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diff --git a/19108-h/19108-h.htm b/19108-h/19108-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0304b3b --- /dev/null +++ b/19108-h/19108-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,20953 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<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. & A. M. Williamson + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<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. & 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">"'Allah sends thee a man—a strong man, whose brain +and heart and arm are at thy service'"</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. & A. M. WILLIAMSON +Illustrated by GEORGE BREHM +GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & 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. & 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—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."</p> + +<p>"What a pity Knight didn't see it in that light—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—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—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—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—what you did call me—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—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 <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—I suppose you have +one—and let me see you there? It's loathsome making a +show of ourselves——"</p> + +<p>"I <i>haven't</i> a private sitting-room. It would have been too +extravagant," returned Miss Lorenzi. "Please sit down—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——"</p> + +<p>"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?"</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—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—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——"</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——"</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——"</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!—and I +felt I owed you something in return for your generosity. I +wanted your <i>fiancée</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——"</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——"</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—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.</p> + +<p>"That question was decided in court——"</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—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—by and +by—we might take a long trip round the world——"</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—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——"</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——"</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——"</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—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——"</p> + +<p>"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."</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——"</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—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<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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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 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."</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 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 <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>premières 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—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<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 +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.</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—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<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—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.</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——" 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—or flying—or——"</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——"</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—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—unless +you suppose I've made a great fortune in a few +months?"</p> + +<p>"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."</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——"</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—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."</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—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-à-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—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—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—how could I?—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——"</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—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 <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—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—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—nor whether one liked his face or not. +He might be able to help me."</p> + +<p>"To help you—in Algiers?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, in the same way that you might be able to help me—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—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—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—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—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!"</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—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—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.</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—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—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<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—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 <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—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—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'—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—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—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."</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—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."</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—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."</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——"</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—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<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—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—<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—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—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—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."</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—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—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—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—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—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."</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—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."</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—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 <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—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—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—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."</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—in what you were +telling—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—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——"</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—though you may laugh at that."</p> + +<p>"It's the best compliment I ever had," said Stephen. "And—it +gives me faith in myself—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—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—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—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.</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—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.</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-Djézair-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—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 là</i>, and that Monsieur Caird impatiently awaited +his friend on the wharf.</p> + +<p>"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<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—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."</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—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."</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—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."</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 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.</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>—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."</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—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."</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—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—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."</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—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—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—if you're +an Arab."</p> + +<p>"Jove! You don't think——"</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——"</p> + +<p>"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 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—Arab +human nature—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—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—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—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."</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 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.</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 façade 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 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.</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 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.</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—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."<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,—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 +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.</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—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—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—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."</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 Æolian 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—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—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<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>école indigène</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—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."</p> + +<p>"I can see what her feeling is," Stephen said. "She must +be a ripping girl."</p> + +<p>"I should say she is!—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—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."</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—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?"</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—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."</p> + +<p>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.</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 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.</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>Antiquités</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—and some Jewish embroideries—and +bits of jewellery—and a rug or two or a piece of pottery—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—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."</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—like a carrier-pigeon! This +could never have been a matter of gossip—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—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—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—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—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<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—somewhat +to Stephen's surprise, because she was to him a new type of +old lady—decided to be charmed with Miss Ray.</p> + +<p>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<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—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!—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—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—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—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—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—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."</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—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—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.</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—not that you <i>will</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>—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."</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—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."</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 +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<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 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.</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—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.<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 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.</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—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—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—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—<i>never without her</i>. 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.</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—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 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—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——"</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—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."</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—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>déjeuner</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—"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 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?"</p> + +<p>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.</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. +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 <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—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—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."</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—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 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.</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 Maïeddine +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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</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, 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.</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, Perrégaux, 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,—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—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—like +the stone feet of Egyptian kings in ruined temples—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—<i>hadjabah</i>, +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<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—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.</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—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<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 haïcks.</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—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 Michélet, 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—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—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—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."</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—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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +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."</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—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—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."</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—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——"</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—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?"</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—in +regard to you," remarked Stephen.</p> + +<p>"What—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—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 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.</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—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.</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 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.<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 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.</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 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.<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—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.</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 cœur."</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—incidentally—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 à 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 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."</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 Maïeddine 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 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."</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 Maïeddine to pay his respects?"</p> + +<p>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!</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 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."</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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</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;—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 Maïeddine 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 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.</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—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—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?"</p> + +<p>"I give thee my word—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 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.</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 Maïeddine 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,—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 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 Maïeddine 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 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.</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—or believed that +she kept—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—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.<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 Maïeddine 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 +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?"</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—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."</p> + +<p>"Then he is not really dead!" cried Victoria.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Thy brother-in-law was living when last I heard of him," +Maïeddine answered, slowly.</p> + +<p>"And my sister?"</p> + +<p>"My cousin told me last night that Lella Saïda was in good +health some months ago when news came of her from a friend."</p> + +<p>"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.</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—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—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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<p>Si Maïeddine 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 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."</p> + +<p>"My thanks to thee and to her—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 Maïeddine 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 Maïeddine +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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</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 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.</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>"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.</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 haïck, 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 haïck, 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 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."</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 Maïeddine'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 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.</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—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 +haïcks 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 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.</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 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.</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—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.</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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</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>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."</p> + +<p>"Poet and dreamer thou hast become, Maïeddine," 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—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——"</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 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."</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>Maïeddine'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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<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 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.</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 Maïeddine 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 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."</p> + +<p>"How quickly thou hast arranged everything," exclaimed +the girl.</p> + +<p>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<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 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 <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>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<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, Maïeddine 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 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."</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—the night before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +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.</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—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—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.</p> + +<div class="poem"><p> +"Key A minor, measure common,<br /> +One and two and three and four and—<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—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—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 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.</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 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.</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 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.</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 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.<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 raïtas, 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 raïta began, and there +was no longer any need to ask the way.</p> + +<p>"That's where the party is—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—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—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.</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—Good day, sir," said Nevill, +agreeably, in his best Arabic. "Ta' rafi el-a' riya?—Do you +speak Arabic?"</p> + +<p>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.</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 Caïd," (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 amphoræ 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 Caïd, 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—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."</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—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."</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—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 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.</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,—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—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?</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 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.<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 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.</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 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.</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 Caïd, to whom, he said, he had written, +sending his letter by the diligence.</p> + +<p>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<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 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?</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—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 Caïd, 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>café maure</i> at the Caïd'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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Over the cups of <i>café 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 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.</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 Caïd 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 +Naïls. But they made excuses that they must get on, and bade +the Caïd good-bye after an hour's talk. As for the <i>gazelle +approvoisée</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 Caïd?" 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 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.</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 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."</p> + +<p>His guess was right. It was the Caïd coming home, and +Maïeddine 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 +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.</p> + +<p>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.</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 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Charles Quex</i> 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.</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>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.</p> + +<p>"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."<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 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!</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>tente +sultane</i> of the Agha, at his douar south of El Aghouat.</p> + +<p>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.</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 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.</p> + +<p>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 <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—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 +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.</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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?<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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</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 appliqué 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 Caïd's house.</p> + +<p>The Caïd'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 Caïd.</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 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But the longer the better," replied the Caïd. "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 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<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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<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>café maure</i>. 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?</p> + +<p>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.</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 Caïd, 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—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——"</p> + +<p>"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 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 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!"</p> + +<p>"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."</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 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."</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?—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.</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 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.</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—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 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<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 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.</p> + +<p>"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.<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 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.</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 +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<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 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.</p> + +<p>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<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 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.</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—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 <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—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 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."</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, Maïeddine 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 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?"<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 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.</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 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.</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 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.<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 Maïeddine; +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 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."</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," 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."</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—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 Maïeddine.</p> + +<p>"It is my brother-in-law, Abderrhaman ben Douadi," +exclaimed Maïeddine, 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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</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!—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.</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. 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.</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 Maïeddine +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 Maïeddine 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 Maïeddine'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 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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"But if thou shouldst not teach her?"</p> + +<p>"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——"</p> + +<p>"Thou wouldst say——"</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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, +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.</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 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.</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 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.</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 Maïeddine, 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 Maïeddine, 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;—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.</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 raïta and the sobbing of the ghesbah, so that she confused +fragrance with music, music with fragrance.</p> + +<p>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.</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 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.</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 Azraïl +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 Maïeddine.<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 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.</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 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.</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, 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 manœuvres, 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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</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 Maïeddine 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, 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.</p> + +<p>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<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 Maïeddine, "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. 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.</p> + +<p>"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.</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 Maïeddine. "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 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:</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 Maïeddine +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," +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."</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 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."</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 Maïeddine 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," 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."</p> + +<p>"Yet I feel in the roots of my hair and behind my eyes that the +rain is coming."</p> + +<p>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<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—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.</p> + +<p>"A little more, and we could not have crossed," said Maïeddine, +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—miserable?" he echoed. "I—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," 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."</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?—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."</p> + +<p>"I did not know until to-day, Si Maïeddine, that thou wert +a poet," Victoria told him.</p> + +<p>"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."<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—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," Maïeddine confessed doggedly.</p> + +<p>"But—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——"</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," Maïeddine 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," Maïeddine 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," Maïeddine 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 +Maïeddine 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, 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.</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 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.</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—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>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.</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 +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.</p> + +<p>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.</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 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.</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 Maïeddine 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 raïta.<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—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 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thou wert happy alone?" Maïeddine 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 Maïeddine."</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 Maïeddine, dost thou think, truly, that a +black angel walks ever at thy left side?"</p> + +<p>"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——"</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 +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.</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, +Maïeddine 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—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 Maïeddine 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—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!"</p> + +<p>"Tell her what the man is like, cousin," Maïeddine 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—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—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—is there no more?" asked Maïeddine.</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 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.</p> + +<p>"Remember all I have told thee, when the time comes," +M'Barka warned her.</p> + +<p>"Yes—oh yes, I will remember."</p> + +<p>"Now it is my turn. Read the sand for me," said Maïeddine.</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 Ourïeda has touched it."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I tell thee, instead it may bring thee evil."</p> + +<p>"For good or evil, I will have the fortune now," Maïeddine +insisted.</p> + +<p>"Be it upon thy head, oh cousin, not mine. Take thy +handful of sand, and make thy wish."</p> + +<p>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.</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?" Maïeddine 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—the +house of one thou knowest, whose name I may not speak. +Thou stretchest out thine hand. The chance is given thee——"</p> + +<p>"What then?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"No," said Maïeddine. "Ourïeda may go, but not +thou."</p> + +<p>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<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 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."</p> + +<p>"But it is for us both—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 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<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 Maïeddine's fragrant offering of rosewater, some of +which Fafann poured into the glass basin.</p> + +<p>Not far away Maïeddine 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—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."</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—<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>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.<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 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.</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>Maïeddine 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 Phœnicians, 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.</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 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<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 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.</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—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—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.</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 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<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 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 +"<i>très-mâle</i>," 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.</p> + +<p>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.</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 Maïeddine'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 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.</p> + +<p>"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."</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 Maïeddine, or any one else whom she +knew much better than Stephen.</p> + +<p>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.</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—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 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.</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 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.<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 Maïeddine?" 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 Maïeddine 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 Maïeddine."</p> + +<p>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."<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, +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.</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 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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.</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 Maïeddine, and he took it as a good omen.</p> + +<p>"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."</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 Maïeddine, 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 Maïeddine 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 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.</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, 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."</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 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!"</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 Maïeddine 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—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.</p> + +<p>"Think of thy white angel," she said. "He stands between +thee and me."</p> + +<p>"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."</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 Maïeddine, 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—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——"</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—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 Maïeddine?" +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 Maïeddine 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 Maïeddine. 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—perhaps worth eternity."</p> + +<p>"Wouldst thou take me if—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 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<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—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."</p> + +<p>"What is the one thing?"</p> + +<p>"That if thy sister Lella Saïda 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——" 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——" 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—I hope—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 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.</p> + +<p>"Thou wilt let me go back to M'Barka?" she said to +Maïeddine.</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 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.</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> +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.</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 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.</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 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.<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 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.</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 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.</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 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.</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 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.</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 +Zaouïa 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—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.</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 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.</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—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—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 Zaouïa, 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 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.</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 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.</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 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.</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 Zaouïa.</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 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.<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 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.</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 Zaouïa,<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 Zaouïa 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 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.</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 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.</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 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.</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 Saïda, 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—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—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?"</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—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!"</p> + +<p>Her voice broke. She put out her hands pleadingly—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—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?"</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—you are glad—now I'm here?" Victoria faltered.</p> + +<p>"Of course," Saidee answered unhesitatingly. "I'm delighted—enchanted—for +my own sake. If I'm frightened, +if you think me strange—<i>farouche</i>—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?"</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—you don't look +contented."</p> + +<p>Saidee flushed faintly. "You mean—I look old—haggard?"</p> + +<p>"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."</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—desperate? It just suited me. But now—now——"</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"—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—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."</p> + +<p>Saidee laughed, a very bitter laugh. "He does like money. +And he doesn't like me at all—any more."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Ten thousand dollars!" Saidee laughed again. "Do you +know who Cassim—as you call him—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—do you mean—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—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."</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>—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 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——"</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—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<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——"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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.</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 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.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she agreed. "But you promised to tell me about +yourself and—and——"</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—oh, +<i>how</i> 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 <i>are</i> pretty—lovely. No wonder +Maïeddine—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——" 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—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."</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 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.</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——"</p> + +<p>"What, dearest?"</p> + +<p>"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<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—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 <i>haven't</i> 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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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—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——"</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite. I——"</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—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."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Saidee—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—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—even though +another love demanded it.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"But why can't I bribe him?" Victoria persisted, hopefully. +"If he's truly tired of you, my money——"</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—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<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—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 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."</p> + +<p>"I asked you to explain that, but you haven't yet."</p> + +<p>"You must—promise Maïeddine 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 Maïeddine. Nothing could +make me do it. He knows that already, unless——"</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—something I thought then couldn't happen."</p> + +<p>"But you find now it could?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no—no, I don't believe it could."</p> + +<p>"You'd better tell me what it is."</p> + +<p>"That you—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—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—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 Maïeddine, 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 +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."</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 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.<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 Caïd'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—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—not where the orange +blossoms are?"</p> + +<p>"I'll take you on to the roof," Saidee said. "It's my favourite +place—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—" 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.</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—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—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—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—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—every minute. Saidee—did you think of +me sometimes, when you were standing here on this roof?"</p> + +<p>"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——"</p> + +<p>"Except——"</p> + +<p>"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.<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—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?—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.</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—<i>your</i> 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."</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—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—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<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'—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."</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!—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—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<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—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—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—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<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——"</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—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."</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—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.</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—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."</p> + +<p>"Saidee—he would never have murdered you?" Victoria +whispered.</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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."</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—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."</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;—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?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've read that——"<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—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."</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—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——"</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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?—or would you rather talk—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—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.</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—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—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—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!"</p> + +<p>"You're not to say such things," cried Victoria, horrified. +"You weren't jealous. You——"</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—everything you choose, but +nothing you don't choose. And nothing you say can make me +love you less—only more."</p> + +<p>"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."</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—soon."</p> + +<p>"Did you guess why I was sorry?"</p> + +<p>"Not—quite."</p> + +<p>"I told you I—that it was for your sake."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you believe it?"</p> + +<p>"I—felt there was something else, beside."</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"Of course—of course you do, darling."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You mean—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—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——"</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—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?"</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—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?"</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—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 <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—the chance of it—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—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."</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—the town, I mean; not the Zaouïa. 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—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."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I—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—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—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<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—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, +Honoré 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—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."</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>—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"—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?"</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—and you can't get yourself away. Perhaps +Honoré 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—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—except—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>Maïeddine 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. 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.</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 Zaouïa 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 Zaouïa.</p> + +<p>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<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 Maïeddine.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</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 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.<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 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.</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 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.</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—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.</p> + +<p>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<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 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?</p> + +<p>"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."</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 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.</p> + +<p>In his love Maïeddine 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—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 +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.</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>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."</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," Maïeddine 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." 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."</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 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.</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 haïck. 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 Maïeddine——"</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 Maïed<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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</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, 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.</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—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."</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 caïds."</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—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 Maïeddine 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—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 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.<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 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.</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 Maïeddine's +visiting there—or else this old beggar is."</p> + +<p>"Is it an Arab's house?" Stephen wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>The gate opened to let the caïd in and was shut again.</p> + +<p>"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."</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—then had to work slowly +up to the subject," Nevill panted. "But it's all right. Maïeddine +<i>is</i> 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."</p> + +<p>"We must find out where he's going—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—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. +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."</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 Maïeddine can find out——"</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—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?"</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 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."</p> + +<p>"Right. But suppose he's off to-morrow morning—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 Maïeddine's movements, lest the Arab should +be subtle enough to suspect a trick, after all.</p> + +<p>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.</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 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."</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 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?"</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—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—and has +nervous headaches——"</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—<i>we'll</i> 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."</p> + +<p>"Can motors go farther?"</p> + +<p>"They can to Touggourt—with 'deeficulty,' as the noble +twins would say."</p> + +<p>"Maïeddine 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—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 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.</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 +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."</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——"</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 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.</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 Maïeddine with him."</p> + +<p>"Just what we thought," Lady MacGregor broke in.</p> + +<p>"And the carriage will bring the Frenchman back, later. +Maïeddine'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 Maïeddine 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 Naïls, till +you find Miss Ray, or——"</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 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<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—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.</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—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 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."</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 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."</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—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——"</p> + +<p>"What?" Stephen asked, as Nevill broke off suddenly.</p> + +<p>"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."</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—you know I told the servants +to send them on from home—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 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.</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—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 Zaouïa, 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—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!"</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—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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> +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?"</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—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 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——"</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—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 Zaouïa 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 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."</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—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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</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 Zaouïa. 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—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——"</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—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—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—but——"</p> + +<p>"But what? Do you mean you will be—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—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—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?"</p> + +<p>"They saw each other on the ship, coming to Algiers—and +again just as we landed."</p> + +<p>"But has Maïeddine any idea that you care about each +other?"</p> + +<p>"I had to tell him one day in the desert (the day Si Maïeddine +said he loved me, and I promised to consent if <i>you</i> 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."</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 Maïeddine's been very ill since he came back, +M'Barka says. Mr. Knight will ask for the marabout."</p> + +<p>"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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span> +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?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, but he might have guessed," said Victoria. +"I wonder——"</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 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——"</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 Maïeddine, 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 Honoré I wouldn't go with +him; because some day I may be free, and then perhaps I +shall be glad I waited——"</p> + +<p>"You will be glad. Whatever happens, you'll be glad," +Victoria insisted.</p> + +<p>"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."<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—and Maïeddine's a true Arab. He +looks upon you almost as his wife now. In a week or two you +will be, unless——"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Unless—<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 Zaouïa 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 Maïeddine. 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 Zaouïa now that they could no +longer see him.</p> + +<p>"Throw—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 +Zaouïa 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 +Saïda."</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, Maïeddine, 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—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—a long time ago—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 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.</p> + +<p>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.<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 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.</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 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."</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 Zaouïa; 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 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 <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——"</p> + +<p>"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<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 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 <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 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."</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—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?"</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 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."</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—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—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."</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—about the marabout and his European wife."</p> + +<p>"I am glad if I have helped," Sabine answered. "And"—rather +wistfully—"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 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.</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 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."</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——"</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—woman, +cat and snake—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 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span> +Naïl'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 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.</p> + +<p>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<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 Naïl 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 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."</p> + +<p>"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."</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 Maïeddine?" 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 Maïeddine."</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—a real child—while Lella +Saïda 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 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."</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 Maïeddine 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 Maïeddine'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 Naïl. "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 Maïeddine +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 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.<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 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.</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—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<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 +Zaouïa.</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 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."</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——"</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—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."</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—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."</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—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—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.</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—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—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?"</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'œuvres</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—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 Naïls. 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>déjeuner</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—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—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—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—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.</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 Zaouïa. 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 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.</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—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 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,<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 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.</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 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<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 Zaouïa, 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—the young lady of whom +you knew nothing the other day—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 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."</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—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—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.</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—Captain Sabine—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'état</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 Zaouïa 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 +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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span> +than four persons—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—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."</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 +Zaouïa."</p> + +<p>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.</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 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.</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—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—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—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—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."</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—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 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."</p> + +<p>"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.<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 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."</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 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<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 Maïeddine'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 +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."</p> + +<p>"Did—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 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.</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—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."<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—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.</p> + +<p>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.</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 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<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—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—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——"</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 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.</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 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.</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 Zaouïa?" asked Victoria.</p> + +<p>"Who can tell? We can't know till they're very close, and +then——"</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 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."</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——" 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—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 Zaouïa.</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,—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."</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 Zaouïa 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—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<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 Zaouïa, 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—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!"</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—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—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 <i>cause célèbre</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—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——" 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—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 Maïeddine 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—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—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."</p> + +<p>"It would be rather a sell if he got the message, and acted +on it—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——"</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—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.</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—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."</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—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.</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—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 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.</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 Zaouïa 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—or do you value it too +much to risk having it smashed?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll lend it. But——" 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—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—a little—what becomes of me?" Stephen +had stammered before he had time to forbid himself the question.</p> + +<p>"I care a great deal—what becomes of you."</p> + +<p>"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."</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 +Zaouïa."</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. Maïeddine +will——"</p> + +<p>"No," the girl broke in. "I won't go with Maïeddine."</p> + +<p>"If they take this place—as they must, if they've brought +many men, you'll have to go, unless——"</p> + +<p>"Yes; 'unless.' That's what I mean. But don't ask me +any more. I—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——" 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—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—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.</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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</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 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<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, +"Maïeddine 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>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.</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—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>"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<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 Maïeddine. "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," 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."</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 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<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!—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.</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 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.</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—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—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—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. Maïeddine 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——"</p> + +<p>"It was his, not mine. His hands were bleeding. Oh, +poor Maïeddine—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——"</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—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 détour +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—yes—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—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.</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 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.</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 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,<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—"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. Maïeddine'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 Maïeddine will open the door, over their dead bodies, +and then—then——"</p> + +<p>"You have a revolver," said Victoria, almost angrily. "Not +for them, I don't mean that. Only—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—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——"</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 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.</p> + +<p>As Maïeddine 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 +Maïeddine, "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 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?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—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 +Maïeddine. "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, 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.</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 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.</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——"</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—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——"<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—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——"</p> + +<p>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.</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 Maïeddine, 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—good news +for us, bad news for the Arabs."</p> + +<p>"But—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—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——"</p> + +<p>"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?"</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 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."</p> + +<p>"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."</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 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.</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—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—if he's got +a letter for me—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—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 Zaouïa, 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——"</p> + +<p>"We haven't. He's got clear away. Unless your men have +nabbed him and his friend Maïeddine."</p> + +<p>"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——"</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——"</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—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—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 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[Pg 506]</a></span> +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.</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 Maïeddine, 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—De Vigne—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 Naïls 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—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—except one. But to have met him and to have him +love me, I'd live it all over again—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—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.</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—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—going to—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—Josette. One thing I—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—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—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—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 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.</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—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—at least, I——"</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—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—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——"</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—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——"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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 <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—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—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—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?"</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——"</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—for me! Oh, no, I couldn't let +you do it. Were you—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—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!—and when——"</p> + +<p>"At once. Almost at once."</p> + +<p>"She's coming back immediately?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I—I'm afraid she's in England now."</p> + +<p>"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 <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——"</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—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."</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—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 +Naïl, 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—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—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 <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—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 <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—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<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——"</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——"</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—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—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 <i>thinks</i> 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."</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—and I like him better than ever I did +you—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—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—<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—in the light<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_525" id="Page_525">[Pg 525]</a></span> +of our star—and to know that the others we love will be +happy, too—my Saidee, and your Mr. Caird——"</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—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. 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