who had been close behind at starting, he found that somehow they had
+been swept apart. He stepped aside to wait for his friend, and let the
+crowd troop past him up the wide staircase. Among the first to go by was
+an extremely handsome Arab wearing a scarlet cloak heavy with gold
+embroidery, thrown over a velvet coat so thickly encrusted with gold
+that its pale-blue colour showed only here and there. He held his
+turbaned head proudly, and, glancing at Caird as he passed, seemed not
+to see him, but rather to see through him something more interesting
+beyond.
+
+Nevill still waited for his friend, but fully two minutes had gone
+before Stephen appeared. "Did you see that fellow in the red cloak?" he
+asked. "That was the Arab of the ship."
+
+"Si Maieddine----"
+
+"Yes. Did you notice a queer brooch that held his cloak together? A
+wheel-like thing, set with jewels?"
+
+"No. He hadn't it on. His cloak was hanging open."
+
+"By Jove! You're sure?"
+
+"Certain. I saw the whole breast of his coat."
+
+"That settles it, then. He did recognize me. Hang it, I wish he hadn't."
+
+"I don't know what's in your mind exactly. But I suppose you'll tell
+me."
+
+"Rather. But no time now. We mustn't lose sight of him if we can help
+it. I wanted to follow him up, on the instant, but didn't dare, for I
+hoped he'd think I hadn't spotted him. He can't be sure, anyhow, for I
+had the presence of mind not to stare. Let's go up now. He was on his
+way to pay his respects to the Governor, I suppose. He can't have
+slipped away yet."
+
+"It would seem not," Nevill assented, thoughtfully.
+
+But a few minutes later, it seemed that he had. And Nevill was not
+surprised, for in the last nine years he had learned never to wonder at
+the quick-witted diplomacy of Arabs. Si Maieddine had made short work
+of his compliments to the Governor, and had passed out of sight by the
+time that Stephen Knight and Nevill Caird escaped from the line of
+Europeans and gorgeous Arabs pressing towards their host. It was not
+certain, however, that he had left the palace. His haste to get on might
+be only a coincidence, Nevill pointed out. "Frenchified Arabs" like Si
+Maieddine, he said, were passionately fond of dancing with European
+women, and very likely Maieddine was anxious to secure a waltz with some
+Frenchwomen of his acquaintance.
+
+The two Englishmen went on as quickly as they could, without seeming to
+hurry, and looked for Maieddine in the gaily decorated ball-room where a
+great number of Europeans and a few Arabs were dancing. Maieddine would
+have been easy to find there, for his high-held head in its white turban
+must have towered above most other heads, even those of the tallest
+French officers; but he was not to be seen, and Nevill guided Stephen
+out of the ball-room into a great court decorated with palms and
+banners, and jewelled with hundreds of coloured lights that turned the
+fountain into a spouting rainbow.
+
+Pretty women sat talking with officers in uniforms, and watching the
+dancers as they strolled out arm in arm, to walk slowly round the
+flower-decked fountain. Behind the chatting Europeans stood many Arab
+chiefs of different degree, bach aghas, aghas, caids and adels, looking
+on silently, or talking together in low voices; and compared with these
+stately, dark men in their magnificent costumes blazing with jewels and
+medals, the smartest French officers were reduced to insignificance.
+There were many handsome men, but Si Maieddine was not among them.
+
+"We've been told that he's _persona grata_ here," Nevill reminded
+Stephen, "and there are lots of places where he may be in the palace,
+that we can't get to. He's perhaps hob-nobbing with some pal, having a
+private confab, and maybe he'll turn up at supper."
+
+"He doesn't look like a man to care about food, I will say that for
+him," answered Stephen. "He's taken the alarm, and sneaked off without
+giving me time to track him. I'll bet anything that's the fact. Hiding
+the brooch is a proof he saw me, I'm afraid. Smart of him! He thought my
+friend would be somewhere about, and he'd better get rid of damaging
+evidence."
+
+"You haven't explained the brooch, yet."
+
+"I forgot. It's one _she_ wore on the boat--and that day at your
+house--Miss Ray, I mean. She told me about it; said it had been a
+present from Ben Halim to her sister, who gave it to her."
+
+"Sure you couldn't mistake it? There's a strong family likeness in Arab
+jewellery."
+
+"I'm sure. And even if I hadn't been at first, I should be now, from
+that chap's whisking it off the instant he set eyes on me. His having it
+proves a lot. As she wore the thing at your house, he must have got it
+somehow after we saw her. Jove, Nevill, I'd like to choke him!"
+
+"If you did, he couldn't tell what he knows."
+
+"I'm going to find out somehow. Come along, no use wasting time here
+now, trying to get vague information out of Arab chiefs. We can learn
+more by seeing where this brute lives, than by catechizing a hundred
+caids."
+
+"It's too late for him to get away from Algiers to-night by train,
+anyhow," said Nevill. "Nothing goes anywhere in particular. And look
+here, Legs, if he's really onto us, he won't have made himself scarce
+without leaving some pal he can trust, to see what we're up to."
+
+"There were two men close behind who might have been with him," Stephen
+remembered aloud.
+
+"Would you recognize them?"
+
+"I--think so. One of the two, anyhow. Very dark, hook-nosed, middle-aged
+chap, pitted with smallpox."
+
+"Then you may be sure he's chosen the less noticeable one. No good our
+trying to find Maieddine himself, if he's left the palace; though I
+hope, by putting our heads and Roslin's together, that among the three
+of us we shall pick him up later. But if he's left somebody here to keep
+an eye on us, our best course is to keep an eye on that somebody.
+They'll have to communicate."
+
+"You're right," Stephen admitted. "I'm vague about the face, but I'll
+force myself to recognize it. That's the sort of thing Miss Ray would
+do. She's got some quaint theory about controlling your subconscious
+self. Now I'll take a leaf out of her book. By Jove--there's one of the
+men now. Don't look yet. He doesn't seem to notice us, but who knows?
+He's standing by the door, under a palm. Let's go back into the
+ball-room, and see if he follows."
+
+But to "see if he followed" was more easily said than done. The Arab, a
+melancholy and grizzled but dignified caid of the south, contrived to
+lose himself in a crowd of returning dancers, and it was not until later
+that the friends saw him in the ball-room, talking to a French officer
+and having not at all the air of one who spied or followed. Whether he
+remained because they remained was hard to say, for the scene was
+amusing and many Arabs watched it; but he showed no sign of
+restlessness, and it began to seem laughable to Nevill that, if he
+waited for them, they would be forced to wait for him. Eventually they
+made a pretence of eating supper. The caid was at the buffet with an
+Arab acquaintance. The Englishmen lingered so long, that in the end he
+walked away; yet they were at his beck and call. They must go after him,
+if he went before them, and it was irritating to see that, when he had
+taken respectful leave of his host, the sad-faced caid proceeded quietly
+out of the palace as if he had nothing to conceal. Perhaps he had
+nothing or else, suspecting the game, he was forcing the hand of the
+enemy. Stephen and Nevill had to follow, if they would keep him in
+sight; and though they walked as far behind as possible, passing out of
+the brilliantly lighted park, they could not be sure that he did not
+guess they were after him.
+
+They had walked the short distance from Djenan el Djouad to the
+Governor's summer palace; and now, outside the gates, the caid turned to
+the left, which was their way home also. This was lucky, because, if the
+man were on the alert, and knew where Nevill lived, he would have no
+reason to suppose they took this direction on his account.
+
+But he had not gone a quarter of a mile when he stopped, and rang at a
+gate in a high white wall.
+
+"Djenan el Taleb," mumbled Nevill. "Perhaps Si Maieddine's visiting
+there--or else this old beggar is."
+
+"Is it an Arab's house?" Stephen wanted to know.
+
+"Was once--long ago as pirate days. Now a Frenchman owns it--Monsieur de
+Mora--friend of the Governor's. Always puts up several chiefs at the
+time of the ball."
+
+The gate opened to let the caid in and was shut again.
+
+"Hurrah!--just thought of a plan," exclaimed Nevill. "I don't think De
+Mora can have got home yet from the palace. I saw him having supper.
+Suppose I dart back, flutter gracefully round him, babble 'tile talk' a
+bit--he's a tile expert after my own heart--then casually ask what Arabs
+he's got staying with him. If Maieddine's in his house it can't be a
+secret--incidentally I may find out where the fellow comes from and
+where he's going."
+
+"Good!" said Stephen. "I'll hang about in the shadow of some tree and
+glue my eye to this gate. Is there any other way out?"
+
+"There is; but not one a visitor would be likely to take, especially if
+he didn't want to be seen. It opens into a street where a lot of people
+might be standing to peer into the palace grounds and hear the music.
+Now run along, Legs, and find a comfortable shadow. I'm off."
+
+He was gone three-quarters of an hour, but nothing happened meanwhile.
+Nobody went in at the gate, or came out, and the time dragged for
+Stephen. He thought of a hundred dangers that might be threatening
+Victoria, and it seemed that Caird would never come. But at last he saw
+the boyish figure, hurrying along under the light of a street-lamp.
+
+"Couldn't find De Mora at first--then had to work slowly up to the
+subject," Nevill panted. "But it's all right. Maieddine _is_ stopping
+with him--leaves to-morrow or day after; supposed to have come from El
+Aghouat, and to be going back there. But that isn't to say either
+supposition's true."
+
+"We must find out where he's going--have him watched," said Stephen.
+
+"Yes. Only, the trouble is, if he's on to the game, it's just what he'll
+expect. But I've been thinking how we may be able to bluff--make him
+think it was his guilty conscience tricked him to imagine our interest
+in his movements. You know I'm giving a dinner to-morrow night to a few
+people?"
+
+"Yes. Lady MacGregor told me."
+
+"Well, a Mademoiselle Vizet, a niece of De Mora's, is coming, so that
+gave me a chance to mention the dinner to her uncle. Maieddine can
+easily hear about it, if he chooses to inquire what's going on at my
+house. And I said something else to De Mora, for the benefit of the same
+gentleman. I hope you'll approve."
+
+"Sure to. What was it?"
+
+"That I was sorry my friend, Mr. Knight, had got news which would call
+him away from Algiers before the dinner. I said you'd be going on board
+the _Charles Quex_ to-morrow when she leaves for Marseilles."
+
+"But Maieddine can find out----"
+
+"That's just what we want. He can find out that your ticket's taken, if
+we do take it. He can see you go on board if he likes to watch or send a
+spy. But he mustn't see you sneaking off again with the Arab porters who
+carry luggage. If you think anything of the plan, you'll have to stand
+the price of a berth, and let some luggage you can do without, go to
+Marseilles. I'll see you off, and stop on board till the last minute.
+You'll be in your cabin, putting on the clothes I wear sometimes when I
+want some fun in the old town--striped wool burnous, hood over your
+head, full white trousers--good 'props,' look a lot the worse for
+wear--white stockings like my Kabyle servants have; and you can rub a
+bit of brown grease-paint on your legs where the socks leave off. That's
+what I do. Scheme sounds complicated; but so is an Arab's brain. You've
+got to match it. What do you say?"
+
+"I say 'done!'" Stephen answered.
+
+"Thought you would. Some fellows'd think it too sensational; but you
+can't be too sensational with Arabs, if you want to beat 'em. This ought
+to put Maieddine off the scent. If he's watching, and sees you--as he
+thinks--steam calmly out of Algiers harbour, and if he knows I'm
+entertaining people at my house, he won't see why he need go on
+bothering himself with extra precautions."
+
+"Right. But suppose he's off to-morrow morning--or even to-night."
+
+"Then we needn't bother about the boat business. For we shall know if he
+goes. Either you or I must now look up Roslin. Perhaps it had better be
+I, because I can run into Djenan el Djouad first, and send my man
+Saunders to watch De Mora's other gate, and make assurance doubly sure."
+
+"You're a brick, Wings," said Stephen.
+
+
+
+
+XLI
+
+
+Lady MacGregor had sat up in order to hear the news, and was delighted
+with Nevill's plan, especially the part which concerned Stephen, and his
+proposed adventure on the _Charles Quex_. Even to hear about it, made
+her feel young again, she said. Nothing ever happened to her or to
+Nevill when they were alone, and they ought to be thankful to Stephen
+for stirring them up. Not one of the three had more than two hours'
+sleep that night, but according to her nephew, Lady MacGregor looked
+sweet sixteen when she appeared at an unusually early hour next morning.
+"No breakfast in bed for me to-day, or for days to come," said she.
+"I'll have my hands full every instant getting through what I've got to
+do, I can tell you. Hamish and Angus are worried about my health, but I
+say to them they needn't grudge me a new interest in life. It's very
+good for me."
+
+"Why, what have you got to do?" ventured Nevill, who was ready to go
+with Stephen and buy a berth on board the _Charles Quex_ the moment the
+office opened.
+
+Lady MacGregor looked at him mysteriously. "Being men, I suppose neither
+of you _would_ guess," she replied. "But you shall both know after
+Stephen's adventure is over. I hope you'll like the idea. But if you
+don't I'm sorry to say it won't make any difference."
+
+The so-called "adventure" had less of excitement in it than had been in
+the planning. It was faithfully carried out according to Nevill's first
+suggestion, with a few added details, but Stephen felt incredibly
+foolish, rather like a Guy Fawkes mummer, or a masked and bedizened
+guest arriving by mistake the night after the ball. So far as he could
+see, no one was watching. All his trouble seemed to be for nothing, and
+he felt that he had made a fool of himself, even when it was over, and
+he had changed into civilized clothing, in a room in the old town, taken
+by Adolphe Roslin, the detective. It was arranged for Stephen to wait
+there, until Roslin could give him news of Si Maieddine's movements,
+lest the Arab should be subtle enough to suspect a trick, after all.
+
+Toward evening the news came. Maieddine had taken a ticket for Biskra,
+and a sleeping berth in the train which would leave at nine o'clock.
+Nevertheless, Roslin had a man watching Monsieur de Mora's house, in
+case the buying of the ticket were a "bluff," or Si Maieddine should
+change his plans at the last minute.
+
+Nevill had come in, all excitement, having bought cheap "antique"
+jewellery in a shop downstairs, by way of an excuse to enter the house.
+He was with Stephen when Roslin arrived, and they consulted together as
+to what should be done next.
+
+"Roslin must buy me a ticket for Biskra, of course," said Stephen. "I'll
+hang about the station in an overcoat with my collar turned up and a cap
+over my eyes. If Maieddine gets into the train I'll get in too, at a
+respectful distance of course, and keep an eye open to see what he does
+at each stop."
+
+"There's a change of trains, to-morrow morning," remarked Nevill.
+"There'll be your difficulty, because after you're out of one train you
+have to wait for the other. Easy to hide in Algiers station, and make a
+dash for the end of the train when you're sure of your man. But in a
+little open, road-side halting-place, in broad daylight, you'll have to
+be sharp if you don't want him to spot you. Naturally he'll keep his
+eyes as wide open, all along the line, as you will, even though he does
+think you're on the way to Marseilles."
+
+"If you're working up to a burnous and painted legs for me again, my
+dear chap, it's no good," Stephen returned with the calmness of
+desperation. "I've done with that sort of nonsense; but I won't trust
+myself out of the train till I see the Arab's back. Then I'll make a
+bolt for it and dodge him, till the new train's run along the platform
+and he's safely in it."
+
+"Monsieur has confidence in himself as a detective," smiled Roslin.
+
+Knight could have given a sarcastic answer, since the young man from
+Marseilles had not made much progress with the seemingly simple case put
+into his hands a month ago. But both he and Nevill had come to think
+that the case was not simple, and they were lenient with Roslin. "I hope
+I'm not conceited," Stephen defended himself, "but I do feel that I can
+at least keep my end up against this nigger, anyhow till the game's
+played out so far that he can't stop it."
+
+"And till I'm in it with you," Nevill finished. "By the way, that
+reminds me. Some one else intends to play the game with us, whether we
+like or not."
+
+"Who?" asked Stephen, surprised and half defiant.
+
+"My aunt. That's the mystery she was hinting at. You know how
+unnaturally quiet she was while we arranged that you should look after
+Maieddine, on your own, till the dinner-party was over, anyhow, and I
+could get off, on a wire from you--wherever you might be?"
+
+"Yes. She seemed interested."
+
+"And busy. Her 'great work' was getting herself ready to follow you with
+me, in the car."
+
+"Magnificent!" said Stephen. "And like her. Hurrah for Lady MacGregor!"
+
+"I'm glad you take it that way. I wasn't sure you would, which might
+have made things awkward for me; because when my aunt wants to do a
+thing, you know by this time as well as I do, it's as good as done."
+
+"But it's splendid--if she can stand the racket. Of course her idea is,
+that if we find Miss Ray she oughtn't to come back alone with us,
+perhaps a long way, from some outlandish hole."
+
+"You've got it. That's her argument. Or rather, her mandate. And I
+believe she's quite able to stand the racket. Her state of mind is such,
+that if she looked sixteen in the morning, this afternoon she's gone
+back to fifteen."
+
+"Wonderful old lady! But she's so fragile--and has nervous
+headaches----"
+
+"She won't have any in my motor car."
+
+"But Hamish and Angus. Can she get on without them?"
+
+"She intends to have them follow her by train, with luggage. She says
+she has a 'feeling in her bones' that they'll come in handy, either for
+cooking or fighting. And by Jove, she may be right. She often is. If you
+go to Biskra and wire when you get there, I'll start at once--_we'll_
+start, I mean. And if Maieddine goes on anywhere else, and you follow to
+keep him in sight, I'll probably catch you up with the car, because the
+railway line ends at Biskra, you know; and beyond, there are only horses
+or camels."
+
+"Can motors go farther?"
+
+"They can to Touggourt--with 'deeficulty,' as the noble twins would
+say."
+
+"Maieddine may take a car."
+
+"Not likely. Though there's just a chance he might get some European
+friend with a motor to give him a lift. In that case, you'd be rather
+stuck."
+
+"Motor cars leave tracks," said Stephen.
+
+"Especially in the desert, where they are quite conspicuous," Nevill
+agreed. "My aunt will be enchanted with your opinion of her and her
+plan--but not surprised. She thinks you've twice my sense and knowledge
+of the world."
+
+Nevill usually enjoyed his own dinner-parties, for he was a born host,
+and knew that guests were happy in his house. That night, however, was
+an exception. He was absent-minded, and pulled his moustache, and saw
+beautiful things in the air over people's heads, so often that not only
+Lady MacGregor but Angus and Hamish glared at him threateningly. He then
+did his best to atone; nevertheless, for once he was delighted when
+every one had gone. At last he was able to read for the second time a
+letter from Roslin, sent in while dinner was in progress. There had been
+only time for a glance at it, by begging his friends' indulgence for an
+instant, while he bolted the news that Stephen had followed Maieddine to
+Biskra. Now, Nevill and Lady MacGregor both hugely enjoyed the details
+given by Roslin from the report of an employe; how cleverly Monsieur had
+kept out of sight, though the Arab had walked up and down the platform,
+with two friends, looking about keenly. How, when Maieddine was safely
+housed in his compartment, his companions looking up to his window for a
+last word, Monsieur Knight had whisked himself into a second-class
+compartment at the other end of the train.
+
+Next day, about four o'clock, a telegram was brought to Djenan el
+Djouad. It came from Biskra, and said: "Arrived here. Not spotted. He
+went house of French commandant with no attempt at concealment. Am
+waiting. Will wire again soon as have news. Perhaps better not start
+till you hear."
+
+An hour and a half later a second blue envelope was put into Nevill's
+hand.
+
+"He and an officer leave for Touggourt in private carriage three horses
+relays ordered. Have interviewed livery stable. They start at five will
+travel all night. I follow."
+
+"Probably some officer was going on military business, and Maieddine's
+asked for a lift," Nevill said to Lady MacGregor. "Well, it's too late
+for us to get away now; but we'll be off as early as you like to-morrow
+morning."
+
+"If I weren't going, would you start to-day?" his aunt inquired.
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. But----"
+
+"Then please give orders for the car. I'm ready to leave at five
+minutes' notice, and I can go on as long as you can. I'm looking forward
+to the trip."
+
+"But I've often offered to take you to Biskra."
+
+"That's different. Now I've got an incentive."
+
+
+
+
+XLII
+
+
+Just as he came in sight of the great chott between Biskra and
+Touggourt, Stephen heard a sound which struck him strangely in the
+silence of the desert. It was the distant teuf-teuf of a powerful motor
+car, labouring heavily through deep sand.
+
+Stephen was travelling in a carriage, which he had hired in Biskra, and
+was keeping as close as he dared to the vehicle in front, shared by
+Maieddine and a French officer. But he never let himself come within
+sight or sound of it. Now, as he began to hear the far-off panting of a
+motor, he saw nothing ahead but the vast saltpetre lake, which, viewed
+from the hill his three horses had just climbed, shimmered blue and
+silver, like a magic sea, reaching to the end of the world. There were
+white lines like long ruffles of foam on the edges of azure waves,
+struck still by enchantment while breaking on an unseen shore; and far
+off, along a mystic horizon, little islands floated on the gleaming
+flood. Stephen could hardly believe that there was no water, and that
+his horses could travel the blue depths without wetting their feet.
+
+It was just as he was thinking thus, and wondering if Victoria had
+passed this way, when the strange sound came to his ears, out of the
+distance. "Stop," he said in French to his Arab driver. "I think friends
+of mine will be in that car." He was right. A few minutes later Nevill
+and Lady MacGregor waved to him, as he stood on the top of a low
+sand-dune.
+
+Lady MacGregor was more fairylike than ever in a little motoring bonnet
+made for a young girl, but singularly becoming to her. They had had a
+glorious journey, she said. She supposed some people would consider
+that she had endured hardships, but they were not worth speaking of. She
+had been rather bumped about on the ghastly desert tracks since Biskra,
+but though she was not quite sure if all her bones were whole, she did
+not feel in the least tired; and even if she did, the memory of the
+Gorge of El Kantara would alone be enough to make up for it.
+
+"Anything new?" asked Nevill.
+
+"Nothing," Stephen answered, "except that the driver of the carriage
+ahead let drop at the last bordj that he'd been hired by the French
+officer, who was taking Maieddine with him."
+
+"Just what we thought," Lady MacGregor broke in.
+
+"And the carriage will bring the Frenchman back, later. Maieddine's
+going on. But I haven't found out where."
+
+"H'm! I was in hopes we were close to our journey's end at Touggourt,"
+said Nevill. "The car can't get farther, I'm afraid. The big dunes begin
+there."
+
+"Whatever Maieddine does, we can follow his example. I mean, I can,"
+Stephen amended.
+
+"So can Nevill. I'm no spoil-sport," snapped the old lady, in her
+childlike voice. "I know what I can do and what I can't. I draw the line
+at camels! Angus and Hamish will take care of me, and I'll wait for you
+at Touggourt. I can amuse myself in the market-place, and looking at the
+Ouled Nails, till you find Miss Ray, or----"
+
+"There won't be an 'or,' Lady MacGregor. We must find her. And we must
+bring her to you," said Stephen.
+
+He had slept in the carriage the night before, a little on the Biskra
+side of Chegga, because Maieddine and the French officer had rested at
+Chegga. Nevill and Lady MacGregor had started from Biskra at five
+o'clock that morning, having arrived there the evening before. It was
+now ten, and they could make Touggourt that night. But they wished
+Maieddine to reach there first, so they stopped by the chott, and
+lunched from a smartly fitted picnic-basket Lady MacGregor had brought.
+Stephen paid his Arab coachman, told him he might go back, and
+transferred a small suitcase--his only luggage--from the carriage to the
+car. They gave Maieddine two hours' grace, and having started on, always
+slowed up whenever Nevill's field-glasses showed a slowly trotting
+vehicle on the far horizon. The road, which was hardly a road, far
+exceeded in roughness the desert track Stephen had wondered at on the
+way from Msila to Bou-Saada; but Lady MacGregor had the courage, he told
+her, of a Joan of Arc.
+
+They bumped steadily along, through the heat of the day, protected from
+the blazing sun by the raised hood, but they were thankful when, after
+the dinner-halt, darkness began to fall. Talking over ways and means,
+they decided not to drive into Touggourt, where an automobile would be a
+conspicuous object since few motors risked springs and tyres by coming
+so far into the desert. The chauffeur should be sent into the town while
+the passengers sat in the car a mile away.
+
+Eventually Paul was instructed to demand oil for his small lamps, by way
+of an excuse for having tramped into town. He was to find out what had
+become of the two men who must have arrived about an hour before, in a
+carriage.
+
+While the chauffeur was gone, Lady MacGregor played Patience and
+insisted on teaching Stephen and Nevill two new games. She said that it
+would be good discipline for their souls; and so perhaps it was. But
+Stephen never ceased calculating how long Paul ought to be away. Twenty
+minutes to walk a mile--or thirty minutes in desert sand; forty minutes
+to make inquiries; surely it needn't take longer! And thirty minutes
+back. But an hour and a half dragged on, before there was any sign of
+the absentee; then at last, Stephen's eye, roving wistfully from the
+cards, saw a moving spark at about the right height above the ground to
+be a cigarette.
+
+A few yards away from the car, the spark vanished decorously, and Paul
+was recognizable, in the light of the inside electric lamp, the only
+illumination they allowed themselves, lest the stranded car prove
+attractive to neighbouring nomads.
+
+The French officer was at the hotel for the night; the Arab was dining
+with him, but instead of resting, would go on with his horse and a Negro
+servant who, it seemed, had been waiting for several days, since their
+master had passed through Touggourt on the way to Algiers.
+
+"Then he didn't come from El Aghouat," said Nevill. "Where is he going?
+Did you find out that?"
+
+"Not for certain. But an Arab servant who talks French, says he believes
+they're bound for a place called Oued Tolga," Paul replied, delighted
+with the confidence reposed in him, and with the whole adventure.
+
+"That means three days in the dunes for us!" said Nevill. "Aunt
+Charlotte, you can practice Patience, in Touggourt."
+
+"I shall invent a new game, and call it Hope," returned Lady MacGregor.
+"Or if it's a good one, I'll name it Victoria Ray, which is better than
+Miss Millikens. It will just be done in time to teach that poor child
+when you bring her back to me."
+
+"Hope wouldn't be a bad name for the game we've all been playing, and
+have got to go on playing," mumbled Nevill. "We'll give Maieddine just
+time to turn his back on Touggourt, before we show our noses there. Then
+you and I, Legs, will engage horses and a guide."
+
+"You deserve your name, Wings," said Stephen. And he wondered how
+Josette Soubise could hold out against Caird. He wondered also what she
+thought of this quest; for her sister Jeanne was in the secret. No doubt
+she had written Josette more fully than Nevill had, even if he had dared
+to write at all. And if, as long ago as the visit to Tlemcen, she had
+been slightly depressed by her friend's interest in another girl, she
+must by this time see the affair in a more serious light. Stephen was
+cruel enough to hope that she was unhappy. He had heard women say that
+no cure for a woman's obstinacy was as sure as jealousy.
+
+When they arrived at the hotel, and ordered all in the same breath, a
+room for a lady, two horses and a guide, only the first demand could be
+granted. It would be impossible, said the landlady and her son, to
+produce horses on the instant. There were some to be had, it was true,
+but they had come in after a hard day's work, and must have several
+hours' rest. The gentlemen might get off at dawn, if they wished, but
+not before.
+
+"After all, it doesn't much matter," Nevill said to Stephen. "Even an
+Arab must have some sleep. We'll have ours now, and catch up with
+Maieddine while he's taking his. Don't worry. Suppose the worst--that he
+isn't really going to Oued Tolga. We shall get on his track, with an
+Arab guide to pilot us. There are several stopping places where we can
+inquire. He'll be seen passing them, even if he goes by."
+
+"But you say Arabs never betray each other to white men."
+
+"This won't be a question of betrayal. Watch and see how ingenuous, as
+well as ingenious, I'll be in all my inquiries."
+
+"I never heard of Oued Tolga," Stephen said, half to himself.
+
+"Don't confess that to an Arab. It would be like telling a Frenchman
+you'd never heard of Bordeaux. It's a desert city, bigger than
+Touggourt, I believe, and--by Jove, yes, there's a tremendously
+important Zaouia of the same name. Great marabout hangs out there--kind
+of Mussulman pope of the desert. I hope to goodness----"
+
+"What?" Stephen asked, as Nevill broke off suddenly.
+
+"Oh, nothing to fash yourself about, as the twins would say. Only--it
+would be awkward if she's there. Harder to get her out. However--time to
+cross the stile when we come to it."
+
+But Stephen crossed a great many stiles with his mind before that
+darkest hour before the dawn, when he was called to get ready for the
+last stage of the journey.
+
+Lady MacGregor was up to see them off, and never had her cap been more
+elaborate, or her hair been dressed more daintily.
+
+"You'll wire me from the end of the world, won't you?" she asked
+briskly. "Paul and I (and Hamish and Angus if necessary) will be ready
+to rush you all three back to civilization the instant you arrive with
+Miss Ray. Give her my love. Tell her I've brought clothes for her. They
+mayn't be what she'd choose, but I dare say she won't be sorry to see
+them. And by the way, if there are telegrams--you know I told the
+servants to send them on from home--shall I wire them on to Oued Tolga?"
+
+"No. We're tramps, with no address," laughed Nevill. "Anything that
+comes can wait till we get back."
+
+Stephen could not have told why, for he was not thinking of Margot, but
+suddenly he was convinced that a telegram from her was on the way,
+fixing the exact date when she might be expected in England.
+
+
+
+
+XLIII
+
+
+Since the day when Victoria had called Stephen to her help, always she
+had expected him. She had great faith, for, in her favourite way, she
+had "made a picture of him," riding up and down among the dunes, with
+the "knightly" look on his face which had first drawn her thoughts to
+him. Always her pictures had materialized sooner or later, since she was
+a little girl, and had first begun painting them with her mind, on a
+golden background.
+
+She spent hours on the roof, with Saidee or alone, looking out over the
+desert, through the field-glasses which Maieddine had sent to her. Very
+often Saidee would remain below, for Victoria's prayers were not her
+prayers, nor were Victoria's wishes her wishes. But invariably the older
+woman would come up to the roof just before sunset, to feed the doves
+that lived in the minaret.
+
+At first Victoria had not known that her sister had any special reason
+for liking to feed the doves, but she was an observant, though not a
+sophisticated girl; and when she had lived with Saidee for a few days,
+she saw birds of a different colour among the doves. It was to those
+birds, she could not help noticing, that Saidee devoted herself. The
+first that appeared, arrived suddenly, while Victoria looked in another
+direction. But when the girl saw one alight, she guessed it had come
+from a distance. It fluttered down heavily on the roof, as if tired, and
+Saidee hid it from Victoria by spreading out her skirt as she scattered
+its food.
+
+Then it was easy to understand how Saidee and Captain Sabine had
+managed to exchange letters; but she could not bear to let her sister
+know by word or even look that she suspected the secret. If Saidee
+wished to hide something from her she had a right to hide it. Only--it
+was very sad.
+
+For days neither of the sisters spoke of the pigeons, though they came
+often, and the girl could not tell what plans might be in the making,
+unknown to her. She feared that, if she had not come to Oued Tolga, by
+this time Saidee would have gone away, or tried to go away, with Captain
+Sabine; and though, since the night of her arrival, when Saidee had
+opened her heart, they had been on terms of closest affection, there was
+a dreadful doubt in Victoria's mind that the confidences were half
+repented. But when the girl had been rather more than a week in the
+Zaouia, Saidee spoke out.
+
+"I suppose you've guessed why I come up on the roof at sunset," she
+said.
+
+"Yes," Victoria answered.
+
+"I thought so, by your face. Babe, if you'd accused me of anything, or
+reproached me, I'd have brazened it out with you. But you've never said
+a word, and your eyes--I don't know what they've been like, unless
+violets after rain. They made me feel a beast--a thousand times worse
+than I would if you'd put on an injured air. Last night I dreamed that
+you died of grief, and I buried you under the sand. But I was sorry, and
+tore all the sand away with my fingers till I found you again--and you
+were alive after all. It seemed like an allegory. I'm going to dig you
+up again, you little loving thing!"
+
+"That means you'll give me back your confidence, doesn't it?" Victoria
+asked, smiling in a way that would have bewitched a man who loved her.
+
+"Yes; and something else. I'm going to tell you a thing you'll like to
+hear. I've written to _him_ about you--our cypher's ready now--and said
+that you'd had the most curious effect on me. I'd tried to resist you,
+but I couldn't, not even to please him--or myself. I told him I'd
+promised to wait for you to help me; and though I didn't see what you
+could possibly do, still, your faith was contagious. I said that in
+spite of myself I felt some vague stirrings of hope now and then. There!
+does that please you?"
+
+"Oh Saidee, I _am_ so happy!" cried the girl, flinging both arms round
+her sister. "Then I did come at the right time, after all."
+
+"The right time to keep me from happiness in this world, perhaps. That's
+the way I feel about it sometimes. But I can't be sorry you're here,
+Babe, as I was at first. You're too sweet--too like the child who used
+to be my one comfort."
+
+"I could almost die of happiness, when you say that!" Victoria answered,
+with tears in her voice.
+
+"What a baby you are! I'm sure you haven't much more than I have, to be
+happy about. Cassim has promised Maieddine that you shall marry him,
+whether you say 'yes' or 'no'. And it's horrible when an Arab girl won't
+consent to marry the man to whom her people have promised her. I know
+what they do. She----"
+
+"Don't tell me about it. I'd hate to hear!" Victoria broke in, and
+covered her ears with her hands. So Saidee said no more. But in black
+hours of the night, when the girl could not sleep, dreadful imaginings
+crept into her mind, and it was almost more than she could do to chase
+them away by making her "good pictures." "I won't be afraid--I won't, I
+won't!" she would repeat to herself. "I've called him, and my thoughts
+are stronger than the carrier pigeons. They fly faster and farther. They
+travel like the light, so they must have got to him long ago; and he
+_said_ he'd come, no matter when or where. By this time he is on the
+way."
+
+So she looked for Stephen, searching the desert; and at last, one
+afternoon long before sunset, she saw a man riding toward the Zaouia
+from the direction of the city, far away. She could not see his face,
+but he seemed to be tall and slim; and his clothes were European.
+
+"Thank God!" she said to herself. For she did not doubt that it was
+Stephen Knight.
+
+Soon she would call Saidee; but she must have a little time to herself,
+for silent rejoicing, before she tried to explain. There was no great
+hurry. He was far off, still.
+
+She kept her eyes to Maieddine's glasses, and felt it a strange thing
+that they should have come to her from him. It was almost as if he gave
+her to Stephen, against his will. She was so happy that she seemed to
+hear the world singing. "I knew--I knew, through it all!" she told
+herself, with a sob of joy in her throat. "It had to come right." And
+she thought that she could hear a voice saying: "It is love that has
+brought him. He loves you, as much as you love him."
+
+To her mind, especially in this mood, it was not extraordinary that each
+should love the other after so short an acquaintance. She was even ready
+to believe of herself that, unconsciously, she had fallen in love with
+Stephen the first time she met him on the Channel boat. He had
+interested her. She had remembered his face, and had been sorry to think
+that she would never see it again. On the ship, going out from
+Marseilles, she had been so glad when he came on deck that her heart had
+begun to beat quickly. She had scolded herself at the time, for being
+silly, and school-girlishly romantic; but now she realized that her soul
+had known its mate. It could scarcely be real love, she fancied, that
+was not born in the first moment, when spirit spoke to spirit. And her
+love could not have drawn a man hundreds of miles across the desert, if
+it had not met and clasped hands with his love for her.
+
+"Oh, how happy I am!" she thought. "And the glory of it is, that it's
+_not_ strange--only wonderful. The most wonderful thing that ever
+happened or could happen."
+
+Then she remembered the sand-divining, and how M'Barka had said that
+"her wish was far from her, but that Allah would send a strong man,
+young and dark, of another country than her own; a man whose brain, and
+heart, and arm would be at her service, and in whom she might trust."
+Victoria recalled these words, and did not try to bring back to her mind
+what remained of the prophecy.
+
+Almost, she had been foolish enough to be superstitious, and afraid of
+Maieddine's influence upon her life, since that night; and of course she
+had known that it was of Maieddine M'Barka had thought, whether she
+sincerely believed in her own predictions or no. Now, it pleased
+Victoria to feel that, not only had she been foolish, but stupid. She
+might have been happy in her childish superstition, instead of unhappy,
+because the description of the man applied to Stephen as well as to
+Maieddine.
+
+For the moment, she did not ask herself how Stephen Knight was going to
+take her and Saidee away from Maieddine and Cassim, for she was so sure
+he had not come across miles of desert in vain, that she took the rest
+for granted in her first joy. She was certain that Saidee's troubles and
+hers were over, and that by and by, like the prince and princess in the
+fairy stories, she and Stephen would be married and "live happily ever
+after." In these magic moments of rapture, while his face and figure
+grew more clear to her eyes, it seemed to the girl that love and
+happiness were one, and that all obstacles had fallen down in the path
+of her lover, like the walls of Jericho that crumbled at the blast of
+the trumpet.
+
+When she had looked through the glass until she could distinctly see
+Stephen, and an Arab who rode at a short distance behind him, she called
+her sister.
+
+Saidee came up to the roof, almost at once, for there was a thrill of
+excitement in Victoria's voice that roused her curiosity.
+
+She thought of Captain Sabine, and wondered if he were riding toward the
+Zaouia. He had come, before his first encounter with her, to pay his
+respects to the marabout. That was long ago now, yet there might be a
+reason, connected with her, for a second visit. But the moment she saw
+Victoria's face, even before she took the glasses the girl held out, she
+guessed that, though there was news, it was not of Captain Sabine.
+
+"You might have been to heaven and back since I saw you; you're so
+radiant!" she said.
+
+"I have been to heaven. But I haven't come back. I'm there now,"
+Victoria answered. "Look--and tell me what you see."
+
+Saidee put the glasses to her eyes. "I see a man in European clothes,"
+she said. "I can see that he's young. I should think he's a gentleman,
+and good looking----"
+
+"Oh, he is!" broke in Victoria, childishly.
+
+"Do you know him?"
+
+"I've been praying and longing for him to find me, and save us. He's an
+Englishman. His name is Stephen Knight. He promised to come if I called,
+and I have. Oh, _how_ I've called, day and night, night and day!"
+
+"You never told me."
+
+"I waited. Somehow I--couldn't speak of him, even to you."
+
+"I've told _you_ everything."
+
+"But I had nothing to tell, really--nothing I could have put into words.
+And you might only have laughed if I'd said 'There's a man I know in
+Algiers who hasn't any idea where I am, but I think he'll come here, and
+take us both away.'"
+
+"Are you engaged to each other?" Saidee asked, curiously, even
+enviously.
+
+"Oh no! But--but----"
+
+"But what? Do you mean you will be--if you ever get away from this
+place?"
+
+"I hope so," the girl answered bravely, with a deep blush. "He has never
+asked me. We haven't known each other long--a very little while, only
+since the night I left London for Paris. Yet he's the first man I ever
+cared about, and I think of him all the time. Perhaps he thinks of me
+in the same way."
+
+"Of course he must, Babe, if he's really come to search for you," Saidee
+said, looking at her young sister affectionately.
+
+"Thank you a hundred times for saying that, dearest! I do _hope_ so!"
+Victoria exclaimed, hugging the elder woman impulsively, as she used
+when she was a little child.
+
+But Saidee's joy, caught from her sister's, died down suddenly, like a
+flame quenched with salt. "What good will it do you--or us--that he is
+coming?" she asked bitterly. "He can ask for the marabout, and perhaps
+see him. Any traveller can do that. But he will be no nearer to us, than
+if we were dead and in our graves. Does Maieddine know about him?"
+
+"They saw each other on the ship, coming to Algiers--and again just as
+we landed."
+
+"But has Maieddine any idea that you care about each other?"
+
+"I had to tell him one day in the desert (the day Si Maieddine said he
+loved me, and I promised to consent if _you_ put my hand in his)
+that--that there was a man I loved. But I didn't say who. Perhaps he
+suspects, though I don't see why he should. I might have meant some one
+in America."
+
+"You may be pretty sure he suspects. People of the old, old races, like
+the Arabs, have the most wonderful intuitions. They seem to _know_
+things without being told. I suppose they've kept nearer nature than
+more civilized peoples."
+
+"If he does suspect, I can't help it."
+
+"No. Only it's still more sure that your Englishman won't be able to do
+us any good. Not that he could, anyhow."
+
+"But Si Maieddine's been very ill since he came back, M'Barka says. Mr.
+Knight will ask for the marabout."
+
+"Maieddine will hear of him. Not five Europeans in five years come to
+Oued Tolga. If only Maieddine hadn't got back! This man may have been
+following him, from Algiers. It looks like it, as Maieddine arrived
+only yesterday. Now, here's this Englishman! Could he have found out in
+any way, that you were acquainted with Maieddine?"
+
+"I don't know, but he might have guessed," said Victoria. "I wonder----"
+
+"What? Have you thought of something?"
+
+"It's just an idea. You know, I told you that on the journey, when Si
+Maieddine was being very kind to me--before I knew he cared--I made him
+a present of the African brooch you gave me in Paris. I hated to take so
+many favours of him, and give nothing in return; so I thought, as I was
+on my way to you and would soon see you, I might part with that brooch,
+which he admired. If Si Maieddine wore it in Algiers, and Mr. Knight
+saw----"
+
+"Would he be likely to recognize it, do you think?"
+
+"He noticed it on the boat, and I told him you gave it to me."
+
+"If he would come all the way from Algiers on the strength of a brooch
+which might have been yours, and you _might_ have given to Maieddine,
+then he's a man who knows what he wants, and deserves to get it," Saidee
+said. "If he _could_ help us! I should feel rewarded for telling Honore
+I wouldn't go with him; because some day I may be free, and then perhaps
+I shall be glad I waited----"
+
+"You will be glad. Whatever happens, you'll be glad," Victoria insisted.
+
+"Maybe. But now--what are we to do? We can see him, and you can
+recognize him with the field-glass, but unless he has a glass too, he
+can't see who you are--he can't see at all, because by the time he rides
+near enough, the ground dips down so that even our heads will be hidden
+from him by the wall round the roof. And he'll be hidden from us, too.
+If he asks for you, he'll be answered only by stares of surprise. Cassim
+will pretend not to know what he's talking about. And presently he'll
+have to go away without finding out anything."
+
+"He'll come back," said Victoria, firmly. But her eyes were not as
+bright with the certainty of happiness as they had been.
+
+"What if he does? Or it may be that he'll try to come back, and an
+accident will happen to him. I hate to frighten you. But Arabs are
+jealous--and Maieddine's a true Arab. He looks upon you almost as his
+wife now. In a week or two you will be, unless----"
+
+"Yes. Unless--_unless_!" echoed Victoria. "Don't lose hope, Saidee, for
+I shan't. Let's think of something to do. He's near enough now, maybe,
+to notice if we wave our handkerchiefs."
+
+"Many women on roofs in Africa wave to men who will never see their
+faces. He won't know who waves."
+
+"He will _feel_. Besides, he's searching for me. At this very minute,
+perhaps, he's thinking of the golden silence I talked about, and looking
+up to the white roofs."
+
+Instantly they began to wave their handkerchiefs of embroidered silk,
+such as Arab ladies use. But there came no answering signal. Evidently,
+if the rider were looking at a white roof, he had chosen one which was
+not theirs. And soon he would be descending the slope of the Zaouia
+hill. After that they would lose sight of each other, more and more
+surely, the closer he came to the gates.
+
+"If only you had something to throw him!" Saidee sighed. "What a pity
+you gave the brooch to Maieddine. He might have recognized that."
+
+"It isn't a pity if he traced me by it," said Victoria. "But wait. I'll
+think of something."
+
+"He's riding down the dip. In a minute it will be too late," Saidee
+warned her.
+
+The girl lifted over her head the long string of amber beads she had
+bought in the curiosity shop of Jeanne Soubise. Wrapping it in her
+handkerchief, she began to tie the silken ends together.
+
+Stephen was so close to the Zaouia now that they could no longer see
+him.
+
+"Throw--throw! He'll be at the gates."
+
+Victoria threw the small but heavy parcel over the wall which hid the
+dwellers on the roof.
+
+Where it fell, they could not see, and no sound came up from the
+sand-dune far below. Some beggar or servant of the Zaouia might have
+found and snatched the packet, for all that they could tell.
+
+For a time which seemed long, they waited, hoping that something would
+happen. They did not speak at all. Each heard her own heart beating, and
+imagined that she could hear the heart of the other.
+
+At last there were steps on the stairs which led from Saidee's rooms to
+the roof. Noura came up. "O twin stars, forgive me for darkening the
+brightness of thy sky," she said, "but I have here a letter, given to me
+to put into the hands of Lella Saida."
+
+She held out a folded bit of paper, that had no envelope.
+
+Saidee, pale and large-eyed, took it in silence. She read, and then
+handed the paper to Victoria.
+
+A few lines were scrawled on it in English, in a very foreign
+handwriting. The language, known to none in this house except the
+marabout, Maieddine, Saidee and Victoria, was as safe as a cypher,
+therefore no envelope had been needed.
+
+"Descend into thy garden immediately, and bring with thee thy sister,"
+the letter said. And it was signed "Thy husband, Mohammed."
+
+"What can it mean?" asked Victoria, giving back the paper to Saidee.
+
+"I don't know. But we shall soon see--for we must obey. If we didn't go
+down of our own accord, we'd soon be forced to go."
+
+"Perhaps Cassim will let me talk to Mr. Knight," said the girl.
+
+"He is more likely to throw you to his lion, in the court," Saidee
+answered, with a laugh.
+
+They went down into the garden, and remained there alone. Nothing
+happened except that, after a while, they heard a noise of pounding. It
+seemed to come from above, in Saidee's rooms.
+
+Listening intently, her eyes flashed, and a bright colour rushed to her
+cheeks.
+
+"Now I know why we were told to come into the garden!" she exclaimed,
+her voice quivering with anger. "They're nailing up the door of my room
+that leads to the roof!"
+
+"Saidee!" To Victoria the thing seemed too monstrous to believe.
+
+"Cassim threatened to do it once before--a long time ago--but he didn't.
+Now he has. That's his answer to your Mr. Knight."
+
+"Perhaps you're wrong. How could any one have got into your rooms
+without our seeing them pass through the garden?"
+
+"I've always thought there was a sliding door at the back of one of my
+wall cupboards. There generally is one leading into the harem rooms in
+old houses like this. Thank goodness I've hidden my diaries in a new
+place lately!"
+
+"Let's go up and make sure," whispered Victoria.
+
+Still the pounding went on.
+
+"They'll have locked us out."
+
+"We can try."
+
+Victoria went ahead, running quickly up the steep, narrow flight of
+steps that led to the upper rooms which she and Saidee shared. Saidee
+had been right. The door of the outer room was locked. Standing at the
+top of the stairs, the pounding sounded much louder than before.
+
+Saidee laughed faintly and bitterly.
+
+"They're determined to make a good job of it," she said.
+
+
+
+
+XLIV
+
+
+Stephen rode back with his Arab companion, to the desert city where
+Nevill waited. He had gone to the Zaouia alone with the guide, because
+Nevill had thought it well, in case of emergencies, that he should be
+able to say: "I have a friend in Oued Tolga who knows where I am, and is
+expecting me." Now he was coming away, thwarted for the moment, but far
+from hopeless.
+
+It is a four hours' ride among the dunes, between the Zaouia and the
+town, for the sand is heavy and the distance is about seventeen miles.
+The red wine of sunset was drained from the cups of the sand-hollows,
+and the shadows were cool when Stephen saw the minaret of the town
+mosque and the crown of an old watch-tower, pointing up like a thumb and
+finger of a buried hand. Soon after, he passed through the belt of black
+tents which at all seasons encircles Oued Tolga as a girdle encircles
+the waist of an Ouled Nail, and so he rode into the strange city. The
+houses were crowded together, two with one wall between, like Siamese
+twins, and they had the pale yellow-brown colour of honeycomb, in the
+evening light. The roughness of the old, old bricks, made of baked sand,
+gave an effect of many little cells; so that the honeycomb effect was
+intensified; and the sand which flowed in small rippling waves round the
+city, and through streets narrow and broad, was of the same honey-yellow
+as the houses, except that it glittered with gypsum under the kindling
+stars. Among the bubbly domes, and low square towers, vague in the
+dimming light, bunches of palms in hidden gardens nodded over crumbling
+walls, like dark plumes on the crowns of the dancing-women.
+
+In the market-place was the little hotel, newly built; the only French
+thing in Oued Tolga, except the military barracks, the Bureau Arabe, and
+a gurgling artesian well which a French officer had lately completed.
+But before Stephen could reach the market-place and the hotel, he had to
+pass through the quarter of the dancing-girls.
+
+It was a narrow street, which had low houses on either side, with a
+balcony for every mean window. Dark women leaned their elbows on the
+palm-wood railings, and looked down, smoking cigarettes, and calling
+across to each other. Other girls sat in lighted doorways below, each
+with a candle guttering on a steep step of her bare staircase; and in
+the street walked silent men with black or brown faces, whose white
+burnouses flowed round their tall figures like blowing clouds. Among
+them were a few soldiers, whose uniforms glowed red in the twilight,
+like the cigarette ends pulsing between the painted lips of the Ouled
+Nails. All that quarter reeked with the sweet, wicked smell of the East;
+and in the Moorish cafe at the far end, the dancing-music had begun to
+throb and whine, mingling cries of love and death, with the passion of
+both. But there was no dancing yet, for the audience was not large
+enough. The brilliant spiders crouched in their webs, awaiting more
+flies; for caravans were coming in across that desert sea which poured
+its yellow billows into the narrow street; and in the market-place,
+camel-drivers only just arrived were cooking their suppers. They would
+all come a little later into this quarter to drink many cups of coffee,
+and to spend their money on the dancers.
+
+As Stephen went by on horseback, the girls on the balconies and in the
+doorways looked at him steadily without smiling, but their eyes sparkled
+under their golden crowns, or scarlet headkerchiefs and glittering
+veils. Behind him and his guide, followed a procession of boys and old
+men, with donkeys loaded with dead palm-branches from the neighbouring
+oasis, and the dry fronds made a loud swishing sound; but the dancers
+paid no attention, and appeared to look through the old men and children
+as if they did not exist.
+
+In the market-place were the tired camels, kneeling down, looking
+gloomily at their masters busy cooking supper on the sand. Negro sellers
+of fruit and fly-embroidered lumps of meat, or brilliant-coloured
+pottery, and cheap, bright stuffs, were rolling up their wares for the
+night, in red and purple rags or tattered matting. Beggars lingered,
+hoping for a stray dried date, or a coin before crawling off to secret
+dens; and two deformed dwarfs in enormous turbans and blue coats,
+claimed power as marabouts, chanting their own praises and the praises
+of Allah, in high, cracked voices.
+
+As Stephen rode to the hotel, and stopped in front of the arcade which
+shaded the ground floor, Nevill and another man sprang up from chairs
+pushed back against the white house-wall.
+
+"By Jove, Legs, I'm glad to see you!" Nevill exclaimed, heartily, "What
+news?"
+
+"Nothing very great so far, I'm sorry to say. Much as we expected,"
+Stephen answered. And as he spoke, he glanced at the stranger, as if
+surprised that Nevill should speak out before him. The man wore the
+smart uniform of the Chasseurs d'Afrique. He was quite young, not over
+thirty-four, and had a keen, brave face, as Stephen could see by the
+crude light of a lamp that was fixed in the wall. But the large grey
+eyes, somewhat pale in contrast with deep sunburn, were the eyes of a
+poet rather than those of a born soldier.
+
+"I must introduce you and Captain Sabine to each other," Nevill went on,
+in French, as Stephen got off his horse and it was led away by the Arab.
+"He's staying at the hotel. He and I've been talking about the Zaouia
+and--the marabout. The upshot of our conversation will astonish you. I
+feel sure, when you hear it, you will think we can talk freely about our
+business to Captain Sabine."
+
+Stephen said something polite and vague. He was interested, of course,
+but would have preferred to tell his adventure to Nevill alone.
+
+"Monsieur Caird and I made acquaintance, and have been chatting all the
+afternoon," volunteered Sabine. "To begin with, we find we have many
+friends in common, in Algiers. Also he knows relations of mine, who have
+spoken of me to him, so it is almost as if we had known each other
+longer. He tells me that you and he are searching for a young lady who
+has disappeared. That you have followed here a man who must know where
+she is; that in the city, you lost track of the man but heard he had
+gone on to the Zaouia; that this made you hope the young lady was there
+with her sister, whose husband might perhaps have some position under
+the marabout."
+
+"I told him these things, because I thought, as Captain Sabine's been
+sinking an artesian well near the Zaouia, he might have seen Miss Ray,
+if she were there. No such luck. He hasn't seen her; however, he's given
+me a piece of information which makes it just about as sure she _is_
+there, as if he had. You shall have it from him. But first let me ask
+you one question. Did you get any news of her?"
+
+"No. I heard nothing."
+
+"Does that mean you saw----"
+
+"No. I'll tell you later. But anyhow, I went into the Zaouia, almost
+certain she was there, and that she'd seen me coming. That was a good
+start, because of course I'd had very little to go on. There was only a
+vague hope. I asked for the marabout, and they made me send a
+visiting-card--quaint in the desert. Then they kept me moving about a
+while, and insisted on showing me the mosque. At last they took me to a
+hideous reception room, with a lot of good and vile things in it, mixed
+up together. The marabout came in, wearing the black mask we'd heard
+about--a fellow with a splendid bearing, and fine eyes that looked at me
+very hard over the mask. They were never off my face. We complimented
+each other in French. Then I said I was looking for a Miss Ray, an
+American girl who had disappeared from Algiers, and had been traced to
+the Zaouia, where I had reason to believe she was staying with a
+relative from her own country, a lady married to some member of his
+staff. I couldn't give him the best reason I had for being sure she
+_was_ there, as you'll see when I tell you what it was. But he said
+gravely that no European lady was married to any one in the Zaouia; that
+no American or any other foreign person, male or female, was there. In
+the guest-house were one or two Arab ladies, he admitted, who had come
+to be cured of maladies by virtue of his power; but no one else. His
+denial showed me that he was in the plot to hide Miss Ray. That was one
+thing I wanted to know; so I saw that the best thing for her, would be
+for me to pretend to be satisfied. If it hadn't been for what happened
+before I got to the Zaouia gates, I should almost have been taken in by
+him, perhaps, he had such an air of noble, impeccable sincerity. But
+just as I dipped down into a kind of hollow, on the Zaouia side of the
+river, something was thrown from somewhere. Unluckily I couldn't be sure
+where. I'd been looking up at the roofs behind the walls, but I must
+have had my eyes on the wrong one, if this thing fell from a roof, as I
+believe it did. It was a little bundle, done up in a handkerchief, and I
+saw it only as it touched the ground, about a dozen yards in front. Then
+I hurried on, you may be sure, hoping it was meant for me, to grab the
+thing before any one else could appear and lay hands on it."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Luckily I'd outridden the guide. I made him think afterward that I'd
+jumped off my horse to pick up the whip, which I dropped for a blind, in
+case of spying eyes. Tied up in the silk handkerchief--an Arab-looking
+handkerchief--was a string of amber beads. Do you remember the beads
+Miss Ray bought of Miss Soubise, and wore to your house?"
+
+"I remember she had a handsome string of old prayer-beads."
+
+"Is this the one?" Stephen took the handkerchief and its contents from
+his pocket, and Nevill examined the large, round lumps of gleaming
+amber, which were somewhat irregular in shape. Captain Sabine looked on
+with interest.
+
+"I can't be sure," Nevill said reluctantly.
+
+"Well, I can," Stephen answered with confidence. "She showed it to me,
+in your garden. I remember a fly in the biggest bead, which was clear,
+with a brown spot, and a clouded bead on either side of it. I had the
+necklace in my hand. Besides, even if I weren't as certain as I am, who
+would throw a string of amber beads at my feet, if it weren't some one
+trying to attract my attention, in the only way possible? It was as much
+as to say, 'I know you've come looking for me. If you're told I'm not
+here, it's false.' I was a good long way from the gates; but much nearer
+to a lot of white roofs grouped behind the high wall of the Zaouia, than
+I would have been in riding on, closer to the gates. Unfortunately there
+are high parapets to screen any one standing on the roofs. And anyhow,
+by the time the beads were thrown, I was too low down in the hollow to
+see even a waved hand or handkerchief. Still, with that necklace in my
+pocket, I knew pretty well what I was about, in talking with the
+marabout."
+
+"You thought you did," said Nevill. "But you'd have known a lot more if
+only you could have made Captain Sabine's acquaintance before you
+started."
+
+Stephen looked questioningly at the Frenchman.
+
+"Perhaps it would be better to speak in English," suggested Sabine. "I
+have not much, but I get on. And the kitchen windows are not far away.
+Our good landlord and his wife do not cook with their ears. I was
+telling your friend that the marabout himself has a European wife--who
+is said to be a great beauty. These things get out. I have heard that
+she has red hair and skin as white as cream. That is also the
+description which Mr. Caird gave me of the young lady seeking a sister.
+It makes one put two and two together, does it not?"
+
+"By Jove!" exclaimed Stephen. He and Nevill looked at each other, but
+Nevill raised his eyebrows slightly. He had not thought it best, at
+present, to give the mystery of Cassim ben Halim, as he now deciphered
+it, into a French officer's keeping. It was a secret in which France
+would be deeply, perhaps inconveniently, interested. A little later, the
+interference of the French might be welcome, but it would be just as
+well not to bring it in prematurely, or separately from their own
+personal interests. "I wish to heaven," Stephen went on, "I'd known this
+when I was talking to the fellow! And yet--I'm not sure it would have
+made much difference. We were deadly polite to each other, but I hinted
+in a veiled way that, if he were concealing any secret from me, the
+French authorities might have something to say to him. I was obsequious
+about the great power of Islam in general, and his in particular, but I
+suggested that France was the upper dog just now. Maybe his guilty
+conscience made him think I knew more than I did. I hope he expects to
+have the whole power of France down on him, as well as the United
+States, which I waved over his head, Miss Ray being an American. Of
+course I remembered your advice, Nevill, and was tactful--for her sake,
+for fear anything should be visited on her. I didn't say I thought he
+was hiding her in the Zaouia. I put it as if I wanted his help in
+finding her. But naturally he expects me back again; and we must make
+our plans to storm the fortress and reduce it to subjection. There isn't
+an hour to waste, either, since this necklace, and Captain Sabine's
+knowledge, have proved to us that she's there. Too bad we didn't know it
+earlier, as we might have done something decisive in the beginning. But
+now we do know, with Captain Sabine's good will and introduction we may
+get the military element here to lend a hand in the negotiations. A
+European girl can't be shut up with impunity, I should think, even in
+this part of the world. And the marabout has every reason not to get in
+the bad books of the French."
+
+"He is in their very best books at present," said Sabine. "He is
+thought much of. The peace of the southern desert is largely in his
+hands. My country would not be easily persuaded to offend him. It might
+be said in his defence that he is not compelled to tell strangers if he
+has a European wife, and her sister arrives to pay her a visit. Arab
+ideas are peculiar; and we have to respect them."
+
+"I think my friend and I must talk the whole matter over," said Stephen,
+"and then, perhaps, we can make up our minds to a plan of action we
+couldn't have taken if it weren't for what you've told us--about the
+marabout and his European wife."
+
+"I am glad if I have helped," Sabine answered. "And"--rather
+wistfully--"I should like to help further."
+
+
+
+
+XLV
+
+
+"Oh Lella Saida, there is a message, of which I hardly dare to speak,"
+whispered Noura to her mistress, when she brought supper for the two
+sisters, the night when the way to the roof had been closed up.
+
+"Tell me what it is, and do not be foolish," Saidee said sharply. Her
+nerves were keyed to the breaking point, and she had no patience left.
+It was almost a pleasure to visit her misery upon some one else. She
+hated everybody and everything, because all hope was gone now. The door
+to the roof was nailed shut; and she and Victoria were buried alive.
+
+"But one sends the message who must not be named; and it is not even for
+thee, lady. It is for the Little Rose, thy sister."
+
+"If thou dost not speak out instantly, I will strike thee!" Saidee
+exclaimed, on the verge of hysterical tears.
+
+"And if I speak, still thou wilt strike! Be this upon thine own head, my
+mistress. The Ouled Nail has dared send her woman, saying that if the
+Little Rose will visit her house after supper, it will be for the good
+of all concerned, since she has a thing to tell of great importance. At
+first I would have refused even to take the message, but her woman,
+Hadda, is my cousin, and she feared to go back without some answer. The
+Ouled Nail is a demon when in a temper, and she would thrust pins into
+Hadda's arms and thighs."
+
+Saidee blushed with anger, disgustful words tingling on her tongue; but
+she remained silent, her lips parted.
+
+"Of course I won't go," said Victoria, shocked. The very existence of
+Miluda was to her a dreadful mystery upon which she could not bear to
+let her mind dwell.
+
+"I'm not sure," Saidee murmured. "Let me think. This means something
+very curious, I can't think what. But I should like to know. It can't
+make things worse for us if you accept her invitation. It may make them
+better. Will you go and see what the creature wants?"
+
+"Oh, Saidee, how can I?"
+
+"Because I ask it," Saidee answered, the girl's opposition deciding her
+doubts. "She can't eat you."
+
+"It isn't that I'm afraid----"
+
+"I know! It's because of your loyalty to me. But if I send you, Babe,
+you needn't mind. It will be for my sake."
+
+"Hadda is waiting for an answer," Noura hinted.
+
+"My sister will go. Is the woman ready to take her?"
+
+"I will find out, lady."
+
+In a moment the negress came back. "Hadda will lead the Little Rose to
+her mistress. She is glad that it is to be now, and not later."
+
+"Be very careful what you say, and forget nothing that _she_ says," was
+Saidee's last advice. And it sounded very Eastern to Victoria.
+
+She hated her errand, but undertook it without further protest, since it
+was for Saidee's sake.
+
+Hadda was old and ugly. She and Noura had been born in the quarter of
+the freed Negroes, in the village across the river, and knew nothing of
+any world beyond; yet all the wiliness and wisdom of female things,
+since Eve--woman, cat and snake--glittered under their slanting eyelids.
+
+Victoria had not been out of her sister's rooms and garden, except to
+visit M'Barka in the women's guest-house, since the night when Maieddine
+brought her to the Zaouia; and when she had time to think of her bodily
+needs, she realized that she longed desperately for exercise. Physically
+it was a relief to walk even the short distance between Saidee's house
+and Miluda's; but her cheeks tingled with some emotion she could hardly
+understand when she saw that the Ouled Nail's garden-court was larger
+and more beautiful than Saidee's.
+
+Miluda, however, was not waiting for her in the garden. The girl was
+escorted upstairs, perhaps to show her how much more important was the
+favourite wife of the marabout than a mere Roumia, an unmarried maiden.
+
+A meal had been cleared away, in a room larger and better furnished than
+Saidee's and on the floor stood a large copper incense-burner, a thin
+blue smoke filtering through the perforations, clouding the atmosphere
+and loading it with heavy perfume. Behind the mist Victoria saw a divan,
+spread with trailing folds of purple velvet, stamped with gold; and
+something lay curled up on a huge tiger-skin, flung over pillows.
+
+As the blue incense wreaths floated aside the curled thing on the tiger
+skin moved, and the light from a copper lamp like Saidee's, streamed
+through huge coloured lumps of glass, into a pair of brilliant eyes. A
+delicate brown hand, ringed on each finger, waved away the smoke of a
+cigarette it held, and Victoria saw a small face, which was like the
+face of a perfectly beautiful doll. Never had she imagined anything so
+utterly pagan; yet the creature was childlike, even innocent in its
+expression, as a baby tigress might be innocent.
+
+Having sat up, the little heathen goddess squatted in her shrine, only
+bestirring herself to show the Roumia how beautiful she was, and what
+wonderful jewellery she had. She thought, that without doubt, the girl
+would run back jealously to the sister (whom Miluda despised) to pour
+out floods of description. She herself had heard much of Lella Saida,
+and supposed that unfortunate woman had as eagerly collected information
+about her; but it was especially piquant that further details of
+enviable magnificence should be carried back by the forlorn wife's
+sister.
+
+The Ouled Nail tinkled at the slightest movement, even with the heaving
+of her bosom, as she breathed, making music with many necklaces, and
+long earrings that clinked against them. Dozens of old silver cases,
+tubes, and little jewelled boxes containing holy relics; hairs of
+Mohammed's beard; a bit of web spun by the sacred spider which saved his
+life; moles' feet blessed by marabouts, and texts from the Koran; all
+these hung over Miluda's breast, on chains of turquoise and amber beads.
+They rattled metallically, and her bracelets and anklets tinkled. Some
+luscious perfume hung about her, intoxicatingly sweet. A thick, braided
+clump of hair was looped on each side of the small face painted white as
+ivory, and her eyes, under lashes half an inch long, were bright and
+unhuman as those of an untamed gazelle.
+
+"Wilt thou sit down?" she asked, waving the hand with the cigarette
+towards a French chair, upholstered in red brocade. "The Sidi gave me
+that seat because I asked for it. He gives me all I ask for."
+
+"I will stand," answered Victoria.
+
+"Oh, it is true, then, thou speakest Arab! I had heard so. I have heard
+much of thee and of thy youth and beauty. I see that my women did not
+lie. But perhaps thou art not as young as I am, though I have been a
+wife for a year, and have borne a beautiful babe. I am not yet sixteen."
+
+Victoria did not answer, and the Ouled Nail gazed at her unwinkingly, as
+a child gazes.
+
+"Thou hast travelled much, even more than the marabout himself, hast
+thou not?" she inquired, graciously. "I have heard that thou hast been
+to England. Are there many Arab villages there, and is it true that the
+King was deposed when the Sultan, the head of our faith, lost his
+throne?"
+
+"There are no Arab villages, and the King still reigns," said Victoria.
+"But I think thou didst not send for me to ask these questions?"
+
+"Thou art right. Yet there is no harm in asking them. I sent for thee,
+for three reasons. One is, that I wished to see thee, to know if indeed
+thou wert as beautiful as I; another is, that I had a thing to give
+thee, and before I tell thee my third reason, thou shalt have the gift."
+
+She fumbled in the tawny folds of the tiger-skin on which she lay, and
+presently held out a bracelet, made of flexible squares of gold, like
+scales, jewelled with different stones.
+
+"It is thy wedding present from me," she said. "I wish to give it,
+because it is not long since I myself was married, and because we are
+both young. Besides, Si Maieddine is a good friend of the marabout. I
+have heard that he is brave and handsome, all that a young girl can most
+desire in a husband."
+
+"I am not going to marry Si Maieddine," said Victoria. "I thank thee;
+but thou must keep thy gift for his bride when he finds one."
+
+"He has found her in thee. The marriage will be a week from to-morrow,
+if Allah wills, and he will take thee away to his home. The marabout
+himself has told me this, though he does not know that I have sent for
+thee, and that thou art with me now."
+
+"Allah does not will," said the girl.
+
+"Perhaps not, since thy bridegroom-to-be lies ill with marsh fever, so
+Hadda has told me. He came back from Algiers with the sickness heavy
+upon him, caught in the saltpetre marshes that stretch between Biskra
+and Touggourt. I know those marshes, for I was in Biskra with my mother
+when she danced there; but she was careful, and we did not lie at night
+in the dangerous regions where the great mosquitoes are. Men are never
+careful, though they do not like to be ill, and thy bridegroom is
+fretting. But he will be better in a few days if he takes the draughts
+which the marabout has blessed for him; and if the wedding is not in a
+week, it will be a few days later. It is in Allah's hands."
+
+"I tell thee, it will be never," Victoria persisted. "And I believe thou
+but sayest these things to torture me."
+
+"Dost thou not love Si Maieddine?" Miluda asked innocently.
+
+"Not at all."
+
+"Then it must be that thou lovest some other man. Dost thou, Roumia?"
+
+"Thou hast no right to ask such questions."
+
+"Be not angry, Roumia, for we are coming now to the great reason why I
+sent for thee. It is to help thee. I wish to know whether there is a man
+of thine own people thou preferest to Si Maieddine."
+
+"Why shouldst thou wish to help me? Thou hast never seen me till now."
+
+"I will speak the truth with thee," said Miluda, "because thy face
+pleases me, though I prefer my own. Thine is pure and good, like the
+face of the white angel that is ever at our right hand; and even if I
+should speak falsely, I think thou wouldst not be deceived. Before I saw
+thee, I did not care whether thou wert happy or sad. It was nothing to
+me; but I saw a way of getting thee and thy sister out of my husband's
+house, and for a long time I have wished thy sister gone. Not that I am
+jealous of her. I have not seen her face, but I know she is already old,
+and if she were not friendless in our land, the Sidi would have put her
+away at the time of my marriage to him, since long ago he has ceased to
+care whether she lives or dies. But his heart is great, and he has kept
+her under his roof for kindness' sake, though she has given him no
+child, and is no longer a wife to him. I alone fill his life."
+
+She paused, hoping perhaps that Victoria would answer; but the girl was
+silent, biting her lip, her eyes cast down. So Miluda talked on, more
+quietly.
+
+"There is a wise woman in the city, who brings me perfumes and silks
+which have come to Oued Tolga by caravan from Tunis. She has told me
+that thy sister has ill-wished me, and that I shall never have a boy--a
+real child--while Lella Saida breathes the same air with me. That is the
+reason I want her to be gone. I will not help thee to go, unless thou
+takest her with thee."
+
+"I will never, never leave this place unless we go together," Victoria
+answered, deeply interested and excited now.
+
+"That is well. And if she loves thee also, she would not go alone; so my
+wish is to do what I can for both."
+
+"What canst thou do?" the girl asked.
+
+"I will tell thee. But first there is something to make clear. I was on
+my roof to-day, when a young Roumi rode up to the Zaouia on the road
+from Oued Tolga. He looked towards the roofs, and I wondered. From mine,
+I cannot see much of thy sister's roof, but I watched, and I saw an arm
+outstretched, to throw a packet. Then I said to myself that he had come
+for thee. And later I was sure, because my women told me that while he
+talked with the marabout, the door which leads to thy sister's roof was
+nailed up hastily, by command of the master. Some order must have gone
+from him, unknown to the Roumi, while the two men were together. I could
+coax nothing of the story from the Sidi when he came to me, but he was
+vexed, and his brows drew together over eyes which for the first time
+did not seem to look at me with pleasure."
+
+"Thou hast guessed aright," Victoria admitted, thankful that Miluda's
+suspicions concerned her affairs only, and not Saidee's. "The man who
+came here was my friend. I care for him more than for any one in the
+world, except my sister; and if I cannot marry him, I will die rather
+than marry Si Maieddine or any other."
+
+"Then, unless I help thee, thou wilt have to die, for nothing which thou
+alone, or thy sister can do, will open the gates for thee to go out,
+except as Si Maieddine's wife."
+
+"Then help me," said Victoria, boldly, "and thou wilt be rid of us both
+forever."
+
+"It is with our wits we must work, not with our hands," replied the
+Ouled Nail. "The power of the marabout is great. He has many men to
+serve him, and the gates are strong, while women are very, very weak.
+Yet I have seen into the master's heart, and I can give thee a key which
+will unlock the gates. Only it had better be done soon, for when Si
+Maieddine is well, he will fight for thee; and if thou goest forth free,
+he will follow, and take thee in the dunes."
+
+Victoria shivered, for the picture was vivid before her eyes, as Miluda
+painted it. "Give me the key," she said in a low voice.
+
+"The key of the master's heart is his son," the other answered, in a
+tone that kept down anger and humiliation. "Even me he would sacrifice
+to his boy. I know it well, and I hate the child. I pray for one of my
+own, for because the Sidi loves me, and did not love the boy's mother,
+he would care ten thousand times more for a child of mine. The wise
+woman says so, and I believe it. When thy sister is gone, I shall have a
+boy, and nothing left to wish for on earth. Send a message to thy lover,
+saying that the marabout's only son is at school in Oued Tolga, the
+city. Tell him to steal the child and hide it, making a bargain with the
+marabout that he shall have it safely back, if he will let thee and thy
+sister go; otherwise he shall never see it again."
+
+"That would be a cruel thing to do, and my sister could not consent,"
+said Victoria, "even if we were able to send a message."
+
+"Hadda would send the message. A friend from the village is coming to
+see her, and the master has no suspicion of me at present, as he has of
+thee. We could send a letter, and Hadda would manage everything. But
+there is not much time, for now while my husband is with Si Maieddine,
+treating him for his fever, is our only chance, to-night. We have
+perhaps an hour in which to decide and arrange everything. After that,
+his coming may be announced to me. And no harm would happen to the
+child. The master would suffer in his mind for a short time, till he
+decided to make terms, that is all. As for me, have no fear of my
+betraying thee. Thou needst but revenge thyself by letting the master
+know how I plotted for the stealing of his boy, for him to put me out of
+his heart and house forever. Then I should have to kill myself with a
+knife, or with poison; and I am young and happy, and do not desire to
+die yet. Go now, and tell thy sister what I have said. Let her answer
+for thee, for she knows this land and the people of it, and she is wiser
+than thou."
+
+Without another word or look at the beautiful pagan face, Victoria went
+out of the room, and found Hadda waiting to hurry her away.
+
+
+
+
+XLVI
+
+
+It was after one o'clock when Stephen and Nevill bade each other good
+night, after a stroll out of the town into the desert. They had built up
+plans and torn them down again, and no satisfactory decision had been
+reached, for both feared that, if they attempted to threaten the
+marabout with their knowledge of his past, he would defy them to do
+their worst. Without Saidee and Victoria, they could bring forward no
+definite and visible proof that the great marabout, Sidi El Hadj
+Mohammed Abd el Kadr, and the disgraced Captain Cassim ben Halim were
+one. And the supreme difficulty was to produce Saidee and Victoria as
+witnesses. It was not even certain, if the marabout were threatened and
+thought himself in danger, that he might not cause the sisters to
+disappear. That thought prevented the two men from coming easily to any
+decision. Sabine had not told them that he knew Saidee, or that he had
+actually heard of the girl's arrival in the Zaouia. He longed to tell
+and join with them in their quest; but it would have seemed a disloyalty
+to the woman he loved. It needed a still greater incentive to make him
+speak out; while as for the Englishmen, though they would gladly have
+taken his advice, they hesitated to give away the secret of Saidee Ray's
+husband to a representative of Ben Halim's stern judge, France.
+
+Various plans for action had been discussed, yet Stephen and Nevill both
+felt that all were subject to modification. Each had the hope that the
+silent hours would bring inspiration, and so they parted at last. But
+Stephen had not been in his room ten minutes when there came a gentle
+tap at his door. He thought that it must be Nevill, returning to
+announce the birth of a new idea; but in the dark corridor stood a
+shadowy Arab, he who did most of the work in the hotel outside the
+kitchen.
+
+"A person has come with a letter for Monsieur," the man mumbled in bad
+French, his voice so sleepy as to be almost inarticulate. "He would not
+give it to me, the foolish one. He insists on putting it into the hand
+of Monsieur. No doubt it is a pourboire he wants. He has followed me to
+the head of the stairs, and he has no French."
+
+"Where does he come from?" asked Stephen.
+
+"He will not say. But he is a Negro whom I have never seen in the city."
+
+"Call him," Stephen said. And in a moment a thin young Negro, dusted all
+over with sand, came into the square of light made by the open door. His
+legs were bare, and over his body he appeared to have no other garment
+but a ragged, striped gandourah. In a purple-black hand he held a folded
+piece of paper, and Stephen's heart jumped at sight of his own name
+written in a clear handwriting. It was not unlike Victoria's but it was
+not hers.
+
+"The man says he cannot take a letter back," explained the Arab servant.
+"But if Monsieur will choose a word to answer, he will repeat it over
+and over until he has it by heart. Then he will pass it on in the same
+way."
+
+Stephen was reading his letter and scarcely heard. It was Victoria's
+sister who wrote. She signed herself at the bottom of the bit of
+paper--a leaf torn from a copy book--"Saidee Ray," as though she had
+never been married. She had evidently written in great haste, but the
+thing she proposed was clearly set forth, as if in desperation. Victoria
+did not approve, she said, and hoped some other plan might be found; but
+in Saidee's opinion there was no other plan which offered any real
+chance of success. In their situation, they could not afford to stick at
+trifles, and neither could Mr. Knight, if he wished to save Victoria
+from being married against her will to an Arab. There was no time to
+lose if anything were to be done; and if Mr. Knight were willing to take
+the way suggested, would he say the word "yes," very distinctly, to the
+messenger, as it would not be safe to try and smuggle a letter into the
+Zaouia.
+
+It was a strange, even a detestable plot, which Saidee suggested; yet
+when Stephen had turned it over in his mind for a moment he said the
+word "yes" with the utmost distinctness. The sand-covered Negro imitated
+him several times, and having achieved success, was given more money
+than he had ever seen in his life. He would not tell the Arab, who
+escorted him downstairs again, whence he had come, but it was a long
+distance and he had walked. He must return on foot, and if he were to be
+back by early morning, he ought to get off at once. Stephen made no
+effort to keep him, though he would have liked Saidee's messenger to be
+seen by Caird.
+
+Nevill had not begun to undress, when Stephen knocked at his door. He
+was about to begin one of his occasional letters to Josette, with his
+writing materials arranged abjectly round one tallow candle, on a
+washhand stand.
+
+"That beast of a Cassim! He's going to try and marry the poor child off
+to his friend Maieddine!" Nevill growled, reading the letter. "Stick at
+trifles indeed! I should think not. This is Providential--just when we
+couldn't quite make up our minds what to do next."
+
+"You're not complimentary to Providence," said Stephen. "Seems to me a
+horrid sort of thing to do, though I'm not prepared to say I won't do
+it. _She_ doesn't approve, her sister says, you see----"
+
+"Who knows the man better, his wife or the girl?"
+
+"That goes without saying. Well, I'm swallowing my scruples as fast as I
+can get them down, though they're a lump in my throat. However, we
+wouldn't hurt the little chap, and if the father adores him, as she
+says, we'd have Ben Halim pretty well under our thumbs, to squeeze him
+as we chose. Knowing his secret as we do, he wouldn't dare apply to the
+French for help, for fear we'd give him away. We must make it clear that
+we well know who he is, and that if he squeals, the fat's in the fire!"
+
+"That's the right spirit. We'll make him shake in his boots for fear we
+give not only the secret, but the boy, over to the tender mercies of the
+authorities. For it's perfectly true that if the Government knew what a
+trick had been played on them, they'd oust the false marabout in favour
+of the rightful man, whoever he may be, clap the usurper into prison,
+and make the child a kind of--er--ward in chancery, or whatever the
+equivalent is in France. Oh, I can tell you, my boy, this idea is the
+inspiration of a genius! The man will see we're making no idle threat,
+that we can't carry out. He'll have to hand over the ladies, or he'll
+spend some of his best years in prison, and never see his beloved boy
+again."
+
+"First we've got to catch our hare. But there Sabine could help us, if
+we called him in."
+
+"Yes. And we couldn't do better than have him with us, I think, Legs,
+now we've come to this turn in the road."
+
+"I agree so far. Still, let's keep Ben Halim's secret to ourselves. We
+must have it to play with. I believe Sabine's a man to trust; but he's a
+French officer; and a plot of that sort he might feel it his duty to
+make known."
+
+"All right. We'll keep back that part of the business. It isn't
+necessary to give it away. But otherwise Sabine's the man for us. He's a
+romantic sort of chap, not unlike me in that; it's what appealed to me
+in him the minute we began to draw each other out. He'll snap at an
+adventure to help a pretty girl even though he's never seen her; and he
+knows the marabout's boy and the guardian-uncle. He was talking to me
+about them this afternoon. Let's go and rout him out. I bet he'll have a
+plan to propose."
+
+"Rather cheek, to rouse him up in the middle of the night. We might
+wait till morning, since I don't see that we can do anything useful
+before."
+
+"He only got in from seeing some friend in barracks, about one. He
+doesn't look like a sleepy-head. Besides, if I'm not mistaken, I smell
+his cigarettes. He's probably lying on his bed, reading a novel."
+
+But Sabine was reading something to him far more interesting than any
+novel written by the greatest genius of all ages; a collection of
+Saidee's letters, which he invariably read through, from first to last,
+every night before even trying to sleep.
+
+The chance to be in the game of rescue was new life to him. He grudged
+Saidee's handwriting to another man, even though he felt that, somehow,
+she had hoped that he would see it, and that he would work with the
+others. He laughed at the idea that the adventure would be more
+dangerous for him as a French officer, if anything leaked out, than for
+two travelling Englishmen.
+
+"I would give my soul to be in this!" he exclaimed, before he knew what
+he was saying, or what meaning might be read into his words. But both
+faces spoke surprise. He was abashed, yet eager. The impulse of his
+excitement led him on, and he began stammering out the story he had not
+meant to tell.
+
+"I can't say the things you ought to know, without the things that no
+one ought to know," he explained in his halting English, plunging back
+now and then inadvertently into fluent French. "It is wrong not to
+confess that all the time I know that young lady is there--in the
+Zaouia. But there is a reason I feel it not right to confess. Now it
+will be different because of this letter that has come. You must hear
+all and you can judge me."
+
+So the story was poured out: the romance of that wonderful day when,
+while he worked at the desert well in the hot sun, a lady went by, with
+her servants, to the Moorish baths. How her veil had fallen aside, and
+he had seen her face--oh, but the face of a houri, an angel. Yet so
+sad--tragedy in the beautiful eyes. In all his life he had not seen such
+beauty or felt his heart so stirred. Through an attendant at the baths
+he had found out that the lovely lady was the wife of the marabout, a
+Roumia, said not to be happy. From that moment he would have sacrificed
+his hopes of heaven to set her free. He had written--he had laid his
+life at her feet. She had answered. He had written again. Then the
+sister had arrived. He had been told in a letter of her coming. At first
+he had thought it impossible to confide a secret concerning
+another--that other a woman--even to her sister's friends. But now there
+was no other way. They must all work together. Some day he hoped that
+the dear prisoner would be free to give herself to him as his wife. Till
+then, she was sacred, even in his thoughts. Even her sister could find
+no fault with his love. And would the new friends shake his hand wishing
+him joy in future.
+
+So all three shook hands with great heartiness; and perhaps Sabine would
+have become still more expansive had he not been brought up to credit
+Englishmen stolid fellows at best with a favourite motto: "Deeds, not
+words."
+
+As Sabine told his story, Stephen's brain had been busily weaving. He
+did not like the thing they had to do, but if it must be done, the only
+hope lay in doing it well and thoroughly. Sabine's acquaintance with the
+boy and his guardian would be a great help.
+
+"I've been thinking how we can best carry out this business," he said,
+when the pact of friendship had been sealed by clasp of hands. "We can't
+afford to have any row or scandal. It must somehow be managed without
+noise, for the sake of--the ladies, most of all, and next, for the sake
+of Captain Sabine. As a Frenchman and an officer, it would certainly be
+a lot worse for him than for us, if we landed him in any mess with the
+authorities."
+
+"I care nothing for myself." Sabine broke in, hotly.
+
+"All the more reason for us to keep our heads cool if we can, and look
+after you. We must get the boy to go away of his own accord."
+
+"That is more easy to propose than to do," said Sabine, with a shrug of
+the shoulders.
+
+"Well, an idea has come into my head. There may be something in it--if
+you can help us work it. We couldn't do it without you. Do you know the
+child and his uncle so well that it wouldn't seem queer to invite them
+to the hotel for a meal--say luncheon to-morrow, or rather to-day--for
+it's morning now?"
+
+"Yes, I could do that. And they would come. It would be an amusement for
+them. Life is dull here," Sabine eagerly replied.
+
+"Good. Does the child speak French?"
+
+"A little. He is learning in the school."
+
+"That's lucky, for I don't know a dozen words of Arab, and even my
+friend Caird can't be eloquent in it. Wings, do you think you could work
+up the boy to a wild desire for a tour in a motor-car?"
+
+"I would bet on myself to do that. I could make him a motor fiend,
+between the _hors d'oeuvres_ and fruit."
+
+"Our great stumbling block, then, is the uncle. I suppose he's a sort of
+watch-dog, who couldn't be persuaded to leave the boy alone a minute?"
+
+"I am not sure of that," said Sabine. "It is true he is a watch-dog; but
+I could throw him a bone I think would tempt him to desert his post--if
+he had no suspicion of a trap. What you want, I begin to see, is to get
+him out of the way, so that Monsieur Caird could induce the little
+Mohammed to go away willingly?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"_Eh bien!_ It is as good as done. I see the way. Hassan ben Saad, the
+respectable uncle, has a secret weakness which I have found out. He has
+lost his head for the prettiest and youngest dancer in the quarter of
+the Ouled Nails. She is a great favourite, Nedjma, and she will not
+look at him. He is too old and dry. Besides, he has no money except what
+the marabout gives him as guardian to the boy at school. Hassan sends
+Nedjma such presents as he can afford, and she laughs at them with the
+other girls, though she keeps them, of course. To please me, she will
+write a letter to Ben Saad, telling him that if he comes to her at once,
+without waiting a moment, he may find her heart soft for him. This
+letter shall be brought to our table, at the hotel, while Hassan
+finishes his _dejeuner_ with us. He will make a thousand apologies and
+tell a thousand lies, saying it is a call of business. Probably he will
+pretend that it concerns the marabout, of whom he boasts always as his
+relative. Then he will go, in a great hurry, leaving the child, because
+we will kindly invite him to do so; and he will promise to return soon
+for his nephew. But Nedjma will be so sweet that he will not return
+soon. He will be a long time away--hours. He will forget the boy, and
+everything but his hope that at last Nedjma will love him. Does that
+plan of mine fit in with yours, Monsieur?"
+
+"Perfectly," said Knight. "What do you think, Wings?"
+
+"As you do. You're both geniuses. And I'll try to keep my end up by
+fascinating the child. He shall be mine, body and soul, by the end of
+lunch. When he finds that we're leaving Oued Tolga, instantly, and that
+he must be sent ignominiously home, he shall be ready to howl with
+grief. Then I'll ask him suddenly, how he'd like to go on a little trip,
+just far enough to meet my motor-car, and have a ride in it. He'll say
+yes, like a shot, if he's a normal boy. And if the uncle's away, it will
+be nobody's business even if they see the marabout's son having a ride
+behind me on my horse, as he might with his own father. Trust me to lure
+the imp on with us afterward, step by step, in a dream of happiness. I
+was always a born lurer--except when I wanted a thing or person for
+myself."
+
+"You say, lure him on with 'us'" Stephen cut in. "But it will have to
+be you alone. I must stay at this end of the line, and when the time
+comes, give the marabout our ultimatum. The delay will be almost
+intolerable, but of course the only thing is to lie low until you're so
+far on the way to Touggourt with the child, that a rescue scheme would
+be no good. Touggourt's a bit on the outskirts of the marabout's zone of
+influence, let's hope. Besides, he wouldn't dare attack you there, in
+the shadow of the French barracks. It's his business to help keep peace
+in the desert, and knowing what we know of his past, I think with the
+child out of his reach he'll be pretty well at our mercy."
+
+"When Hassan ben Saad finds the boy gone, he will be very sick," said
+Sabine. "But I shall be polite and sympathetic, and will give him good
+advice. He is in deadly awe of the marabout, and I will say that, if the
+child's father hears what has happened, there will be no
+forgiveness--nothing but ruin. Waiting is the game to play, I will
+counsel Hassan. I shall remind him that, being Friday, no questions will
+be asked at school till Monday, and I shall raise his hopes that little
+Mohammed will be back soon after that, if not before. At worst, I will
+say, he can pretend the child is shut up in the house with a cough. I
+shall assure him that Monsieur Caird is a man of honour and great
+riches; that no harm can come to little Mohammed in his care. I will
+explain how the boy pleaded to go, and make Hassan happy with the
+expectation that in a few days Monsieur Caird is coming back to fetch
+his friend; that certainly Mohammed will be with him, safe and sound;
+and that, if he would not lose his position, he must say nothing of what
+has happened to any one who might tell the marabout."
+
+"Do you think you can persuade him to keep a still tongue in his head
+till it suits us to have him speak, or write a letter for me to take?"
+asked Stephen.
+
+"I am sure of it. Hassan is a coward, and you have but to look him in
+the face to see he has no self-reliance. He must lean on some one else.
+He shall lean on me. And Nedjma shall console him, so that time will
+pass, and he shall hardly know how it is going. He will speak when we
+want him to speak or write, not before."
+
+The three men talked on in Stephen's room till dawn, deciding details
+which cropped up for instant settlement. At last it was arranged--taking
+the success of their plan for granted--that Stephen should wait a day
+and a half after the departure of Nevill's little caravan. By that time,
+it should have got half-way to Touggourt; but there was one bordj where
+it would come in touch with the telegraph. Stephen would then start for
+the Zaouia, for an interview with the marabout, who, no doubt, was
+already wondering why he did not follow up his first attempt by a
+second. He would hire or buy in the city a racing camel fitted with a
+bassour large enough for two, and this he would take with him to the
+Zaouia, ready to bring away both sisters. No allusion to Saidee would be
+made in words. The "ultimatum" would concern Victoria only, as the elder
+sister was wife to the marabout, and no outsider could assume to have
+jurisdiction over her. But as it was certain that Victoria would not
+stir without Saidee, a demand for one was equivalent to a demand for the
+other.
+
+This part of the plan was to be subject to modification, in case Stephen
+saw Victoria, and she proposed any course of action concerning her
+sister. As for Sabine, having helped to make the plot he was to hold
+himself ready at Oued Tolga, the city, for Stephen's return from the
+Zaouia. And the rest was on the knees of the gods.
+
+
+
+
+XLVII
+
+
+For the second time Stephen entered by the great gates of the Zaouia.
+The lounging Negro, who had let him in before, stared at the grey mehari
+with the red-curtained bassour, whose imposing height dwarfed the
+Roumi's horse. No doubt the man wondered why it was there, since only
+women or invalids travelled in a bassour;--and his eyes dwelt with
+interest on the two Arabs from the town of Oued Tolga. Perhaps he
+thought that they would satisfy his curiosity, when the visitor had gone
+inside. But Stephen thought differently. The Arabs would tell nothing,
+because they knew nothing which could explain the mystery.
+
+The Negro had no French, and either did not understand or pretended not
+to understand the Roumi's request to see the marabout. This looked
+ominous, because Stephen had been let in without difficulty the first
+time; and the Negro seemed intelligent enough to be stupid in accordance
+with instructions. Great insistance, however, and the production of
+documents (ordinary letters, but effective to impress the uneducated
+intelligence) persuaded the big gate-keeper to send for an interpreter.
+
+Stephen waited with outward patience, though a loud voice seemed crying
+in his ears, "What will happen next? What will the end be--success, or a
+sudden fluke that will mean failure?" He barred his mind against
+misgivings, but he had hoped for some sign of life when he rode in sight
+of the white roofs; and there had been no sign.
+
+For many minutes he waited; and then came an old man who had showed him
+to the marabout's reception room on his first visit. Stephen was glad
+to see this person, because he could speak a little French, and because
+he had a mild air, as if he might easily be browbeaten.
+
+"I must see Sidi Mohammed on important business," Stephen said.
+
+The old man was greatly grieved, but Sidi Mohammed was indisposed and
+not able to speak with any one. Would Monsieur care to visit the mosque
+again, and would he drink coffee?
+
+So this was the game! Stephen was not surprised. His face flushed and
+his jaw squared. He would not drink coffee, and he would not give
+himself the pleasure of seeing the mosque; but would trouble the
+interpreter with a message to the marabout; and would await an answer.
+Then Stephen wrote on one of his visiting cards, in English. "I have
+important news of your son, which you would regret not hearing. And it
+can be told to no one but yourself."
+
+In less than ten minutes the messenger came back. The marabout, though
+not well, would receive Monsieur. Stephen was led through the remembered
+labyrinth of covered passages, dim and cool, though outside the desert
+sand flamed under the afternoon sun; and as he walked he was aware of
+softly padding footsteps behind him. Once, he turned his head quickly,
+and saw that he was followed by a group of three tall Negroes. They
+looked away when they met his eyes, as if they were on his heels by
+accident; but he guessed that they had been told to watch him, and took
+the caution as a compliment. Yet he realized that he ran some risk in
+coming to this place on such an errand as his. Already the marabout
+looked upon him as an enemy, no doubt; and it was not impossible that
+news of the boy's disappearance had by this time reached the Zaouia, in
+spite of his guardian's selfish cowardice. If so, and if the father
+connected the kidnapping of his son with to-day's visitor, he might let
+his desire for revenge overcome prudence. To prove his power by
+murdering an Englishman, his guest, would do the desert potentate more
+harm than good in the end; yet men of mighty passions do not always stop
+to think of consequences, and Stephen was not blind to his own danger.
+If the marabout lost his temper, not a man in the Zaouia but would be
+ready to obey a word or gesture, and short work might be made of
+Victoria Ray's only champion. However, Stephen counted a good deal on
+Ben Halim's caution, and on the fact that his presence in the Zaouia was
+known outside. He meant to acquaint his host with that fact as a preface
+to their conversation.
+
+"The marabout will come presently," the mild interpreter announced, when
+he had brought Stephen once more to the reception room adjoining the
+mosque. So saying, he bowed himself away, and shut the door; but Stephen
+opened it almost instantly, to look out. It was as he expected. The tall
+Negroes stood lazily on guard. They scarcely showed surprise at being
+caught, yet their fixed stare was somewhat strained.
+
+"I wonder if there's to be a signal?" thought Stephen.
+
+It was very still in the reception-room of Sidi Mohammed. The young man
+sat down opposite the door of that inner room from which the marabout
+had come to greet him the other day, but he did not turn his back fully
+upon the door behind which were the watchers. Minutes passed on. Nothing
+happened, and there was no sound. Stephen grew impatient. He knew, from
+what he had heard of the great Zaouia, that manifold and strenuous lives
+were being lived all around him in this enormous hive, which was
+university, hospice, mosque, and walled village in one. Yet there was no
+hum of men talking, of women chatting over their work, or children
+laughing at play. The silence was so profound that it was emphasized to
+his ears by the droning of a fly in one of the high, iron-barred
+windows; and in spite of himself he started when it was suddenly and
+ferociously broken by a melancholy roar like the thunderous yawn of a
+bored lion. But still the marabout did not appear. Evidently he intended
+to show the persistent Roumi that he was not to be intimidated or
+browbeaten, or else he did not really mean to come at all.
+
+The thought that perhaps, while he waited, he had been quietly made a
+prisoner, brought Stephen to his feet. He was on the point of trying the
+inner door, when it opened, and the masked marabout stood looking at
+him, with keen eyes which the black veil seemed to darken and make
+sinister.
+
+Without speaking, the Arab closed, but did not latch, the door behind
+him; and standing still he spoke in the deep voice that was slightly
+muffled by the thin band of woollen stuff over the lower part of his
+face.
+
+"Thou hast sent me an urgent summons to hear tidings of my son," he said
+in his correct, measured French. "What canst thou know, which I do not
+know already?"
+
+"I began to think you were not very desirous to hear my news," replied
+Stephen, "as I have been compelled to wait so long that my friends in
+Oued Tolga will be wondering what detains me in the Zaouia, or whether
+any accident has befallen me."
+
+"As thou wert doubtless informed, I am not well, and was not prepared to
+receive guests. I have made an exception in thy favour, because of the
+message thou sent. Pray, do not keep me in suspense, if harm has come to
+my son." Sidi Mohammed did not invite his guest to sit down.
+
+"No harm has come to the boy," Stephen reassured him. "He is in good
+hands."
+
+"In charge of his uncle, whom I have appointed his guardian," the
+marabout broke in.
+
+"He doesn't know anything yet," Stephen said to himself, quickly. Then,
+aloud: "At present, he is not in charge of his uncle, but is with a
+friend of mine. He will be sent back safe and well to Oued Tolga, when
+you have discovered the whereabouts of Miss Ray--the young lady of whom
+you knew nothing the other day--and when you have produced her. I know
+now, with absolute certainty, that she is here in the Zaouia. When she
+leaves it, with me and the escort I have brought, to join her friends,
+you will see your son again, but not before; and never unless Miss Ray
+is given up."
+
+The marabout's dark hands clenched themselves, and he took a step
+forward, but stopped and stood still, tall and rigid, within
+arm's-length of the Englishman.
+
+"Thou darest to come here and threaten me!" he said. "Thou art a fool.
+If thou and thy friends have stolen my child, all will be punished, not
+by me, but by the power which is set above me to rule this
+land--France."
+
+"We have no fear of such punishment, or any other," Stephen answered.
+"We have 'dared' to take the boy; and I have dared, as you say, to come
+here and threaten, but not idly. We have not only your son, but your
+secret, in our possession; and if Miss Ray is not allowed to go, or if
+anything happens to me, you will never see your boy again, because
+France herself will come between you and him. You will be sent to prison
+as a fraudulent pretender, and the boy will become a ward of the nation.
+He will no longer have a father."
+
+The dark eyes blazed above the mask, though still the marabout did not
+move. "Thou art a liar and a madman," he said. "I do not understand thy
+ravings, for they have no meaning."
+
+"They will have a fatal meaning for Cassim ben Halim if they reach the
+ears of the French authorities, who believe him dead," said Stephen,
+quietly. "Ben Halim was only a disgraced officer, not a criminal, until
+he conspired against the Government, and stole a great position which
+belonged to another man. Since then, prison doors are open for him if
+his plottings are found out."
+
+Unwittingly Stephen chose words which were as daggers in the breast of
+the Arab. Although made without knowledge of the secret work to which
+the marabout had vowed himself and all that was his, the young man's
+threat sounded like a hint so terrible in its meaning that Ben Halim's
+heart turned suddenly to water. He saw himself exposed, defeated, hand
+and foot in the enemy's power. How this Roumi had wormed out the hidden
+truth he could not conceive; but he realized on the instant that the
+situation was desperate, and his brain seemed to him to become a
+delicate and intricate piece of mechanism, moving with oiled wheels. All
+the genius of a great soldier and a great diplomat were needed at one
+and the same time, and if he could not call such inspiration to his aid
+he was lost. He had been tempted for one volcanic second to stab Stephen
+with the dagger which he always carried under his burnous and
+embroidered vest, but a lightning-flash of reason bade him hold his
+hand. There were other ways--there must be other ways. Fortunately
+Maieddine had not been told of the Roumi's presence in the Zaouia, and
+need not learn anything concerning him or his proposals until the time
+came when a friend could be of use and not a hindrance. Even in this
+moment, when he saw before his eyes a fiery picture of ruin, Ben Halim
+realized that Maieddine's passion for Victoria Ray might be utilized by
+and by, for the second time.
+
+Not once did the dark eyes falter or turn from the enemy's, and Stephen
+could not help admiring the Arab's splendid self-control. It was
+impossible to feel contempt for Ben Halim, even for Ben Halim trapped.
+Stephen had talked with an air of cool indifference, his hands in his
+pockets, but in one pocket was a revolver, and he kept his fingers on it
+as the marabout stood facing him silently after the ultimatum.
+
+"I have listened to the end," the Arab said at last, "because I wished
+to hear what strange folly thou hadst got in thy brain. But now, when
+thou hast finished apparently, I cannot make head or tail of thy
+accusations. Of a man named Cassim ben Halim I may have heard, but he is
+dead. Thou canst hardly believe in truth that he and I are one; but even
+if thou dost believe it, I care little, for if thou wert unwise enough
+to go with such a story to my masters and friends the French, they
+could bring a hundred proofs that thy tale was false, and they would
+laugh thee to scorn. I have no fear of anything thou canst do against
+me; but if it is true that thou and thy friend have stolen my son,
+rather than harm should come to him who is my all on earth, I may be
+weak enough to treat with thee."
+
+"I have brought proof that the boy is gone," returned Stephen. For the
+moment, he tacitly accepted the attitude which the marabout chose to
+take up. "Let the fellow save his face by pretending to yield entirely
+for the boy's sake," he said to himself. "What can it matter so long as
+he does yield?"
+
+In the pocket with the revolver was a letter which Sabine had induced
+Hassan ben Saad to write, and now Stephen produced it. The writing was
+in Arabic, of course; but Sabine, who knew the language well, had
+translated every word for him before he started from Oued Tolga. Stephen
+knew, therefore, that the boy's uncle, without confessing how he had
+strayed from duty, admitted that, "by an incredible misfortune," the
+young Mohammed had been enticed away from him. He feared, Hassan ben
+Saad added, to make a disturbance, as an influential friend--Captain
+Sabine--advised him to inform the marabout of what had happened before
+taking public action which the child's father might disapprove.
+
+The Arab frowned as he read on, not wholly because of his anger with the
+boy's guardian, though that burned in his heart, hot as a new-kindled
+fire, and could be extinguished only by revenge.
+
+"This Captain Sabine," he said slowly, "I know slightly. He called upon
+me at a time when he made a well in the neighbourhood. Was it he who put
+into thine head these ridiculous notions concerning a dead man? I warn
+thee to answer truly if thou wouldst gain anything from me."
+
+"My countrymen don't, as a rule, transact business by telling
+diplomatic lies," said Stephen smiling, as he felt that he could now
+afford to smile. "Captain Sabine did not put the notion into my head."
+
+"Hast thou spoken of it to him?"
+
+Stephen shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I do not see that I'm called
+upon to answer that question. All I will say is, you need have no fear
+of Captain Sabine or of any one else, once Miss Ray is safely out of
+this place."
+
+The marabout turned this answer over quickly in his mind. He knew that,
+if Sabine or any Frenchman suspected his identity and his plans for the
+future, he was irretrievably lost. No private consideration would induce
+a French officer to spare him, if aware that he hoped eventually to
+overthrow the rule of France in North Africa. This being the case (and
+believing that Knight had learned of the plot), he reflected that Sabine
+could not have been taken into the secret, otherwise the Englishman dare
+not make promises. He saw too, that it would have been impolitic for
+Knight to take Sabine into his confidence. A Frenchman in the secret
+would have ruined this _coup d'etat_; and, beginning to respect Stephen
+as an enemy, he decided that he was too clever to be in real partnership
+with the officer. Ben Halim's growing conviction was that his wife,
+Saidee, had told Victoria all she knew and all she suspected, and that
+the girl had somehow contrived to smuggle a letter out of the Zaouia to
+her English lover.
+
+The distrust and dislike he had long felt for Saidee suddenly burst into
+a flame of hatred. He longed to crush under his foot the face he had
+once loved, to grind out its beauty with a spurred heel. And he hated
+the girl, too, though he could not punish her as he could punish Saidee,
+for he must have Maieddine's help presently, and Maieddine would insist
+that she should be protected, whatever might happen to others. But he
+was beginning to see light ahead, if he might take it for granted that
+his secret was suspected by no more than four persons--Saidee,
+Victoria, and the two Englishmen who were acting for the girl.
+
+"I see by this letter from my brother-in-law that it is even as thou
+sayest; thou and thy friend together have committed the cruel wrong of
+which thou boastest," Ben Halim said at last. "A father robbed of his
+one son is as a stag pinned to earth with a spear through his heart. He
+is in the hands of the hunter, his courage ebbing with his life-blood.
+Had this thing been done when thou wert here before, I should have been
+powerless to pay the tribute, for the lady over whom thou claimst a
+right was not within my gates. Now, I admit, she has come. If she wish
+to go with thee, she is free to do so. But I will send with her men of
+my own, to travel by her side, and refuse to surrender her until my
+child is given into their hands."
+
+"That is easy to arrange," Stephen agreed. "I will telegraph to my
+friend, who is by this time--as you can see by your letter--two days'
+journey away or more. He will return with your son, and an escort, but
+only a certain distance. I will meet him at some place appointed, and we
+will hand the boy over to your men."
+
+"It will be better that the exchange should be made here," said the
+marabout.
+
+"I can see why it might be so from your point of view, but that view is
+not ours. You have too much power here, and frankly, I don't trust you.
+You'll admit that I'd be a fool if I did! The meeting must be at some
+distance from your Zaouia."
+
+The marabout raised his eyebrows superciliously. They said--"So thou art
+afraid!" But Stephen was not to be taunted into an imprudence where
+Victoria's safety was at stake.
+
+"Those are our terms," he repeated.
+
+"Very well, I accept," said the Arab. "Thou mayest send a message to the
+lady, inviting her to leave my house with thee; and I assure thee, that
+in any case I would have no wish to keep her, other than the desire of
+hospitality. Thou canst take her at once, if she will go; and passing
+through the city, with her and my men, thou canst send thy telegram.
+Appoint as a meeting place the Bordj of Toudja, one day's march from the
+town of Oued Tolga. When my men have the child in their keeping, thou
+wilt be free to go in peace with the girl and thy friend."
+
+"I should be glad if thou wouldst send for her, and let me talk with her
+here," Stephen suggested.
+
+"No, that cannot be," the marabout answered decidedly. "When she is out
+of my house, I wash my hands of her; but while she is under my roof it
+would be shameful that she should speak, even in my presence, with a
+strange man."
+
+Stephen was ready to concede a point, if he could get his wish in
+another way. "Give me paper, then, and I will write to the lady," he
+said. "There will be an answer, and it must be brought to me quickly,
+for already I have stopped longer than I expected, and Captain Sabine,
+who knows I have come to call upon you and fetch a friend, may be
+anxious."
+
+He spoke his last words with a certain emphasis, knowing that Ben Halim
+would understand the scarcely veiled threat.
+
+The marabout went into the next room, and got some French writing paper.
+Stephen wrote a hasty note, begging Victoria to leave the Zaouia under
+his care. He would take her, he said, to Lady MacGregor, who had come to
+Touggourt on purpose to be at hand if wanted. He wrote in English, but
+because he was sure that Ben Halim knew the language, he said nothing to
+Victoria about her sister. Only he mentioned, as if carelessly, that he
+had brought a good camel with a comfortable bassour large enough for
+two.
+
+When the letter was in an envelope, addressed to Miss Ray, the marabout
+took it from Stephen and handed it to somebody outside the door, no
+doubt one of the three watchers. There were mumbled instructions in
+Arabic, and ten minutes later an answer came back. Stephen could have
+shouted for joy at sight of Victoria's handwriting. There were only a
+few lines, in pencil, but he knew that he would keep them always, with
+her first letter.
+
+"Oh, how glad I am that you're here!" she wrote. "By and by I hope to
+thank you--but of course I can't come without my sister. She is
+wretched, and wants to leave the man who seems to her no longer a
+husband, but she thinks he will not want to let her go. Tell him that it
+must be both of us, or neither. Or if you feel it would be better, give
+him this to read, and ask him to send an answer."
+
+Stephen guessed why the girl had written in French. She had fancied that
+the marabout would not choose to admit his knowledge of English, and he
+admired the quickness of her wit in a sudden emergency.
+
+As he handed the letter to the Arab, Stephen would have given a great
+deal to see the face under the black mask. He could read nothing of the
+man's mind through the downcast eyelids, with their long black fringe of
+close-set lashes. And he knew that Ben Halim must have finished the
+short letter at least sixty seconds before he chose to look up from the
+paper.
+
+"It is best," the marabout said slowly, "that the two sisters go
+together. A man of Islam has the right to repudiate a woman who gives
+him no children, but I have been merciful. Now an opportunity has come
+to rid myself of a burden, without turning adrift one who is helpless
+and friendless. For my son's sake I have granted thy request; for my own
+sake I grant the girl's request: but both, only on one condition--that
+thou swearest in the name of thy God, and upon the head of thy father,
+never to breathe with thy lips, or put with thy hand upon paper, the
+malicious story about me, at which thou hast to-day hinted; that thou
+enforce upon the two sisters the same silence, which, before going, they
+must promise me to guard for ever. Though there is no foundation for the
+wicked fabrication, and no persons of intelligence who know me would
+believe it, even if I had no proof, still for a man who holds a place of
+spiritual eminence, evil gossip is a disgrace."
+
+"I promise for myself, for my friend, and for both the ladies, silence
+on that subject, so long as we may live. I swear before my God, and on
+the head of my dead father, that I will keep my word, if you keep yours
+to me," said Stephen, who knew only half the secret. Yet he was
+astonished at gaining his point so easily. He had expected more trouble.
+Nevertheless, he did not see how the marabout could manage to play him
+false, if he wanted to get his boy and hide the truth about himself.
+
+"I am content," said the Arab. "And thou shouldst be content, since thou
+hast driven a successful bargain, and it is as if the contract between
+us were signed in my heart's blood. Now, I will leave thee. When the
+ladies are ready, thou shalt be called by one of the men who will be of
+their escort. It is not necessary that thou and I meet again, since we
+have, I hope, finished our business together, once and for ever."
+
+        *        *        *        *        *        *        *
+
+"Why is it that he lets me go, without even trying to make me swear
+never to tell what I know?" Saidee asked Victoria, while all in haste
+and in confusion they put together a few things for the long journey.
+Saidee packed the little volumes of her diary, with trembling fingers,
+and looked a frightened question at her sister.
+
+"I'm thankful that he doesn't ask us," Victoria answered, "for we
+couldn't promise not to tell, unless he would vow never to do the
+dreadful things you say he plans--lead a great rising, and massacre the
+French. Even to escape, one couldn't make a promise which might cost
+thousands of lives."
+
+"We could perhaps evade a promise, yet seem to do what he asked," said
+Saidee, who had learned subtle ways in a school of subtlety. "I'm
+terrified that he _doesn't_ ask. Why isn't he afraid to let us go,
+without any assurances?"
+
+"He knows that because you've been his wife, we wouldn't betray him
+unless we were forced to, in order to prevent massacres," Victoria tried
+to reassure her sister. "And perhaps for the sake of getting his boy
+back, he's willing to renounce all his horrible plans."
+
+"Perhaps--since he worships the child," Saidee half agreed. "Yet--it
+doesn't seem like Cassim to be so easily cowed, and to give up the whole
+ambition of his life, with scarcely a struggle, even for his child."
+
+"You said, when you told me how you had written to Mr. Knight, that
+Cassim would be forced to yield, if they took the boy, and so the end
+would justify the means."
+
+"Yes. It was a great card to play. But--but I expected him to make me
+take a solemn oath never to tell what I know."
+
+"Don't let's think of it," said Victoria. "Let's just be thankful that
+we're going, and get ready as quickly as we can, lest he should change
+his mind at the last moment."
+
+"Or lest Maieddine should find out," Saidee added. "But, if Cassim
+really means us to go, he won't let Maieddine find out. He will thank
+Allah and the Prophet for sending the fever that keeps Maieddine in his
+bedroom."
+
+"Poor Maieddine!" Victoria half whispered. In her heart lurked kindness
+for the man who had so desperately loved her, even though love had
+driven him to the verge of treachery. "I hope he'll forget all about me
+and be happy," she said. And then, because she was happy herself, and
+the future seemed bright, she forgot Maieddine, and thought only of
+another.
+
+
+
+
+XLVIII
+
+
+"That must be the bordj of Toudja, at last," Victoria said, looking out
+between the curtains of her bassour. "Aren't you thankful, Saidee?
+You'll feel happier and freer, when Cassim's men have gone back to the
+Zaouia, and our ransom has been paid by the return of the little boy.
+That volume of your life will be closed for ever and ever, and you can
+begin the next."
+
+Saidee was silent. She did not want to think that the volume was closed
+for ever, because in it there was one chapter which, unless it could be
+added to the new volume, would leave the rest of the book without
+interest for her. Half involuntarily she touched the basket which Honore
+Sabine had given her when they parted in the desert city of Oued Tolga
+early that morning. In the basket were two carrier pigeons. She had
+promised to send one from the Bordj of Toudja, and another at the end of
+the next day's journey. After that she would be within reach of the
+telegraph. Her reason told her it was well that Sabine was not with her
+now, yet she wished for him, and could not be glad of his absence.
+Perhaps she would never see him again. Who could tell? It would have
+been unwise for Sabine, as an officer and as a man, to leave his duty to
+travel with her: she could see that, yet she was secretly angry with
+Victoria, because Victoria, happy herself, seemed to have little
+sympathy with her sister's hopes. The girl did not like to talk about
+Sabine, or discuss any connection he might possibly have with Saidee's
+future; and because Victoria was silent on that subject, Saidee revenged
+herself by being reticent on others. Victoria guessed the reason, and
+her heart yearned over Saidee; but this was something of which they
+could not talk. Some day, perhaps, Saidee would understand, and they
+would be drawn together again more closely than before.
+
+"There's Toudja," Stephen said, as the girl looked out again from the
+bassour. Whenever he saw her face, framed thus by the dark red curtains,
+his heart beat, as if her beauty were new to him, seen that instant for
+the first time. This was the flood-tide of his life, now when they
+travelled through the desert together, he and she, and she depended upon
+his help and protection. For to-day, and the few more days until the
+desert journey should come to an end at Biskra, the tide would be at
+flood: then it would ebb, never to rise again, because at Algiers they
+must part, she to go her way, he to go his; and his way would lead him
+to Margot Lorenzi. After Algiers there would be no more happiness for
+him, and he did not hope for it; but, right or wrong, he was living
+passionately in every moment now.
+
+Victoria smiled down from the high bassour at the dark, sunburnt face of
+the rider. How different it was from the dark face of another rider who
+had looked up at her, between her curtains, when she had passed that way
+before! There was only one point of resemblance between the two: the
+light of love in the eyes. Victoria could not help recognizing that
+likeness. She could not help being sure that Stephen loved her, and the
+thought made her feel safe, as well as happy. There had been a sense of
+danger in the knowledge of Maieddine's love.
+
+"The tower in the bordj is ruined," she said, looking across the waving
+sea of dunes to a tall black object like the crooked finger of a giant
+pointing up out of the gold into the blue. "It wasn't so when I passed
+before."
+
+"No," Stephen answered, welcoming any excuse for talk with her. "But it
+was when we came from Touggourt. Sabine told me there'd been a
+tremendous storm in the south just before we left Algiers, and the
+heliograph tower at Toudja was struck by lightning. They'll build it up
+again soon, for all these heliograph stations are supposed to be kept
+in order, in case of any revolt; for the first thing a rebellious tribe
+does is to cut the telegraph wires. If that happened, the only way of
+communication would be by heliograph; and Sabine says that from
+Touggourt to Tombouctou this chain of towers has been arranged always on
+elevations, so that signals can be seen across great stretches of
+desert; and inside the walls of a bordj whenever possible, for defence.
+But the South is so contented and peaceful now, I don't suppose the
+Government will get out of breath in its hurry to restore the damage
+here."
+
+At the sound of Sabine's name Saidee had instantly roused to attention,
+and as Stephen spoke calmly of the peace and content in the South, she
+smiled. Then suddenly her face grew eager.
+
+"Did the marabout appoint Toudja as the place to make the exchange, or
+was it you?" she asked, over Victoria's shoulder.
+
+"The marabout," said Stephen. "I fell in with the idea because I'd
+already made objections to several, and I could see none to Toudja. It's
+a day's journey farther north than the Zaouia, and I remembered the
+bordj being kept by two Frenchmen, who would be of use if----" He
+checked himself, not wishing to hint that it might be necessary to guard
+against treason. "If we had to stop for the night," he amended, "no
+doubt the bordj would be better kept than some others. And we shall have
+to stop, you know, because my friend, Caird, can't arrive from Touggourt
+with the boy till late, at best."
+
+"Did--the marabout seem bent on making this bordj the rendezvous?"
+Saidee asked.
+
+Stephen's eyes met hers in a quick, involuntary glance, then turned to
+the ruined tower. He saw it against the northern sky as they came from
+the south, and, blackened by the lightning, it accentuated the
+desolation of the dunes. In itself, it looked sinister as a broken
+gibbet. "If the marabout had a strong preference for the place, he
+didn't betray it," was the only answer he could make. "Have you a
+special reason for asking?"
+
+"No," Saidee echoed. "No special reason."
+
+But Stephen and Victoria both guessed what was in her mind. As they
+looked at the tower all three thought of the Arabs who formed their
+caravan. There were six, sent out from the Zaouia to take back the
+little Mohammed. They belonged body and soul to the marabout. At the
+town of Oued Tolga, Stephen had added a third to his escort of two; but
+though they were good guides, brave, upstanding fellows, he knew they
+would turn from him if there were any question between Roumis and men of
+their own religion. If an accident had happened to the child on the way
+back from Touggourt, or if any other difficulty arose, in which their
+interest clashed with his, he would have nine Arabs against him. He and
+Caird, with the two Highlanders, if they came, would be alone, no matter
+how large might be Nevill's Arab escort. Stephen hardly knew why these
+thoughts pressed upon him suddenly, with new insistence, as he saw the
+tower rise dark against the sky, jagged as if it had been hacked with a
+huge, dull knife. He had known from the first what risks they ran.
+Nevill and he and Sabine had talked them all over, and decided that, on
+the whole, there was no great danger of treachery from the marabout, who
+stood to lose too much, to gain too little, by breaking faith. As for
+Maieddine, he was ill with fever, so the sisters said, and Saidee and
+Victoria believed that he had been kept in ignorance of the marabout's
+bargain. Altogether, circumstances seemed to have combined in their
+favour. Ben Halim's wife was naturally suspicious and fearful, after her
+long martyrdom, but there was no new reason for uneasiness. Only,
+Stephen reminded himself, he must not neglect the slightest wavering of
+the weather-vane. And in every shadow he must look for a sign.
+
+They had not made a hurried march from the desert city, for Stephen and
+Sabine had calculated the hour at which Nevill might have received the
+summons, and the time he would take on the return journey. It was
+possible, Lady MacGregor being what she was, that she might have rewired
+the telegram to a certain bordj, the only telegraph station between
+Touggourt and Oued Tolga. If she had done this, and the message had
+caught Nevill, many hours would be saved. Instead of getting to the
+bordj about midnight, tired out with a long, quick march, he might be
+expected before dark. Even so, Stephen would be well ahead, for, as the
+caravan came to the gate of the bordj, it was only six o'clock, blazing
+afternoon still, and hot as midday, with the fierce, golden heat of the
+desert towards the end of May.
+
+The big iron gates were wide open, and nothing stirred in the quadrangle
+inside; but as Stephen rode in, one of the Frenchmen he remembered
+slouched out of a room where the wooden shutters of the window were
+closed for coolness. His face was red, and he yawned as he came forward,
+rubbing his eyes as if he had been asleep. But he welcomed Stephen
+politely, and seeing that a good profit might be expected from so large
+a party, he roused himself to look pleased.
+
+"I must have a room for two ladies," said Stephen, "and I am expecting a
+friend with a small caravan, to arrive from the north. However, six of
+my Arabs will go back when he comes. You must do the best you can for
+us, but nothing is of any importance compared to the ladies' comfort."
+
+"Certainly, I will do my best," the keeper of the bordj assured him.
+"But as you see, our accommodation is humble. It is strained when we
+have four or five officers for the night, and though I and my brother
+have been in this God-forsaken place--worse luck!--for nine years, we
+have never yet had to put up ladies. Unfortunately, too, my brother is
+away, gone to Touggourt to buy stores, and I have only one Arab to help
+me. Still, though I have forgotten many useful things in this
+banishment, I have not forgotten how to cook, as more than one French
+officer could tell you."
+
+"One has told me," said Stephen. "Captain Sabine, of the Chasseurs
+d'Afrique."
+
+"Ah, ce beau sabreur! He stopped with me on his way to Oued Tolga, for
+the well-making. If he has recommended me, I shall be on my mettle,
+Monsieur."
+
+The heavy face brightened; but there were bags under the bloodshot eyes,
+and the man's breath reeked of alcohol. Stephen was sorry the brother
+was away. He had been the more alert and prepossessing of the two.
+
+As they talked, the quadrangle of the bordj--which was but an inferior
+caravanserai--had waked to animation. The landlord's one Arab servant
+had appeared, like a rat out of a hole, to help the new arrivals with
+their horses and camels. The caravans had filed in, and the marabout's
+men and Stephen's guides had dismounted.
+
+None of these had seen the place since the visitation of the storm, and
+one or two from the Zaouia had perhaps never been so far north before,
+yet they looked at the broken tower with grave interest rather than
+curiosity. Stephen wondered whether they had been primed with knowledge
+before starting, or if their lack of emotion were but Arab stoicism.
+
+As usual in a caravanserai or large bordj, all round the square
+courtyard were series of rooms: a few along one wall for the
+accommodation of French officers and rich Arabs, furnished with
+elementary European comforts; opposite, a dining-room and kitchen; to
+the left, the quarters of the two landlords and their servants; along
+the fourth wall, on either side of the great iron gate, sheds for
+animals, untidily littered with straw and refuse, infested with flies.
+Further disorder was added by the debris from the broken
+heliograph-tower which had been only partially cleared away since the
+storm. Other towers there were, also; three of them, all very low and
+squat, jutting out from each corner of the high, flat-topped wall, and
+loopholed as usual, so that men stationed inside could defend against an
+escalade. These small towers were intact, though the roof of one was
+covered with rubbish from the ruined shell rising above; and looking up
+at this, Stephen saw that much had fallen away since he passed with
+Nevill, going to Oued Tolga. One entire wall had been sliced off,
+leaving the inside of the tower, with the upper chamber, visible from
+below. It was like looking into a half-dissected body, and the effect
+was depressing.
+
+"If we should be raided by Arabs now," said the landlord, laughing, as
+he saw Stephen glance at the tower, "we should have to pray for help:
+there would be no other means of getting it."
+
+"You don't seem to worry much," replied Stephen.
+
+"No, for the Arabs in these parts are sheep nowadays," said the
+Frenchman. "Like sheep, they might follow a leader; but where is the
+leader? It is different among the Touaregs, where I spent some time
+before I came here. They are warriors by nature, but even they are quiet
+of late."
+
+"Do you ever see any here?" Stephen asked.
+
+"A few occasionally, going to Touggourt, but seldom. They are
+formidable-looking fellows, in their indigo-coloured masks, which stain
+their skin blue, but they are tractable enough if one does not offend
+them."
+
+There was only one room which could be made passably habitable for
+Saidee and Victoria, and they went into it, out of the hot sun, as soon
+as it could be prepared. The little luggage they had brought went with
+them, and the basket containing the two carrier pigeons. Saidee fed the
+birds, and scribbled a few words on a scrap of paper, to tell Sabine
+that they had arrived safely at Toudja. On second thoughts, she added a
+postscript, while Victoria unpacked what they needed for the night.
+"_He_ chose the rendezvous," Saidee wrote. "I suppose I'm too
+superstitious, but I can't help wondering if his choice had anything to
+do with the ruined tower? Don't be anxious, though. You will probably
+receive another line to-morrow night, to say that we've reached the next
+stage, and all's well."
+
+"I suppose you think I'm doing wrong to write to him?" she said to
+Victoria, as she took one of the pigeons out of its basket.
+
+"No," the girl answered. "Why shouldn't you write to say you're safe?
+He's your friend, and you're going far away."
+
+Saidee almost wished that Victoria had scolded her. Without speaking
+again, she began to fasten her letter under the bird's wing, but gave a
+little cry, for there was blood on her fingers. "Oh, he's hurt himself
+somehow!" she exclaimed. "He won't be able to fly, I'm afraid. What
+shall I do? I must send the other one. And yet--if I do, there'll be
+nothing for to-morrow."
+
+"Won't you wait until after Mr. Caird has come, and you can tell about
+the little boy?" Victoria suggested.
+
+"He mayn't arrive till very late, and--I promised Captain Sabine that he
+should hear to-night."
+
+"But think how quickly a pigeon flies! Surely it can go in less than
+half the time we would take, riding up and down among the dunes."
+
+"Oh, much less than half! Captain Sabine said that from the bordj of
+Toudja the pigeon would come to him in an hour and a half, or two at
+most."
+
+"Then wait a little longer. Somehow I feel you'll be glad if you do."
+
+Saidee looked quickly at the girl. "You make me superstitious," she
+said.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"With your 'feelings' about things. They're almost always right. I'm
+afraid of them. I shouldn't dare send the pigeon now, for fear----"
+
+"For fear of what?"
+
+"I hardly know. I told you that you made me superstitious."
+
+Stephen stood between the open gates of the bordj, looking north, whence
+Nevill should come. The desert was empty, a great, waving stretch of
+gold, but a caravan might be engulfed among the dunes. Any moment
+horses or camels might come in sight; and he was not anxious about
+Nevill or the boy. It was impossible that they could have been cut off
+by an attacking party from the Zaouia. Captain Sabine and he, Stephen,
+had kept too keen a watch for that to happen, for the Zaouia lay south
+of Oued Tolga the city.
+
+Others besides himself were searching the sea of sand. One of his own
+guides was standing outside the gates, talking with two of the
+marabout's men, and looking into the distance. But rather oddly, it
+seemed to him, their faces were turned southward, until the guide said
+something to the others. Then, slowly, they faced towards the north.
+Stephen remembered how he had told himself to neglect no sign. Had he
+just seen a sign?
+
+For some moments he did not look at the Arabs. Then, glancing quickly at
+the group, he saw that the head man sent by the marabout was talking
+emphatically to the guide from Oued Tolga, the city. Again, their eyes
+flashed to the Roumi, before he had time to turn away, and without
+hesitation the head man from the Zaouia came a few steps towards him.
+"Sidi, we see horses," he said, in broken French. "The caravan thou dost
+expect is there," and he pointed.
+
+Stephen had very good eyesight, but he saw nothing, and said so.
+
+"We Arabs are used to looking across great distances," the man answered.
+"Keep thy gaze steadily upon the spot where I point, and presently thou
+wilt see."
+
+It was as he prophesied. Out of a blot of shadow among the tawny dunes
+crawled some dark specks, which might have been particles of the shadow
+itself. They moved, and gradually increased in size. By and by Stephen
+could count seven separate specks. It must be Nevill and the boy, and
+Stephen wondered if he had added two more Arabs to the pair who had gone
+back with him from Oued Tolga, towards Touggourt.
+
+"Hurrah for Lady MacGregor!" the watcher said under his breath. "She
+wired on my telegram, and caught him before he'd passed the last
+station. I might have known she would, the glorious old darling!" He
+hurried inside the bordj to knock at the ladies' door, and tell the
+news. "They're in sight!" he cried. "Would you like to come outside the
+gate and look?"
+
+Instantly the door opened, and the sisters appeared. Victoria looked
+flushed and happy, but Saidee was pale, almost haggard in comparison
+with the younger girl. Both were in Arab dress still, having nothing
+else, even if they had wished to change; and as she came out, Saidee
+mechanically drew the long blue folds of her veil closely over her face.
+Custom had made this a habit which it would be hard to break.
+
+All three went out together, and the Arabs, standing in a group, turned
+at the sound of their voices. Again they had been looking southward.
+Stephen looked also, but the dazzle of the declining sun was in his
+eyes.
+
+"Don't seem to notice anything," said Saidee in a low voice.
+
+"What is there to notice?" he asked in the same tone.
+
+"A big caravan coming from the south. Can't you see it?"
+
+"No. I see nothing."
+
+"You haven't stared at the desert for eight years, as I have. There must
+be eighteen or twenty men."
+
+"Do you think they're from the Zaouia?" asked Victoria.
+
+"Who can tell? We can't know till they're very close, and then----"
+
+"Nevill Caird will get here first," Stephen said, half to himself. "You
+can see five horses and two camels plainly now. They're travelling
+fast."
+
+"Those Arabs have seen the others," Saidee murmured. "But they don't
+want us to know they're thinking about them."
+
+"Even if men are coming from the Zaouia," said Stephen, "it may easily
+be that they've only been sent as an extra escort for the boy, owing to
+his father's anxiety."
+
+"Yes, it may be only that," Saidee admitted. "Still, I'm glad----" She
+did not finish her sentence. But she was thinking about the carrier
+pigeon, and Victoria's advice.
+
+All three looked northward, watching the seven figures on horseback, in
+the far distance; but now and then, when they could hope to do so
+without being noticed by the Arabs, they stole a hasty glance in the
+other direction. "The caravan has stopped," Saidee declared at last. "In
+the shadow of a big dune."
+
+"I see, now," said Stephen.
+
+"And I," added Victoria.
+
+"Perhaps after all, it's just an ordinary caravan," Saidee said more
+hopefully. "Many nomads come north at this time of year. They may be
+making their camp now. Anyway, its certain they haven't moved for some
+time."
+
+And still they had not moved, when Nevill Caird was close enough to the
+bordj for a shout of greeting to be heard.
+
+"There are two of the strangest-looking creatures with him!" cried
+Saidee. "What can they be--on camels!"
+
+"Why," exclaimed Victoria, "it's those men in kilts, who waited on the
+table at Mr. Caird's house!"
+
+"Hurrah for Lady MacGregor again!" laughed Stephen. "It's the twins,
+Angus and Hamish." He pulled off his panama hat and waved it, shouting to
+his friend in joy. "We're a regiment!" he exclaimed gaily.
+
+
+
+
+XLIX
+
+
+The boy Mohammed was proud and very happy. He had not been in a
+motor-car, for he had not got to Touggourt; but it was glorious to have
+travelled far north, almost out of the dunes, and not only to have seen
+giant women in short skirts with bare legs, but not to be afraid of
+them, as the grown-up Arabs were. The giant women were Hamish and Angus,
+and it was a great thing to know them, and to be able to explain them to
+his father's men from the Zaouia.
+
+He was a handsome little fellow, with a face no darker than old ivory,
+and heavily lashed, expressive eyes, like those which looked over the
+marabout's mask. His dress was that of a miniature man; a white silk
+burnous, embroidered with gold, over a pale blue vest, stitched in many
+colours; a splendid red cloak, whose embroidery of stiff gold stood out
+like a bas-relief; a turban and chechia of thin white muslin; and
+red-legged boots finer than those of the Spahis. Though he was but
+eleven years old, and had travelled hard for days, he sat his horse with
+a princely air, worthy the son of a desert potentate; and like a prince
+he received the homage of the marabout's men who rushed to him with
+guttural cries, kissing the toes of his boots, in their short stirrups,
+and fighting for an end of his cloak to touch with their lips. He did
+not know that he had been "kidnapped." His impression was that he had
+deigned to favour a rather agreeable Roumi with his company. Now he was
+returning to his own people, and would bid his Roumi friend good-bye
+with the cordiality of one gentleman to another, though with a certain
+royal condescension fitted to the difference in their positions.
+
+Nevill was in wild spirits, though pale with heat and fatigue. He had
+nothing to say of himself, but much of his aunt and of the boy Mohammed.
+"Ripping little chap," he exclaimed, when Saidee had gone indoors. "You
+never saw such pluck. He'd die sooner than admit he was tired. I shall
+be quite sorry to part from him. He was jolly good company, a sort of
+living book of Arab history. And what do you say to our surprise,--the
+twins? My aunt sent them off at the same time with the telegram, but of
+course they put in an appearance much later. They caught me up this
+morning, riding like devils on racing camels, with one guide. No horses
+could be got big enough for them. They've frightened every Arab they've
+met--but they're used to that and vain of it. They've got rifles--and
+bagpipes too, for all I know. They're capable of them."
+
+"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, Wings," said Stephen, "and
+only a little less glad to see those big fellows with their brave
+faces." Then he mentioned to Nevill the apparition of that mysterious
+caravan which had appeared, and vanished. Also he described the
+behaviour of the Zaouia men when they had looked south, instead of
+north.
+
+"Oh, that's all right, I'll bet," exclaimed Nevill, exuberant with the
+joy of success, and in the hope of coolness, food and rest. "Might have
+been any old caravan, on its own business--nothing to do with us. That's
+the most likely thing. But if the marabout's mixed up with it, I should
+say it's only because he couldn't bear to stop at home and wait in
+suspense, and I don't blame him, now I've made acquaintance with the
+kid. He'd be too proud to parade his anxiety under our noses, but would
+lurk in the distance, out of our sight, he probably flatters himself, to
+welcome his son, and take him back to Oued Tolga. Not unnatural--and in
+spite of all, I can't help being a little sorry for the man. We've
+humiliated and got the better of him, because we happen to have his
+secret. It's a bit like draining a chap's blood, and then challenging
+him to fight. He's got all he can expect now, in receiving the child
+back and if I can judge him by myself, he'll be so happy, that he'll be
+only too thankful to see our backs for the last time."
+
+"He might feel safer to stick a knife in them."
+
+"Oh, lord, I'm too hot to worry!" laughed Nevill. "Let's bid the boy
+Godspeed, or the Mussulman equivalent, which is a lot more elaborate,
+and then turn our thoughts to a bath of sorts and a dinner of sorts. I
+think Providence has been good to us so far, and we can afford to trust
+It. I'm sure Miss Ray would agree with me there." And Nevill glanced
+with kind blue eyes toward the shut door behind which Victoria had
+disappeared with her sister.
+
+When at last the little Mohammed had been despatched with great ceremony
+of politeness, as well as a present of Stephen's gold watch, the two
+Englishmen watched him fade out of sight with his cavalcade of men from
+the Zaouia, and saw that nothing moved in the southern distance.
+
+"All's right with the world, and now for a wash and food!" cried Nevill,
+turning in with a sigh of relief at the gate of the bordj. "But oh, by
+the way--Hamish has got a letter for you--or is it Angus? Anyhow, it's
+from my fairy aunt, which I would envy you, if she hadn't sent me on
+something better--a post-card from Tlemcen. My tyrant goddess thinks
+letters likely to give undue encouragement, but once in a while she
+sheds the light of a post-card on me. Small favours thankfully
+received--from that source!"
+
+Inside the courtyard, the Highlanders were watching the three Arabs who
+had travelled with them and their master, attending to the horses and
+camels. These newcomers were being shown the ropes by the one servant of
+the bordj, Stephen's men helping with grave good-nature. They all seemed
+very friendly together, as is the way of Arabs, unless they inhabit
+rival districts.
+
+Hamish had the letter, and gave it to Stephen, who retired a few steps
+to read it, and Nevill, seeing that the twins left all work to the
+Arabs, ordered them to put his luggage into the musty-smelling room
+which he was to share with Stephen, and to get him some kind of bath, if
+it were only a tin pan.
+
+Stephen did not listen to these directions, nor did he hear or see
+anything that went on in the courtyard, for the next ten minutes. There
+was, indeed, a short and characteristic letter from Lady MacGregor, but
+it was only to say that she had finished and named the new game of
+Patience for Victoria Ray, and that, after all, she enclosed him a
+telegram, forwarded from Algiers to Touggourt. "I know Nevill told me
+that everything could wait till you got back," she explained, "but as I
+am sending the twins, they might as well take this. It may be of
+importance; and I'm afraid by the time you get it, the news will be
+several days old already."
+
+He guessed, before he looked, whence the telegram came; and he dreaded
+to make sure. For an instant, he was tempted to put the folded bit of
+paper in his pocket, unread until Touggourt, or even Biskra. "Why
+shouldn't I keep these few days unspoiled by thoughts of what's to come,
+since they're the only happy days I shall ever have?" he asked himself.
+But it would be weak to put off the evil moment, and he would not yield.
+He opened the telegram.
+
+     "Sailing on Virginian. Hope you can meet me Liverpool May 22nd.
+     Love and longing. Margot."
+
+To-day was the 25th.
+
+        *        *        *        *        *        *        *
+
+When he looked up, the courtyard was empty, and quiet, save for the
+quacking of two or three forlorn ducks. Nevill had gone inside, and the
+Highlanders were waiting upon him, no doubt--for Nevill liked a good
+deal of waiting upon. The Arabs had left the animals peacefully feeding,
+and had disappeared into the kitchen, or perhaps to have a last look at
+the vanishing escort of the marabout's sacred son.
+
+Stephen was suddenly conscious of fatigue, and a depression as of great
+weariness. He envied Nevill, whose boyish laugh he heard. The girl
+Nevill loved had refused to marry him, but she smiled when she saw him,
+and sent him post-cards when he was absent. There was hope for Nevill.
+For him there was none; although--and it was as if a fierce hand seized
+and wrenched his heart--sometimes it had seemed, in the last few hours,
+that in Victoria Ray's smile for him there was the same lovely,
+mysterious light which made the eyes of Josette Soubise wonderful when
+she looked at Nevill. If it were not for Margot--but there was no use
+thinking of that. He could not ask Margot to set him free, after all
+that had passed, and even if he should ask, she would refuse. Shuddering
+disgustfully, the thought of a new family scandal shot through his mind:
+a breach-of-promise case begun by Margot against him, if he tried to
+escape. It was the sort of thing she would do, he could not help
+recognizing. Another _cause celebre_, more vulgar than the fight for his
+brother's title! How Victoria would turn in shocked revulsion from the
+hero of such a coarse tragi-comedy. But he would never be that hero. He
+would keep his word and stick to Margot. When he should come to the
+desert telegraph station between Toudja and Touggourt, he would wire to
+the Carlton, where she thought of returning, and explain as well as he
+could that, not expecting her quite yet, he had stayed on in Africa, but
+would see her as soon as possible.
+
+"Better hurry up and get ready for dinner!" shouted Nevill, through a
+crack of their bedroom door. "I warn you, I'm starving!"
+
+By this time the Highlanders were out in the courtyard again--two
+gigantic figures, grotesque and even fearful in the eyes of Arabs; but
+there were no Arabs to stare at them now. All had gone about their
+business in one direction or other.
+
+Stephen said nothing to his friend about the enclosure in Lady
+MacGregor's letter, mentioning merely the new game of cards named in
+honour of Miss Ray, at which they both laughed. And it seemed rather
+odd to Stephen just then, to hear himself laugh.
+
+The quick-falling twilight had now given sudden coolness and peace to
+the desert. The flies had ceased their persecutions. The whole air was
+blue as the light seen through a pale star-sapphire, for the western sky
+was veiled with a film of cloud floating up out of the sunset like the
+smoke of its fire, and there was no glow of red.
+
+As the two friends made themselves ready for dinner, and talked of such
+adventures as each had just passed through, they heard the voice of the
+landlord, impatiently calling, "Abdallah! Abdallah!"
+
+There was no reply, and again he roared the name of his servant, from
+the kitchen and from the courtyard, into which he rushed with a huge
+ladle in his hand; then from farther off, outside the gate, which
+remained wide open. Still there came no answer; and presently Stephen,
+looking from his bedroom, saw the Frenchman, hot and red-faced, slowly
+crossing the courtyard, mumbling to himself.
+
+Nevill had not quite finished his toilet, for he had a kind of boyish
+vanity, and wished to show how well and smart he could look after the
+long, tiresome journey. But Stephen was ready, and he stepped out,
+closing the door behind him.
+
+"Can't you find your servant?" he asked the keeper of the bordj.
+
+"No," said the man, adding some epithets singularly unflattering to the
+absent one and his ancestors. "He has vanished as if his father, the
+devil, had dragged him down to hell."
+
+"Where are the others?" inquired Stephen. "My men and my friend's men?
+Are they still standing outside the gates, watching the boy and his
+caravan?"
+
+"I saw them nowhere," returned the Frenchman. "It is bad enough to keep
+one Arab in order. I do not run after others. Would that the whole
+nation might die like flies in a frost! I hate them. What am I to do
+for my dinner, and ladies in the bordj for the first time? It is just my
+luck. I cannot leave the kitchen, and that brute Abdallah has not laid
+the table! When I catch him I will wring his neck as if he were a hen."
+
+He trotted back to the kitchen, swearing, and an instant later he was
+visible through the open door, drinking something out of a bottle.
+
+Stephen went to the door of the third and last guest-room of the bordj.
+It was larger than the others, and had no furniture except a number of
+thick blue and red rugs spread one on top of the other, on the floor.
+This was the place where those who paid least were accommodated, eight
+or ten at a time if necessary; and it was expected that Hamish and Angus
+would have to share the room with the Arab guides of both parties.
+
+Stephen looked in at the twins, as they scornfully inspected their
+quarters.
+
+"Where are the Arabs?" he asked, as he had asked the landlord.
+
+"We dinna ken whaur they've ta'en theirsel's," replied Angus. "All we
+ken is, we wull not lie in the hoose wi' 'em. Her leddyship wadna expect
+it, whateffer. We prefair t' sleep in th' open."
+
+Stephen retired from the argument, and mounted a steep, rough stairway,
+close to the gate, which led to the flat top of the wall, and had
+formerly been connected by a platform with the ruined heliograph tower.
+The wall was perhaps two feet thick, and though the top was rough and
+somewhat broken, it was easy to walk upon it. Once it had been defended
+by a row of nails and bits of glass, but most of these were gone. It was
+an ancient bordj, and many years of peace had passed since it was built
+in the old days of raids and razzias.
+
+Stephen looked out over the desert, through the blue veil of twilight,
+but could see no sign of life anywhere. Then, coming down, he mounted
+into each squat tower in turn, and peered out, so that he might spy in
+all directions, but there was nothing to spy save the shadowy dunes,
+more than ever like waves of the sea, in this violet light. He was not
+reassured, however, by the appearance of a vast peace and emptiness.
+Behind those billowing dunes that surged away toward the horizon, north,
+south, east, and west, there was hiding-place for an army.
+
+As he came down from the last of the four towers, his friend sauntered
+out from his bedroom. "I hope the missing Abdallah's turned up, and
+dinner's ready," said Nevill gaily.
+
+Then Stephen told him what had happened, and Nevill's cheerful face
+settled into gravity.
+
+"Looks as if they'd got a tip from the marabout's men," he said slowly.
+
+"It can be nothing else," Stephen agreed.
+
+"I blame myself for calling the twins inside to help me," said Nevill.
+"If I'd left them to moon about the courtyard, they'd have seen those
+sneaks creeping away, and reported."
+
+"They wouldn't have thought it strange that the Arabs stood outside,
+watching the boy go. You're not to blame, because you didn't see the sly
+look in my fellows' faces. I had the sign, and neglected it, in spite of
+my resolutions. But after all, if we're in for trouble, I don't know
+that it isn't as well those cowards have taken French leave. If they'd
+stayed, we'd only have had an enemy inside the gates, as well as out.
+And that reminds me, we must have the gates shut at once. Thank heaven
+we brought those French army rifles and plenty of cartridges from
+Algiers, when we didn't know what we might be in for. Now we _do_ know;
+and all are likely to come handy. Also our revolvers."
+
+"Thank heaven and my aunt for the twins, too," said Nevill. "They might
+be better servants, but I'll bet on them as fighters. And perhaps you
+noticed the rifles her 'leddyship' provided them with at Touggourt?"
+
+"I saw the muzzles glitter as they rode along on camel-back," Stephen
+answered. "I was glad even then, but now----" He did not need to finish
+the sentence. "We'd better have a word with our host," he said.
+
+To reach the dining-room, where the landlord was busy, furiously
+clattering dishes, they had to pass the door of the room occupied by the
+sisters. It was half open, and as they went by, Victoria came out.
+
+"Please tell me things," she said. "I'm sure you're anxious. When we
+heard the landlord call his servant and nobody answered, Saidee was
+afraid there was something wrong. You know, from the first she thought
+that her--that Cassim didn't mean to keep his word. Have the Arabs all
+gone?"
+
+Nevill was silent, to let Stephen take the responsibility. He was not
+sure whether or no his friend meant to try and hide their anxiety from
+the women. But Stephen answered frankly. "Yes, they've gone. It may be
+that nothing will happen, but we're going to shut the gates at once, and
+make every possible preparation."
+
+"In case of an attack?"
+
+"Yes. But we have a good place for defence here. It would be something
+to worry about if we were out in the open desert."
+
+"There are five men, counting your Highlanders," said Victoria, turning
+to Nevill. "I think they are brave, and I know well already what you
+both are." Her eyes flashed to Stephen's with a beautiful look, all for
+him. "And Saidee and I aren't cowards. Our greatest grief is that we've
+brought you into this danger. It's for our sakes. If it weren't for us,
+you'd be safe and happy in Algiers."
+
+Both men laughed. "We'd rather be here, thank you," said Stephen. "If
+you're not frightened, that's all we want. We're as safe as in a fort,
+and shall enjoy the adventure, if we have any."
+
+"It's like you to say that," Victoria answered. "But there's no use
+pretending, is there? Cassim will bring a good many men, and Si
+Maieddine will be with them, I think. They couldn't afford to try, and
+fail. If they come, they'll have to--make thorough work."
+
+"Yet, on the other hand, they wouldn't want to take too many into their
+secret," Stephen tried to reassure her.
+
+"Well, we may soon know," she said. "But what I came out to say, is
+this. My sister has two carrier pigeons with her. One has hurt its wing
+and is no use. But the other is well, and--he comes from Oued Tolga. Not
+the Zaouia, but the city. We've been thinking, she and I, since the Arab
+servant didn't answer, that it would be a good thing to send a letter
+to--to Captain Sabine, telling him we expected an attack."
+
+"It would be rather a sell if he got the message, and acted on it--and
+then nothing happened after all," suggested Nevill.
+
+"I think we'll send the message," said Stephen. "It would be different
+if we were all men here, but----"
+
+Victoria turned, and ran back to the open door.
+
+"The pigeon shall go in five minutes," she called over her shoulder.
+
+Stephen and Nevill went to the dining-room.
+
+The landlord was there, drunk, talking to himself. He had broken a dish,
+and was kicking the fragments under the table. He laughed at first when
+the two Englishmen tried to impress upon him the gravity of the
+situation; at last, however, they made him understand that this was no
+joke, but deadly earnest. They helped him close and bar the heavy iron
+gates; and as they looked about for material with which to build up a
+barrier if necessary, they saw the sisters come to the door. Saidee had
+a pigeon in her hands, and opening them suddenly, she let it go. It
+rose, fluttered, circling in the air, and flew southward. Victoria ran
+up the dilapidated stairway by the gate, to see it go, but already the
+tiny form was muffled from sight in the blue folds of the twilight.
+
+"In less than two hours it will be at Oued Tolga," the girl cried,
+coming down the steep steps.
+
+At that instant, far away, there was the dry bark of a gun.
+
+They looked at each other, and said nothing, but the same doubt was in
+the minds of all.
+
+It might be that the message would never reach Oued Tolga.
+
+Then another thought flashed into Stephen's brain. He asked himself
+whether it would be possible to climb up into the broken tower. If he
+could reach the top, he might be able to call for help if they should be
+hard-pressed; for some years before he had, more for amusement than
+anything else, taken a commission in a volunteer battalion and among
+many other things which he considered more or less useless, had learned
+signalling. He had not entirely forgotten the accomplishment, and it
+might serve him very well now, only--and he looked up critically at the
+jagged wall--it would be difficult to get into that upper chamber, a
+shell of which remained. In any case, he would not think of so extreme a
+measure, until he was sure that, if he gave an alarm, it would not be a
+false one.
+
+"Let's have dinner," said Nevill. "If we have fighting to do, I vote we
+start with ammunition in our stomachs as well as in our pockets."
+
+Saidee had gone part way up the steps, and was looking over the wall.
+
+"I see something dark, that moves," she said. "It's far away, but I am
+sure. My eyes haven't been trained in the desert for nothing. It's a
+caravan--quite a big caravan, and it's coming this way. That's where the
+shot came from. If they killed the pigeon, or winged it, we're all lost.
+It would only be childish to hope. We must look our fate in the face.
+The men will be killed, and I, too. Victoria will be saved, but I think
+she'd rather die with the rest of us, for Maieddine will take her."
+
+"It's never childish to hope, it seems to me," said Nevill. "This little
+fort of ours isn't to be conquered in an hour, or many hours, I assure
+you."
+
+"And we have no intention of letting you be killed, or Miss Ray carried
+off, or of dying ourselves, at the hands of a few Arabs," Knight added.
+"Have confidence."
+
+"In our star," Victoria half whispered, looking at Stephen. They both
+remembered, and their eyes spoke, in a language they had never used
+before.
+
+In England, Margot Lorenzi was wondering why Stephen Knight had not come
+to meet her, and angrily making up her mind that she would find out the
+reason.
+
+
+
+
+L
+
+
+Somehow, they all contrived to take a little food, three watching from
+the wall-towers while the others ate; and Saidee prepared strong,
+delicious coffee, such as had never been tasted in the bordj of Toudja.
+
+When they had dined after a fashion, each making a five-minute meal,
+there was still time to arrange the defence, for the attacking party--if
+such it were--could not reach the bordj in less than an hour, marching
+as fast as horses and camels could travel among the dunes.
+
+The landlord was drunk. There was no disguising that, but though he was
+past planning, he was not past fighting. He had a French army rifle and
+bayonet. Each of the five men had a revolver, and there was another in
+the bordj, belonging to the absent brother. This Saidee asked for, and
+it was given her. There were plenty of cartridges for each weapon,
+enough at all events to last out a hot fight of several hours. After
+that--but it was best not to send thoughts too far ahead.
+
+The Frenchman had served long ago in the Chasseurs d'Afrique, and had
+risen, he said, to the rank of sergeant; but the fumes of absinthe
+clouded his brain, and he could only swagger and boast of old exploits
+as a soldier, crying from time to time "Vive l'entente cordiale," and
+assuring the Englishmen that they could trust him to the death. It was
+Stephen who, by virtue of his amateur soldiering experience, had to take
+the lead. He posted the Highlanders in opposite watch-towers, placing
+Nevill in one which commanded the two rear walls of the bordj. The next
+step was the building of bonfires, one at each corner of the roof, so
+that when the time for fighting came, the defenders might confound the
+enemy by lighting the surrounding desert, making a surprise impossible.
+Old barrels were broken up, therefore, and saturated with oil. The
+spiked double gates of iron, though apparently strong, Stephen judged
+incapable of holding out long against battering rams, but he knew heavy
+baulks of wood to be rare in the desert, far from the palms of the
+oases. What he feared most was gunpowder; and though he was ignorant of
+the marabout's secret ambitions and warlike preparations, he thought it
+not improbable that a store of gunpowder might be kept in the Zaouia.
+True, the French Government forbade Arabs to have more than a small
+supply in their possession; but the marabout was greatly trusted, and
+was perhaps allowed to deal out a certain amount of the coveted treasure
+for "powder play" on religious fete days. To prevent the bordj falling
+into the hands of the Arabs if the gate were blown down, Stephen and his
+small force built up at the further corner of the yard, in front of the
+dining-room door, a barrier of mangers, barrels, wooden troughs, iron
+bedsteads and mattresses from the guest-rooms. Also they reinforced the
+gates against pressure from the outside, using the shafts of an old cart
+to make struts, which they secured against the side walls or frame of
+the gateway. These formed buttresses of considerable strength; and the
+landlord, instead of grumbling at the damage which might be done to his
+bordj, and the danger which threatened himself, was maudlin with delight
+at the prospect of killing a few detested Arabs.
+
+"I don't know what your quarrel's about, unless it's the ladies," he
+said, breathing vengeance and absinthe, "but whatever it is, I'll make
+it mine, whether you compensate me or not. Depend upon me, _mon
+capitaine_. Depend on an old soldier."
+
+But Stephen dared not depend upon him to man one of the watch-towers.
+Eye and hand were too unsteady to do good service in picking off
+escaladers. The ex-soldier was brave enough for any feat, however, and
+was delighted when the Englishman suggested, rather than gave orders,
+that his should be the duty of lighting the bonfires. That done, he was
+to take his stand in the courtyard, and shoot any man who escaped the
+rifles in the wall-towers.
+
+It was agreed among all five men that the gate was to be held as long as
+possible; that if it fell, a second stand should be made behind the
+crescent-shaped barricade outside the dining-room door; that, should
+this defence fall also, all must retreat into the dining-room, where the
+two sisters must remain throughout the attack; and this would be the
+last stand.
+
+Everything being settled, and the watch-towers well supplied with food
+for the rifles, Stephen went to call Saidee and Victoria, who were in
+their almost dismantled room. The bedstead, washstand, chairs and table
+had ceased to be furniture, and had become part of the barricade.
+
+"Let me carry your things into the dining-room now," he said. "And your
+bed covering. We can make up a sort of couch there, for you may as well
+be comfortable if you can. And you know, it's on the cards that all our
+fuss is in vain. Nothing whatever may happen."
+
+They obeyed, without objection; but Saidee's look as she laid a pair of
+Arab blankets over Stephen's arm, told how little rest she expected. She
+gathered up a few things of her own, however, to take from the bedroom
+to the dining-room, and as she walked ahead, Stephen asked Victoria if,
+in the handbag she had brought from the Zaouia there was a mirror.
+
+"Yes," she answered. "There's quite a good-sized one, which I used to
+have on my dressing-table in the theatre. How far away that time seems
+now!"
+
+"Will you lend the mirror to me--or do you value it too much to risk
+having it smashed?"
+
+"Of course I'll lend it. But----" she looked up at him anxiously, in
+the blue star-dusk. "What are you going to do?"
+
+"Nothing particular, unless we've reason to believe that an attack will
+be made; that is, if a lot of Arabs come near the bordj. In that case, I
+want to try and get up into the tower, and do some signalling--for fear
+the shot we heard hit your sister's messenger. I used to be rather a
+nailer at that sort of thing, when I played at soldiering a few years
+ago."
+
+"But no one could climb the tower now!" the girl exclaimed.
+
+"I don't know. I almost flatter myself that I could. I've done the Dent
+Blanche twice, and a Welsh mountain or two. To be sure, I must be my own
+guide now, but I think I can bring it off all right. I've been searching
+about for a mirror and reflector, in case I try the experiment; for the
+heliographing apparatus was spoilt in the general wreckage of things by
+the storm. I've got a reflector off a lamp in the kitchen, but couldn't
+find a looking-glass anywhere, and I saw there was only a broken bit in
+your room. My one hope was in you."
+
+As he said this, he felt that the words meant a great deal more than he
+wished her to understand.
+
+"I hate being afraid of things," said Victoria. "But I am afraid to have
+you go up in the tower. It's only a shell, that looks as if it might
+blow down in another storm. It could fall with you, even if you got up
+safely to the signalling place. And besides, if Cassim's men were near,
+they might see you and shoot. Oh, I don't think I could bear to have you
+go!"
+
+"You care--a little--what becomes of me?" Stephen had stammered before
+he had time to forbid himself the question.
+
+"I care a great deal--what becomes of you."
+
+"Thank you for telling me that," he said, warmly. "I--" but he knew he
+must not go on. "I shan't be in danger," he finished. "I'll be up and
+back before any one gets near enough to see what I'm at, and pot at me."
+
+As he spoke, the sound of a strange, wild singing came to them, with the
+desert wind that blew from the south.
+
+"That's a Touareg song," exclaimed Saidee, turning. "It isn't Arab. I've
+heard Touaregs sing it, coming to the Zaouia."
+
+"Madame is right," said the landlord. "I, too, have heard Touaregs sing
+it, in their own country, and also when they have passed here, in small
+bands. Perhaps we have deceived ourselves. Perhaps we are not to enjoy
+the pleasure of a fight. I feared it was too good to be true."
+
+"I can see a caravan," cried Nevill, from his cell in a wall-tower.
+"There seem to be a lot of men."
+
+"Would they come like that, if they wanted to fight?" asked the girl.
+"Wouldn't they spread out, and hope to surprise us?"
+
+"They'll either try to rush the gate, or else they'll pretend to be a
+peaceful caravan," said Stephen.
+
+"I see! Get the landlord to let their leaders in, and then.... That's
+why they sing the Touareg song, perhaps, to put us off our guard."
+
+"Into the dining-room, both of you, and have courage! Whatever happens,
+don't come out. Will you give me the mirror?"
+
+"Must you go?"
+
+"Yes. Be quick, please."
+
+On the threshold of the dining-room Victoria opened her bag, and gave
+him a mirror framed in silver. It had been a present from an
+enthusiastic millionairess in New York, who admired her dancing. That
+seemed very odd now. The girl's hand trembled as for an instant it
+touched Stephen's. He pressed her fingers, and was gone.
+
+"Babe, I think this will be the last night of my life," said Saidee,
+standing behind the girl, in the doorway, and pressing against her.
+"Cassim will kill me, when he kills the men, because I know his secret
+and because he hates me. If I could only have had a little happiness! I
+don't want to die. I'm afraid. And it's horrible to be killed."
+
+"I love being alive, but I want to know what happens next," said
+Victoria. "Sometimes I want it so much, that I almost long to die. And
+probably one feels brave when the minute comes. One always does, when
+the great things arrive. Besides, we're sure it must be glorious as soon
+as we're out of our bodies. Don't you know, when you're going to jump
+into a cold bath, you shiver and hesitate a little, though you know
+perfectly well it will be splendid in an instant. Thinking of death's
+rather like that."
+
+"You haven't got to think of it for yourself to-night. Maieddine
+will----"
+
+"No," the girl broke in. "I won't go with Maieddine."
+
+"If they take this place--as they must, if they've brought many men,
+you'll have to go, unless----"
+
+"Yes; 'unless.' That's what I mean. But don't ask me any more. I--I
+can't think of ourselves now."
+
+"You're thinking of some one you love better than you do me."
+
+"Oh, no, not better. Only----" Victoria's voice broke. The two clung to
+each other. Saidee could feel how the girl's heart was beating, and how
+the sobs rose in her throat, and were choked back.
+
+Victoria watched the tower, that looked like a jagged black tear in the
+star-strewn blue fabric of the sky. And she listened. It seemed as if
+her very soul were listening.
+
+The wild Touareg chant was louder now, but she hardly heard it, because
+her ears strained for some sound which the singing might cover: the
+sound of rubble crumbling under a foot that climbed and sought a
+holding-place.
+
+From far away came the barking of Kabyle dogs, in distant camps of
+nomads. In stalls of the bordj, where the animals rested, a horse
+stamped now and then, or a camel grunted. Each slightest noise made
+Victoria start and tremble. She could be brave for herself, but it was
+harder to be brave for one she loved, in great danger.
+
+"They'll be here in ten minutes," shouted Nevill. "Legs, where are you?"
+
+There was no answer; but Victoria thought she heard the patter of
+falling sand. At least, the ruin stood firm so far. By this time Stephen
+might have nearly reached the top. He had told her not to leave the
+dining-room, and she had not meant to disobey; but she had made no
+promise, and she could bear her suspense no longer. Where she stood, she
+could not see into the shell of the broken tower. She must see!
+
+Running out, she darted across the courtyard, pausing near the
+Frenchman, Pierre Rostafel, who wandered unsteadily up and down the
+quadrangle, his torch of alfa grass ready in his hand. He did not know
+that one of the Englishmen was trying to climb the tower, and would not
+for an instant have believed that any human being could reach the upper
+chamber, if suddenly a light had not flashed out, at the top, seventy
+feet above his head.
+
+Dazed already with absinthe, fantastic ideas beat stupidly upon his
+brain, like bats that blunder against a lamp and extinguish it with
+foolish, flapping wings. He thought that somehow the enemy must have
+stolen a march upon the defenders: that the hated Arabs had got into the
+tower, from a ladder raised outside the wall, and that soon they would
+be pouring down in a swarm. Before he knew what he was doing, he had
+stumbled up the stairs on to the flat wall by the gate. Scrambling along
+with his torch, he got on to the bordj roof, and lit bonfire after
+bonfire, though Victoria called on him to stop, crying that it was too
+soon--that the men outside would shoot and kill him who would save them
+all.
+
+The sweet silence of the starry evening was crashed upon with lights and
+jarring sounds.
+
+Stephen, who had climbed the tower with a lantern and a kitchen
+lamp-reflector slung in a table-cover, on his back, had just got his
+makeshift apparatus in order, and standing on a narrow shelf of floor
+which overhung a well-like abyss, had begun his signalling to the
+northward.
+
+Too late he realized that, for all the need of haste, he ought to have
+waited long enough to warn the drunken Frenchman what he meant to do. If
+he had, this contretemps would not have happened. His telegraphic
+flashes, long and short, must have told the enemy what was going on in
+the tower, but they could not have seen him standing there, exposed like
+a target to their fire, if Rostafel had not lit the bonfires.
+
+Suddenly a chorus of yells broke out, strange yells that sprang from
+savage hearts; and one sidewise glance down showed Stephen the desert
+illuminated with red fire. He went on with his work, not stopping to
+count the men on horses and camels who rode fast towards the bordj,
+though not yet at the foot of that swelling sand hill on which it stood.
+But a picture--of uplifted dark faces and pointing rifles--was stamped
+upon his brain in that one swift look, clear as an impression of a seal
+in hot wax. He had even time to see that those faces were half enveloped
+in masks such as he had noticed in photographs of Touaregs, yet he was
+sure that the twenty or thirty men were not Touaregs. When close to the
+bordj all flung themselves from their animals, which were led away,
+while the riders took cover by throwing themselves flat on the sand.
+Then they began shooting, but he looked no more. He was determined to
+keep on signalling till he got an answer or was shot dead.
+
+There were others, however, who looked and saw the faces, and the rifles
+aimed at the broken tower. The bonfires which showed the figure in the
+ruined heliographing-room, to the enemy, also showed the enemy to the
+watchers in the wall-towers, on opposite sides of the gates.
+
+The Highlanders open fire. Their skill as marksmen, gained in the glens
+and mountains of Sutherlandshire, was equally effective on different
+game, in the desert of the Sahara. One shot brought a white mehari to
+its knees. Another caused a masked man in a striped gandourah to wring
+his hand and squeal.
+
+The whole order of things was changed by the sudden flashes from the
+height of the dark ruin, and the lighting of the bonfires on the bordj
+roof.
+
+Two of the masked men riding on a little in advance of the other twenty
+had planned, as Stephen guessed, to demand admittance to the bordj,
+declaring themselves leaders of a Touareg caravan on its way to
+Touggourt. If they could have induced an unsuspecting landlord to open
+the gates, so much the better for them. If not, a parley would have
+given the band time to act upon instructions already understood. But
+Cassim ben Halim, an old soldier, and Maieddine, whose soul was in this
+venture, were not the men to meet an emergency unprepared. They had
+calculated on a check, and were ready for surprises.
+
+It was Maieddine's camel that went down, shot in the neck. He had been
+keeping El Biod in reserve, when the splendid stallion might be needed
+for two to ride away in haste--his master and a woman. As the mehari
+fell, Maieddine escaped from the saddle and alighted on his feet, his
+blue Touareg veil disarranged by the shock. His face uncovered, he
+bounded up the slope with the bullets of Angus and Hamish pattering
+around him in the sand.
+
+"She's bewitched, whateffer!" the twins mumbled, each in his
+watch-tower, as the tall figure sailed on like a war-cloud, untouched.
+And they wished for silver bullets, to break the charm woven round the
+"fanatic" by a wicked spirit.
+
+Over Maieddine's head his leader was shooting at Stephen in the tower,
+while Hamish returned his fire, leaving the running man to Angus. But
+suddenly Angus wheeled after a shot, to yell through the tower door into
+the courtyard. "Oot o' the way, wimmen! He's putten gunpowder to the
+gate if I canna stop him." Then, he wheeled into place, and was
+entranced to see that the next bullet found its billet under the Arab's
+turban. In the orange light of the bonfires, Angus could see a spout of
+crimson gush down the bronze forehead and over the glittering eyes. But
+the wounded Arab did not fall back an inch or drop a burden which he
+carried carefully. Now he was sheltering behind the high, jutting
+gate-post. In another minute it would be too late to save the gate.
+
+But Angus did not think of Victoria. Nor did Victoria stop to think of
+herself. Something seemed to say in her heart, "Maieddine won't let them
+blow up the gate, if it means your death, and so, maybe, you can save
+them all."
+
+This was not a thought, since she had no time for thought. It was but a
+murmur in her brain, as she ran up the steep stairway close to the gate,
+and climbed on to the wall.
+
+Maieddine, streaming with blood, was sheltering in the narrow angle of
+the gate-post where the firing from the towers struck the wall instead
+of his body. He had suspended a cylinder of gunpowder against the gate,
+and, his hands full of powder to sprinkle a trail, he was ready to make
+a dash for life when a voice cried his name.
+
+Victoria stood on the high white wall of the bordj, just above the gate,
+on the side where he had hung the gunpowder. A few seconds more--his
+soul sickened at the thought. He forgot his own danger, in thinking of
+hers, and how he might have destroyed her, blotting out the light of his
+own life.
+
+"Maieddine!" she called, before she knew who had been ready to lay the
+fuse, and that, instead of crying to a man in the distance, she spoke to
+one at her feet. He stared up at her through a haze of blood. In the red
+light of the fire, she was more beautiful even than when she had danced
+in his father's tent, and he had told himself that if need be he would
+throw away the world for her. She recognized him as she looked down, and
+started back with an impulse to escape, he seemed so near and so
+formidable. But she feared that, if the gate were blown up, the ruined
+tower might be shaken down by the explosion. She must stay, and save
+the gate, until Stephen had reached the ground.
+
+"Thou!" exclaimed Maieddine. "Come to me, heart of my life, thou who art
+mine forever, and thy friends shall be spared, I promise thee."
+
+"I am not thine, nor ever can be," Victoria answered him. "Go thou, or
+thou wilt be shot with many bullets. They fire at thee and I cannot stop
+them. I do not wish to see thee die."
+
+"Thou knowest that while thou art on the wall I cannot do what I came to
+do," Maieddine said. "If they kill me here, my death will be on thy
+head, for I will not go without thee. Yet if thou hidest from me, I will
+blow up the gate."
+
+Victoria did not answer, but looked at the ruined tower. One of its
+walls and part of another stood firm, and she could not see Stephen in
+the heliographing-chamber at the top. But through a crack between the
+adobe bricks she caught a gleam of light, which moved. It was Stephen's
+lantern, she knew. He was still there. Farther down, the crack widened.
+On his way back, he would see her, if she were still on the wall above
+the gate. She wished that he need not learn she was there, lest he lose
+his nerve in making that terrible descent. But every one else knew that
+she was trying to save the gate, and that while she remained, the fuse
+would not be lighted. Saidee, who had come out from the dining-room into
+the courtyard, could see her on the wall, and Rostafel was babbling that
+she was "une petite lionne, une merveille de courage et de finesse." The
+Highlanders knew, too, and were doing their best to rid her of
+Maieddine, but, perhaps because of the superstition which made them
+doubt the power of their bullets against a charmed life, they could not
+kill him, though his cloak was pierced, and his face burned by a bullet
+which had grazed his cheek. Suddenly, however, to the girl's surprise
+and joy, Maieddine turned and ran like a deer toward the firing line of
+the Arabs. Then, as the bullets of Hamish and Angus spattered round
+him, he wheeled again abruptly and came back towards the bordj as if
+borne on by a whirlwind. With a run, he threw himself towards the gate,
+and leaping up caught at the spikes for handhold. He grasped them
+firmly, though his fingers bled, got a knee on the wall, and freeing a
+hand snatched at Victoria's dress.
+
+
+
+
+LI
+
+
+Saidee, down in the courtyard, shrieked as she saw her sister's danger.
+"Fire!--wound him--make him fall!" she screamed to Rostafel. But to fire
+would be at risk of the girl's life, and the Frenchman danced about
+aimlessly, yelling to the men in the watch-towers.
+
+In the tower, Stephen heard a woman's cry and thought the voice was
+Victoria's. His work was done. He had signalled for help, and, though
+this apparatus was a battered stable lantern, a kitchen-lamp reflector,
+and a hand-mirror, he had got an answer. Away to the north, a man whom
+perhaps he would never see, had flashed him back a message. He could not
+understand all, for it is easier to send than to receive signals; but
+there was something about soldiers at Bordj Azzouz, changing garrison,
+and Stephen believed that they meant marching to the rescue. Now, his
+left arm wounded, his head cut, and eyes half blinded with a rain of
+rubble brought down by an Arab bullet, he had made part of the descent
+when Saidee screamed her high-pitched scream of terror.
+
+He was still far above the remnant of stairway, broken off thirty feet
+above ground level. But, knowing that the descent would be more
+difficult than the climb, he had torn into strips the stout tablecloth
+which had wrapped his heliographing apparatus. Knotting the lengths
+together, he had fastened one end round a horn of shattered adobe, and
+tied the other in a slip-noose under his arms. Now, he was thankful for
+this precaution. Instead of picking his way, from foothold to foothold,
+at the sound of the cry he lowered himself rapidly, like a man who goes
+down a well on the chain of a bucket, and dropped on a pile of bricks
+which blocked the corkscrew steps. In a second he was free of the
+stretched rope, and, half running, half falling down the rubbish-blocked
+stairway, he found himself, giddy and panting, at the bottom. A rush
+took him across the courtyard to the gate; snatching Rostafel's rifle
+and springing up the wall stairway, a bullet from Maieddine's revolver
+struck him in the shoulder. For the space of a heart-beat his brain was
+in confusion. He knew that the Arab had a knee on the wall, and that he
+had pulled Victoria to him by her dress, which was smeared with blood.
+But he did not know whether the blood was the girl's or Maieddine's, and
+the doubt, and her danger, and the rage of his wound drove him mad. It
+was not a sane man who crashed down Rostafel's rifle on Maieddine's
+head, and laughed as he struck. The Arab dropped over the wall and fell
+on the ground outside the gate, like a dead man, his body rolling a
+little way down the slope. There it lay still, in a crumpled heap, but
+the marabout and two of his men made a dash to the rescue, dragging the
+limp form out of rifle range. It was a heroic act, and the Highlanders
+admired it while they fired at the heroes. One fell, to rise no more,
+and already two masked corpses had fallen from the wall into the
+courtyard, daring climbers shot by Rostafel as they tried to drop.
+Sickened by the sight of blood, dazed by shots and the sharp "ping" of
+bullets, frenzied with horror at the sight of Victoria struggling in the
+grasp of Maieddine, Saidee sank down unconscious as Stephen beat the
+Arab off the wall.
+
+"Darling, precious one, for God's sake say you're not hurt!" he
+stammered, as he caught Victoria in his arms, holding her against his
+heart, as he carried her down. He was still a madman, mad with fear for
+her, and love for her--love made terrible by the dread of loss. It was
+new life to hold her so, to know that she was safe, to bow his forehead
+on her hair. There was no Margot or any other woman in existence. Only
+this girl and he, created for each other, alone in the world.
+
+Victoria clung to him thankfully, sure of his love already, and glad of
+his words.
+
+"No, my dearest, I'm not hurt," she answered. "But you--you are
+wounded!"
+
+"I don't know. If I am, I don't feel it," said Stephen. "Nothing matters
+except you."
+
+"I saw him shoot you. I--I thought you were killed. Put me down. I want
+to look at you."
+
+She struggled in his arms, as they reached the foot of the stairs, and
+gently he put her down. But her nerves had suffered more than she knew.
+Strength failed her, and she reached out to him for help. Then he put
+his arm round her again, supporting her against his wounded shoulder. So
+they looked at each other, in the light of the bonfires, their hearts in
+their eyes.
+
+"There's blood in your hair and on your face," she said. "Oh, and on
+your coat. Maieddine shot you."
+
+"It's nothing," he said. "I feel no pain. Nothing but rapture that
+you're safe. I thought the blood on your dress might be----"
+
+"It was his, not mine. His hands were bleeding. Oh, poor Maieddine--I
+can't help pitying him. What if he is killed?"
+
+"Don't think of him. If he's dead, I killed him, not you, and I don't
+repent. I'd do it again. He deserved to die."
+
+"He tried to kill you!"
+
+"I don't mean for that reason. But come, darling. You must go into the
+house, I have to take my turn in the fighting now----"
+
+"You've done more than any one else!" she cried, proudly.
+
+"No, it was little enough. And there's the wall to defend. I--but look,
+your sister's fainting."
+
+"My Saidee! And I didn't see her lying there!" The girl fell on her
+knees beside the white bundle on the ground. "Oh, help me get her into
+the house."
+
+"I'll carry her."
+
+But Victoria would help him. Together they lifted Saidee, and Stephen
+carried her across the courtyard, making a detour to avoid passing the
+two dead Arabs. But Victoria saw, and, shuddering, was speechless.
+
+"This time you'll promise to stay indoors!" Stephen said, when he had
+laid Saidee on the pile of blankets in a corner of the room.
+
+"Yes--yes--I promise!"
+
+The girl gave him both hands. He kissed them, and then, without turning,
+went out and shut the door. It was only at this moment that he
+remembered Margot, remembered her with anguish, because of the echo of
+Victoria's voice in his ears as she named him her "dearest."
+
+As Stephen came from behind the barricade which screened the dining-room
+from the courtyard, he found Rostafel shooting right and left at men who
+tried to climb the rear wall, having been missed by Nevill's fire.
+Rostafel had recovered the rifle snatched by Stephen in his stampede to
+the stairway, and, sobered by the fight, was making good use of it.
+Stephen had now armed himself with his own, left for safety behind the
+barrier while he signalled in the tower; and together the two men had
+hot work in the quadrangle. Here and there an escalader escaped the fire
+from the watch-towers, and hung half over the wall, but dropped alive
+into the courtyard, only to be bayoneted by the Frenchman. The
+signalling-tower gave little shelter against the enemy, as most of the
+outer wall had fallen above the height of twenty feet from the ground;
+but, as without it only three sides of the quadrangle could be fully
+defended, once again Stephen scrambled up the choked and broken
+stairway. Screening himself as best he could behind a jagged ledge of
+adobe, he fired through a crack at three or four Arabs who made a human
+ladder for a comrade to mount the wall. The man at the top fell. The
+next mounted, to be shot by Nevill from a watch-tower. The bullet
+pierced the fellow's leg, which was what Nevill wished, for he, who
+hated to rob even an insect of its life, aimed now invariably at arms or
+legs, never at any vital part. "All we want," he thought half guiltily,
+"is to disable the poor brutes. They must obey the marabout. We've no
+spite against 'em!"
+
+But every one knew that it was a question of moments only before some
+Arab, quicker or luckier than the rest, would succeed in firing the
+trail of gunpowder already laid. The gate would be blown up. Then would
+follow a rush of the enemy and the second stand of the defenders behind
+the barricade. Last of all, the retreat to the dining-room.
+
+Among the first precautions Stephen had taken was that of locking the
+doors of all rooms except the dining-room, and pulling out the keys, so
+that, when the enemy got into the quadrangle, they would find themselves
+forced to stay in the open, or take shelter in the watch-towers vacated
+by the defenders. From the doorways of these, they could not do much
+harm to the men behind the barricade. But there was one thing they might
+do, against which Stephen had not guarded. The idea flashed into his
+head now, too late. There were the stalls where the animals were tied.
+The Arabs could use the beasts for a living barricade, firing over their
+backs. Stephen grudged this advantage, and was puzzling his brain how to
+prevent the enemy from taking it, when a great light blazed into the
+sky, followed by the roar of an explosion.
+
+The tower shook, and Stephen was thrown off his feet. For half a second
+he was dazed, but came to himself in the act of tumbling down stairs,
+still grasping his rifle.
+
+A huge hole yawned where the gate had stood. The iron had shrivelled and
+curled like so much cardboard, and the gap was filled with circling
+wreaths of smoke and a crowd of Arabs. Mad with fear, the camels and
+horses tethered in the stables of the bordj broke their halters and
+plunged wildly about the courtyard, looming like strange monsters in
+the red light and belching smoke. As if to serve the defenders, they
+galloped toward the gate, cannoning against each other in the struggle
+to escape, and thus checked the first rush of the enemy. Nearly all were
+shot down by the Arabs, but a few moments were gained for the Europeans.
+Firing as he ran, Stephen made a dash for the barricade, where he found
+Rostafel, and as the enemy swarmed into the quadrangle, pouring over
+dead and dying camels, the two Highlanders burst with yells like the
+slogans of their fighting ancestors, out from the watch-towers nearest
+the gateway.
+
+The sudden apparition of these gigantic twin figures, bare-legged,
+dressed in kilts, appalled the Arabs. Some, who had got farthest into
+the courtyard, were taken in the rear by Angus and Hamish; and as the
+Highlanders laid about them with clubbed rifles, the superstitious
+Easterners wavered. Imagining themselves assailed by giant women with
+the strength of devils, they fell back dismayed, and for some wild
+seconds the twins were masters of the quadrangle. They broke heads with
+crushing blows, and smashed ribs with trampling feet, yelling their
+fearsome yells which seemed the cries of death and war. But it was the
+triumph of a moment only, and then the Arabs--save those who would fight
+no more--rallied round their leader, a tall, stout man with a majestic
+presence. Once he had got his men in hand--thirteen or fourteen he had
+left--the open courtyard was too hot a place even for the Highland men.
+They retreated, shoulder to shoulder, towards the barricade, and soon
+were firing viciously from behind its shelter. If they lived through
+this night, never again, it would seem, could they be satisfied with the
+daily round of preparing an old lady's bath, and pressing upon her
+dishes which she did not want. And yet--their mistress was an
+exceptional old lady.
+
+Now, all the towers were vacant, except the one defended by Nevill, and
+it had been agreed from the first that he was to stick to his post
+until time for the last stand. The reason of this was that the door of
+his tower was screened by the barricade, and the two rear walls of the
+bordj (meeting in a triangle at this corner) must be defended while the
+barricade was held. These walls unguarded, the enemy could climb them
+from outside and fire down on the backs of the Europeans, behind the
+barrier. Those who attempted to climb from the courtyard (the
+gate-stairway being destroyed by the explosion) must face the fire of
+the defenders, who could also see and protect themselves against any one
+mounting the wall to pass over the scattered debris of the ruined
+signal-tower. Thus every contingency was provided for, as well as might
+be by five men, against three times their number; and the Europeans
+meant to make a stubborn fight before that last resort--the dining-room.
+Nevertheless, it occurred to Stephen that perhaps, after all, he need
+not greatly repent the confession of love he had made to Victoria. He
+had had no right to speak, but if there were to be no future for either
+in this world, fate need not grudge him an hour's happiness. And he was
+conscious of a sudden lightness of spirit, as of an exile nearing home.
+
+The Arabs, sheltering behind the camels and horses they had shot, fired
+continuously in the hope of destroying a weak part of the barricade or
+killing some one behind it. Gradually they formed of the dead animals a
+barricade of their own, and now that the bonfires were dying it was
+difficult for the Europeans to touch the enemy behind cover. Consulting
+together, however, and calculating how many dead each might put to his
+credit, the defenders agreed that they must have killed or disabled more
+than a dozen. The marabout, whose figure in one flashing glimpse Stephen
+fancied he recognized, was still apparently unhurt. It was he who seemed
+to be conducting operations, but of Si Maieddine nothing had been seen
+since his unconscious or dead body was dragged down the slope by his
+friends. Precisely how many Arabs remained to fight, the Europeans were
+not sure, but they believed that over a dozen were left, counting the
+leader.
+
+By and by the dying fires flickered out, leaving only a dull red glow on
+the roofs. The pale light of the stars seemed dim after the blaze which
+had lit the quadrangle, and in the semi-darkness, when each side watched
+the other as a cat spies at a rat-hole, the siege grew wearisome. Yet
+the Europeans felt that each moment's respite meant sixty seconds of new
+hope for them. Ammunition was running low, and soon they must fall back
+upon the small supply kept by Rostafel, which had already been placed in
+the dining-room; but matters were not quite desperate, since each minute
+brought the soldiers from Bordj Azzouz nearer, even if the carrier
+pigeon had failed.
+
+"Why do they not blow us up?" asked the Frenchman, sober now, and
+extremely pessimistic. "They could do it. Or is it the women they are
+after?"
+
+Stephen was not inclined to be confidential. "No doubt they have their
+own reasons," he answered. "What they are, can't matter to us."
+
+"It matters that they are concocting some plan, and that we do not know
+what it is," said Rostafel.
+
+"To get on to the roof over our heads is what they'd like best, no
+doubt," said Stephen. "But my friend in the tower here is saving us from
+that at the back, and they can't do much in front of our noses."
+
+"I am not sure they cannot. They will think of something," grumbled the
+landlord. "We are in a bad situation. I do not believe any of us will
+see to-morrow. I only hope my brother will have the spirit to revenge
+me. But even that is not my luck."
+
+He was right. The Arabs had thought of something--"a something" which
+they must have prepared before their start. Suddenly, behind the mound
+of dead animals arose a fitful light, and while the Europeans wondered
+at its meaning, a shower of burning projectiles flew through the air at
+the barricade. All four fired a volley in answer, hoping to wing the
+throwers, but the Arab scheme was a success. Tins of blazing pitch were
+rolling about the courtyard, close to the barrier, but before falling
+they had struck the piled mattresses and furniture, splashing fire and
+trickles of flame poured over the old bedticking, and upholstered chairs
+from the dining-room. At the same instant Nevill called from the door of
+his tower: "More cartridges, quick! I'm all out, and there are two chaps
+trying to shin up the wall. Maieddine's not dead. He's there, directing
+'em."
+
+Stephen gave Nevill his own rifle, just reloaded. "Fetch the cartridges
+stored in the dining-room," he said to Rostafel, "while we beat the fire
+out with our coats." But there was no need for the Frenchman to leave
+his post. "Here are the cartridges," said Victoria's voice, surprising
+them. She had been at the door, which she held ajar, and behind this
+screen had heard and seen all that passed. As Stephen took the box of
+cartridges, she caught up the large pail of water which early in the
+evening had been placed in the dining-room in case of need. "Take this
+and put out the fire," she cried to Hamish, who snatched the bucket
+without a word, and dashed its contents over the barricade.
+
+Then she went back to Saidee, who sat on the blankets in a far corner,
+shivering with cold, though the night was hot, and the room, with its
+barred wooden shutters, close almost beyond bearing. They had kept but
+one tallow candle lighted, that Victoria might more safely peep out from
+time to time, to see how the fight was going.
+
+"What if our men are all killed," Saidee whispered, as the girl stole
+back to her, "and nobody's left to defend us? Cassim and Maieddine will
+open the door, over their dead bodies, and then--then----"
+
+"You have a revolver," said Victoria, almost angrily. "Not for them, I
+don't mean that. Only--they mustn't take us. But I'm not afraid. Our
+men are brave, and splendid. They have no thought of giving up. And if
+Captain Sabine got our message, he'll be here by dawn."
+
+"Don't forget the shot we heard."
+
+"No. But the pigeon isn't our only hope. The signals!"
+
+"Who knows if an answer came?"
+
+"I know, because I know Stephen. He wouldn't have come down alive unless
+he'd got an answer."
+
+Saidee said no more, and they sat together in silence, Victoria holding
+her sister's icy hand in hers, which was scarcely warmer, though it
+tingled with the throbbing of many tiny pulses. So they listened to the
+firing outside, until suddenly it sounded different to Victoria's ears.
+She straightened herself with a start, listening even more intensely.
+
+"What's the matter? What do you hear?" Saidee stammered, dry-lipped.
+
+"I'm not sure. But--I think they've used up all the cartridges I took
+them. And there are no more."
+
+"But they're firing still."
+
+"With their revolvers."
+
+"God help us, then! It can't last long," the older woman whispered, and
+covered her face with her hands.
+
+Victoria did not stop for words of comfort. She jumped up from the couch
+of blankets and ran to the door, which Stephen had shut. It must be kept
+wide open, now, in case the defenders were obliged to rush in for the
+last stand. She pressed close to it, convulsively grasping the handle
+with her cold fingers.
+
+Then the end came soon, for the enemy had not been slow to detect the
+difference between rifle and revolver shots. They knew, even before
+Victoria guessed, exactly what had happened. It was the event they had
+been awaiting. With a rush, the dozen men dashed over the mound of
+carcasses and charged the burning barricade.
+
+"Quick, Wings," shouted Stephen, defending the way his friend must take.
+The distance was short from the door of the watch-tower to the door of
+the dining-room, but it was just too long for safety. As Nevill ran
+across, an Arab close to the barricade shot him in the side, and he
+would have fallen if Stephen had not caught him round the waist, and
+flung him to Hamish, who carried him to shelter.
+
+A second more, and they were all in the dining-room. Stephen and Angus
+had barred the heavy door, and already Hamish and Rostafel were firing
+through the two round ventilating holes in the window shutters. There
+were two more such holes in the door, and Stephen took one, Angus the
+other. But the enemy had already sheltered on the other side of the
+barricade, which would now serve them as well as it had served the
+Europeans. The water dashed on to the flames had not extinguished all,
+but the wet mattresses and furniture burned slowly, and the Arabs began
+beating out the fire with their gandourahs.
+
+Again there was a deadlock. For the moment neither side could harm the
+other: but there was little doubt in the minds of the besieged as to the
+next move of the besiegers. The Arabs were at last free to climb the
+wall, beyond reach of the loopholes in door or window, and could make a
+hole in the roof of the dining-room. It would take them some time, but
+they could do it, and meanwhile the seven prisoners were almost as
+helpless as trapped rats.
+
+Of the five men, not one was unwounded, and Stephen began to fear that
+Nevill was badly hurt. He could not breathe without pain, and though he
+tried to laugh, he was deadly pale in the wan candlelight. "Don't mind
+me. I'm all right," he said when Victoria and Saidee began tearing up
+their Arab veils for bandages. "Not worth the bother!" But the sisters
+would not listen, and Victoria told him with pretended cheerfulness what
+a good nurse she was; how she had learned "first aid" at the school at
+Potterston, and taken a prize for efficiency.
+
+In spite of his protest, Nevill was made to lie down on the blankets in
+the corner, while the two sisters played doctor; and as the firing of
+the Arabs slackened, Stephen left the twins to guard door and window,
+while he and Rostafel built a screen to serve when the breaking of the
+roof should begin. The only furniture left in the dining-room consisted
+of one large table (which Stephen had not added to the barricade because
+he had thought of this contingency) and in addition a rough unpainted
+cupboard, fastened to the wall. They tore off the doors of this
+cupboard, and with them and the table made a kind of penthouse to
+protect the corner where Nevill lay.
+
+"Now," said Stephen, "if they dig a hole in the roof they'll find----"
+
+"Flag o' truce, sir," announced Hamish at the door. And Stephen
+remembered that for three minutes at least there had been no firing. As
+he worked at the screen, he had hardly noticed the silence.
+
+He hurried to join Hamish at the door, and, peeping out, saw a tall man,
+with a bloodstained bandage wrapped round his head, advancing from the
+other side of the barricade, with a white handkerchief hanging from the
+barrel of his rifle. It was Maieddine, and somehow Stephen was glad that
+the Arab's death did not lie at his door. His anger had cooled, now, and
+he wondered at the murderous rage which had passed.
+
+As Maieddine came forward, fearlessly, he limped in spite of an effort
+to hide the fact that he was almost disabled.
+
+"I have to say that, if the ladies are given up to us, no harm shall
+come to them or to the others," he announced in French, in a clear, loud
+voice. "We will take the women with us, and leave the men to go their
+own way. We will even provide them with animals in place of those we
+have killed, that they may ride to the north."
+
+"Do not believe him!" cried Saidee. "Traitors once, they'll be traitors
+again. If Victoria and I should consent to go with them, to save all
+your lives, they wouldn't spare you really. As soon as we were in their
+hands, they'd burn the house or blow it up."
+
+"There can be no question of our allowing you to go, in any case," said
+Stephen. "Our answer is," he replied to Maieddine, "that the ladies
+prefer to remain with us, and we expect to be able to protect them."
+
+"Then all will die together, except one, who is my promised wife,"
+returned the Arab. "Tell that one that by coming with me she can save
+her sister, whom she once seemed to love more than herself, more than
+all the world. If she stays, not only will her eyes behold the death of
+the men who failed to guard her, but the death of her sister. One who
+has a right to decide the lady's fate, has decided that she must die in
+punishment of her obstinacy, unless she gives herself up."
+
+"Tell Si Maieddine that before he or the marabout can come near us, we
+shall be dead," Victoria said, in a low voice. "I know Saidee and I can
+trust you," she went on, "to shoot us both straight through the heart
+rather than they should take us. That's what you wish, too, isn't it,
+Saidee?"
+
+"Yes--yes, if I have courage or heart enough to wish anything," her
+sister faltered.
+
+But Stephen could not or would not give that message to Maieddine. "Go,"
+he said, the fire of his old rage flaming again. "Go, you Arab dog!"
+
+Forgetting the flag of truce in his fury at the insult, Maieddine lifted
+his rifle and fired; then, remembering that he had sinned against a code
+of honour he respected, he stood still, waiting for an answering shot,
+as if he and his rival were engaged in a strange duel. But Stephen did
+not shoot, and with a quick word forbade the others to fire. Then
+Maieddine moved away slowly and was lost to sight behind the barricade.
+
+As he disappeared, a candle which Victoria had placed near Nevill's
+couch on the floor, flickered and dropped its wick in a pool of grease.
+There was only one other left, and the lamp had been forgotten in the
+kitchen: but already the early dawn was drinking the starlight. It was
+three o'clock, and soon it would be day.
+
+For some minutes there was no more firing. Stillness had fallen in the
+quadrangle. There was no sound except the faint moaning of some wounded
+animal that lived and suffered. Then came a pounding on the roof, not in
+one, but in two or three places. It was as if men worked furiously, with
+pickaxes; and somehow Stephen was sure that Maieddine, despite his
+wounds, was among them. He would wish to be the first to see Victoria's
+face, to save her from death, perhaps, and keep her for himself. Still,
+Stephen was glad he had not killed the Arab, and he felt, though they
+said nothing of it to each other, that Victoria, too, was glad.
+
+They must have help soon now, if it were to come in time. The knocking
+on the roof was loud.
+
+"How long before they can break through?" Victoria asked, leaving Nevill
+to come to Stephen, who guarded the door.
+
+"Well, there are several layers of thick adobe," he said, cheerfully.
+
+"Will it be ten minutes?"
+
+"Oh, more than that. Much more than that," Stephen assured her.
+
+"Please tell me what you truly think. I have a reason for asking. Will
+it be half an hour?"
+
+"At least that," he said, with a tone of grave sincerity which she no
+longer doubted.
+
+"Half an hour. And then----"
+
+"Even then we can keep you safe for a little while, behind the screen.
+And help may come."
+
+"Have you given up hope, in your heart?"
+
+"No. One doesn't give up hope."
+
+"I feel the same. I never give up hope. And yet--we may have to die, all
+of us, and for myself, I'm not afraid, only very solemn, for death must
+be wonderful. But for you--to have you give your life for ours----"
+
+"I would give it joyfully, a hundred times for you."
+
+"I know. And I for you. That's one thing I wanted to tell you, in
+case--we never have a chance to speak to each other again. That, and
+just this beside: one reason I'm not afraid, is because I'm with you. If
+I die, or live, I shall be with you. And whichever it's to be, I shall
+find it sweet. One will be the same as the other, really, for death's
+only a new life."
+
+"And I have something to tell you," Stephen said. "I worship you, and to
+have known you, has made it worth while to have existed, though I
+haven't always been happy. Why, just this moment alone is worth all the
+rest of my life. So come what may, I have lived."
+
+The pounding on the roof grew louder. The sound of the picks with which
+the men worked could be heard more clearly. They were rapidly getting
+through those layers of adobe, of whose thickness Stephen had spoken.
+
+"It won't be half an hour now," Victoria murmured, looking up.
+
+"No. Promise me you'll go to your sister and Nevill Caird behind the
+screen, when I tell you."
+
+"I promise, if----"
+
+The pounding ceased. In the courtyard there was a certain confusion--the
+sound of running feet, and murmur of excited voices, though eyes that
+looked through the holes in the door and window could not see past the
+barricade.
+
+Then, suddenly, the pounding began again, more furiously than ever. It
+was as if demons had taken the place of men.
+
+"It is Maieddine, I'm sure!" cried Victoria. "I seem to know what is in
+his mind. Something has made him desperate."
+
+"There's a chance for us," said Stephen. "What I believe has happened,
+is this. They must have stationed a sentinel or two outside the bordj in
+case of surprise. The raised voices we heard, and the stopping of the
+work on the roof for a minute, may have meant that a sentinel ran in
+with news--good news for us, bad news for the Arabs."
+
+"But--would they have begun to work again, if soldiers were coming?"
+
+"Yes, if help were so far off that the Arabs might hope to reach us
+before it came, and get away in time. Ben Halim's one hope is to make an
+end of--some of us. It was well enough to disguise the whole band as
+Touaregs, in case they were seen by nomads, or the landlord here should
+escape, and tell of the attack. But he'd risk anything to silence us
+men, and----"
+
+"He cares nothing for Saidee's life or mine. It's only Maieddine who
+cares," the girl broke in. "I suppose they've horses and meharis waiting
+for them outside the bordj?"
+
+"Yes. Probably they're being got ready now. The animals have had a
+night's rest."
+
+As he spoke, the first bit of ceiling fell in, rough plaster dropping
+with a patter like rain on the hard clay floor.
+
+Saidee cried out faintly in her corner, where Nevill had fallen into
+semi-unconsciousness behind the screen. Rostafel grumbled a "sapriste!"
+under his breath, but the Highlanders were silent.
+
+Down poured more plaster, and put out the last candle. Though a faint
+dawn-light stole through the holes in door and window, the room was dim,
+almost dark, and with the smell of gunpowder mingled the stench of hot
+tallow.
+
+"Go now, dearest, to your sister," Stephen said to the girl, in a low
+voice that was for her alone.
+
+"You will come?"
+
+"Yes. Soon. But the door and window must be guarded. We can't have them
+breaking in two ways at once."
+
+"Give me your hand," she said.
+
+He took one of hers, instead, but she raised his to her lips and kissed
+it. Then she went back to her sister, and the two clung together in
+silence, listening to the patter of broken adobe on the floor. At first
+it was but as a heavy shower of rain; then it increased in violence
+like the rattle of hail. They could hear men speaking on the roof, and a
+gleam of daylight silvered a crack, as Stephen looked up, a finger on
+the trigger of his revolver.
+
+"Five minutes more," were the words which repeated themselves in his
+mind, like the ticking of a watch. "Four minutes. Three. Can I keep my
+promise to her, when the time comes!"
+
+A shout broke the question short, like a snapped thread.
+
+He remembered the voice of the marabout, and knew that the sisters must
+recognize it also.
+
+"What does he say?" Stephen called across the room to Victoria, speaking
+loudly to be heard over voices which answered the summons, whatever it
+might be.
+
+"He's ordering Maieddine to come down from the roof. He says five
+seconds' delay and it will be too late--they'll both be ruined. I can't
+hear what Maieddine answers. But he goes on working still--he won't
+obey."
+
+"Fool--traitor! For thy sentimental folly wilt thou sacrifice thy
+people's future and ruin my son and me?" Cassim shouted, as the girl
+stood still to listen. "Thou canst never have her now. Stay, and thou
+canst do naught but kill thyself. Come, and we may all be saved. I
+command thee, in the name of Allah and His Prophet, that thou obey me."
+
+The pounding stopped. There was a rushing, sliding sound on the roof.
+Then all was quiet above and in the courtyard.
+
+Saidee broke into hysterical sobbing, crying that they were rescued,
+that Honore Sabine was on his way to save them. And Victoria thought
+that Stephen would come to her, but he did not. They were to live, not
+to die, and the barrier that had been broken down was raised again.
+
+        *        *        *        *        *        *        *
+
+"What if it's only a trap?" Saidee asked, as Stephen opened the door.
+"What if they're behind the barricade, watching?"
+
+"Listen! Don't you hear shots?" Victoria cried.
+
+"Yes. There are shots--far away," Stephen answered. "That settles it.
+There's no ambush. Either Sabine or the soldiers marching from Azzouz
+are after them. They didn't go an instant too soon to save their skins."
+
+"And ours," murmured Nevill, roused from his stupor. "Queer, how natural
+it seems that we should be all right after all." Then his mind wandered
+a little, leading him back to a feverish dream. "Ask Sabine, when he
+comes--if he's got a letter for me--from Josette."
+
+Stephen opened the door, and let in the fresh air and morning light, but
+the sight in the quadrangle was too ugly for the eyes of women. "Don't
+come out!" he called sharply over his shoulder as he turned past the
+barricade, with Rostafel at his back.
+
+The courtyard was hideous as a slaughter-house. Only the sky of rose and
+gold reminded him of the world's beauty and the glory of morning, after
+that dark nightmare which wrapped his spirit like the choking folds of a
+black snake.
+
+Outside the broken gate, in the desert, there were more traces of the
+night's work; blood-stains in the sand, and in a shadowy hollow here and
+there a huddled form which seemed a denser shadow. But it would not move
+when other shadows crept away before the sun.
+
+Far in the distance, as Stephen strained his eyes through the
+brightening dawn, he saw flying figures of men on camels and horses; and
+sounds of shooting came faintly to his ears. At last it ceased
+altogether. Some of the figures had vanished. Others halted. Then it
+seemed to Stephen that these last were coming back, towards the bordj.
+They were riding fast, and all together, as if under discipline.
+Soldiers, certainly: but were they from the north or south? Stephen
+could not tell; but as his eyes searched the horizon, the doubt was
+solved. Another party of men were riding southward, toward Toudja, from
+the north.
+
+"It's Sabine who has chased the Arabs. The others are just too late," he
+thought. And he saw that the rescuers from Oued Tolga must reach the
+bordj half an hour in advance of the men from Azzouz.
+
+He was anxious to know what news Sabine had, and the eagerness he felt
+to hear details soothed the pain and shame which weighed upon his heart.
+
+"How am I to explain--to beg her forgiveness?" was the question that
+asked itself in his mind; but he had no answer to give. Only this he
+could see: after last night, he was hers, if she would take him. But he
+believed that she would send him away, that she would despise him when
+she had heard the whole story of his entanglement. She would say that he
+belonged to the other woman, not to her. And though he was sure she
+would not reproach him, he thought there were some words, some looks
+which, if she could not forget, it would be hard for even her sweet
+nature to forgive.
+
+He went back to the dining-room with the news of what he had seen. And
+as there was no longer any need of protection for the women, the
+Highlanders came out with him and Rostafel. All four stood at the gate
+of the bordj as the party of twelve soldiers rode up, on tired horses;
+but Stephen was in advance, and it was he who answered Sabine's first
+breathless question.
+
+"She's safe. They're both safe, thank God. So are we all, except poor
+Caird, who's damaged a good deal worse than any of us. But not
+dangerously, I hope."
+
+"I brought our surgeon," said Sabine, eagerly. "He wanted to be in this
+with me. I had to ask for the command, because you know I'm on special
+duty at Tolga. But I had no trouble with Major Duprez when I told him
+how friends of mine were attacked by Arab robbers, and how I had got the
+message."
+
+"So that's what you told him?"
+
+"Yes. I didn't want a scandal in the Zaouia, for _her_ sake. Nobody
+knows that the marabout is for anything in this business. But, of
+course, if you've killed him----"
+
+"We haven't. He's got clear away. Unless your men have nabbed him and
+his friend Maieddine."
+
+"Not we. I'm not sure I cared to--unless we could kill him. But we did
+honestly try--to do both. There were six we chased----"
+
+"Only six. Then we must have polished off more than we thought."
+
+"We can find out later how many. But the last six didn't get off without
+a scratch, I assure you. They must have had a sentinel watching. We saw
+no one, but as we were hoping to surprise the bordj these six men, who
+looked from a distance like Touaregs, rushed out, mounted horses and
+camels and dashed away, striking westward."
+
+"They dared not go north. I'd been signalling----"
+
+"From the broken tower?"
+
+"Yes. As you came, you must have sighted the men from Azzouz. But tell
+me the rest."
+
+"There's little to tell, and I want your news more than you can want
+mine. The Arabs' animals were fresh, and ours tired, for I'd given them
+no rest. The brutes had a good start of us and made the best of it, but
+at first I thought we were gaining. We got within gunshot, and fired
+after them. Two at least were hit. We came on traces of fresh blood
+afterward, but the birds themselves were flown. In any case, it was to
+bring help I came, not to make captures. Do you think _she_ would like
+me to see her now?"
+
+"Come with me and try, before the other rescue party arrives. I'm glad
+the surgeon's with you. I'm worried about Caird, and we're all a bit
+dilapidated. How we're to get him and the ladies away from this place, I
+don't know. Our animals are dead or dying."
+
+"You will probably find that the enemy has been generous in spite of
+himself and left you some--all that couldn't be taken away. Strange how
+those men looked like Touaregs! You are sure of what they really were?"
+
+"Sure. But since no one else knows, why should the secret leak out?
+Better for the ladies if the Touareg disguise should hide the truth, as
+it was meant to do."
+
+"Why not indeed? Since we weren't lucky enough to rid his wife--and the
+world of the marabout."
+
+"Then we're agreed: unless something happens to change our minds, we
+were attacked by Touaregs."
+
+Sabine smiled grimly. "Duprez bet," he answered, "that I should find
+they were not Arabs, but Touaregs. He will enjoy saying 'I told you
+so.'"
+
+        *        *        *        *        *        *        *
+
+That night, and for many nights to come, there was wailing in the
+Zaouia. The marabout had gone out to meet his son, who had been away
+from school on a pilgrimage, and returning at dark, to avoid the great
+heat of the day, had been bitten by a viper. Thus, at least, pronounced
+the learned Arab physician. It was of the viper bite he died, so it was
+said, and no one outside the Zaouia knew of the great man's death until
+days afterwards, when he was already buried. Even in the Zaouia it was
+not known by many that he had gone away or returned from a journey, or
+that he lay ill. In spite of this secrecy and mystery, however, there
+was no gossip, but only wild wailing, of mourners who refused to be
+comforted. And if certain persons, to the number of twenty or more, were
+missing from their places in the Zaouia, nothing was said, after Si
+Maieddine had talked with the holy men of the mosque. If these missing
+ones were away, and even if they should never come back, it was because
+they were needed to carry out the marabout's wishes, at a vast distance.
+But now, the dearest wishes of Sidi Mohammed would never be fulfilled.
+That poignant knowledge was a knife in every man's heart; for men of
+ripe age or wisdom in the Zaouia knew what these wishes were, and how
+some day they were to have come true through blood and fire.
+
+All were sad, though no tongue spoke of any other reason for sadness,
+except the inestimable loss of the Saint. And sadder than the saddest
+was Si Maieddine, who seemed to have lost his youth.
+
+
+
+
+LII
+
+
+It is a long cry from the bordj of Toudja among the dunes of the
+southern desert, to Algiers, yet Nevill begged that he might be taken
+home. "You know why," he said to Stephen, and his eyes explained, if
+Stephen needed explanations. Nevill thought there might be some chance
+of seeing Josette in Algiers, if he were dying. But the army surgeon
+from Oued Tolga pronounced it unsafe to take him so far.
+
+Yet away from Toudja he must go, since it was impossible to care for him
+properly there, and the bullet which had wounded him was still in his
+side.
+
+Fortunately the enemy had left plenty of camels. They had untethered
+all, hoping that the animals might wander away, too far to be caught by
+the Europeans, but more than were needed remained in the neighbourhood
+of Toudja, and Rostafel took possession of half a dozen good meharis,
+which would help recoup him for his losses in the bordj. Not one animal
+had any mark upon it which could identify the attackers, and saddles and
+accoutrements were of Touareg make. The dead men, too, were impossible
+to identify, and it was not likely that much trouble would be taken in
+prosecuting inquiries. Among those whose duty it is to govern Algeria,
+there is a proverb which, for various good reasons, has come to be much
+esteemed: "Let sleeping dogs lie."
+
+Not a man of the five who defended the bordj but had at least one wound
+to show for his night's work. Always, however, it is those who attack,
+in a short siege, who suffer most; and the Europeans were not proud of
+the many corpses they had to their credit. There was some patching for
+the surgeon to do for all, but Nevill's was the only serious case. The
+French doctor, De Vigne, did not try to hide the truth from the wounded
+man's friend; there was danger. The best thing would have been to get
+Nevill to Algiers, but since that was impossible, he must travel in a
+bassour, by easy stages, to Touggourt. Instead of two days' journey they
+must make it three, or more if necessary, and he--De Vigne--would go
+with them to put his patient into the hands of the army surgeon at
+Touggourt.
+
+They had only the one bassour; that in which Saidee and Victoria had
+come to Toudja from Oued Tolga, but Nevill was delirious more often than
+not, and had no idea that a sacrifice was being made for him. Blankets,
+and two of the mattresses least damaged by fire in the barricade, were
+fastened on to camels for the ladies, after the fashion in use for
+Bedouin women of the poorest class, or Ouled Nails who have not yet made
+their fortune as dancers; and so the journey began again.
+
+There was never a time during the three days it lasted, for Stephen to
+confess to Victoria. Possibly she did not wish him to take advantage of
+a situation created as if by accident at Toudja. Or perhaps she thought,
+now that the common danger which had drawn them together, was over, it
+would be best to wait until anxiety for Nevill had passed, before
+talking of their own affairs.
+
+At Azzouz, where they passed a night full of suffering for Nevill, they
+had news of the marabout's death. It came by telegraph to the operator,
+just before the party was ready to start on; yet Saidee was sure that
+Sabine had caused it to be sent just at that time. He had been obliged
+to march back with his men--the penalty of commanding the force for
+which he had asked; but a letter would surely come to Touggourt, and
+Saidee could imagine all that it would say. She had no regrets for Ben
+Halim, and said frankly to Victoria that it was difficult not to be
+indecently glad of her freedom. At last she had waked up from a black
+dream of horror, and now that it was over, it hardly seemed real. "I
+shall forget," she said. "I shall put my whole soul to forgetting
+everything that's happened to me in the last ten years, and every one
+I've known in the south--except one. But to have met him and to have him
+love me, I'd live it all over again--all."
+
+She kept Victoria with her continually, and in the physical weakness and
+nervous excitement which followed the strain she had gone through, she
+seemed to have forgotten her interest in Victoria's affairs. She did not
+know that her sister and Stephen had talked of love, for at Toudja after
+the fight began she had thought of nothing but the danger they shared.
+
+Altogether, everything combined to delay explanations between Stephen
+and Victoria. He tried to regret this, yet could not be as sorry as he
+was repentant. It was not quite heaven, but it was almost paradise to
+have her near him, though they had a chance for only a few words
+occasionally, within earshot of Saidee, or De Vigne, or the twins, who
+watched over Nevill like two well-trained nurses. She loved him, since a
+word from her meant more than vows from other women. Nothing had
+happened yet to disturb her love, so these few days belonged to Stephen.
+He could not feel that he had stolen them. At Touggourt he would find a
+time and place to speak, and then it would be over forever. But one joy
+he had, which never could have come to him, if it had not been for the
+peril at Toudja. They knew each other's hearts. Nothing could change
+that. One day, no doubt, she would learn to care for some other man, but
+perhaps never quite in the same way she had cared for him, because
+Stephen was sure that this was her first love. And though she might be
+happy in another love--he tried to hope it, but did not succeed
+sincerely--he would always have it to remember, until the day of his
+death, that once she had loved him.
+
+As far out from Touggourt as Temacin, Lady MacGregor came to meet them,
+in a ramshackle carriage, filled with rugs and pillows in case Nevill
+wished to change. But he was not in a state to wish for anything, and De
+Vigne decided for him. He was to go on in the bassour, to the villa
+which had been let to Lady MacGregor by an officer of the garrison. It
+was there the little Mohammed was to have been kept and guarded by the
+Highlanders, if the great scheme had not been suddenly changed in some
+of its details. Now, the child had inherited his father's high place.
+Already the news had reached the marabout of Temacin, and flashed on to
+Touggourt. But no one suspected that the viper which had bitten the
+Saint had taken the form of a French bullet. Perhaps, had all been known
+to the Government, it would have seemed poetical justice that the arch
+plotter had met his death thus. But his plots had died with him; and if
+Islam mourned because the Moul Saa they hoped for had been snatched from
+them, they mourned in secret. For above other sects and nations, Islam
+knows how to be silent.
+
+When they were settled in the villa near the oasis (Saidee and Victoria
+too, for they needed no urging to wait till it was known whether Nevill
+Caird would live or die) Lady MacGregor said with her usual briskness to
+Stephen: "Of course I've telegraphed to that _creature_."
+
+Stephen looked at her blankly.
+
+"That hard-hearted little beast, Josette Soubise," the fairy aunt
+explained.
+
+Stephen could hardly help laughing, though he had seldom felt less
+merry. But that the tiny Lady MacGregor should refer to tall Josette,
+who was nearly twice her height, as a "little beast," struck him as
+somewhat funny. Besides, her toy-terrier snappishness was comic.
+
+"I've nothing _against_ the girl," Lady MacGregor felt it right to go
+on, "except that she's an idiot to bite off her nose to spite her own
+face--and Nevill's too. I don't approve of her at all as a wife for him,
+you must understand. Nevill could marry a _princess_, and she's nothing
+but a little school-teacher with a dimple or two, whose mother and
+father were less than _nobody_. Still, as Nevill wants her, she might
+have the grace to show appreciation of the honour, by not spoiling his
+life. He's never been the same since he went and fell in love with her,
+and she refused him."
+
+"You've telegraphed to Tlemcen that Nevill is ill?" Stephen ventured.
+
+"I've telegraphed to the creature that she'd better come here at once,
+if she wants to see him alive," replied Lady MacGregor. "I suppose she
+loves him in her French-Algerian way, and she must have saved up enough
+money for the fare. Anyhow, if Nevill doesn't live, I happen to know
+he's left her nearly everything, except what the poor boy imagines I
+ought to have. That's pouring coals of fire on her head!"
+
+"Don't think of his not living!" exclaimed Stephen.
+
+"Honestly I believe he won't live unless that idiot of a girl comes and
+purrs and promises to marry him, deathbed or no deathbed."
+
+Again Stephen smiled faintly. "You're a matchmaker, Lady MacGregor," he
+said. "You are one of the most subtle persons I ever saw."
+
+The old lady took this as a compliment. "I haven't lived among Arabs,
+goodness knows how many years, for nothing," she retorted. "I
+telegraphed for her about five minutes after you wired from Azzouz. In
+fact, my telegram went back by the boy who brought yours."
+
+"She may be here day after to-morrow, if she started at once," Stephen
+reflected aloud.
+
+"She did, and she will," said Lady MacGregor, drily.
+
+"You've heard?"
+
+"The day I wired."
+
+"You have quite a nice way of breaking things to people, you dear little
+ladyship," said Stephen. And for some reason which he could not in the
+least understand, this speech caused Nevill's aunt to break into tears.
+
+That evening, the two surgeons extracted the bullet from Nevill's side.
+Afterwards, he was extremely weak, and took as little interest as
+possible in things, until Stephen was allowed to speak to him for a
+moment.
+
+Most men, if told that they had just sixty seconds to spend at the
+bedside of a dear friend, would have been at a loss what to say in a
+space of time so small yet valuable. But Stephen knew what he wished to
+say, and said it, as soon as Nevill let him speak; but Nevill began
+first.
+
+"Maybe--going to--deserve name of Wings," he muttered. "Shouldn't
+wonder. Don't care much."
+
+"Is there any one thing in this world you want above everything else?"
+asked Stephen.
+
+"Yes. Sight of--Josette. One thing I--can't have."
+
+"Yes, you can," said Stephen quietly. "She's coming. She started the
+minute she heard you were ill, and she'll be in Touggourt day after
+to-morrow."
+
+"You're not--pulling my leg?"
+
+"To do that would be very injurious. But I thought good news would be
+better than medicine."
+
+"Thank you, Legs. You're a great doctor," was all that Nevill answered.
+But his temperature began to go down within the hour.
+
+"He'll get the girl, of course," remarked Lady MacGregor, when Stephen
+told her. "That is, if he lives."
+
+"He will live, with this hope to buoy him up," said Stephen. "And she
+can't hold out against him for a minute when she sees him as he is.
+Indeed, I rather fancy she's been in a mood to change her mind this last
+month."
+
+"Why this last month?"
+
+"Oh, I think she misunderstood Nevill's interest in Miss Ray, and that
+helped her to understand herself. When she finds out that it's for her
+he still cares, not some one else, she'll do anything he asks."
+Afterwards it proved that he was right.
+
+The day after the arrival at Touggourt, the house in its garden near
+the oasis was very quiet. The Arab servants, whom Lady MacGregor had
+taken with the place, moved silently, and for Nevill's sake voices were
+lowered. There was a brooding stillness of summer heat over the one
+little patch of flowery peace and perfumed shade in the midst of the
+fierce golden desert. Yet to the five members of the oddly assembled
+family it was as if the atmosphere tingled with electricity. There was a
+curious, even oppressive sense of suspense, of waiting for something to
+happen.
+
+They did not speak of this feeling, yet they could see it in each
+other's eyes, if they dare to look.
+
+It was with them as with people who wait to hear a clock begin striking
+an hour which will bring news of some great change in their lives, for
+good or evil.
+
+The tension increased as the day went on; still, no one had said to
+another, "What is there so strange about to-day? Do you feel it? Is it
+only our imagination--a reaction after strain, or is it that a
+presentiment of something to happen hangs over us?"
+
+Stephen had not yet had any talk with Victoria. They had seen each other
+alone for scarcely more than a moment since the night at Toudja; but now
+that Nevill was better, and the surgeons said that if all went well,
+danger was past, it seemed to Stephen that the hour had come.
+
+After they had lunched in the dim, cool dining-room, and Lady MacGregor
+had proposed a siesta for all sensible people, Stephen stopped the girl
+on her way upstairs as she followed her sister.
+
+"May I talk to you for a little while this afternoon?" he asked.
+
+Voice and eyes were wistful, and Victoria wondered why, because she was
+so happy that she felt as if life had been set to music. She had hoped
+that he would be happy too, when Nevill's danger was over, and he had
+time to think of himself--perhaps, too, of her.
+
+"Yes," she said, "let's talk in the garden, when it's cooler. I love
+being in gardens, don't you? Everything that happens seems more
+beautiful."
+
+Stephen remembered how lovely he had thought her in the lily garden at
+Algiers. He was almost glad that they were not to have this talk there;
+for the memory of it was too perfect to mar with sadness.
+
+"I'm going to put Saidee to sleep," she went on. "You may laugh, but
+truly I can. When I was a little girl, she used to like me to stroke her
+hair if her head ached, and she would always fall asleep. And once she's
+asleep I shan't dare move, or she'll wake up. She has such happy dreams
+now, and they're sure to come true. Shall I come to you about half-past
+five?"
+
+"I'll be waiting," said Stephen.
+
+It was the usual garden of a villa in the neighbourhood of a desert
+town, but Stephen had never seen one like it, except that of the Caid,
+in Bou-Saada. There were the rounded paths of hard sand, the colour of
+pinkish gold in the dappling shadows of date palms and magnolias, and
+there were rills of running water that whispered and gurgled as they
+bathed the dark roots of the trees. No grass grew in the garden, and the
+flowers were not planted in beds or borders. Plants and trees sprang out
+of the sand, and such flowers as there were--roses, and pomegranate
+blossoms, hibiscus, and passion flowers--climbed, and rambled, and
+pushed, and hung in heavy drapery, as best they could without attention
+or guidance. But one of the principal paths led to a kind of arbour, or
+temple, where long ago palms had been planted in a ring, and had formed
+a high green dome, through which, even at noon, the light filtered as if
+through a dome of emerald. Underneath, the pavement of gold was hard and
+smooth, and in the centre whispered a tiny fountain ornamented with old
+Algerian tiles. It trickled rather than played, but its delicate music
+was soothing and sweet as a murmured lullaby; and from the shaded seat
+beside it there was a glimpse between tree trunks of the burning desert
+gold.
+
+On this wooden seat by the fountain Stephen waited for Victoria, and
+saw her coming to him, along the straight path that led to the round
+point. She wore a white dress which Lady MacGregor had brought her, and
+as she walked, the embroidery of light and shadow made it look like lace
+of a lovely pattern. She stopped on the way, and, gathering a red rose
+with a long stem, slipped it into her belt. It looked like a spot of
+blood over her heart, as if a sword had been driven in and drawn out.
+Stephen could not bear to see it there. It was like a symbol of the
+wound that he was waiting to inflict.
+
+She came to him smiling, looking very young, like a child who expects
+happiness.
+
+"Have I kept you waiting long?" she asked. Her blue eyes, with the
+shadow of the trees darkening them, had a wonderful colour, almost
+purple. A desperate longing to take her in his arms swept over Stephen
+like a wave. He drew in his breath sharply and shut his teeth. He could
+not answer. Hardly knowing what he did, he held out his hands, and very
+quietly and sweetly she laid hers in them.
+
+"Don't trust me--don't be kind to me," he said, crushing her hands for
+an instant, then putting them away.
+
+She looked up in surprise, as he stood by the fountain, very tall and
+pale, and suddenly rather grim, it seemed to her, his expression out of
+tune with the peace of the garden and the mood in which she had come.
+
+"What is the matter?" she asked, simply.
+
+"Everything. I hardly know how to begin to tell you. Yet I must. Perhaps
+you'll think I shouldn't have waited till now. But there's been no
+chance--at least, I----"
+
+"No, there's been no chance for us to talk, or even to think very much
+about ourselves," Victoria tried to reassure him. "Begin just as you
+like. Whatever you say, whatever you have to tell, I won't
+misunderstand."
+
+"First of all, then," Stephen said, "you know I love you. Only you don't
+know how much. I couldn't tell you that, any more than I could tell how
+much water there is in the ocean. I didn't know myself that it was
+possible to love like this, and such a love might turn the world into
+heaven. But because I am what I am, and because I've done what I have
+done, it's making mine hell. Wait--you said you wouldn't misunderstand!
+The man who loves you ought to offer some sort of spiritual gold and
+diamonds, but I've got only a life half spoiled to offer you, if you'll
+take it. And before I can even ask you to take it, I'll have to explain
+how it's spoiled."
+
+Victoria did not speak, but still looked at him with that look of an
+expectant, anxious child, which made him long to snatch her up and turn
+his back forever on the world where there was a Margot Lorenzi, and
+gossiping people, and newspapers.
+
+But he had to go on. "There's a woman," he said, "who--perhaps she cares
+for me--I don't know. Anyhow, she'd suffered through our family. I felt
+sorry for her. I--I suppose I admired her. She's handsome--or people
+think so. I can hardly tell how it came about, but I--asked her to marry
+me, and she said yes. That was--late last winter--or the beginning of
+spring. Then she had to go to Canada, where she'd been brought up--her
+father died in England, a few months ago, and her mother, when she was a
+child; but she had friends she wanted to see, before--before she
+married. So she went, and I came to Algiers, to visit Nevill. Good
+heavens, how banal it sounds! How--how different from the way I feel!
+There aren't words--I don't see how to make you understand, without
+being a cad. But I must tell you that I didn't love her, even at first.
+It was a wish--a foolish, mistaken wish, I see now--and I saw long ago,
+the moment it was too late--to make up for things. She was unhappy,
+and--no, I give it up! I can't explain. But it doesn't change things
+between us--you and me. I'm yours, body and soul. If you can forgive me
+for--for trying to make you care, when I had no right--if, after knowing
+the truth, you'll take me as I am, I----"
+
+"Do you mean, you'd break off your engagement?"
+
+Perhaps it was partly the effect of the green shadows, but the girl
+looked very pale. Except for her eyes and hair, and the red rose that
+was like a wound over her heart, there was no colour about her.
+
+"Yes, I would. And I believe it would be right to break it," Stephen
+said, forcefully. "It's abominable to marry some one you don't love, and
+a crime if you love some one else."
+
+"But you must have cared for her once," said Victoria.
+
+"Oh, cared! I cared in a way, as a man cares for a pretty woman who's
+had very hard luck. You see--her father made a fight for a title that's
+in our family, and claimed the right to it. He lost his case, and his
+money was spent. Then he killed himself, and his daughter was left
+alone, without a penny and hardly any friends----"
+
+"Poor, poor girl! I don't wonder you were sorry for her--so sorry that
+you thought your pity was love. You couldn't throw her over now, you
+know in your heart you couldn't. It would be cruel."
+
+"I thought I couldn't, till I met you," Stephen answered frankly. "Since
+then, I've thought--no, I haven't exactly thought. I've only felt. That
+night at Toudja, I knew it would be worse than death to have to keep my
+word to her. I wouldn't have been sorry if they'd killed me then, after
+you said--that is, after I had the memory of a moment or two of
+happiness to take to the next world."
+
+"Ah, that's because I let you see I loved you," Victoria explained
+softly, and a little shyly. "I told you I wouldn't misunderstand, and I
+don't. Just for a minute I was hurt--my heart felt sick, because I
+couldn't bear to think--to think less highly of you. But it was only for
+a minute. Then I began to understand--so well! And I think you are even
+better than I thought before--more generous, and chivalrous. You were
+sorry for _her_ in those days of her trouble, and then you were engaged,
+and you meant to marry her and make her happy. But at Toudja I showed
+you what was in my heart--even now I'm not ashamed that I did, because
+I knew you cared for me."
+
+"I worshipped you, only less than I do now," Stephen broke in. "Every
+day I love you more--and will to the end of my life. You can't send me
+away. You can't send me to another woman."
+
+"I can, for my sake and yours both, because if I kept you, feeling that
+I was wronging some one, neither of us could be happy. But I want you to
+know I understand that you have _me_ to be sorry for now, as well as
+her, and that you're torn between us both, hardly seeing which way
+honour lies. I'm sure you would have kept true to her, if you hadn't
+hated to make me unhappy. And instead of needing to forgive you, I will
+ask you to forgive me, for making things harder."
+
+"You've given me the only real happiness I've ever known since I was a
+boy," Stephen said.
+
+"If that's true--and it must be, since you say it--neither of us is to
+be pitied. I shall be happy always because you loved me enough to be
+made happy by my love. And you must be happy because you've done right,
+and made me love you more. I don't think there'll be any harm in our not
+trying to forget, do you?"
+
+"I could as easily forget to breathe."
+
+"So could I. Ever since the first night I met you, you have seemed
+different to me from any other man I ever knew, except an ideal man who
+used to live in the back of my mind. Soon, that man and you grew to be
+one. You wouldn't have me separate you from him, would you?"
+
+"If you mean that you'll separate me from your ideal unless I marry
+Margot Lorenzi, then divide me from that cold perfection forever. I'm
+not cold, and I'm far from perfect. But I can't feel it a decent thing
+for a man to marry one woman, promising to love and cherish her, if his
+whole being belongs to another. Even you can't----"
+
+"I used to believe it wrong to marry a person one didn't love,"
+Victoria broke in, quickly. "But it's so different when one talks of an
+imaginary case. This poor girl loves you?"
+
+"I suppose she thinks she does."
+
+"She's poor?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And she depends upon you."
+
+"Of course she counts on me. I always expected to keep my word."
+
+"And now you'd break it--for me! Oh, no, I couldn't let you do it. Were
+you--does she expect to be married soon?"
+
+Stephen's face grew red, as if it had been struck. "Yes," he answered,
+in a low voice.
+
+"Would you mind--telling me how soon?"
+
+"As soon as she gets back from Canada."
+
+Victoria's bosom rose and fell quickly.
+
+"Oh!--and when----"
+
+"At once. Almost at once."
+
+"She's coming back immediately?"
+
+"Yes. I--I'm afraid she's in England now."
+
+"How dreadful! Poor girl, hoping to see you--to have you meet her,
+maybe, and--you're here. You're planning to break her heart. It breaks
+mine to think of it. I _couldn't_ have you fail."
+
+"For God's sake don't send me away from you. I can't go. I won't."
+
+"Yes, if I beg you to go. And I do. You must stand by this poor girl,
+alone in the world except for you. I see from what you tell me, that she
+needs you and appeals to your chivalry by lacking everything except what
+comes from you. It can't be wrong to protect her, after giving your
+promise, even though you mayn't love her in the way you once thought you
+did: but it _would_ be wrong to abandon her now----"
+
+A rustling in the long path made Stephen turn. Some one was coming. It
+was Margot Lorenzi.
+
+He could not believe that it was really she, and stared stupidly,
+thinking the figure he saw an optical illusion.
+
+She had on a grey travelling dress, and a grey hat trimmed with black
+ribbon, which, Stephen noted idly, was powdered with dust. Her black
+hair was dusty, too, and her face slightly flushed with heat,
+nevertheless she was beautiful, with the luscious beauty of those women
+who make a strong physical appeal to men.
+
+Behind her was an Arab servant, whom she had passed in her eagerness. He
+looked somewhat troubled, but seeing Stephen he threw up his hands in
+apology, throwing off all responsibility. Then he turned and went back
+towards the house.
+
+Margot, too, had seen Stephen. Her eyes flashed from him to the figure
+of the girl, which she saw in profile. She did not speak, but walked
+faster; and Victoria, realizing that their talk was to be interrupted by
+somebody, looked round, expecting Lady MacGregor or Saidee.
+
+"It is Miss Lorenzi," Stephen said, in a low voice. "I don't know
+how--or why--she has come here. But for your sake--it will be better if
+you go now, at once, and let me talk to her."
+
+There was another path by which Victoria could reach the house. She
+might have gone, thinking that Stephen knew best, and that she had no
+more right than wish to stay, but the tall young woman in grey began to
+walk very fast, when she saw that the girl with Stephen was going.
+
+"Be kind enough to stop where you are, Miss Ray. I know you must be Miss
+Ray," Margot called out in a loud, sharp voice. She spoke as if Victoria
+were an inferior, whom she had a right to command.
+
+Surprised and hurt by the tone, the girl hesitated, looking from the
+newcomer to Stephen.
+
+At first glance and at a little distance, she had thought the young
+woman perfectly beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful creature she had
+ever seen--even more glorious than Saidee. But when Miss Lorenzi came
+nearer, undisguisedly angry and excited, the best part of her beauty was
+gone, wiped away, as a face in a picture may be smeared before the paint
+is dry. Her features were faultless, her hair and eyes magnificent. Her
+dress was pretty, and exquisitely made, if too elaborate for desert
+travelling; her figure charming, though some day it would be too stout;
+yet in spite of all she looked common and cruel. The thought that
+Stephen Knight had doomed himself to marry this woman made Victoria
+shiver, as if she had heard him condemned to imprisonment for life.
+
+She had thought before seeing Miss Lorenzi that she understood the
+situation, and how it had come about. She had said to Stephen, "I
+understand." Now, it seemed to her that she had boasted in a silly,
+childish way. She had not understood. She had not begun to understand.
+
+Suddenly the girl felt very old and experienced, and miserably wise in
+the ways of the world. It was as if in some other incarnation she had
+known women like this, and their influence over men: how, if they tried,
+they could beguile chivalrous men into being sorry for them, and doing
+almost anything which they wished to be done.
+
+A little while ago Victoria had been thinking and speaking of Margot
+Lorenzi as "poor girl," and urging Stephen to be true to her for his own
+sake as well as hers. But now, in a moment, everything had changed. A
+strange flash of soul-lightning had shown her the real Margot, unworthy
+of Stephen at her best, crushing to his individuality and aspirations at
+her worst. Victoria did not know what to think, what to do. In place of
+the sad and lonely girl she had pictured, here stood a woman already
+selfish and heartless, who might become cruel and terrible. No one had
+ever looked at Victoria Ray as Miss Lorenzi was looking now, not even
+Miluda, the Ouled Nail, who had stared her out of countenance, curiously
+and maliciously at the same time.
+
+"I have heard a great deal about Miss Ray in Algiers," Margot went on.
+"And I think--you will _both_ understand why I made this long, tiresome
+journey to Touggourt."
+
+"There is no reason why Miss Ray should understand," said Stephen
+quickly. "It can't concern her in the least. On your own account it
+would have been better if you had waited for me in London. But it's too
+late to think of that now. I will go with you into the house."
+
+"No," Margot answered. "Not yet. And you're not to put on such a tone
+with me--as if I'd done something wrong. I haven't! We're engaged, and I
+have a perfect right to come here, and find out what you've been doing
+while I was at the other side of the world. You promised to meet me at
+Liverpool--and instead, you were here--with _her_. You never even sent
+me word. Yet you're surprised that I came on to Algiers. Of course, when
+I was _there_, I heard everything--or what I didn't hear, I guessed. You
+hadn't bothered to hide your tracks. I don't suppose you so much as
+thought of me--poor me, who went to Canada for your sake really. Yes!
+I'll tell you why I went now. I was afraid if I didn't go, a man who was
+in love with me there--he's in love with me now and always will be, for
+that matter!--would come and kill you. He used to threaten that he'd
+shoot any one I might marry, if I dared throw him over; and he's the
+kind who keeps his word. So I didn't want to throw him over. I went
+myself, and stayed in his mother's house, and argued and pleaded with
+him, till he'd promised to be good and let me be happy. So you see--the
+journey was for you--to save you. I didn't want to see him again for
+myself, though _his_ is real love. You're cold as ice. I don't believe
+you know what love is. But all the same I can't be jilted by you--for
+another woman. I won't have it, Stephen--after all I've gone through. If
+you try to break your solemn word to me, I'll sue you. There'll be
+another case that will drag your name before the public again, and not
+only yours----"
+
+"Be still, Margot," said Stephen.
+
+She grew deadly pale. "I will not be still," she panted. "I _will_ have
+justice. No one shall take you away from me."
+
+"No one wishes to take me away," Stephen flung at her hotly. "Miss Ray
+has just refused me. You've spared me the trouble of taking her
+advice----"
+
+"What was it?" Margot looked suddenly anxious, and at the same time
+self-assertive.
+
+"That I should go at once to England--and to you."
+
+Victoria took a step forward, then paused, pale and trembling. "Oh,
+Stephen!" she cried. "I take back that advice. I--I've changed my mind.
+You can't--you can't do it. You would be so miserable that she'd be
+wretched, too. I see now, it's not right to urge people to do things,
+especially when--one only _thinks_ one understands. She doesn't love you
+really. I feel almost sure she cares more for some one else, if--if it
+were not for things you have, which she wants. If you're rich, as I
+suppose you must be, don't make this sacrifice, which would crush your
+soul, but give her half of all you have in the world, so that she can be
+happy in her own way, and set you free gladly."
+
+As Victoria said these things, she remembered M'Barka, and the prophecy
+of the sand; a sudden decision to be made in an instant, which would
+change her whole life.
+
+"I'll gladly give Miss Lorenzi more than half my money," said Stephen.
+"I should be happy to think she had it. But even if you begged me to
+marry her, Victoria, I would not now. It's gone beyond that. Her ways
+and mine must be separate forever."
+
+Margot's face grew eager, and her eyes flamed.
+
+"What I want and insist on," she said, "is that I must have my rights.
+After all I've hoped for and expected, I _won't_ be thrown over, and go
+back to the old, dull life of turning and twisting every shilling. If
+you'll settle thirty thousand pounds on me, you are free, so far as I
+care. I wouldn't marry a man who hated me, when there's one who adores
+me as if I were a saint--and I like him better than ever I did you--a
+lot better. I realize that more than I did before."
+
+The suggestion of Margot Lorenzi as a saint might have made a looker-on
+smile, but Victoria and Stephen passed it by, scarcely hearing.
+
+"If I give you thirty thousand pounds, it will leave me a poor man," he
+said.
+
+"Oh, _do_ give her the money and be a poor man," Victoria implored. "I
+shall be so happy if we are poor--a thousand times happier than she
+could be with millions."
+
+Stephen caught the hand that half unconsciously the girl held out to
+him, and pressed it hard. "If you will go back to your hotel now," he
+said to Margot, in a quiet voice, "I will call on you there almost at
+once, and we can settle our business affairs. I promise that you shall
+be satisfied."
+
+Margot looked at them both for a few seconds, without speaking. "I'll
+go, and send a telegram to Montreal which will make somebody there
+happier than any other man in Canada," she answered. "And I'll expect
+you in an hour."
+
+When she had gone, they forgot her.
+
+"Do you really mean, when you say we--_we_ shall be happy poor, that
+you'll marry me in spite of all?" Stephen asked.
+
+"Oh, yes, if you want me still," Victoria said.
+
+"Does a man want Heaven!" He took her in his arms and held her close,
+closer than he had held her the night at Toudja, when he had thought
+that death might soon part them. "You've brought me up out of the
+depths."
+
+"Not I," the girl said. "Your star."
+
+"Your star. You gave me half yours."
+
+"Now I give it to you all," she told him. "And all myself, too. Oh,
+isn't it wonderful to be so happy--in the light of our star--and to
+know that the others we love will be happy, too--my Saidee, and your Mr.
+Caird----"
+
+"Yes," Stephen answered. "But just at this moment I can't think much
+about any one except ourselves, not even your sister and my best friend.
+You fill the universe for me."
+
+"It's filled with love--and it _is_ love," said Victoria. "The music is
+sweeter for us, though, because we know it's sweet for others. I
+_couldn't_ let her spoil your life, Stephen."
+
+"My life!" he echoed. "I didn't know what life was or might be till this
+moment. Now I know."
+
+"Now we both know," she finished.
+
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+
+Page and line numbers in these notes refer to the original printed text.
+
+Obvious punctuation corrections have been applied silently where
+applicable.
+
+As much as possible, the original spelling in the book has been
+preserved. The authors commonly use different hyphenation for several
+words throughout (for example, "note-book" on page 283, line 9, as
+opposed to "notebook" on page 285, line 16). There are mixes of English,
+American, and French spelling. The spelling of some names that appear
+only once or twice is ambiguous (for example, "Cheikh" on page 55, line
+27, and "Cheik" on page 143, line 5). In cases like these, the text has
+been left as in the printed version.
+
+The following appear to be typographical errors and have been corrected
+in this text.
+
+Page 40, line 20: "Christo" (Cristo).
+
+Page 62, line 1: "dribge" (bridge).
+
+Page 77, line 4: "hautes" (hauts).
+
+Page 92, line 20: "filagree" (filigree).
+
+Page 99, line 9: "ecole" (ecole).
+
+Page 184, line 8: "khol" (kohl).
+
+Page 217, line 1: "Michelet" (Michelet).
+
+Page 235, line 16: "Neville's" (Nevill's).
+
+Page 235, line 34: "Neville" (Nevill).
+
+Page 425, line 26: "massage" (message).
+
+Page 430, line 11: "usuper" (usurper).
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Silence, by
+C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson
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