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diff --git a/19108.txt b/19108.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8572fa8 --- /dev/null +++ b/19108.txt @@ -0,0 +1,18487 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Silence, by +C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Golden Silence + +Author: C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson + +Illustrator: George Brehm + +Release Date: August 23, 2006 [EBook #19108] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN SILENCE *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Nash, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE GOLDEN SILENCE + + + + + BOOKS BY + + C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON + + + THE MOTOR MAID + LORD LOVELAND DISCOVERS AMERICA + SET IN SILVER + THE LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR + THE PRINCESS PASSES + MY FRIEND THE CHAUFFEUR + LADY BETTY ACROSS THE WATER + ROSEMARY IN SEARCH OF A FATHER + THE PRINCESS VIRGINIA + THE CAR OF DESTINY + THE CHAPERON + + + + + [Illustration] + "'Allah sends thee a man--a strong man, whose brain + and heart and arm are at thy service'" + + + + + THE + GOLDEN + SILENCE + + by + + C.N. & A.M. + WILLIAMSON + + [Illustration] + + Illustrated by GEORGE BREHM + + + + + GARDEN CITY, NEW YORK + DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY + 1911 + + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION + INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN + + COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY C. N. & A. M. WILLIAMSON + + + + + TO + + _Effendi_ + + HIS BOOK + + + + + +THE GOLDEN SILENCE + + + + +I + + +Stephen Knight was very angry, though he meant to be kind and patient +with Margot. Perhaps, after all, she had not given the interview to the +newspaper reporter. It might be what she herself would call a "fake." +But as for her coming to stop at a big, fashionable hotel like the +Carlton, in the circumstances she could hardly have done anything in +worse taste. + +He hated to think that she was capable of taking so false a step. He +hated to think that it was exactly like her to take it. He hated to be +obliged to call on her in the hotel; and he hated himself for hating it. + +Knight was of the world that is inclined to regard servants as automata; +but he was absurdly self-conscious as he saw his card on a silver tray, +in the hand of an expressionless, liveried youth who probably had the +famous interview in his pocket. If not there, it was only because the +paper would not fit in. The footman had certainly read the interview, +and followed the "Northmorland Case" with passionate interest, for +months, from the time it began with melodrama, and turned violently to +tragedy, up to the present moment when (as the journalists neatly +crammed the news into a nutshell) "it bade fair to end with +marriage-bells." + +Many servants and small tradespeople in London had taken shares, Stephen +had heard, as a speculative investment, in the scheme originated to +provide capital for the "other side," which was to return a hundred per +cent. in case of success. Probably the expressionless youth was +inwardly reviling the Northmorland family because he had lost his money +and would be obliged to carry silver trays all the rest of his life, +instead of starting a green grocery business. Stephen hoped that his own +face was as expressionless, as he waited to receive the unwelcome +message that Miss Lorenzi was at home. + +It came very quickly, and in a worse form than Stephen had expected. +Miss Lorenzi was in the Palm Court, and would Mr. Knight please come to +her there? + +Of course he had to obey; but it was harder than ever to remain +expressionless. + +There were a good many people in the Palm Court, and they all looked at +Stephen Knight as he threaded his intricate way among chairs and little +tables and palms, toward a corner where a young woman in black crape sat +on a pink sofa. Her hat was very large, and a palm with enormous +fan-leaves drooped above it like a sympathetic weeping willow on a +mourning brooch. But under the hat was a splendidly beautiful dark face. + +"Looks as if he were on his way to be shot," a man who knew all about +the great case said to a woman who had lunched with him. + +"Looks more as if he were on his way to shoot," she laughed, as one does +laugh at other people's troubles, which are apt to be ridiculous. "He's +simply glaring." + +"Poor beggar!" Her companion found pleasure in pitying Lord +Northmorland's brother, whom he had never succeeded in getting to know. +"Which is he, fool or hero?" + +"Both. A fool to have proposed to the girl. A hero to stick to her, now +he has proposed. He must be awfully sick about the interview. I do think +it's excuse enough to throw her over." + +"I don't know. It's the sort of business a man can't very well chuck, +once he's let himself in for it. Every one blames him now for having +anything to do with Miss Lorenzi. They'd blame him a lot more for +throwing her over." + +"Women wouldn't." + +"No. Because he happens to be young and good-looking. But all his +popularity won't make the women who like him receive his wife. She isn't +a woman's woman." + +"I should think not, indeed! We're too clever to be taken in by that +sort, all eyes and melodrama. They say Lord Northmorland warned his +brother against her, and prophesied she'd get hold of him, if he didn't +let her alone. The Duchess of Amidon told Lady Peggy Lynch--whom I know +a little--that immediately after Lorenzi committed suicide, this Margot +girl wrote to Stephen Knight and implored him to help her. I can quite +believe she would. Fancy the daughter of the unsuccessful claimant to +his brother's title writing begging letters to a young man like Stephen +Knight! It appeals to one's sense of humour." + +"What a pity Knight didn't see it in that light--what?" + +"Yet he has a sense of humour, I believe. It's supposed to be one of his +charms. But the sense of humour often fails where one's own affairs are +concerned. You know he's celebrated for his quaint ideas about life. +They say he has socialistic views, or something rather like them. His +brother and he are as different from one another as light is from +darkness. Stephen gives away a lot of money, and Lady Peggy says that +nobody ever asks him for anything in vain. He can't stand seeing people +unhappy, if he can do anything to help. Probably, after he'd been kind +to the Lorenzi girl, against his brother's advice, and gone to see her a +few times, she grovelled at his feet and told him she was all alone in +the world, and would die if he didn't love her. He's just young enough +and romantic enough to be caught in that way!" + +"He's no boy. He must be nearly thirty." + +"All nice, normal men are boys until after thirty. Lady Peggy's new name +for this poor child is the Martyr Knight." + +"St. Stephen the Second is the last thing I heard. Stephen the First was +a martyr too, wasn't he? Stoned to death or something." + +"I believe so," hastily returned the lady, who was not learned in +martyrology. "He will be stoned, too, if he tries to force Miss Lorenzi +on his family, or even on his friends. He'll find that he'll have to +take her abroad." + +"That might be a good working plan. Foreigners wouldn't shudder at her +accent. And she's certainly one of the most gorgeously beautiful +creatures I ever saw." + +"Yes, that's just the right expression. Gorgeous. And--a _creature_." + +They both laughed, and fell to talking again of the interview. + +Stephen Knight's ears were burning. He could not hear any of the things +people were saying; but he had a lively imagination, and, always +sensitive, he had grown morbidly so since the beginning of the +Northmorland-Lorenzi case, when all the failings and eccentricities of +the family had been reviewed before the public eye, like a succession of +cinematograph pictures. It did not occur to Stephen that he was an +object of pity, but he felt that through his own folly and that of +another, he had become a kind of scarecrow, a figure of fun: and because +until now the world had laughed with instead of at him, he would rather +have faced a shower of bullets than a ripple of ridicule. + +"How do you do?" he inquired stiffly, and shook Miss Lorenzi's hand as +she gave it without rising from the pink sofa. She gazed up at him with +immense, yellowish brown eyes, then fluttered her long black lashes in a +way she had, which was thrilling--the first time you saw it. But Stephen +had seen it often. + +"I am glad you've come, my White Knight!" she said in her contralto +voice, which would have been charming but for a crude accent. "I was so +afraid you were cross." + +"I'm not cross, only extremely ang--vexed if you really did talk to that +journalist fellow," Stephen answered, trying not to speak sharply, and +keeping his tone low. "Only, for Heaven's sake, Margot, don't call +me--what you did call me--anywhere, but especially here, where we might +as well be on the stage of a theatre." + +"Nobody can hear us," she defended herself. "You ought to like that dear +little name I made up because you came to my rescue, and saved me from +following my father--came into my life as if you'd been a modern St. +George. Calling you my 'White Knight' shows you how I feel--how I +appreciate you and everything. If you just _would_ realize that, you +couldn't scold me." + +"I'm not scolding you," he said desperately. "But couldn't you have +stopped in your sitting-room--I suppose you have one--and let me see you +there? It's loathsome making a show of ourselves----" + +"I _haven't_ a private sitting-room. It would have been too +extravagant," returned Miss Lorenzi. "Please sit down--by me." + +Stephen sat down, biting his lip. He must not begin to lecture her, or +even to ask why she had exchanged her quiet lodgings for the Carlton +Hotel, because if he once began, he knew that he would be carried on to +unsafe depths. Besides, he was foolish enough to hate hurting a woman's +feelings, even when she most deserved to have them hurt. + +"Very well. It can't be helped now. Let us talk," said Stephen. "The +first thing is, what to do with this newspaper chap, if you didn't give +him the interview----" + +"Oh, I did give it--in a way," she admitted, looking rather frightened, +and very beautiful. "You mustn't do anything to him. But--of course it +was only because I thought it would be better to tell him the truth. +Surely it was?" + +"Surely it wasn't. You oughtn't to have received him." + +"Then do you mind so dreadfully having people know you've asked me to +marry you, and that I've said 'yes'?" + +Margot Lorenzi's expression of pathetic reproach was as effective as her +eyelash play, when seen for the first time, as Stephen knew to his +sorrow. But he had seen the one as often as the other. + +"You must know I didn't mean anything of the sort. Oh, Margot, if you +don't understand, I'm afraid you're hopeless." + +"If you speak like that to me, I shall simply end everything as my +father did," murmured the young woman, in a stifled, breaking voice. But +her eyes were blazing. + +It almost burst from Stephen to order her not to threaten him again, to +tell her that he was sick of melodrama, sick to the soul; but he kept +silence. She was a passionate woman, and perhaps in a moment of madness +she might carry out her threat. He had done a great deal to save her +life--or, as he thought, to save it. After going so far he must not fail +now in forbearance. And worse than having to live with beautiful, +dramatic Margot, would it be to live without her if she killed herself +because of him. + +"Forgive me. I didn't mean to hurt you," he said when he could control +his voice. + +She smiled. "No, of course you didn't. It was stupid of me to fly out. I +ought to know that you're always good. But I _don't_ see what harm the +interview could do you, or me, or any one. It lets all the world know +how gloriously you've made up to me for the loss of the case, and the +loss of my father; and how you came into my life just in time to save me +from killing myself, because I was utterly alone, defeated, without +money or hope." + +She spoke with the curiously thrilling emphasis she knew how to give her +words sometimes, and Stephen could not help thinking she did credit to +her training. She had been preparing for the stage in Canada, the +country of the Lorenzis' adoption, before her father brought her to +England, whither he came with a flourish of trumpets to contest Lord +Northmorland's rights to the title. + +"The world knew too much about our affairs already," Stephen said +aloud. "And when you wished our engagement to be announced in _The +Morning Post_, I had it put in at once. Wasn't that enough?" + +"Every one in the world doesn't read _The Morning Post_. But I should +think every one in the world has read that interview, or will soon," +retorted Margot. "It appeared only yesterday morning, and was copied in +all the evening papers; in this morning's ones too; and they say it's +been cabled word for word to the big Canadian and American dailies." + +Stephen had his gloves in his hand, and he tore a slit across the palm +of one, without knowing it. But Margot saw. He was thinking of the +heading in big black print at the top of the interview: "Romantic Climax +to the Northmorland-Lorenzi Case. Only Brother of Lord Northmorland to +Marry the Daughter of Dead Canadian Claimant. Wedding Bells Relieve Note +of Tragedy." + +"We've nothing to be ashamed of--everything to be proud of," Miss +Lorenzi went on. "You, of your own noble behaviour to me, which, as I +said to the reporter, must be making my poor father happy in another +world. Me, because I have won You, _far_ more than because some day I +shall have gained all that father failed to win for me and himself. His +heart was broken, and he took his own life. My heart would have been +broken too, and but for you I----" + +"Don't, please," Stephen broke in. "We won't talk any more about the +interview. I'd like to forget it. I should have called here yesterday, +as I wired in answer to your telegram saying you were at the Carlton, +but being at my brother's place in Cumberland, I couldn't get back +till----" + +"Oh, I understand," Margot cut in. Then she laughed a sly little laugh. +"I think I understand too why you went to Cumberland. Now tell me. +Confession's good for the soul. Didn't your brother wire for you the +minute he saw that announcement in _The Morning Post_, day before +yesterday?" + +"He did wire. Or rather the Duchess did, asking me to go at once to +Cumberland, on important business. I found your telegram, forwarded from +my flat, when I got to Northmorland Hall. If I'd known you were moving, +I wouldn't have gone till to-day." + +"You mean, dear, you wouldn't have let me move? Now, do you think +there's any harm in a girl of my age being alone in a hotel? If you do, +it's dreadfully old-fashioned of you. I'm twenty-four." + +During the progress of the case, it had been mentioned in court that the +claimant's daughter was twenty-nine (exactly Stephen Knight's age); but +Margot ignored this unfortunate slip, and hoped that Stephen and others +had forgotten. + +"No actual harm. But in the circumstances, why be conspicuous? Weren't +you comfortable with Mrs. Middleton? She seemed a miraculously nice old +body for a lodging-house keeper, and fussed over you no end----" + +"It was for your sake that I wanted to be in a good hotel, now our +engagement has been announced," explained Miss Lorenzi. "I didn't think +it suitable for the Honourable Stephen Knight's future wife to go on +living in stuffy lodgings. And as you've insisted on my accepting an +income of eighty pounds a month till we're married, I'm able to afford a +little luxury, dearest. I can tell you it's a pleasure, after all I've +suffered!--and I felt I owed you something in return for your +generosity. I wanted your _fiancee_ to do you credit in the eyes of the +world." + +Stephen bit his lip. "I see," he said slowly. + +Yet what he saw most clearly was a very different picture. Margot as she +had seemed the day he met her first, in the despised South Kensington +lodgings, whither he had been implored to come in haste, if he wished to +save a wretched, starving girl from following her father out of a cruel +world. Of course, he had seen her in court, and had reluctantly +encountered her photograph several times before he had given up looking +at illustrated papers for fear of what he might find in them. But +Margot's tragic beauty, as presented by photographers, or as seen from +a distance, loyally seated at the claimant's side, was as nothing to the +dark splendour of her despair when the claimant was in his new-made +grave. It was the day after the burial that she had sent for Stephen; +and her letter had arrived, as it happened, when he was thinking of the +girl, wondering whether she had friends who would stand by her, or +whether a member of his family might, without being guilty of bad taste, +dare offer help. + +Her tear-blotted letter had settled that doubt, and it had been so +despairing, so suggestive of frenzy in its wording, that Stephen had +impulsively rushed off to South Kensington at once, without stopping to +think whether it would not be better to send a representative combining +the gentleness of the dove with the wisdom of the serpent, and armed for +emergencies with a blank cheque. + +Margot's hair, so charmingly dressed now, folding in soft dark waves on +either side her face, almost hiding the pink-tipped ears, had been +tumbled, that gloomy afternoon six weeks ago, with curls escaping here +and there; and in the course of their talk a great coil had fallen down +over her shoulders. It was the sort of thing that happens to the heroine +of a melodrama, if she has plenty of hair; but Stephen did not think of +that then. He thought of nothing except his sympathy for a beautiful +girl brought, through no fault of her own, to the verge of starvation +and despair, and of how he could best set about helping her. + +She had not even money enough to buy mourning. Lorenzi had left debts +which she could not pay. She had no friends. She did not know what was +to become of her. She had not slept for many nights. She had made up her +mind to die as her father had died, because it seemed the only thing to +do, when suddenly the thought of Stephen had flashed into her mind, as +if sent there by her guardian angel. She had heard that he was good and +charitable to everybody, and once she had seen him looking at her +kindly, in court, as if he were sorry for her, and could read something +of what was in her heart. She had imagined it perhaps. But would he +forgive her for writing to him? Would he help her, and save her life? + +Any one who knew Stephen could have prophesied what his answer would be. +He had hated it when she snatched his hand to kiss at the end of their +interview; but he would scarcely have been a human young man if he had +not felt a sudden tingle of the blood at the touch of such lips as +Margot Lorenzi's. Never had she seemed so beautiful to him since that +first day; but he had called again and again, against his brother's +urgent advice (when he had confessed the first visit); and the story +that the Duchess of Amidon was telling her friends, though founded +entirely on her own imagination of the scene which had brought about +Stephen's undoing, was not very far from the truth. + +Now, he saw a picture of Margot as he had seen her in the lodgings she +hated; and he wished to heaven that he might think of her as he had +thought of her then. + +"I've got something important to say to you," the girl went on, when she +realized that Stephen intended to dismiss the subject of the hotel, as +he had dismissed the subject of the interview. "That's the reason I +wired. But I won't speak a word till you've told me what your brother +and the Duchess of Amidon think about you and me." + +"There's nothing to tell," Stephen answered almost sullenly. And indeed +there was no news of his Cumberland visit which it would be pleasant or +wise to retail. + +Margot Lorenzi's complexion was not one of her greatest beauties. It was +slightly sallow, so she made artistic use of a white cosmetic, which +gave her skin the clearness of a camellia petal. But she had been +putting on rather more than usual since her father's death, because it +was suitable as well as becoming to be pale when one was in deep +mourning. Consequently Margot could not turn perceptibly whiter, but she +felt the blood go ebbing away from her face back upon her heart. + +"Stephen! Don't they mean to receive me, when we're married?" she +stammered. + +"I don't think they've much use for either of us," Stephen hedged, to +save her feelings. "Northmorland and I have never been great pals, you +know. He's twenty years older than I am; and since he married the +Duchess of Amidon----" + +"And her money! Oh, it's no use beating about the bush. I hate them +both. Lord Northmorland has a fiendish, vindictive nature." + +"Come, you mustn't say that, Margot. He has nothing of the sort. He's a +curious mixture. A man of the world, and a bit of a Puritan----" + +"So are you a Puritan, at heart," she broke in. + +Stephen laughed. "No one ever accused me of Puritanism before." + +"Maybe you've never shown any one else that side of you, as you show it +to me. You're always being shocked at what I do and say." + +For that, it was hardly necessary to be a Puritan. But Stephen shrugged +his shoulders instead of answering. + +"Your brother is a cold-hearted tyrant, and his wife is a snob. If she +weren't, she wouldn't hang on to her duchess-hood after marrying again. +It would be good enough for _me_ to call myself Lady Northmorland, and I +hope I shall some day." + +Stephen's sensitive nostrils quivered. He understood in that moment how +a man might actually wish to strike a nagging virago of a woman, no +matter how beautiful. And he wondered with a sickening heaviness of +heart how he was to go on with the wretched business of his engagement. +But he pushed the question out of his mind, fiercely. He was in for this +thing now. He _must_ go on. + +"Let all that alone, won't you?" he said, in a well-controlled tone. + +"I can't," Margot exclaimed. "I hate your brother. He killed my +father." + +"Because he defended the honour of our grandfather, and upheld his own +rights, when Mr. Lorenzi came to England to dispute them?" + +"Who knows if they _were_ his rights, or my father's? My father believed +they were his, or he wouldn't have crossed the ocean and spent all his +money in the hope of stepping into your brother's shoes." + +There were those--and Lord Northmorland and the Duchess of Amidon were +among them--who did not admit that Lorenzi had believed in his "rights." +And as for the money he had spent in trying to establish a legal claim +to the Northmorland title and estates, it had not been his own, but lent +him by people he had hypnotized with his plausible eloquence. + +"That question was decided in court----" + +"It would be harder for a foreigner to get an English nobleman's title +away than for a camel to go through the eye of the tiniest needle in the +world. But never mind. All that's buried in his grave, and you're giving +me everything father wanted me to have. I wish I could keep my horrid +temper better in hand, and I'd never make you look so cross. But I +inherited my emotional nature from Margherita Lorenzi, I suppose. What +can you expect of a girl who had an Italian prima donna for a +grandmother? And I oughtn't to quarrel with the fair Margherita for +leaving me her temper, since she left me her face too, and I'm fairly +well satisfied with that. Everybody says I'm the image of my +grandmother. And you ought to know, after seeing her picture in dozens +of illustrated papers, as well as in that pamphlet poor father +published." + +"If you want me to tell you that you are one of the handsomest women who +ever lived, I'll do so at once," said Stephen. + +Margot smiled. "You really mean it?" + +"There couldn't be two opinions on that subject." + +"Then, if you think I'm so beautiful, don't let your brother and his +snobbish Duchess spoil my life." + +"They can't spoil it." + +"Yes, they can. They can keep me from being a success in their set, your +set--the _only_ set." + +"Perhaps they can do that. But England isn't the only country, anyhow. +I've been thinking that when--by and by--we might take a long trip round +the world----" + +"_Hang_ the world! England's my world. I've always looked forward to +England, ever since I was a little thing, before mamma died, and I used +to hear father repeating the romantic family story--how, if he could +only find his mother's letters that she'd tried to tell him about when +she was dying, perhaps he might make a legal claim to a title and a +fortune. He used to turn to me and say: 'Maybe you'll be a great lady +when you grow up, Margot, and I shall be an English viscount.' Then, +when he did find the letters, behind the secret partition in +grandmother's big old-fashioned sandal-wood fan-box, of which you've +heard so much----" + +"Too much, please, Margot." + +"I _beg_ your pardon! But anyway, you see why I want to live in England. +My life and soul are bound up in my success here. And I could have a +success. You know I could. I am beautiful. I haven't seen any woman +whose face I'd change for mine. I won't be cheated out of my +happiness----" + +"Very well, we'll live in England, then. That's settled," said Stephen, +hastily. "And you shall have all the success, all the happiness, that I +can possibly give you. But we shall have to get on without any help from +my brother and sister-in-law, and perhaps without a good many other +people you might like to have for friends. It may seem hard, but you +must make up your mind to it, Margot. Luckily, there'll be enough money +to do pleasant things with; and people don't matter so immensely, once +you've got used to----" + +"They do, they do! The right people. I _shall_ know them." + +"You must have patience. Everybody is rather tired of our names just +now. Things may change some day. I'm ready to begin the experiment +whenever you are." + +"You are a dear," said Margot. And Stephen did not even shiver. "That +brings me to what I had to tell you. It's this: after all, we can't be +married quite as soon as we expected." + +"Can't we?" he echoed the words blankly. Was this to be a reprieve? But +he was not sure that he wanted a reprieve. He thought, the sooner the +plunge was made, the better, maybe. Looking forward to it had become +almost unbearable. + +"No, I _must_ run over to Canada first, Stephen. I've just begun to see +that. You might say, I could go there with you after we were married, +but it wouldn't be the same thing at all. I ought to stay with some of +my old friends while I'm still Margot Lorenzi. A lot of people were +awfully good to father, and I must show my gratitude. The sooner I sail +the better, now the news of our engagement has got ahead of me. I +needn't stop away very long. Seven or eight weeks--or nine at most, +going and coming." + +"Would you like to be married in Canada?" Stephen asked; perhaps partly +to please her, but probably more to disguise the fact that he had no +impatient objections to raise against her plan. "If you wished, I could +go whenever----" + +"Oh no, no!" she exclaimed quickly. "I wouldn't have you come there for +anything in the world. That is. I mean----" she corrected herself with +an anxious, almost frightened side glance at him--"I must fight it out +alone. No, I don't mean that either. What a stupid way of putting it! +But it would bore you dreadfully to take such a journey, and it would be +nicer anyhow to be married in England--perhaps at St. George's. That +used to be my dream, when I was a romantic little girl, and loved to +stuff my head full of English novels. I should adore a wedding at St. +George's. And oh, Stephen, you won't change your mind while I'm gone? It +would kill me if you jilted me after all. I shouldn't live a single day, +if you weren't true." + +"Don't talk nonsense, my dear girl. Of course I'm not going to change +my mind," said Stephen. "When do you want to sail?" + +"The end of this week. You're sure you won't let your brother and that +cruel Duchess talk you over? I----" + +"There's not the slightest chance of their talking to me at all," +Stephen answered sharply. "We've definitely quarrelled." + + + + +II + + +When he had dutifully seen Miss Lorenzi off at the ship, leaving her +with as many flowers, novels, and sweets as even she could wish, Stephen +expected to feel a sense of relief. But somehow, in a subtle way, he was +more feverishly wretched than when Margot was near, and while planning +to hurry on the marriage. He had been buoyed up with a rather youthful +sense of defiance of the world, a hot desire to "get everything over." +The flatness of the reaction which he felt on finding himself free, at +least of Margot's society, was a surprise; and yet Stephen vaguely +understood its real meaning. To be free, yet not free, was an +aggravation. And besides, he did not know what to do or where to go, now +that old friends and old haunts had lost much of their attraction. + +Since the announcement of his engagement to Miss Lorenzi, and especially +since the famous interview, copied in all the papers, he disliked +meeting people he knew well, lest they should offer good advice, or let +him see that they were dying to do so. + +If it had been weak to say, "Be my wife, if you think I can make you +happy," one day when Margot Lorenzi had tearfully confessed her love for +him, it would be doubly weak--worse than weak, Stephen thought--to throw +her over now. It would look to the world as if he were a coward, and it +would look to himself the same--which would be more painful in the end. +So he could listen to no advice, and he wished to hear none. Fortunately +he was not in love with any other woman. But then, if he had loved +somebody else, he would not have made the foolish mistake of saying +those unlucky, irrevocable words to Margot. + +Stephen would have liked to get away from England for a while, but he +hardly knew where to look for a haven. Since making a dash through +France and Italy just after leaving Oxford, he had been too busy amusing +himself in his own country to find time for any other, with the +exception of an occasional run over to Paris. Now, if he stopped in +England it would be difficult to evade officious friends, and soon +everybody would be gossiping about his quarrel with Northmorland. The +Duchess was not reticent. + +Stephen had not yet made up his mind what to do, or whether to do +anything at all in his brief interval of freedom, when a letter came, to +the flat near Albert Gate, where he had shut himself up after the +sailing of Margot. The letter was post-marked Algiers, and it was a long +time since he had seen the writing on the envelope--but not so long that +he had forgotten it. + +"Nevill Caird!" he said to himself as he broke the neat seal which was +characteristic of the writer. And he wondered, as he slowly, almost +reluctantly, unfolded the letter, whether Nevill Caird had been reminded +of him by reading the interview with Margot. Once, he and Caird had been +very good friends, almost inseparable during one year at Oxford. Stephen +had been twenty then, and Nevill Caird about twenty-three. That would +make him thirty-two now--and Stephen could hardly imagine what "Wings" +would have developed into at thirty-two. They had not met since +Stephen's last year at Oxford, for Caird had gone to live abroad, and if +he came back to England sometimes, he had never made any sign of wishing +to pick up the old friendship where it had dropped. But here was this +letter. + +Stephen knew that Caird had inherited a good deal of money, and a house +in Paris, from an uncle or some other near relative; and a common friend +had told him that there was also an Arab palace, very ancient and very +beautiful, in or near Algiers. Several years had passed since Nevill +Caird's name had been mentioned in his hearing, and lately it had not +even echoed in his mind; but now, the handwriting and the neat seal on +this envelope brought vividly before him the image of his friend: small, +slight, boyish in face and figure, with a bright, yet dreamy smile, and +blue-grey eyes which had the look of seeing beautiful things that nobody +else could see. + + "DEAR LEGS," + +began the letter ("Legs" being the name which Stephen's skill as a +runner, as well as the length of his limbs, had given him in +undergraduate days). + + "Dear Legs, + + "I've often thought about you in the last nine years, and hope + you've occasionally thought of me, though somehow or other we + haven't written. I don't know whether you've travelled much, or + whether England has absorbed all your interests. Anyhow, can't you + come out here and make me a visit--the longer it is, the more I + shall be pleased. This country is interesting if you don't know it, + and fascinating if you do. My place is rather nice, and I should + like you to see it. Still better, I should like to see you. Do come + if you can, and come soon. I should enjoy showing you my garden at + its best. It's one of the things I care for most, but there are + other things. Do let me introduce you to them all. You can be as + quiet as you wish, if you wish. I'm a quiet sort myself, as you may + remember, and North Africa suits me better than London or Paris. I + haven't changed for the worse I hope, and I'm sure you haven't, in + any way. + + "You can hardly realize how much pleasure it will give me if you'll + say 'yes' to my proposal. + + "Yours as ever + + "NEVILL CAIRD, alias 'Wings,'" + +Not a word of "the case," though, of course, he must know all about +it--even in Algiers. Stephen's gratitude went out to his old friend, +and his heart felt warmer because of the letter and the invitation. Many +people, even with the best intentions, would have contrived to say the +wrong thing in these awkward circumstances. There would have been some +veiled allusion to the engagement; either silly, well-meant +congratulations and good wishes, or else a stupid hint of advice to get +out of a bad business while there was time. But Caird wrote as he might +have written if there had been no case, and no entanglement; and acting +on his first impulse, Stephen telegraphed an acceptance, saying that he +would start for Algiers in two or three days. Afterwards, when he had +given himself time to think, he did not regret his decision. Indeed, he +was glad of it, and glad that he had made it so soon. + +A few weeks ago, a sudden break in his plans would have caused him a +great deal of trouble. There would have been dozens of luncheons and +dinners to escape from, and twice as many letters to write. But nowadays +he had few invitations and scarcely any letters to write, except those +of business, and an occasional line to Margot. People were willing to be +neglected by him, willing to let him alone, for now that he had +quarrelled with Northmorland and the Duchess, and had promised to marry +an impossible woman, he must be gently but firmly taught to expect +little of Society in future. + +Stephen broke the news to his man that he was going away, alone, and +though the accomplished Molton had regrets, they were not as poignant as +they would have been some weeks earlier. Most valets, if not all, are +human, and have a weakness for a master whose social popularity is as +unbounded as his generosity. + +Molton's services did not cease until after he had packed Stephen's +luggage, and seen him off at Victoria. He flattered himself, as he left +the station with three months' wages in his pocket, that he would be +missed; but Stephen was surprised at the sense of relief which came as +Molton turned a respectable back, and the boat-train began to slide out +of the station. It was good to be alone, to have loosed his moorings, +and to be drifting away where no eyes, once kind, would turn from him, +or turn on him with pity. Out there in Algiers, a town of which he had +the vaguest conception, there would be people who read the papers, of +course, and people who loved to gossip; but Stephen felt a pleasant +confidence that Nevill Caird would know how to protect him from such +people. He would not have to meet many strangers. Nevill would arrange +all that, and give him plenty to think about during his weeks of +freedom. + +Algiers seemed a remote place to Stephen, who had loved life at home too +passionately to care for foreign travel. Besides, there was always a +great deal to do in England at every season of the year, and it had been +difficult to find a time convenient for getting away. Town engagements +began early in the spring, and lasted till after Cowes, when he was keen +for Scotland. Being a gregarious as well as an idle young man, he was +pleased with his own popularity, and the number of his invitations for +country-house visits. He could never accept more than half, but even so, +he hardly saw London until January; and then, if he went abroad at all, +there was only time for a few days in Paris, and a fortnight on the +Riviera, perhaps, before he found that he must get back. Just after +leaving Oxford, before his father's death, he had been to Rome, to +Berlin, and Vienna, and returned better satisfied than ever with his own +capital; but of course it was different now that the capital was +dissatisfied with him. + +He had chosen the night train and it was not crowded. All the way to +Dover he had the compartment to himself, and there was no rush for the +boat. It was a night of stars and balmy airs; but after the start the +wind freshened, and Stephen walked briskly up and down the deck, +shivering slightly at first, till his blood warmed. By and by it grew so +cold that the deck emptied, save for half a dozen men with pipes that +glowed between turned-up coat collars, and one girl in a blue serge +dress, with no other cloak than the jacket that matched her frock. +Stephen hardly noticed her at first, but as men buttoned their coats or +went below, and she remained, his attention was attracted to the slim +figure leaning on the rail. Her face was turned away, looking over the +sea where the whirling stars dipped into dark waves that sprang to +engulf them. Her elbows rested on the railing, and her chin lay in the +cup of her two hands; but her hair, under a blue sailor-hat held down +with a veil, hung low in a great looped-up plait, tied with a wide black +ribbon, so that Stephen, without wasting much thought upon her, guessed +that she must be very young. It was red hair, gleaming where the light +touched it, and the wind thrashed curly tendrils out from the thick +clump of the braid, tracing bright threads in intricate, lacy lines over +her shoulders, like the network of sunlight that plays on the surface of +water. + +Stephen thought of that simile after he had passed the girl once or +twice, and thinking of it made him think of the girl herself. He was +sure she must be cold in her serge jacket, and wondered why she didn't +go below to the ladies' cabin. Also he wondered, even more vaguely, why +her people didn't take better care of the child: there must be some one +belonging to her on board. + +At last she turned, not to look at him, but to pace back and forth as +others were pacing. She was in front of Stephen, and he saw only her +back, which seemed more girlish than ever as she walked with a light, +springing step, that might have kept time to some dainty dance-music +which only she could hear. Her short dress, of hardly more than ankle +length, flowed past her slender shape as the black, white-frothing waves +flowed past the slim prow of the boat; and there was something +individual, something distinguished in her gait and the bearing of her +head on the young throat. Stephen noticed this rather interesting +peculiarity, remarking it more definitely because of the almost mean +simplicity of the blue serge dress. It was of provincial cut, and +looked as if the wearer might have bought it ready made in some country +town. Her hat, too, was of the sort that is turned out by the thousand +and sold at a few shillings for young persons between the ages of twelve +and twenty. + +By and by, when she had walked as far forward as possible, the deck +rising under her feet or plunging down, while thin spray-wreaths sailed +by on the wind, the girl wheeled and had the breeze at her back. It was +then Stephen caught his first glimpse of her face, in a full white blaze +of electric light: and he had the picture to himself, for by this time +nearly every one else had gone. + +He had not expected anything wonderful, but it seemed to him in a flash +of surprise that this was an amazing beauty. He had never seen such +hair, or such a complexion. The large eyes gave him no more than a +passing glance, but they were so vivid, so full of blue light as they +met his, that he had a startled impression of being graciously accosted. +It seemed as if the girl had some message to give him, for which he must +stop and ask. + +As soon as they had passed each other, however, that curious, exciting +impression was gone, like the vanishing glint on a gull's wing as it +dips from sun into shadow. Of course she had not spoken; of course she +had no word to give him. He had seemed to hear her speak, because she +was a very vital sort of creature, no doubt, and therefore physically, +though unconsciously, magnetic. + +At their next crossing under the light she did not look at him at all, +and he realized that she was not so extraordinarily beautiful as he had +at first thought. The glory of her was more an effect of colouring than +anything else. The creamy complexion of a very young girl, whipped to +rose and white by the sea wind; brilliant turquoise blue eyes under a +glitter of wavy red hair; these were the only marvels, for the small, +straight nose was exactly like most pretty girls' noses, and the mouth, +though expressive and sweet, with a short upper lip, was not remarkable, +unless for its firmness. + +The next time they passed, Stephen granted the girl a certain charm of +expression which heightened the effect of beauty. She looked singularly +innocent and interested in life, which to Stephen's mood seemed +pathetic. He was convinced that he had seen through life, and +consequently ceased forever to be interested in it. But he admired +beauty wherever he saw it, whether in the grace of a breaking wave, or +the sheen on a girl's bright hair, and it amused him faintly to +speculate about the young creature with the brilliant eyes and blowing +red locks. He decided that she was a schoolgirl of sixteen, being taken +over to Paris, probably to finish her education there. Her mother or +guardian was no doubt prostrate with sea-sickness, careless for the +moment whether the child paraded the deck insufficiently clad, or +whether she fell unchaperoned into the sea. Judging by her clothes, her +family was poor, and she was perhaps intended for a governess: that was +why they were sending her to France. She was to be given "every +advantage," in order to command "desirable situations" by and by. +Stephen felt dimly sorry for the little thing, who looked so radiantly +happy now. She was much too pretty to be a governess, or to be obliged +to earn her own living in any way. Women were brutes to each other +sometimes. He had been finding this out lately. Few would care to bring +a flowerlike creature of that type into their houses. The girl had +trouble before her. He was sure she was going to be a governess. + +After she had walked for half an hour she looked round for a sheltered +corner and sat down. But the place she had chosen was only comparatively +sheltered, and presently Stephen fancied that he saw her shivering with +cold. He could not bear this, knowing that he had a rug which Molton had +forced upon him to use on board ship between Marseilles and Algiers. It +was in a rolled-up thing which Molton called a "hold-all," along with +some sticks and an umbrella, Stephen believed; and the rolled-up thing +was on deck, with other hand-luggage. + +"Will you let me lend you a rug?" he asked, in the tone of a benevolent +uncle addressing a child. "I have one close by, and it's rather cold +when you don't walk." + +"Thank you very much," said the girl. "I should like it, if it won't be +too much trouble to you." + +She spoke simply, and had a pretty voice, but it was an American voice. +Stephen was surprised, because to find that she was an American upset +his theories. He had never heard of American girls coming over to Paris +with the object of training to be governesses. + +He went away and found the rug, returning with it in two or three +minutes. The girl thanked him again, getting up and wrapping the dark +soft thing round her shoulders and body, as if it had been a big shawl. +Then she sat down once more, with a comfortable little sigh. "That does +feel good!" she exclaimed. "I _was_ cold." + +"I think you would have been wiser to stop in the ladies' cabin," said +Stephen, still with the somewhat patronizing air of the older person. + +"I like lots of air," explained the girl. "And it doesn't do me any harm +to be cold." + +"How about getting a chill?" inquired Stephen. + +"Oh, I never have such things. They don't exist. At least they don't +unless one encourages them," she replied. + +He smiled, rather interested, and pleased to linger, since she evidently +understood that he was using no arts to scrape an acquaintance. "That +sounds like Christian Science," he ventured. + +"I don't know that it's any kind of science," said she. "Nobody ever +talked to me about it. Only if you're not afraid of things, they can't +hurt you, can they?" + +"Perhaps not. I suppose you mean you needn't let yourself feel them. +There's something in the idea: be callous as an alligator and nothing +can hit you." + +"I don't mean that at all. I'd hate to be callous," she objected. "We +couldn't enjoy things if we were callous." + +Stephen, on the point of saying something bitter, stopped in time, +knowing that his words would have been not only stupid but obvious, +which was worse. "It is good to be young," he remarked instead. + +"Yes, but I'm glad to be grown up at last," said the girl; and Stephen +would not let himself laugh. + +"I know how you feel," he answered. "I used to feel like that too." + +"Don't you now?" + +"Not always. I've had plenty of time to get tired of being grown up." + +"Maybe you've been a soldier, and have seen sad things," she suggested. +"I was thinking when I first saw you, that you looked like a soldier." + +"I wish I had been. Unfortunately I was too disgustingly young, when our +only war of my day was on. I mean, the sort of war one could volunteer +for." + +"In South Africa?" + +"Yes. You were a baby in that remote time." + +"Oh no, I wasn't. I'm eighteen now, going on nineteen. I was in Paris +then, with my stepmother and my sister. We used to hear talk about the +war, though we knew hardly any English people." + +"So Paris won't be a new experience to you?" said Stephen, disappointed +that he had been mistaken in all his surmises. + +"I went back to America before I was nine, and I've been there ever +since, till a few weeks ago. Oh see, there are the lights of France! I +can't help being excited." + +"Yes, we'll be in very soon--in about ten minutes." + +"I am glad! I'd better go below and make my hair tidy. Thank you ever so +much for helping me to be comfortable." + +She jumped up, unrolled herself, and began to fold the rug neatly. +Stephen would have taken it from her and bundled it together anyhow, but +she would not let him do that. "I like folded things," she said. "It's +nice to see them come straight, and I enjoy it more because the wind +doesn't want me to do it. To succeed in spite of something, is a kind of +little triumph--and seems like a sign. Good-bye, and thank you once +more." + +"Good-bye," said Stephen, and added to himself that he would not soon +again see so pretty a child; as fresh, as frank, or as innocent. He had +known several delightful American girls, but never one like this. She +was a new type to him, and more interesting, perhaps, because she was +simple, and even provincial. He was in a state of mind to glorify women +who were entirely unsophisticated. + +He did not see the girl getting into the train at Calais, though he +looked for her, feeling some curiosity as to the stepmother and the +sister whom he had imagined prostrate in the ladies' cabin. By the time +he had arrived at Paris he felt sleepy and dull after an aggravating +doze or two on the way, and had almost forgotten the red-haired child +with the vivid blue eyes, until, to his astonishment, he saw her alone +parleying with a _douanier_, over two great boxes, for one of which +there seemed to be no key. + +"Those selfish people of hers have left her to do all the work," he said +to himself indignantly, and as she appeared to be having some difficulty +with the official, he went to ask if he could help. + +"Thank you, it's all right now," she said. "The key of my biggest box is +mislaid, but luckily I've got the man to believe me when I say there's +nothing in it except clothes, just the same as in the other. Still it +would be very, very kind if you wouldn't mind seeing me to a cab. That +is, if it's no bother." + +Stephen assured her that he would be delighted. + +"Have your people engaged the cab already," he wanted to know, "or are +they waiting in this room for you?" + +"I haven't any people," she answered. "I'm all by myself." + +This was another surprise, and it was as much as Stephen could do not to +blame her family audibly for allowing the child to travel alone, at +night too. The thing seemed monstrous. + +He took her into the court-yard, where the cabs stood, and engaged two, +one for the girl, and one for her large luggage. + +"You have rooms already taken at an hotel, I hope?" he asked. + +"I'm going to a boarding-house--a _pension_, I mean," explained the +girl. "But it's all right. They know I'm coming. I do thank you for +everything." + +Seated in the cab, she held out her hand in a glove which had been +cleaned, and showed mended fingers. Stephen shook the small hand +gravely, and for the second time they bade each other good-bye. + +In the cold grey light of a rainy dawn, which would have suited few +women as a background, especially after a night journey, the girl's face +looked pearly, and Stephen saw that her lashes, darker at the roots, +were bright golden at the turned-up ends. + +It seemed to him that this pretty child, alone in the greyness and rain +of the big foreign city, was like a spring flower thrown carelessly into +a river to float with the stream. He felt an impulse of protection, and +it went against his instincts to let her drive about Paris unprotected, +while night had hardly yielded to morning. But he could not offer to go +with her. He was interested, as any man of flesh and blood must be +interested, in the fate of an innocent and charming girl left to take +care of herself, and entirely unfitted for the task; yet she seemed +happy and self-confident, and he had no right, even if he wished, to +disturb her mind. He was going away without another word after the +good-bye, but on second thoughts felt that he might ask if she had +friends in Paris. + +"Not exactly friends, but people who will look after me, and be kind, +I'm sure," she answered. "Thank you for taking an interest. Will you +tell the man to go to 278A Rue Washington, and the other cab to follow?" + +Stephen obeyed, and as she drove away the girl looked back, smiling at +him her sweet and childlike smile. + + + + +III + + +Stephen had meant to stop only one day in Paris, and travel at night to +Marseilles, where he would have twelve or fifteen hours to wait before +the sailing of the ship on which he had engaged a cabin. But glancing +over a French paper while he breakfasted at the Westminster, he saw that +a slight accident had happened to the boat during a storm on her return +voyage from Algiers, and that she would be delayed three days for +repairs. This news made Stephen decide to remain in Paris for those +days, rather than go on and wait at Marseilles, or take another ship. He +did not want to see any one he knew, but he thought it would be pleasant +to spend some hours picture-gazing at the Louvre, and doing a few other +things which one ought to do in Paris, and seldom does. + +That night he went to bed early and slept better than he had slept for +weeks. The next day he almost enjoyed, and when evening came, felt +desultory, even light-hearted. + +Dining at his hotel, he overheard the people at the next table say they +were going to the Folies Bergeres to see Victoria Ray dance, and +suddenly Stephen made up his mind that he would go there too: for if +life had been running its usual course with him, he would certainly have +gone to see Victoria Ray in London. She had danced lately at the Palace +Theatre for a month or six weeks, and absorbed as he had been in his own +affairs, he had heard enough talk about this new dancer to know that she +had made what is called a "sensation." + +The people at the next table were telling each other that Victoria Ray's +Paris engagement was only for three nights, something special, with +huge pay, and that there was a "regular scramble" for seats, as the girl +had been such a success in New York and London. The speakers, who were +English and provincial, had already taken places, but there did not +appear to be much hope that Stephen could get anything at the last +minute. The little spice of difficulty gave a fillip of interest, +however; and he remembered how the charming child on the boat had said +that she "liked doing difficult things." He wondered what she was doing +now; and as he thought of her, white and ethereal in the night and in +the dawn-light, she seemed to him like the foam-flowers that had +blossomed for an instant on the crests of dark waves, through which +their vessel forged. "For a moment white, then gone forever." The words +glittered in his mind, and fascinated him, calling up the image of the +girl, pale against the night and rainy sea. "For a moment white, then +gone forever," he repeated, and asked himself whence came the line. From +Burns, he fancied; and thought it quaintly appropriate to the fair child +whose clear whiteness had thrown a gleam into his life before she +vanished. + +All the seats for this second night of Victoria Ray's short engagement +were sold at the Folies Bergeres, he found, from the dearest to the +cheapest: but there was standing room still when Stephen arrived, and he +squeezed himself in among a group of light-hearted, long-haired students +from the Latin Quarter. He had an hour to wait before Victoria Ray would +dance, but there was some clever conjuring to be seen, a famous singer +of _chansons_ to be heard, and other performances which made the time +pass well enough. Then, at last, it was the new dancer's "turn." + +The curtain remained down for several minutes, as some scenic +preparation was necessary before her first dance. Gay French music was +playing, and people chattered through it, or laughed in high Parisian +voices. A blue haze of smoke hung suspended like a thin veil, and the +air was close, scented with tobacco and perfume. Stephen looked at his +programme, beginning to feel bored. His elbows were pressed against his +sides by the crowd. Miss Ray was down for two dances, the Dance of the +Statue and the Dance of the Shadow. The atmosphere of the place +depressed him. He doubted after all, that he would care for the dancing. +But as he began to wish he had not come the curtain went up, to show the +studio of a sculptor, empty save for the artist's marble masterpieces. +Through a large skylight, and a high window at the back of the stage, a +red glow of sunset streamed into the bare room. In the shadowy corners +marble forms were grouped, but in the centre, directly under the full +flood of rose-coloured light, the just finished statue of a girl stood +on a raised platform. She was looking up, and held a cup in one lifted +hand, as if to catch the red wine of sunset. Her draperies, confined by +a Greek ceinture under the young bust, fell from shoulder to foot in +long clear lines that seemed cut in gleaming stone. The illusion was +perfect. Even in that ruddy blaze the delicate, draped form appeared to +be of carved marble. It was almost impossible to believe it that of a +living woman, and its grace of outline and pose was so perfect that +Stephen, in his love of beauty, dreaded the first movement which must +change, if not break, the tableau. He said to himself that there was +some faint resemblance between this chiselled loveliness and the vivid +charm of the pretty child he had met on the boat. He could imagine that +a statue for which she had stood as model might look like this, though +the features seemed to his eye more regular than those of the girl. + +As he gazed, the music, which had been rich and colourful, fell into +softer notes; and the rose-sunset faded to an opal twilight, purple to +blue, blue to the silver of moonlight, the music changing as the light +changed, until at last it was low and slumberous as the drip-drip of a +plashing fountain. Then, into the dream of the music broke a sound like +the distant striking of a clock. It was midnight, and all the statues +in the sculptor's bare, white studio began to wake at the magic stroke +which granted them a few hours of life. + +There was just a shimmer of movement in the dim corners. Marble limbs +stirred, marble face turned slowly to gaze at marble face; yet, as if +they could be only half awakened in the shadows where the life-giving +draught of moonlight might not flow, there was but the faintest flicker +of white forms and draperies. It was the just finished statue of the +girl which felt the full thrill of moonshine and midnight. She woke +rapturously, and drained the silver moon-wine in her cup (the music told +the story of her first thought and living heart-beat): then down she +stepped from the platform where the sculptor's tools still lay, and +began to dance for the other statues who watched in the dusk, hushed +back into stillness under the new spell of her enchantments. + +Stephen had never seen anything like that dance. Many pretty _premieres +danseuses_ he had admired and applauded, charming and clever young women +of France, of Russia, of Italy, and Spain: and they had roused him and +all London to enthusiasm over dances eccentric, original, exquisite, or +wild. But never had there been anything like this. Stephen had not known +that a dance could move him as this did. He was roused, even thrilled by +its poetry, and the perfect beauty of its poses, its poises. It must, he +supposed, have been practised patiently, perhaps for years, yet it +produced the effect of being entirely unstudied. At all events, there +was nothing in the ordinary sense "professional" about it. One would +say--not knowing the supreme art of supreme grace--that a joyous child, +born to the heritage of natural grace, might dance thus by sheer +inspiration, in ecstasy of life and worship of the newly felt beauty of +earth. Stephen did know something of art, and the need of devotion to +its study; yet he found it hard to realize that this awakened marble +loveliness had gone through the same performance week after week, month +after month, in America and England. He preferred rather to let himself +fancy that he was dreaming the whole thing; and he would gladly have +dreamed on indefinitely, forgetting the smoky atmosphere, forgetting the +long-haired students and all the incongruous surroundings. The gracious +dream gave him peace and pleasure such as he had not known since the +beginning of the Northmorland case. + +Through the house there was a hush, unusual at the Folies Bergeres. +People hardly knew what to make of the dances, so different from any +ever seen in a theatre of Paris. Stephen was not alone in feeling the +curious dream-spell woven by music and perfection of beauty. But the +light changed. The moonlight slowly faded. Dancer and music faltered, in +the falling of the dark hour before dawn. The charm was waning. Soft +notes died, and quavered in apprehension. The magic charm of the moon +was breaking, had broken: a crash of cymbals and the studio was dark. +Then light began to glimmer once more, but it was the chill light of +dawn, and growing from purple to blue, from blue to rosy day, it showed +the marble statues fast locked in marble sleep again. On the platform +stood the girl with uplifted arm, holding her cup, now, to catch the +wine of sunrise; and on the delicately chiselled face was a faint smile +which seemed to hide a secret. When the first ray of yellow sunshine +gilded the big skylight, a door up-stage opened and the sculptor came +in, wearing his workman's blouse. He regarded his handiwork, as the +curtain came down. + +When the music of the dream had ceased and suddenly became +ostentatiously puerile, the audience broke into a tumult of applause. +Women clapped their hands furiously and many men shouted "brava, brava," +hoping that the curtain might rise once more on the picture; but it did +not rise, and Stephen was glad. The dream would have been vulgarized by +repetition. + +For fully five minutes the orchestra played some gay tune which every +one there had heard a hundred times; but abruptly it stopped, as if on +a signal. For an instant there was a silence of waiting and suspense, +which roused interest and piqued curiosity. Then there began a delicate +symphony which could mean nothing but spring in a forest, and on that +the curtain went up. The prophecy of the music was fulfilled, for the +scene was a woodland in April, with young leaves a-flicker and blossoms +in birth, the light song of the flutes and violins being the song of +birds in love. All the trees were brocaded with dainty, gold-green lace, +and daffodils sprouted from the moss at their feet. + +The birds sang more gaily, and out from behind a silver-trunked beech +tree danced a figure in spring green. Her arms were full of flowers, +which she scattered as she danced, curtseying, mocking, beckoning the +shadow that followed her along the daisied grass. Her little feet were +bare, and flitted through the green folding of her draperies like white +night-moths fluttering among rose leaves. Her hair fell over her +shoulders, and curled below her waist. It was red hair that glittered +and waved, and she looked a radiant child of sixteen. Victoria Ray the +dancer, and the girl on the Channel boat were one. + + + + +IV + + +The Shadow Dance was even more beautiful than the Dance of the Statue, +but Stephen had lost pleasure in it. He was supersensitive in these +days, and he felt as if the girl had deliberately made game of him, in +order that he should make a fool of himself. Of course it was a pose of +hers to travel without chaperon or maid, and dress like a school girl +from a provincial town, in cheap serge, a sailor hat, and a plait of +hair looped up with ribbon. She was no doubt five or six years older +than she looked or admitted, and probably her manager shrewdly +prescribed the "line" she had taken up. Young women on the +stage--actresses, dancers, or singers, it didn't matter which--must do +something unusual, in order to be talked about, and get a good free +advertisement. Nowadays, when professionals vied with each other in the +expensiveness of their jewels, the size of their hats, or the smallness +of their waists, and the eccentricity of their costumes, it was perhaps +rather a new note to wear no jewels at all, and appear in ready-made +frocks bought in bargain-sales; while, as for the young woman's air of +childlike innocence and inexperience, it might be a tribute to her +cleverness as an actress, but it was not a tribute to his intelligence +as a man, that he should have been taken in by it. Always, he told +himself, he was being taken in by some woman. After the lesson he had +had, he ought to have learned wisdom, but it seemed that he was as +gullible as ever. And it was this romantic folly of his which vexed him +now; not the fact that a simple child over whose fate he had +sentimentalized, was a rich and popular stage-dancer. Miss Ray was +probably a good enough young woman according to her lights, and it was +not she who need be shamed by the success of the Channel boat comedy. + +He had another day and night in Paris, where he did more sightseeing +than he had ever accomplished before in a dozen visits, and then +travelled on to Marseilles. The slight damage to the _Charles Quex_ had +been repaired, and at noon the ship was to sail. Stephen went on board +early, as he could think of nothing else which he preferred to do, and +he was repaid for his promptness. By the time he had seen his luggage +deposited in the cabin he had secured for himself alone, engaged a deck +chair, and taken a look over the ship--which was new, and as handsome as +much oak, fragrant cedar-wood, gilding, and green brocade could make +her--many other passengers were coming on board. Travelling first class +were several slim French officers, and stout Frenchmen of the commercial +class; a merry theatrical company going to act in Algiers and Tunis; an +English clergyman of grave aspect; invalids with their nurses, and two +or three dignified Arabs, evidently of good birth as well as fortune. +Arab merchants were returning from the Riviera, and a party of German +students were going second class. + +Stephen was interested in the lively scene of embarkation, and glad to +be a part of it, though still more glad that there seemed to be nobody +on board whom he had ever met. He admired the harbour, and the shipping, +and felt pleasantly exhilarated. "I feel very young, or very old, I'm +not sure which," he said to himself as a faint thrill ran through his +nerves at the grinding groan of the anchor, slowly hauled out of the +deep green water. + +It was as if he heard the creaking of a gate which opened into an +unknown garden, a garden where life would be new and changed. Nevill +Caird had once said that there was no sharp, dividing line between +phases of existence, except one's own moods, and Stephen had thought +this true; but now it seemed as if the sea which silvered the distance +was the dividing line for him, while all that lay beyond the horizon was +mysterious as a desert mirage. + +He was not conscious of any joy at starting, yet he was excited, as if +something tremendous were about to happen to him. England, that he knew +so well, seemed suddenly less real than Africa, which he knew not at +all, and his senses were keenly alert for the first time in many days. +He saw Marseilles from a new point of view, and wondered why he had +never read anything fine written in praise of the ancient Phoenician +city. Though he had not been in the East, he imagined that the old part +of the town, seen from the sea, looked Eastern, as if the traffic +between east and west, going on for thousands of years, had imported an +Eastern taste in architecture. + +The huge, mosque-like cathedral bubbled with domes, where fierce gleams +of gold were hammered out by strokes of the noonday sun. A background of +wild mountain ranges, whose tortured peaks shone opaline through long +rents in mist veils, lent an air of romance to the scene, and Notre Dame +de la Garde loomed nobly on her bleached and arid height. "Have no fear: +I keep watch and ward over land and sea," seemed to say the majestic +figure of gold on the tall tower, and Stephen half wished he were of the +Catholic faith, that he might take comfort from the assurance. + +As the _Charles Quex_ steamed farther and farther away, the church on +the mountainous hill appeared to change in shape. Notre Dame de la Garde +looked no longer like a building made by man, but like a great sacred +swan crowned with gold, and nested on a mountain-top. There she sat, +with shining head erect on a long neck, seated on her nest, protecting +her young, and gazing far across the sea in search of danger. The sun +touched her golden crown, and dusky cloud-shadows grouped far beneath +her eyrie, like mourners kneeling below the height to pray. The +rock-shapes and island rocks that cut the blue glitter of the sea, +suggested splendid tales of Phoenician mariners and Saracenic pirates, +tales lost forever in the dim mists of time; and so Stephen wandered on +to thoughts of Dumas, wishing he had brought "Monte Cristo," dearly +loved when he was twelve. Probably not a soul on board had the book; +people were so stupid and prosaic nowadays. He turned from the rail on +which he had leaned to watch the fading land, and as he did so, his eyes +fell upon a bright red copy of the book for which he had been wishing. +There was the name in large gold lettering on a scarlet cover, very +conspicuous on the dark blue serge lap of a girl. It was the girl of the +Channel boat, and she wore the same dress, the same sailor hat tied on +with a blue veil, which she had worn that night crossing from England to +France. + +While Stephen had been absorbed in admiration of Marseilles harbour, she +had come up on deck, and settled herself in a canvas chair. This time +she had a rug of her own, a thin navy blue rug which, like her frock, +might have been chosen for its cheapness. Although she held a volume of +"Monte Cristo," she was not reading, and as Stephen turned towards her, +their eyes met. + +Hers lit up with a pleased smile, and the pink that sprang to her cheeks +was the colour of surprise, not of self-consciousness. + +"I _thought_ your back looked like you, but I didn't suppose it would +turn out to be you," she said. + +Stephen's slight, unreasonable irritation could not stand against the +azure of such eyes, and the youth in her friendly smile. Since the girl +seemed glad to see him, why shouldn't he be glad to see her? At least +she was not a link with England. + +"I thought your statue looked like you," he retorted, standing near her +chair, "but I didn't suppose it would turn out to be you until your +shadow followed." + +"Oh, you saw me dance! Did you like it?" She asked the question eagerly, +like a child who hangs upon grown-up judgment of its work. + +"I thought both dances extremely beautiful and artistic," replied +Stephen, a little stiffly. + +She looked at him questioningly, as if puzzled. "No, I don't think you +did like them, really," she said. "I oughtn't to have asked in that +blunt way, because of course you would hate to hurt my feelings by +saying no!" + +Her manner was so unlike that of a spoiled stage darling, that Stephen +had to remind himself sharply of her "innocent pose," and his own +soft-hearted lack of discrimination where pretty women were concerned. +By doing this he kept himself armed against the clever little actress +laughing at him behind the blue eyes of a child. "You must know that +there can't be two opinions of your dancing," said he coolly. "You have +had years and years of flattery, of course; enough to make you sick of +it, if a woman ever----" He stopped, smiling. + +"Why, I've been dancing professionally for only a few months!" she +exclaimed. "Didn't you know?" + +"I'm ashamed to say I was ignorant," Stephen confessed. "But before the +dancing, there must have been something else equally clever. +Floating--or flying--or----" + +She laughed. "Why don't you suggest fainting in coils? I'm certain you +would, if you'd ever read 'Alice.'" + +"As a matter of fact, I was brought up on 'Alice,'" said Stephen. "Do +children of the present day still go down the rabbit hole?" + +"I'm not sure about children of the _present_ day. Children of my day +went down," she replied with dignity. "I loved Alice dearly. I don't +know much about other children, though, for I never had a chance to make +friends as a child. But then I had my sister when I was a little girl, +so nothing else mattered." + +"If you don't think me rude to say so," ventured Stephen, "you would +seem to me a little girl now, if I hadn't found out that you're an +accomplished star of the theatres, admired all over Europe." + +"Now you're making fun of me," said the dancer. "Paris was only my third +engagement; and it's going to be my last, anyway for ever so long, I +hope." + +This time Stephen was really surprised, and all his early interest in +the young creature woke again; the personal sort of interest which he +had partly lost on finding that she was of the theatrical world. + +"Oh, I see!" he ejaculated, before stopping to reflect that he had no +right to put into words the idea which jumped into his mind. + +"You see?" she echoed. "But how can you see, unless you know something +about me already?" + +"I beg your pardon," he apologized. "It was only a thought. I----" + +"A thought about my dancing?" + +"Not exactly that. About your not dancing again." + +"Then please tell me the thought." + +"You may be angry. I rather think you'd have a right to be angry--not at +the thought, but the telling of it." + +"I promise." + +"Why," explained Stephen, "when a young and successful actress makes up +her mind to leave the stage, what is the usual reason?" + +"I'm not an actress, so I can't imagine what you mean--unless you +suppose I've made a great fortune in a few months?" + +"That too, perhaps--but I don't think a fortune would induce you to +leave the stage yet a while. You'd want to go on, not for the money +perhaps, but for the fun." + +"I haven't been dancing for fun." + +"Haven't you?" + +"No. I began with a purpose. I'm leaving the stage for a purpose. And +you say you can guess what that is. If you know, you must have been +told." + +"Since you insist, it occurred to me that you might be going to marry. +I thought maybe you were travelling to Africa to----" + +She laughed. "Oh, you _are_ wrong! I don't believe there ever was a girl +who thinks less about marrying. I've never had time to think of such +things. I've always--ever since I was nine years old--looked to the one +goal, and aimed for it, studied for it, lived for it--at last, danced +towards it." + +"You excite my curiosity immensely," said Stephen. And it was true. The +girl had begun to take him out of himself. + +"There is lunch," she announced, as a bugle sounded. + +Stephen longed to say, "Don't go yet. Stop and tell me all about the +'goal' you're working for." But he dared not. She was very frank, and +evidently willing, for some reason, to talk of her aims, even to a +comparative stranger; yet he knew that it would be impertinent to +suggest her sitting out on deck to chat with him, while the other +passengers lunched. + +He asked if she were hungry, and she said she was. So was he, now that +he came to think of it; nevertheless he let her go in alone, and waited +deliberately for several minutes before following. He would have liked +to sit by Miss Ray at the table, but wished her to see that he did not +mean to presume upon any small right of acquaintanceship. As she was on +the stage, and extremely attractive, no doubt men often tried to take +such advantage, and he didn't intend to be one of them; therefore he +supposed that he had lost the chance of placing himself near her in the +dining-room. To his surprise, however, as he was about to slip into a +far-away chair, she beckoned from her table. "I kept this seat for you," +she said. "I hoped you wouldn't mind." + +"Mind!" He was on the point of repaying her kindness with a conventional +little compliment, but thought better of it, and expressed his meaning +in a smile. + +The oak-panelled saloon was provided with a number of small tables, and +at the one where Victoria Ray sat, were places for four. Three were +already occupied when Stephen came; one by Victoria, the others by a +German bride and groom. + +At the next table were two French officers of the Chasseurs d'Afrique, +the English clergyman Stephen had noticed on deck, and a remarkably +handsome Arab, elaborately dressed. He sat facing Victoria Ray and +Stephen Knight, and Stephen found it difficult not to stare at the +superb, pale brown person whose very high white turban, bound with light +grey cord, gave him a dignity beyond his years, and whose pale grey +burnous, over a gold-embroidered vest of dark rose-colour, added +picturesqueness which appeared theatrical in eyes unaccustomed to the +East. + +Stephen had never seen an Arab of the aristocratic class until to-day; +and before, only a few such specimens as parade the Galerie Charles +Trois at Monte Carlo, selling prayer-rugs and draperies from Algeria. +This man's high birth and breeding were clear at first glance. He was +certainly a personage aware of his own attractions, though not +offensively self-conscious, and was unmistakably interested in the +beauty of the girl at the next table. He was too well-bred to make a +show of his admiration, but talked in almost perfect, slightly guttural +French, with the English clergyman, speaking occasionally also to the +officers in answer to some question. He glanced seldom at Miss Ray, but +when he did look across, in a guarded way, at her, there was a light of +ardent pleasure in his eyes, such as no eyes save those of East or South +ever betray. The look was respectful, despite its underlying passion. +Nevertheless, because the handsome face was some shades darker than his +own, it offended Stephen, who felt a sharp bite of dislike for the Arab. +He was glad the man was not at the same table with Miss Ray, and knew +that it would have vexed him intensely to see the girl drawn into +conversation. He wondered that the French officers should talk with the +Arab as with an equal, yet knew in his heart that such prejudice was +narrow-minded, especially at the moment when he was travelling to the +Arab's own country. He tried, though not very strenuously, to override +his conviction of superiority to the Eastern man, but triumphed only far +enough to admit that the fellow was handsome in a way. His skin was +hardly darker than old ivory: the aquiline nose delicate as a woman's, +with sensitive nostrils; and the black velvet eyes under arched brows, +that met in a thin, pencilled line, were long, and either dreamy or +calmly calculating. A prominent chin and a full mouth, so determined as +to suggest cruelty, certainly selfishness, preserved the face from +effeminacy at the sacrifice of artistic perfection. Stephen noticed with +mingled curiosity and disapproval that the Arab appeared to be vain of +his hands, on which he wore two or three rings that might have been +bought in Paris, or even given him by European women--for they looked +like a woman's rings. The brown fingers were slender, tapering to the +ends, and their reddened nails glittered. They played, as the man +talked, with a piece of bread, and often he glanced down at them, with +the long eyes which had a blue shadow underneath, like a faint smear of +kohl. + +Stephen wondered what Victoria Ray thought of her _vis-a-vis_; but in +the presence of the staring bride and groom he could ask no questions, +and the expression of her face, as once she quietly regarded the Arab, +told nothing. It was even puzzling, as an expression for a young girl's +face to wear in looking at a handsome man so supremely conscious of sex +and of his own attraction. She was evidently thinking about him with +considerable interest, and it annoyed Stephen that she should look at +him at all. An Arab might misunderstand, not realizing that he was a +legitimate object of curiosity for eyes unused to Eastern men. + +After luncheon Victoria went to her cabin. This was disappointing. +Stephen, hoping that she might come on deck again soon, and resume their +talk where it had broken off in the morning, paced up and down until he +felt drowsy, not having slept in the train the night before. To his +surprise and disgust, it was after five when he waked from a long nap, +in his stateroom; and going on deck he found Miss Ray in her chair once +more, this time apparently deep in "Monte Cristo." + + + + +V + + +He walked past, and she looked up with a smile, but did not ask him to +draw his chair near hers, though there was a vacant space. It was an +absurd and far-fetched idea, but he could not help asking himself if it +were possible that she had picked up any acquaintance on board, who had +told her he was a marked man, a foolish fellow who had spoiled his life +for a low-born, unscrupulous woman's sake. It was a morbid fancy, he +knew, but he was morbid now, and supposed that he should be for some +time to come, if not for the rest of his life. He imagined a difference +in the girl's manner. Maybe she had read that hateful interview in some +paper, when she was in London, and now remembered having seen his +photograph with Margot Lorenzi's. He hated the thought, not because he +deliberately wished to keep his engagement secret, but because the +newspaper interview had made him seem a fool, and somehow he did not +want to be despised by this dancing girl whom he should never see again +after to-morrow. Just why her opinion of his character need matter to +him, it was difficult to say, but there was something extraordinary +about the girl. She did not seem in the least like other dancers he had +met. He had not that feeling of comfortable comradeship with her that a +man may feel with most unchaperoned, travelling actresses, no matter how +respectable. There was a sense of aloofness, as if she had been a young +princess, in spite of her simple and friendly ways. + +Since it appeared that she had no intention of picking up the dropped +threads of their conversation, Stephen thought of the smoking-room; but +his wish to know whether she really had changed towards him became so +pressing that he was impelled to speak again. It was an impulse unlike +himself, at any rate the old self with which he was familiar, as with a +friend or an intimate enemy. + +"I hoped you would tell me the rest," he blurted out. + +"The rest?" + +"That you were beginning to tell." + +The girl blushed. "I was afraid afterwards, you might have been bored, +or anyway surprised. You probably thought it 'very American' of me to +talk about my own affairs to a stranger, and it _isn't_, you know. I +shouldn't like you to think Americans are less well brought up than +other girls, just because _I_ may do things that seem queer. I have to +do them. And I am quite different from others. You mustn't suppose I'm +not." + +Stephen was curiously relieved. Suddenly he felt young and happy, as he +used to feel before knowing Margot Lorenzi. "I never met a brilliantly +successful person who was as modest as you," he said, laughing with +pleasure. "I was never less bored in my life. Will you talk to me +again--and let me talk to you?" + +"I should like to ask your advice," she replied. + +That gave permission for Stephen to draw his chair near to hers. "Have +you had tea?" he inquired, by way of a beginning. + +"I'm too American to drink tea in the afternoon," she explained. "It's +only fashionable Americans who take it, and I'm not that kind, as you +can see. I come from the country--or almost the country." + +"Weren't you drawn into any of our little ways in London?" He was +working up to a certain point. + +"I was too busy." + +"I'm sure you weren't too busy for one thing: reading the papers for +your notices." + +Victoria shook her head, smiling. "There you're mistaken. The first +morning after I danced at the Palace Theatre, I asked to see the papers +they had in my boarding-house, because I hoped so much that English +people would like me, and I wanted to be a success. But afterwards I +didn't bother. I don't understand British politics, you see--how could +I?--and I hardly know any English people, so I wasn't very interested in +their papers." + +Again Stephen was relieved. But he felt driven by one of his strange new +impulses to tell her his name, and watch her face while he told it. + +"'Curiouser and curiouser,' as our friend Alice would say," he laughed. +"No newspaper paragraphs, and a boarding-house instead of a fashionable +hotel. What was your manager thinking about?" + +"I had no manager of my very own," said Victoria. "I 'exploited' myself. +It costs less to do that. When people in America liked my dancing I got +an offer from London, and I accepted it and made all the arrangements +about going over. It was quite easy, you see, because there were only +costumes to carry. My scenery is so simple, they either had it in the +theatres or got something painted: and the statues in the studio scene, +and the sculptor, needed very few rehearsals. In Paris they had only +one. It was all I had time for, after I arrived. The lighting wasn't +difficult either, and though people told me at first there would be +trouble unless I had my own man, there never was any, really. In my +letters to the managers I gave the dates when I could come to their +theatres, how long I could stay, and all they must do to get things +ready. The Paris engagement was made only a little while beforehand. I +wanted to pass through there, so I was glad to accept the offer and earn +extra money which I thought I might need by and by." + +"What a mercenary star!" Stephen spoke teasingly; but in truth he could +not make the girl out. + +She took the accusation with a smile. "Yes, I am mercenary, I suppose," +she confessed with unashamed frankness, "but not entirely for myself. I +shouldn't like to be that! I told you how I've been looking forward +always to one end. And now, just when that end may be near, how foolish +I should be to spend a cent on unnecessary things! Why, I'd have felt +_wicked_ living in an expensive hotel, and keeping a maid, when I could +be comfortable in a Bloomsbury boarding-house on ten dollars a week. And +the dresser in the theater, who did everything very nicely, was +delighted with a present of twenty dollars when my London engagement was +over." + +"No doubt she was," said Stephen. "But----" + +"I suppose you're thinking that I must have made lots of money, and that +I'm a sort of little miseress: and so I have--and so I am. I earned +seven hundred and fifty dollars a week--isn't that a hundred and fifty +pounds?--for the six weeks, and I spent as little as possible; for I +didn't get as large a salary as that in America. I engaged to dance for +three hundred dollars a week there, which seemed perfectly wonderful to +me at first; so I had to keep my contract, though other managers would +have given me more. I wanted dreadfully to take their offers, because I +was in such a hurry to have enough money to begin my real work. But I +knew I shouldn't be blessed in my undertaking if I acted dishonourably. +Try as I might, I've only been able to save up ten thousand dollars, +counting the salary in Paris and all. Would you say that was enough to +_bribe_ a person, if necessary? Two thousand of your pounds." + +"It depends upon how rich the person is." + +"I don't know how rich he is. Could an Arab be _very_ rich?" + +"I daresay there are still some rich ones. But maybe riches aren't the +same with them as with us. That fellow at lunch to-day looks as if he'd +plenty of money to spend on embroideries." + +"Yes. And he looks important too--as if he might have travelled, and +known a great many people of all sorts. I wish it were proper for me to +talk to him." + +"Good Heavens, why?" asked Stephen, startled. "It would be most +improper." + +"Yes, I'm afraid so, and I won't, of course, unless I get to know him in +some way," went on Victoria. "Not that there's any chance of such a +thing." + +"I should hope not," exclaimed Stephen, who was privately of opinion +that there was only too good a chance if the girl showed the Arab even +the faintest sign of willingness to know and be known. "I've no right to +ask it, of course, except that I'm much older than you and have seen +more of the world--but do promise not to look at that nigger. I don't +like his face." + +"He isn't a nigger," objected Victoria. "But if he were, it wouldn't +matter--nor whether one liked his face or not. He might be able to help +me." + +"To help you--in Algiers?" + +"Yes, in the same way that you might be able to help me--or more, +because he's an Arab, and must know Arabs." + +Stephen forgot to press his request for her promise. "How can I help +you?" he wanted to know. + +"I'm not sure. Only, you're going to Algiers. I always ask everybody to +help, if there's the slightest chance they can." + +Stephen felt disappointed and chilled. But she went on. "I should hate +you to think I _gush_ to strangers, and tell them all my affairs, just +because I'm silly enough to love talking. I must talk to strangers. I +_must_ get help where I can. And you were kind the other night. +Everybody is kind. Do you know many people in Algeria, or Tunisia?" + +"Only one man. His name is Nevill Caird, and he lives in Algiers. My +name is Stephen Knight. I've been wanting to tell you--I seemed to have +an unfair advantage, knowing yours ever since Paris." + +He watched her face almost furtively, but no change came over it, no +cloud in the blueness of her candid eyes. The name meant nothing to her. + +"I'm sorry. It's hardly worth while my bothering you then." + +Stephen wished to be bothered. "But Nevill Caird has lived in Algiers +for eight winters or so," he said. "He knows everybody, French and +English--Arab too, very likely, if there are Arabs worth knowing." + +A bright colour sprang to the girl's cheeks and turned her extreme +prettiness into brilliant beauty. It seemed to Stephen that the name of +Ray suited her: she was dazzling as sunshine. "Oh, then, I will tell +you--if you'll listen," she said. + +"If I had as many ears as a spear of wheat, they'd all want to listen." +His voice sounded young and eager. "Please begin at the beginning, as +the children say." + +"Shall I really? But it's a long story. It begins when I was eight." + +"All the better. It will be ten years long." + +"I can skip lots of things. When I was eight, and my sister Saidee not +quite eighteen, we were in Paris with my stepmother. My father had been +dead just a year, but she was out of mourning. She wasn't old--only +about thirty, and handsome. She was jealous of Saidee, though, because +Saidee was so much younger and fresher, and because Saidee was +beautiful--Oh, you can't imagine how beautiful!" + +"Yes, I can," said Stephen. + +"You mean me to take that for a compliment. I know I'm quite pretty, but +I'm nothing to Saidee. She was a great beauty, though with the same +colouring I have, except that her eyes were brown, and her hair a little +more auburn. People turned to look after her in the street, and that +made our stepmother angry. _She_ wanted to be the one looked at. I knew, +even then! She wouldn't have travelled with us, only father had left her +his money, on condition that she gave Saidee and me the best of +educations, and allowed us a thousand dollars a year each, from the time +our schooling was finished until we married. She had a good deal of +influence over him, for he was ill a long time, and she was his +nurse--that was the way they got acquainted. And she persuaded him to +leave practically everything to her; but she couldn't prevent his making +some conditions. There was one which she hated. She was obliged to live +in the same town with us; so when she wanted to go and enjoy herself in +Paris after father died, she had to take us too. And she didn't care to +shut Saidee up, because if Saidee couldn't be seen, she couldn't be +married; and of course Mrs. Ray wanted her to be married. Then she would +have no bother, and no money to pay. I often heard Saidee say these +things, because she told me everything. She loved me a great deal, and I +adored her. My middle name is Cecilia, and she was generally called Say; +so she used to tell me that our secret names for each other must be 'Say +and Seal.' It made me feel very grown-up to have her confide so much in +me: and never being with children at all, gave me grown-up thoughts." + +"Poor child!" said Stephen. + +"Oh, I was very happy. It was only after--but that isn't the way to tell +the story. Our stepmother--whom we always called 'Mrs. Ray,' never +'mother'--liked officers, and we got acquainted with a good many French +ones. They used to come to the flat where we lived. Some of them were +introduced by our French governess, whose brother was in the army, but +they brought others, and Saidee and Mrs. Ray went to parties together, +though Mrs. Ray hated being chaperon. If poor Saidee were admired at a +dinner, or a dance, Mrs. Ray would be horrid all next day, and say +everything disagreeable she could think of. Then Saidee would cry when +we were alone, and tell me she was so miserable, she would have to marry +in self-defence. That made me cry too--but she promised to take me with +her if she went away. + +"When we had been in Paris about two months, Saidee came to bed one +night after a ball, and waked me up. We slept in the same room. She was +excited and looked like an angel. I knew something had happened. She +told me she'd met a wonderful man, and every one was fascinated with +him. She had heard of him before, but this was the first time they'd +seen each other. He was in the French army, she said, a captain, and +older than most of the men she knew best, but very handsome, and rich as +well as clever. It was only at the last, after she'd praised the man a +great deal, that she mentioned his having Arab blood. Even then she +hurried on to say his mother was a Spanish woman, and he had been partly +educated in France, and spoke perfect French, and English too. They had +danced together, and Saidee had never met so interesting a man. She +thought he was like the hero of some romance; and she told me I would +see him, because he'd begged Mrs. Ray to be allowed to call. He had +asked Saidee lots of questions, and she'd told him even about me--so he +sent me his love. She seemed to think I ought to be pleased, but I +wasn't. I'd read the 'Arabian Nights', with pictures, and I knew Arabs +were dark people. I didn't look down on them particularly, but I +couldn't bear to have Say interested in an Arab. It didn't seem right +for her, somehow." + +The girl stopped, and apparently forgot to go on. She had been speaking +with short pauses, as if she hardly realized that she was talking aloud. +Her eyebrows drew together, and she sighed. Stephen knew that some +memory pressed heavily upon her, but soon she began again. + +"He came next day. He was handsome, as Saidee had said--as handsome as +the Arab on board this ship, but in a different way. He looked noble and +haughty--yet as if he might be very selfish and hard. Perhaps he was +about thirty-three or four, and that seemed old to me then--old even to +Saidee. But she was fascinated. He came often, and she saw him at other +houses. Everywhere she was going, he would find out, and go too. That +pleased her--for he was an important man somehow, and of good birth. +Besides, he was desperately in love--even a child could see that. He +never took his eyes off Saidee's face when she was with him. It was as +if he could eat her up; and if she flirted a little with the real French +officers, to amuse herself or tease him, it drove him half mad. She +liked that--it was exciting, she used to say. And I forgot to tell you, +he wore European dress, except for a fez--no turban, like this man's on +the boat, or I'm sure she couldn't have cared for him in the way she +did--he wouldn't have seemed _possible_, for a Christian girl. A man in +a turban! You understand, don't you?" + +"Yes, I understand," Stephen said. He understood, too, how violently +such beauty as the girl described must have appealed to the dark man of +the East. "The same colouring that I have," Victoria Ray had said. If +he, an Englishman, accustomed to the fair loveliness of his +countrywomen, were a little dazzled by the radiance of this girl, what +compelling influence must not the more beautiful sister have exercised +upon the Arab? + +"He made love to Saidee in a fierce sort of way that carried her off her +feet," went on Victoria. "She used to tell me things he said, and Mrs. +Ray did all she could to throw them together, because he was rich, and +lived a long way off--so she wouldn't have to do anything for Say if +they were married, or even see her again. He was only on leave in Paris. +He was a Spahi, stationed in Algiers, and he owned a house there." + +"Ah, in Algiers!" Stephen began to see light--rather a lurid light. + +"Yes. His name was Cassim ben Halim el Cheikh el Arab. Before he had +known Saidee two weeks, he proposed. She took a little while to think it +over, and I begged her to say 'no'--but one day when Mrs. Ray had been +crosser and more horrid than usual, she said 'yes'. Cassim ben Halim was +Mohammedan, of course, but he and Saidee were married according to +French law. They didn't go to church, because he couldn't do that +without showing disrespect to his own religion, but he promised he'd not +try to change hers. Altogether it seemed to Saidee that there was no +reason why they shouldn't be as happy as a Catholic girl marrying a +Protestant--or _vice versa_; and she hadn't any very strong convictions. +She was a Christian, but she wasn't fond of going to church." + +"And her promise that she'd take you away with her?" Stephen reminded +the girl. + +"She would have kept it, if Mrs. Ray had consented--though I'm sure +Cassim didn't want me, and only agreed to do what Saidee asked because +he was so deep in love, and feared to lose my sister if he refused her +anything. But Mrs. Ray was afraid to let me go, on account of the +condition in father's will that she should keep me near her while I was +being educated. There was an old friend of father's who'd threatened to +try and upset the will, for Saidee's sake and mine, so I suppose she +thought he might succeed if she disobeyed father's instructions. It +ended in Saidee and her husband going to Algiers without me, and Saidee +cried--but she couldn't help being happy, because she was in love, and +very excited about the strange new life, which Cassim told her would be +wonderful as some gorgeous dream of fairyland. He gave her quantities of +jewellery, and said they were nothing to what she should have when she +was in her own home with him. She should be covered from head to foot +with diamonds and pearls, rubies and emeralds, if she liked; and of +course she would like, for she loved jewels, poor darling." + +"Why do you say 'poor?'" asked Stephen. "Are you going to tell me the +marriage wasn't a success?" + +"I don't know," answered the girl. "I don't know any more about her than +if Cassim ben Halim had really carried my sister off to fairyland, and +shut the door behind them. You see, I was only eight years old. I +couldn't make my own life. After Saidee was married and taken to +Algiers, my stepmother began to imagine herself in love with an American +from Indiana, whom she met in Paris. He had an impressive sort of +manner, and made her think him rich and important. He was in business, +and had come over to rest, so he couldn't stay long abroad; and he urged +Mrs. Ray to go back to America on the same ship with him. Of course she +took me, and this Mr. Henry Potter told her about a boarding-school +where they taught quite little girls, not far from the town where he +lived. It had been a farmhouse once, and he said there were 'good +teachers and good air.' I can hear him saying it now. It was easy to +persuade her; and she engaged rooms at a hotel in the town near by, +which was called Potterston, after Mr. Potter's grandfather. By and by +they were married, but their marriage made no difference to me. It +wasn't a bad little old-fashioned school, and I was as happy as I could +be anywhere, parted from Saidee. There was an attic where I used to be +allowed to sit on Saturdays, and think thoughts, and write letters to my +sister; and there was one corner, where the sunlight came in through a +tiny window shaped like a crescent, without any glass, which I named +Algiers. I played that I went there to visit Saidee in the old Arab +palace she wrote me about. It was a splendid play--but I felt lonely +when I stopped playing it. I used to dance there, too, very softly in +stockinged feet, so nobody could hear--dances she and I made up together +out of stories she used to tell me. The Shadow Dance and the Statue +Dance which you saw, came out of those stories, and there are more you +didn't see, which I do sometimes--a butterfly dance, the dance of the +wheat, and two of the East, which were in stories she told me after we +knew Cassim ben Halim. They are the dance of the smoke wreath, and the +dance of the jewel-and-the-rose. I could dance quite well even in those +days, because I loved doing it. It came as natural to dance as to +breathe, and Saidee had always encouraged me, so when I was left alone +it made me think of her, to dance the dances of her stories." + +"What about your teachers? Did they never find you out?" asked Stephen. + +"Yes. One of the young teachers did at last. Not in the attic, but when +I was dancing for the big girls in their dormitory, at night--they'd +wake me up to get me to dance. But she wasn't much older than the +biggest of the big girls, so she laughed--I suppose I must have looked +quaint dancing in my nighty, with my long red hair. And though we were +all scolded afterwards, I was made to dance sometimes at the +entertainments we gave when school broke up in the summer. I was the +youngest scholar, you see, and stayed through the vacations, so I was a +kind of pet for the teachers. They were of one family, aunts and +nieces--Southern people, and of course good-natured. But all this isn't +really in the story I want to tell you. The interesting part's about +Saidee. For months I got letters from her, written from Algiers. At +first they were like fairy tales, but by and by--quite soon--they +stopped telling much about herself. It seemed as if Saidee were growing +more and more reserved, or else as if she were tired of writing to me, +and bored by it--almost as if she could hardly think of anything to say. +Then the letters stopped altogether. I wrote and wrote, but no answer +came--no answer ever came." + +"You've never heard from your sister since then?" The thing appeared +incredible to Stephen. + +"Never. Now you can guess what I've been growing up for, living for, all +these years. To find her." + +"But surely," Stephen argued, "there must have been some way to----" + +"Not any way that was in my power, till now. You see I was helpless. I +had no money, and I was a child. I'm not very old yet, but I'm older +than my years, because I had this thing to do. There I was, at a +farmhouse school in the country, two miles out of Potterston--and you +would think Potterston itself not much better than the backwoods, I'm +sure. When I was fourteen, my stepmother died suddenly--leaving all the +money which came from my father to her husband, except several thousand +dollars to finish my education and give me a start in life; but Mr. +Potter lost everything of his own and of mine too, in some wild +speculation about which the people in that part of Indiana went mad. The +crash came a year ago, and the Misses Jennings, who kept the school, +asked me to stay on as an under teacher--they were sorry for me, and so +kind. But even if nothing had happened, I should have left then, for I +felt old enough to set about my real work. Oh, I see you think I might +have got at my sister before, somehow, but I couldn't, indeed. I tried +everything. Not only did I write and write, but I begged the Misses +Jennings to help, and the minister of the church where we went on +Sundays. The Misses Jennings told the girls' parents and relations +whenever they came to visit, and they all promised, if they ever went to +Algiers, they would look for my sister's husband, Captain Cassim ben +Halim, of the Spahis. But they weren't the sort of people who ever do go +such journeys. And the minister wrote to the American Consul in Algiers +for me, but the only answer was that Cassim ben Halim had disappeared. +It seemed not even to be known that he had an American wife." + +"Your stepmother ought to have gone herself," said Stephen. + +"Oh--_ought_! I very seldom saw my stepmother after she married Mr. +Potter. Though she lived so near, she never asked me to her house, and +only came to call at the school once or twice a year, for form's sake. +But I ran away one evening and begged her to go and find Saidee. She +said it was nonsense; that if Saidee hadn't wanted to drop us, she would +have kept on writing, or else she was dead. But don't you think I should +have _known_ if Saidee were dead?" + +"By instinct, you mean--telepathy, or something of that sort?" + +"I don't know what I mean, but _I should have known_. I should have felt +her death, like a string snapping in my heart. Instead, I heard her +calling to me--I hear her always. She wants me. She needs me. I know it, +and nothing could make me believe otherwise. So now you understand how, +if anything were to be done, I had to do it myself. When I was quite +little, I thought by the time I should be sixteen or seventeen, and +allowed to leave school--or old enough to run away if necessary--I'd +have a little money of my own. But when my stepmother died I felt sure I +should never, never get anything from Mr. Potter." + +"But that old friend you spoke of, who wanted to upset the will? +Couldn't he have done anything?" Stephen asked. + +"If he had lived, everything might have been different; but he was a +very old man, and he died of pneumonia soon after Saidee married Cassim +ben Halim. There was no one else to help. So from the time I was +fourteen, I knew that somehow I must make money. Without money I could +never hope to get to Algiers and find Saidee. Even though she had +disappeared from there, it seemed to me that Algiers would be the place +to begin my search. Don't you think so?" + +"Yes, Algiers is the place to begin," Stephen echoed. "There ought to be +a way of tracking her. _Some one_ must know what became of a more or +less important man such as your brother-in-law seems to have been. It's +incredible that he should have been able to vanish without leaving any +trace." + +"He must have left a trace, and though nobody else, so far, has found +it, I shall find it," said the girl. "I did what I could before. I asked +everybody to help; and when I got to New York last year, I used to go to +Cook's office, to inquire for people travelling to Algiers. Then, if I +met any, I would at once speak of my sister, and give them my address, +to let me know if they should discover anything. They always seemed +interested, and said they would really do their best, but they must have +failed, or else they forgot. No news ever came back. It will be +different with me now, though. I shall find Saidee, and if she isn't +happy, I shall bring her away with me. If her husband is a bad man, and +if the reason he left Algiers is because he lost his money, as I +sometimes think, I may have to bribe him to let her go. But I have money +enough for everything, I hope--unless he's very greedy, or there are +difficulties I can't foresee. In that case, I shall dance again, and +make more money, you know--that's all there is about it." + +"One thing I do know, is that you are wonderful," said Stephen, his +conscience pricking him because of certain unjust thoughts concerning +this child which he had harboured since learning that she was a dancer. +"You're the most wonderful girl I ever saw or heard of." + +She laughed happily. "Oh no, I'm not wonderful at all. It's funny you +should think so. Perhaps none of the girls you know have had a big work +to do." + +"I'm sure they never have," said Stephen, "and if they had, they +wouldn't have done it." + +"Yes, they would. Anybody would--that is, if they wanted to, _enough_. +You can always do what you want to _enough_. I wanted to do this with +all my heart and soul, so I knew I should find the way. I just followed +my instinct, when people told me I was unreasonable, and of course it +led me right. Reason is only to depend on in scientific sorts of things, +isn't it? The other is higher, because instinct is your _You_." + +"Isn't that what people say who preach New Thought, or whatever they +call it?" asked Stephen. "A lot of women I know had rather a craze about +that two or three years ago. They went to lectures given by an American +man they raved over--said he was 'too fascinating.' And they used their +'science' to win at bridge. I don't know whether it worked or not." + +"I never heard any one talk of New Thought," said Victoria. "I've just +had my own thoughts about everything. The attic at school was a lovely +place to think thoughts in. Wonderful ones always came to me, if I +called to them--thoughts all glittering--like angels. They seemed to +bring me new ideas about things I'd been born knowing--beautiful things, +which I feel somehow have been handed down to me--in my blood." + +"Why, that's the way my friends used to talk about 'waking their +race-consciousness.' But it only led to bridge, with them." + +"Well, it's led me from Potterston here," said Victoria, "and it will +lead me on to the end, wherever that may be, I'm sure. Perhaps it will +lead me far, far off, into that mysterious golden silence, where in +dreams I often see Saidee watching for me: the strangest dream-place, +and I've no idea where it is! But I shall find out, if she is really +there." + +"What supreme confidence you have in your star!" Stephen exclaimed, +admiringly, and half enviously. + +"Of course. Haven't you, in yours?" + +"I have no star." + +She turned her eyes to his, quickly, as if grieved. And in his eyes she +saw the shadow of hopelessness which was there to see, and could not be +hidden from a clear gaze. + +"I'm sorry," she said simply. "I don't know how I could have lived +without mine. I walk in its light, as if in a path. But yours must be +somewhere in the sky, and you can find it if you want to very much." + +He could have found two in her eyes just then, but such stars were not +for him. "Perhaps I don't deserve a star," he said. + +"I'm sure you do. You are the kind that does," the girl comforted him. +"Do have a star!" + +"It would only make me unhappy, because I mightn't be able to walk in +its light, as you do." + +"It would make you very happy, as mine does me. I'm always happy, +because the light helps me to do things. It helped me to dance: it +helped me to succeed." + +"Tell me about your dancing," said Stephen, vaguely anxious to change +the subject, and escape from thoughts of Margot, the only star of his +future. "I should like to hear how you began, if you don't mind." + +"That's kind of you," replied Victoria, gratefully. + +He laughed. "Kind!" + +"Why, it's nothing of a story. Luckily, I'd always danced. So when I was +fourteen, and began to think I should never have any money of my own +after all, I saw that dancing would be my best way of earning it, as +that was the one thing I could do very well. Afterwards I worked in real +earnest--always up in the attic, where I used to study the Arabic +language too; study it very hard. And no one knew what I was doing or +what was in my head, till last year when I told the oldest Miss Jennings +that I couldn't be a teacher--that I must leave school and go to New +York." + +"What did she say?" + +"She said I was crazy. So did they all. They got the minister to come +and argue with me, and he was dreadfully opposed to my wishes at first. +But after we'd talked a while, he came round to my way." + +"How did you persuade him to that point of view?" Stephen catechized +her, wondering always. + +"I hardly know. I just told him how I felt about everything. Oh, and I +danced." + +"By Jove! What effect had that on him?" + +"He clapped his hands and said it was a good dance, quite different from +what he expected. He didn't think it would do any one harm to see. And +he gave me a sort of lecture about how I ought to behave if I became a +dancer. It was easy to follow his advice, because none of the bad things +he feared might happen to me ever did." + +"Your star protected you?" + +"Of course. There was a little trouble about money at first, because I +hadn't any, but I had a few things--a watch that had been my mother's, +and her engagement ring (they were Saidee's, but she left them both for +me when she went away), and a queer kind of brooch Cassim ben Halim gave +me one day, out of a lovely mother-o'-pearl box he brought full of +jewels for Saidee, when they were engaged. See, I have the brooch on +now--for I wouldn't _sell_ the things. I went to a shop in Potterston +and asked the man to lend me fifty dollars on them all, so he did. It +was very good of him." + +"You seem to consider everybody you meet kind and good," Stephen said. + +"Yes, they almost always have been so to me. If you believe people are +going to be good, it _makes_ them good, unless they're very bad indeed." + +"Perhaps." Stephen would not for a great deal have tried to undermine +her confidence in her fellow beings, and such was the power of the +girl's personality, that for the moment he was half inclined to feel she +might be right. Who could tell? Maybe he had not "believed" enough--in +Margot. He looked with interest at the brooch of which Miss Ray spoke, a +curiously wrought, flattened ring of dull gold, with a pin in the middle +which pierced and fastened her chiffon veil on her breast. Round the +edge, irregularly shaped pearls alternated with roughly cut emeralds, +and there was a barbaric beauty in both workmanship and colour. + +"What happened when you got to your journey's end?" he went on, fearing +to go astray on that subject of the world's goodness, which was a sore +point with him lately. "Did you know anybody in New York?" + +"Nobody. But I asked the driver of a cab if he could take me to a +respectable theatrical boarding-house, and he said he could, so I told +him to drive me there. I engaged a wee back room at the top of the +house, and paid a week in advance. The boarders weren't very successful +people, poor things, for it was a cheap boarding-house--it had to be, +for me. But they all knew which were the best theatres and managers, and +they were interested when they heard I'd come to try and get a chance to +be a dancer. They were afraid it wasn't much use, but the same evening +they changed their minds, and gave me lots of good advice." + +"You danced for them?" + +"Yes, in such a stuffy parlour, smelling of gas and dust and there were +holes in the carpet it was difficult not to step into. A dear old man +without any hair, who was on what he called the 'Variety Stage,' advised +me to go and try to see Mr. Charles Norman, a fearfully important +person--so important that even I had heard of him, away out in Indiana. +I did try, day after day, but he was too important to be got at. I +wouldn't be discouraged, though. I knew Mr. Norman must come to the +theatre sometimes, so I bought a photograph in order to recognize him; +and one day when he passed me, going in, I screwed up my courage and +spoke. I said I'd been waiting for days and days. At first he scowled, +and I think meant to be cross, but when he'd given me one long, +terrifying glare, he grumbled out: "Come along with me, then. I'll soon +see what you can do." I went in, and danced on an almost dark stage, +with Mr. Norman and another man looking at me, in the empty theatre +where all the chairs and boxes were covered up with sheets. They seemed +rather pleased with my dancing, and Mr. Norman said he would give me a +chance. Then, if I 'caught on'--he meant if people liked me--I should +have a salary. But I told him I must have the salary at once, as my +money would only last a few more days. I'd spent nearly all I had, +getting to New York. Very well, said he, I should have thirty dollars a +week to begin with, and after that, we'd see what we'd see. Well, people +did like my dances, and by and by Mr. Norman gave me what seemed then a +splendid salary. So now you know everything that's happened; and please +don't think I'd have worried you by talking so much about myself, if you +hadn't asked questions. I'm afraid I oughtn't to have done it, anyway." + +Her tone changed, and became almost apologetic. She stirred uneasily in +her deck chair, and looked about half dazedly, as people look about a +room that is new to them, on waking there for the first time. "Why, it's +grown dark!" she exclaimed. + +This fact surprised Stephen equally. "So it has," he said. "By Jove, I +was so interested in you--in what you were telling--I hadn't noticed. +I'd forgotten where we were." + +"I'd forgotten, too," said Victoria. "I always do forget outside things +when I think about Saidee, and the golden dream-silence where I see her. +All the people who were near us on deck have gone away. Did you see them +go?" + +"No," said Stephen, "I didn't." + +"How odd!" exclaimed the girl. + +"Do you think so? You had taken me to the golden silence with you." + +"Where can everybody be?" She spoke anxiously. "Is it late? Maybe +they've gone to get ready for dinner." + +From a small bag she wore at her belt, American tourist-fashion, she +pulled out an old-fashioned gold watch of the kind that winds up with a +key--her mother's, perhaps, on which she had borrowed money to reach New +York. "Something must be wrong with my watch," she said. "It can't be +twenty minutes past eight." + +The same thing was wrong with Stephen's expensive repeater, whose +splendour he was ashamed to flaunt beside the modesty of the girl's poor +little timepiece. There remained now no reasonable doubt that it was +indeed twenty minutes past eight, since by the mouths of two witnesses a +truth can be established. + +"How dreadful!" exclaimed Victoria, mortified. "I've kept you here all +this time, listening to me." + +"Didn't I tell you I'd rather listen to you than anything else? Eating +was certainly not excepted. I don't remember hearing the bugle." + +"And I didn't hear it." + +"I'd forgotten dinner. You had carried me so far away with you." + +"And Saidee," added the girl. "Thank you for going with us." + +"Thank you for taking me." + +They both laughed, and as they laughed, people began streaming out on +deck. Dinner was over. The handsome Arab passed, talking with the spare, +loose-limbed English parson, whom he had fascinated. They were +discussing affairs in Morocco, and as they passed Stephen and Victoria, +the Arab did not appear to turn; yet Stephen knew that he was thinking +of them and not of what he was saying to the clergyman. + +"What shall we do?" asked Victoria. + +Stephen reflected for an instant. "Will you invite me to dine at your +table?" he asked. + +"Maybe they'll tell us it's too late now to have anything to eat. I +don't mind for myself, but for you----" + +"We'll have a better dinner than the others have had," Stephen +prophesied. "I guarantee it, if you invite me." + +"Oh, do please come," she implored, like a child. "I couldn't face the +waiters alone. And you know, I feel as if you were a friend, now--though +you may laugh at that." + +"It's the best compliment I ever had," said Stephen. "And--it gives me +faith in myself--which I need." + +"And your star, which you're to find," the girl reminded him, as he +unrolled her from her rug. + +"I wish you'd lend me a little of the light from yours, to find mine +by," he said half gaily, yet with a certain wistfulness which she +detected under the laugh. + +"I will," she said quickly. "Not a little, but half." + + + + +VI + + +Stephen's prophecy came true. They had a better dinner than any one else +had, and enjoyed it as an adventure. Victoria thought their waiter a +particularly good-natured man, because instead of sulking over his +duties he beamed. Stephen might, if he had chosen, have thrown another +light upon the waiter's smiles; but he didn't choose. And he was happy. +He gave Victoria good advice, and promised help from Nevill Caird. "He's +sure to meet me at the ship," he said, "and if you'll let me, I'll +introduce him to you. He may be able to find out everything you want to +know." + +Stephen would have liked to go on talking after dinner, but the girl, +ashamed of having taken up so much of his time, would not be tempted. +She went to her cabin, and thought of him, as well as of her sister; and +he thought of her while he walked on deck, under the stars. + +"For a moment white, then gone forever." + +Again the words came singing into his head. She was white--white as this +lacelike foam that silvered the Mediterranean blue; but she had not gone +forever, as he had thought when he likened her whiteness to the +spindrift on the dark Channel waves. She had come into his life once +more, unexpectedly; and she might brighten it again for a short time on +land, in that unknown garden his thoughts pictured, behind the gate of +the East. Yet she would not be of his life. There was no place in it for +a girl. Still, he thought of her, and went on thinking, involuntarily +planning things which he and Nevill Caird would do to help the child, in +her romantic errand. Of course she must not be allowed to travel about +Algeria alone. Once settled in Algiers she must stay there quietly till +the authorities found her sister. + +He used that powerful-sounding word "authorities" vaguely in his mind, +but he was sure that the thing would be simple enough. The police could +be applied to, if Nevill and his friends should be unable to discover +Ben Halim and his American wife. Almost unconsciously, Stephen saw +himself earning Victoria Ray's gratitude. It was a pleasant fancy, and +he followed it as one wanders down a flowery path found in a dark +forest. + +Victoria's thoughts of him were as many, though different. + +She had never filled her mind with nonsense about men, as many girls do. +As she would have said to herself, she had been too busy. When girls at +school had talked of being in love, and of marrying, she had been +interested, as if in a story-book, but it had not seemed to her that she +would ever fall in love or be married. It seemed so less than ever, now +that she was at last actually on her way to look for Saidee. She was +intensely excited, and there was room only for the one absorbing thought +in mind and heart; yet she was not as anxious as most others would have +been in her place. Now that Heaven had helped her so far, she was sure +she would be helped to the end. It would be too bad to be true that +anything dreadful should have happened to Saidee--anything from which +she, Victoria, could not save her; and so now, very soon perhaps, +everything would come right. It seemed to the girl that somehow Stephen +was part of a great scheme, that he had been sent into her life for a +purpose. Otherwise, why should he have been so kind since the first, and +have appeared this second time, when she had almost forgotten him in the +press of other thoughts? Why should he be going where she was going, and +why should he have a friend who had known Algiers and Algeria since the +time when Saidee's letters had ceased? + +All these arguments were childlike; but Victoria Ray had not passed far +beyond childhood; and though her ideas of religion were her +own--unlearned and unconventional--such as they were they meant +everything to her. Many things which she had heard in churches had +seemed unreal to the girl; but she believed that the Great Power moving +the Universe planned her affairs as well as the affairs of the stars, +and with equal interest. She thought that her soul was a spark given out +by that Power, and that what was God in her had only to call to the All +of God to be answered. She had called, asking to find Saidee, and now +she was going to find her, just how she did not yet know; but she hardly +doubted that Stephen Knight was connected with the way. Otherwise, what +was the good of him to her? And Victoria was far too humble in her +opinion of herself, despite that buoyant confidence in her star, to +imagine that she could be of any use to him. She could be useful to +Saidee; that was all. She hoped for nothing more. And little as she knew +of society, she understood that Stephen belonged to a different world +from hers; the world where people were rich, and gay, and clever, and +amused themselves; the high world, from a social point of view. She +supposed, too, that Stephen looked upon her as a little girl, while she +in her turn regarded him gratefully and admiringly, as from a distance. +And she believed that he must be a very good man. + +It would never have occurred to Victoria Ray to call him, even in +thought, her "White Knight," as Margot Lorenzi persisted in calling him, +and had called him in the famous interview. But it struck her, the +moment she heard his name, that it somehow fitted him like a suit of +armour. She was fond of finding an appropriateness in names, and +sometimes, if she were tired or a little discouraged, she repeated her +own aloud, several times over: "Victoria, Victoria. I am Victoria," +until she felt strong again to conquer every difficulty which might rise +against her, in living up to her name. Now she was of opinion that +Stephen's face would do very well in the picture of a young knight of +olden days, going out to fight for the True Cross. Indeed, he looked as +if he had already passed through the preparation of a long vigil, for +his face was worn, and his eyes seldom smiled even when he laughed and +seemed amused. His features gave her an idea that the Creator had taken +a great deal of pains in chiselling them, not slighting a single line. +She had seen handsomer men--indeed, the splendid Arab on the ship was +handsomer--but she thought, if she were a general who wanted a man to +lead a forlorn hope which meant almost certain death, she would choose +one of Stephen's type. She had the impression that he would not hesitate +to sacrifice himself for a cause, or even for a person, in an emergency, +although he had the air of one used to good fortune, who loved to take +his own way in the small things of life. + +And so she finally went to sleep thinking of Stephen. + +It is seldom that even the _Charles Quex_, one of the fastest ships +plying between Marseilles and Algiers, makes the trip in eighteen hours, +as advertised. Generally she takes two half-days and a night, but this +time people began to say that she would do it in twenty-two hours. Very +early in the dawning she passed the Balearic Isles, mysterious purple in +an opal sea, and it was not yet noon when the jagged line of the Atlas +Mountains hovered in pale blue shadow along a paler horizon. Then, as +the turbines whirred, the shadow materialized, taking a golden solidity +and wildness of outline. At length the tower of a lighthouse started out +clear white against blue, as a shaft of sunshine struck it. Next, the +nearer mountains slowly turned to green, as a chameleon changes: the +Admiralty Island came clearly into view; the ancient nest of those +fierce pirates who for centuries scourged the Mediterranean; and last of +all, the climbing town of Algiers, old Al-Djezair-el-Bahadja, took form +like thick patterns of mother-o'-pearl set in bright green enamel, the +patterns eventually separating themselves into individual buildings. +The strange, bulbous domes of a Byzantine cathedral on a hill sprang up +like a huge tropical plant of many flowers, unfolding fantastic buds of +deep rose-colour, against a sky of violet flame. + +"At last, Africa!" said Victoria, standing beside Stephen, and leaning +on the rail. She spoke to herself, half whispering the words, hardly +aware that she uttered them, but Stephen heard. The two had not been +long together during the morning, for each had been shy of giving too +much of himself or herself, although they had secretly wished for each +other's society. As the voyage drew to a close, however, Stephen was no +longer able to resist an attraction which he felt like a compelling +magnetism. His excuse was that he wanted to know Miss Ray's first +impressions of the place she had constantly seen in her thoughts during +ten years. + +"Is it like what you expected?" he asked. + +"Yes," she said, "it's like, because I have photographs. And I've read +every book I could get hold of, old and new, in French as well as +English. I always kept up my French, you know, for the same reason that +I studied Arabic. I think I could tell the names of some of the +buildings, without making mistakes. Yet it looks different, as the +living face of a person is different from a portrait in black and white. +And I never imagined such a sky. I didn't know skies could be of such a +colour. It's as if pale fire were burning behind a thin veil of blue." + +It was as she said. Stephen had seen vivid skies on the Riviera, but +there the blue was more opaque, like the blue of the turquoise. Here it +was ethereal and quivering, like the violet fire that hovers over +burning ship-logs. He was glad the sky of Africa was unlike any other +sky he had known. It intensified the thrill of enchantment he had begun +to feel. It seemed to him that it might be possible for a man to forget +things in a country where even the sky was of another blue. + +Sometimes, when Stephen had read in books of travel (at which he seldom +even glanced), or in novels, about "the mystery of the East," he had +smiled in a superior way. Why should the East be more mysterious than +the West, or North, or South, except that women were shut up in harems +and wore veils if they stirred out of doors? Such customs could scarcely +make a whole country mysterious. But now, though he had not yet landed, +he knew that he would be compelled to acknowledge the indefinable +mystery at which he had sneered. Already he fancied an elusive +influence, like the touch of a ghost. It was in the pulsing azure of the +sky; in the wild forms of the Atlas and far Kabyle mountains stretching +into vague, pale distances; in the ivory white of the low-domed roofs +that gleamed against the vivid green hill of the Sahel, like pearls on a +veiled woman's breast. + +"Is it what you thought it would be?" Victoria inquired in her turn. + +"I hadn't thought much about it," Stephen had to confess, fearing she +would consider such indifference uninteresting. He did not add what +remained of the truth, that he had thought of Algiers as a refuge from +what had become disagreeable, rather than as a beautiful place which he +wished to see for its own sake. "I'd made no picture in my mind. You +know a lot more about it all than I do, though you've lived so far away, +and I within a distance of forty-eight hours." + +"That great copper-coloured church high on the hill is Notre Dame +d'Afrique," said the girl. "She's like a dark sister of Notre Dame de la +Garde, who watches over Marseilles, isn't she? I think I could love her, +though she's ugly, really. And I've read in a book that if you walk up +the hill to visit her and say a prayer, you may have a hundred days' +indulgence." + +Much good an "indulgence" would do him now, Stephen thought bitterly. + +As the ship steamed closer inshore, the dreamlike beauty of the white +town on the green hillside sharpened into a reality which might have +seemed disappointingly modern and French, had it not been for the +sprinkling of domes, the pointing fingers of minarets with glittering +tiles of bronzy green, and the groups of old Arab houses crowded in +among the crudities of a new, Western civilization. Down by the wharf +for which the boat aimed like a homing bird, were huddled a few of these +houses, ancient dwellings turned into commercial offices where shipping +business was transacted. They looked forlorn, yet beautiful, like +haggard slavewomen who remembered days of greatness in a far-off land. + +The _Charles Quex_ slackened speed as she neared the harbour, and every +detail of the town leaped to the eyes, dazzling in the southern +sunshine. The encircling arms of break-waters were flung out to sea in a +vast embrace; the smoke of vessels threaded with dark, wavy lines the +pure crystal of the air; the quays were heaped with merchandise, some of +it in bales, as if it might have been brought by caravans across the +desert. There was a clanking of cranes at work, a creaking of chains, a +flapping of canvas, and many sounds which blend in the harsh poetry of +sea-harbours. Then voices of men rose shrilly above all heavier noises, +as the ship slowly turned and crept beside a floating pontoon. The +journey together was over for Stephen Knight and Victoria Ray. + + + + +VII + + +A first glance, at such close quarters, would have told the least +instructed stranger that he was in the presence of two clashing +civilizations, both tenacious, one powerful. + +In front, all along the shore, towered with confident effrontery a +massive line of buildings many stories high, great cubes of brick and +stone, having elaborate balconies that shadowed swarming offices with +dark, gaping vaults below. Along the broad, stone-paved street clanged +electric tramcars. There was a constant coming and going of men. Cloaked +and hooded white forms, or half-clad apparitions wrapped in what looked +like dirty bagging, mingled with commonplace figures in Western dress. +But huddled in elbow-high with this busy town of modern France (which +might have been Marseilles or Bordeaux) was something alien, something +remote in spirit; a ghostly band of white buildings, silent and pale in +the midst of colour and noise. Low houses with flat roofs or miniature +domes, small, secret doorways, tiny windows like eyes narrowed for +spying, and overhanging upper stories supported on close-set, projecting +sticks of mellow brown which meant great age. Minarets sprang up in mute +protest against the infidel, appealing to the sky. All that was left of +old Algiers tried to boast, in forced dumbness, of past glories, of +every charm the beautiful, fierce city of pirates must have possessed +before the French came to push it slowly but with deadly sureness back +from the sea. Now, silent and proud in the tragedy of failure, it stood +masked behind pretentious French houses, blocklike in ugliness, or +flauntingly ornate as many buildings in the Rue de Rivoli or Boulevard +Haussmann. + +In those low-browed dwellings which thickly enamelled the hill with a +mosaic of pink and pearly whiteness, all the way up to the old fortress +castle, the Kasbah, the true life of African Algiers hid and whispered. +The modern French front along the fine street was but a gay veneer +concealing realities, an incrusted civilization imposed upon one +incredibly ancient, unspeakably different and ever unchanging. + +Stephen remembered now that he had heard people decry Algiers, +pronouncing it spoiled and "completely Frenchified." But it occurred to +him that in this very process of spoiling, an impression of tragic +romance had been created which less "spoiled" towns might lack. Here +were clashing contrasts which, even at a glance, made the strangest +picture he had ever seen; and already he began to feel more and more +keenly, though not yet to understand, something of the magic of the +East. For this place, though not the East according to geographers, held +all the spirit of the East--was in essence truly the East. + +Before the ship lay fairly in harbour, brown men had climbed on board +from little boats, demanding to be given charge of the passengers' small +luggage, which the stewards had brought on deck, and while one of these +was arguing in bad French with Stephen, a tall, dark youth beautifully +dressed in crimson and white, wearing a fez jauntily on one side, +stepped up with a smile. "_Pardon, monsieur_," he ventured. "_Je suis le +domestique de Monsieur Caird._" And then, in richly guttural accents, he +offered the information that he was charged to look after monsieur's +baggage; that it was best to avoid _tous ces Arabes la_, and that +Monsieur Caird impatiently awaited his friend on the wharf. + +"But you--aren't you Arab?" asked Stephen, who knew no subtle +differences between those who wore the turban or fez. He saw that the +good-looking, merry-faced boy was no browner than many a Frenchman of +the south, and that his eyes were hazel; still, he did not know what he +might be, if not Arab. + +"_Je suis Kabyle, monsieur; Kabyle des hauts plateaux_," replied the +youth with pride, and a look of contempt at the shouting porters, which +was returned with interest. They darted glances of scorn at his +gold-braided vest and jacket of crimson cloth, his light blue sash, and +his enormously full white trousers, beneath which showed a strip of pale +golden leg above the short white stockings, spurning the immaculate +smartness of his livery, preferring, or pretending to prefer, their own +soiled shabbiness and freedom. The Kabyle saw these glances, but, +completely satisfied with himself, evidently attributed them to envy. + +Stephen turned towards Victoria, of whom he had lost sight for a moment. +He wished to offer the Kabyle boy's services, but already she had +accepted those of a very old Arab who looked thin and ostentatiously +pathetic. It was too late now. He saw by her face that she would refuse +help, rather than hurt the man's feelings. But she had told him the name +of the hotel where she had telegraphed to engage a room, and Stephen +meant at the instant of greeting his host, to ask if it were suitable +for a young girl travelling alone. + +He caught sight of Caird, looking up and waiting for him, before he was +able to land. It was the face he remembered; boyish, with beautiful +bright eyes, a wide forehead, and curly light hair. The expression was +more mature, but the same quaintly angelic look was there, which had +earned for Nevill the nickname of "Choir Boy" and "Wings." + +"Hullo, Legs!" called out Caird, waving his Panama. + +"Hullo, Wings!" shouted Stephen, and was suddenly tremendously glad to +see the friend he had thought of seldom during the last eight or nine +years. In another moment he was introducing Nevill to Miss Ray and +hastily asking questions concerning her hotel, while a fantastic crowd +surged round all three. Brown, skurrying men in torn bagging, the +muscles of whose bare, hairless legs seemed carved in dark oak; shining +black men whose faces were ebony under the ivory white of their turbans; +pale, patient Kabyles of the plains bent under great sacks of flour +which drained through ill-sewn seams and floated on the air in white +smoke, making every one sneeze as the crowd swarmed past. Large grey +mules roared, miniature donkeys brayed, and half-naked children laughed +or howled, and darted under the heads of the horses, or fell against the +bright bonnets of waiting motor cars. There were smart victorias, shabby +cabs, hotel omnibuses, and huge carts; and, mingling with the floating +dust of the spilt flour was a heavy perfume of spices, of incense +perhaps blown from some far-off mosque, and ambergris mixed with grains +of musk in amulets which the Arabs wore round their necks, heated by +their sweating flesh as they worked or stalked about shouting guttural +orders. There was a salt tang of seaweed, too, like an undertone, a +foundation for all the other smells; and the air was warm with a hint of +summer, a softness that was not enervating. + +As soon as the first greeting and the introduction to Miss Ray were +confusedly over, Caird cleverly extricated the newcomers from the thick +of the throng, sheltering them between his large yellow motor car and a +hotel omnibus waiting for passengers and luggage. + +"Now you're safe," he said, in the young-sounding voice which pleasantly +matched his whole personality. He was several years older than Stephen, +but looked younger, for Stephen was nearly if not quite six feet in +height, and Nevill Caird was less in stature by at least four inches. He +was very slightly built, too, and his hair was as yellow as a child's. +His face was clean-shaven, like Stephen's, and though Stephen, living +mostly in London, was brown as if tanned by the sun, Nevill, out of +doors constantly and exposed to hot southern sunshine, had the +complexion of a girl. Nevertheless, thought Victoria--sensitive and +quick in forming impressions--he somehow contrived to look a thorough +man, passionate and ready to be violently in earnest, like one who would +love or hate in a fiery way. "He would make a splendid martyr," the girl +said to herself, giving him straight look for straight look, as he began +advising her against her chosen hotel. "But I think he would want his +best friends to come and look on while he burned. Mr. Knight would chase +everybody away." + +"Don't go to any hotel," Nevill said. "Be my aunt's guest. It's a great +deal more her house than mine. There's lots of room in it--ever so much +more than we want. Just now there's no one staying with us, but often we +have a dozen or so. Sometimes my aunt invites people. Sometimes I do: +sometimes both together. Now I invite you, in her name. She's quite a +nice old lady. You'll like her. And we've got all kinds of +animals--everything, nearly, that will live in this climate, from +tortoises of Carthage, to white mice from Japan, and a baby panther from +Grand Kabylia. But they keep themselves to themselves. I promise you the +panther won't try to sit on your lap. And you'll be just in time to +christen him. We've been looking for a name." + +"I should love to christen the panther, and you are more than kind to +say your aunt would like me to visit her; but I can't possibly, thank +you very much," answered Victoria in the old-fashioned, quaintly +provincial way which somehow intensified the effect of her brilliant +prettiness. "I have come to Algiers on--on business that's very +important to me. Mr. Knight will tell you all about it. I've asked him +to tell, and he's promised to beg for your help. When you know, you'll +see that it will be better for me not to be visiting anybody. I--I would +rather be in a hotel, in spite of your great kindness." + +That settled the matter. Nevill Caird had too much tact to insist, +though he was far from being convinced. He said that his aunt, Lady +MacGregor, would write Miss Ray a note asking her to lunch next day, and +then they would have the panther-christening. Also by that time he +would know, from his friend, how his help might best be given. But in +any case he hoped that Miss Ray would allow his car to drop her at the +Hotel de la Kasbah, which had no omnibus and therefore did not send to +meet the boat. Her luggage might go up with the rest, and be left at the +hotel. + +These offers Victoria accepted gratefully; and as Caird put her into the +fine yellow car, the handsome Arab who had been on the boat looked at +her with chastened curiosity as he passed. He must have seen that she +was with the Englishman who had talked to her on board the _Charles +Quex_, and that now there was another man, who seemed to be the owner of +the large automobile. The Arab had a servant with him, who had travelled +second class on the boat, a man much darker than himself, plainly +dressed, with a smaller turban bound by cheaper cord; but he was very +clean, and as dignified as his master. Stephen scarcely noticed the two +figures. The fine-looking Arab had ceased to be of importance since he +had left the ship, and would see no more of Victoria Ray. + +The chauffeur who drove Nevill's car was an Algerian who looked as if he +might have a dash of dark blood in his veins. Beside him sat the Kabyle +servant, who, in his picturesque embroidered clothes, with his jaunty +fez, appeared amusingly out of place in the smart automobile, which +struck the last note of modernity. The chauffeur had a reckless, daring +face, with the smile of a mischievous boy; but he steered with caution +and skill through the crowded streets where open trams rushed by, filled +to overflowing with white-veiled Arab women of the lower classes, and +French girls in large hats, who sat crushed together on the same seats. +Arabs walked in the middle of the street, and disdained to quicken their +steps for motor cars and carriages. Tiny children with charming brown +faces and eyes like wells of light, darted out from the pavement, almost +in front of the motor, smiling and begging, absolutely, fearless and +engagingly impudent. It was all intensely interesting to Stephen, who +was, however, conscious enough of his past to be glad that he was able +to take so keen an interest. He had the sensation of a man who has been +partially paralyzed, and is delighted to find that he can feel a pinch. + +The Hotel de la Kasbah, which Victoria frankly admitted she had chosen +because of its low prices, was, as its name indicated, close to the +mounting of the town, near the corner of a tortuous Arab street, narrow +and shadowy despite its thick coat of whitewash. The house was kept by +an extremely fat Algerian, married to a woman who called herself +Spanish, but was more than half Moorish; and the proprietor himself +being of mixed blood, all the servants except an Algerian maid or two, +were Kabyles or Arabs. They were cheap and easy to manage, since master +and mistress had no prejudices. Stephen did not like the look of the +place, which might suit commercial travellers or parties of economical +tourists who liked to rub shoulders with native life; but for a pretty +young girl travelling alone, it seemed to him that, though it was clean +enough, nothing could be less appropriate. Victoria had made up her mind +and engaged her room, however; and so as no definite objection could be +urged, he followed Caird's example, and held his tongue. As they bade +the girl good-bye in the tiled hall (a fearful combination of all that +was worst in Arab and European taste) Nevill begged her to let them know +if she were not comfortable. "You're coming to lunch to-morrow at +half-past one," he went on, "but if there's anything meanwhile, call us +up on the telephone. We can easily find you another hotel, or a pension, +if you're determined not to visit my aunt." + +"If I need you, I promise that I will call," Victoria said. And though +she answered Caird, she looked at Stephen Knight. + +Then they left her; and Stephen became rather thoughtful. But he tried +not to let Nevill see his preoccupation. + + + + +VIII + + +As they left the arcaded streets of commercial Algiers, and drove up the +long hill towards Mustapha Superieur, where most of the best and finest +houses are, Stephen and Nevill Caird talked of what they saw, and of +Victoria Ray; not at all of Stephen himself. Nevill had asked him what +sort of trip he had had, and not another question of any sort. Stephen +was glad of this, and understood very well that it was not because his +friend was indifferent. Had he been so, he would not have invited +Stephen to make this visit. + +To speak of the past they had shared, long ago, would naturally have led +farther, and though Stephen was not sure that he mightn't some day +refer, of his own accord, to the distasteful subject of the Case and +Margot Lorenzi, he could not have borne to mention either now. + +As they passed gateways leading to handsome houses, mostly in the Arab +style, Nevill told him who lived in each one: French, English, and +American families; people connected with the government, who remained in +Algiers all the year round, or foreigners who came out every winter for +love of their beautiful villa gardens and the climate. + +"We've rather an amusing society here," he said. "And we'd defend +Algiers and each other to any outsider, though our greatest pleasure is +quarrelling among ourselves, or patching up one another's rows and +beginning again on our own account. It's great fun and keeps us from +stagnating. We also give quantities of luncheons and teas, and are sick +of going to each other's entertainments; yet we're so furious if there's +anything we're not invited to, we nearly get jaundice. I do +myself--though I hate running about promiscuously; and I spend hours +thinking up ingenious lies to squeeze out of accepting invitations I'd +have been ill with rage not to get. And there are factions which loathe +each other worse than any mere Montagus and Capulets. We have rival +parties, and vie with one another in getting hold of any royalties or +such like, that may be knocking about; but we who hate each other most, +meet at the Governor's Palace and smile sweetly if French people are +looking; if not, we snort like war-horses--only in a whisper, for we're +invariably polite." + +Stephen laughed, as he was meant to do. "What about the Arabs?" he +asked, with Victoria's errand in his mind. "Is there such a thing as +Arab society?" + +"Very little--of the kind we'd call 'society'--in Algiers. In Tunis +there's more. Much of the old Arab aristocracy has died out here, or +moved away; but there are a few left who are rich and well born. They +have their palaces outside the town; but most of the best houses have +been sold to Europeans, and their Arab owners have gone into the +interior where the Roumis don't rub elbows with them quite as +offensively as in a big French town like this. Naturally they prefer the +country. And I know a few of the great Arab Chiefs--splendid-looking +fellows who turn up gorgeously dressed for the Governor's ball every +year, and condescend to dine with me once or twice while they're staying +on to amuse themselves in Algiers." + +"Condescend!" Stephen repeated. + +"By Jove, yes. I'm sure they think it's a great condescension. And I'm +not sure you won't think so too, when you see them--as of course you +will. You must go to the Governor's ball with me, even if you can't be +bothered going anywhere else. It's a magnificent spectacle. And I get on +pretty well among the Arabs, as I've learned to speak their lingo a bit. +Not that I've worried. But nearly nine years is a long time." + +This was Stephen's chance to tell what he chose to tell of his brief +acquaintance with Victoria Ray, and of the mission which had brought her +to Algiers. Somehow, as he unfolded the story he had heard from the girl +on board ship, the scent of orange blossoms, luscious-sweet in this +region of gardens, connected itself in his mind with thoughts of the +beautiful woman who had married Cassim ben Halim, and disappeared from +the world she had known. He imagined her in an Arab garden where orange +blossoms fell like snow, eating her heart out for the far country and +friends she would never see again, rebelling against a monstrous tyranny +which imprisoned her in this place of perfumes and high white walls. Or +perhaps the scented petals were falling now upon her grave. + +"Cassim ben Halim--Captain Cassim ben Halim," Nevill repeated. "Seems +familiar somehow, as if I'd heard the name; but most of these Arab names +have a kind of family likeness in our ears. Either he's a person of no +particular importance, or else he must have left Algiers before my Uncle +James Caird died--the man who willed me his house, you know--brother of +Aunt Caroline MacGregor who lives with me now. If I've ever heard +anything about Ben Halim, whatever it is has slipped my mind. But I'll +do my best to find out something." + +"Miss Ray believes he was of importance," said Stephen. "She oughtn't to +have much trouble getting on to his trail, should you think?" + +Nevill looked doubtful. "Well, if he'd wanted her on his trail, she'd +never have been off it. If he didn't, and doesn't, care to be got at, +finding him mayn't be as simple as it would be in Europe, where you can +always resort to detectives if worst comes to worst." + +"Can't you here?" asked Stephen. + +"Well, there's the French police, of course, and the military in the +south. But they don't care to interfere with the private affairs of +Arabs, if no crime's been committed--and they wouldn't do anything in +such a case, I should think, in the way of looking up Ben Halim, though +they'd tell anything they might happen to know already, I +suppose--unless they thought best to keep silence with foreigners." + +"There must be people in Algiers who'd remember seeing such a beautiful +creature as Ben Halim's wife, even if her husband whisked her away nine +years ago," Stephen argued. + +"I wonder?" murmured Caird, with an emphasis which struck his friend as +odd. + +"What do you mean?" asked Stephen. + +"I mean, I wonder if any one in Algiers ever saw her at all? Ben Halim +was in the French Army; but he was a Mussulman. Paris and Algiers are a +long cry, one from the other--if you're an Arab." + +"Jove! You don't think----" + +"You've spotted it. That's what I do think." + +"That he shut her up?" + +"That he forced her to live the life of a Mussulman woman. Why, what +else could you expect, when you come to look at it?" + +"But an American girl----" + +"A woman who marries gives herself to her husband's nation as well as to +her husband, doesn't she--especially if he's an Arab? Only, thank God, +it happens to very few European girls, except of the class that doesn't +so much matter. Think of it. This Ben Halim, a Spahi officer, falls dead +in love with a girl when he's on leave in Paris. He feels he must have +her. He can get her only by marriage. They're as subtle as the devil, +even the best of them, these Arabs. He'd have to promise the girl +anything she wanted, or lose her. Naturally he wouldn't give it away +that he meant to veil her and clap her into a harem the minute he got +her home. If he'd even hinted anything of that sort she wouldn't have +stirred a step. But for a Mussulman to let his wife walk the streets +unveiled, like a Roumia, or some woman of easy virtue, would be a +horrible disgrace to them both. His relations and friends would cut +him, and hoot her at sight. The more he loved his wife, the less likely +he'd be to keep a promise, made in a different world. It wouldn't be +human nature--Arab human nature--to keep it. Besides, they have the +jealousy of the tiger, these Eastern fellows. It's a madness." + +"Then perhaps no one ever knew, out here, that the man had brought home +a foreign wife?" + +"Almost surely not. No European, that is. Arabs might know--through +their women. There's nothing that passes which they can't find out. How +they do it, who can tell? Their ways are as mysterious as everything +else here, except the lives of us _hiverneurs_, who don't even try very +hard to hide our own scandals when we have any. But no Arab could be +persuaded or forced to betray another Arab to a European, unless for +motives of revenge. For love or hate, they stand together. In virtues +and vices they're absolutely different from Europeans. And if Ben Halim +doesn't want anybody, not excepting his wife's sister, to get news of +his wife, why, it may be difficult to get it, that's all I say. Going to +Miss Ray's hotel, you could see something of that Arab street close by, +on the fringe of the Kasbah--which is what they call, not the old fort +alone, but the whole Arab town." + +"Yes. I saw the queer white houses, huddled together, that looked like +blank walls only broken by a door, with here and there a barred window." + +"Well, what I mean is that it's almost impossible for any European to +learn what goes on behind those blank walls and those little square +holes, in respectable houses. But we'll hope for the best. And here we +are at my place. I'm rather proud of it." + +They had come to the arched gateway of a white-walled garden. The sun +had set fire to the gold of some sunken Arab lettering over the central +arch, so that each broken line darted forth its separate flame. "Djenan +el Djouad; House of the Nobleman," Nevill translated. "It was built for +the great confidant of a particularly wicked old Dey of Algiers, in +sixteen hundred and something, and the place had been allowed to fall +into ruin when my uncle bought it, about twenty or thirty years ago. +There was a romance in his life, I believe. He came to Algiers for his +health, as a young man, meaning to stay only a few months, but fell in +love with a face which he happened to catch a glimpse of, under a veil +that disarranged itself--on purpose or by accident--in a carriage +belonging to a rich Arab. Because of that face he remained in Algiers, +bought this house, spent years in restoring it, exactly in Arab style, +and making a beautiful garden out of his fifteen or sixteen acres. +Whether he ever got to know the owner of the face, history doesn't +state: my uncle was as secretive as he was romantic. But odd things have +been said. I expect they're still said, behind my back. And they're +borne out, I'm bound to confess, by the beauty of the decorations in +that part of the house intended for the ladies. Whether it was ever +occupied in Uncle James's day, nobody can tell; but Aunt Caroline, his +sister, who has the best rooms there now, vows she's seen the ghost of a +lovely being, all spangled gauze and jewels, with silver khal-khal, or +anklets, that tinkle as she moves. I assure my aunt it must be a dream, +come to punish her for indulging in two goes of her favourite sweet at +dinner; but in my heart I shouldn't wonder if it's true. The whole lot +of us, in our family, are romantic and superstitious. We can't help it +and don't want to help it, though we suffer for our foolishness often +enough, goodness knows." + +The scent of orange blossoms and acacias was poignantly sweet, as the +car passed an Arab lodge, and wound slowly up an avenue cut through a +grove of blossoming trees. The utmost pains had been taken in the laying +out of the garden, but an effect of carelessness had been preserved. The +place seemed a fairy tangle of white and purple lilacs, gold-dripping +laburnums, acacias with festoons of pearl, roses looping from orange +tree to mimosa, and a hundred gorgeous tropical flowers like painted +birds and butterflies. In shadowed nooks under dark cypresses, glimmered +arum lilies, sparkling with the diamond dew that sprayed from carved +marble fountains, centuries old; and low seats of marble mosaiced with +rare tiles stood under magnolia trees or arbours of wistaria. Giant +cypresses, tall and dark as a band of Genii, marched in double line on +either side the avenue as it straightened and turned towards the house. + +White in the distance where that black procession halted, glittered the +old Arab palace, built in one long facade, and other facades smaller, +less regular, looking like so many huge blocks of marble grouped +together. Over one of these blocks fell a crimson torrent of +bougainvillaea; another was veiled with white roses and purple clematis; +a third was showered with the gold of some strange tropical creeper that +Stephen did not know. + +On the roof of brown and dark-green tiles, the sunlight poured, making +each tile lustrous as the scale of a serpent, and all along the edge +grew tiny flowers and grasses, springing out of interstices to wave +filmy threads of pink and gold. + +The principal facade was blank as a wall, save for a few small, +mysterious windows, barred with _grilles_ of iron, green with age; but +on the other facades were quaint recessed balconies, under projecting +roofs supported with beams of cedar; and the door, presently opened by +an Arab servant, was very old too, made of oak covered with an armour of +greenish copper. + +Even when it had closed behind Stephen and Nevill, they were not yet in +the house, but in a large court with a ceiling of carved and painted +cedar-wood supported by marble pillars of extreme lightness and grace. +In front, this court was open, looking on to an inner garden with a +fountain more delicate of design than those Stephen had seen outside. +The three walls of the court were patterned all over with ancient tiles +rare as some faded Spanish brocade in a cathedral, and along their +length ran low seats where in old days sat slaves awaiting orders from +their master. + +Out from this court they walked through a kind of pillared cloister, and +the facades of the house as they passed on, were beautiful in pure +simplicity of line; so white, they seemed to turn the sun on them to +moonlight; so jewelled with bands and plaques of lovely tiles, that they +were like snowy shoulders of a woman hung with necklaces of precious +stones. + +By the time they had left this cloistered garden and threaded their way +indoors, Stephen had lost his bearings completely. He was convinced +that, once in, he should never find the clue which would guide him out +again as he had come. There was another garden court, much larger than +the first, and this, Nevill said, had been the garden of the +palace-women in days of old. It had a fountain whose black marble basin +was fringed with papyrus, and filled with pink, blue, and white water +lilies, from under whose flat dark pads glimmered the backs of darting +goldfish. Three walls of this garden had low doorways with cunningly +carved doors of cedar-wood, and small, iron-barred windows festooned +with the biggest roses Stephen had ever seen; but the fourth side was +formed by an immense loggia with a dais at the back, and an open-fronted +room at either end. Walls and floor of this loggia were tiled, and +barred windows on either side the dais looked far down over a world +which seemed all sky, sea, and garden. One of the little open rooms was +hung with Persian prayer-rugs which Stephen thought were like fading +rainbows seen through a mist; and there were queer old tinselled +pictures such as good Moslems love: Borak, the steed of the prophet, +half winged woman, half horse; the Prophet's uncle engaged in mighty +battle; the Prophet's favourite daughter, Fatma-Zora, daintily eating +her sacred breakfast. The other room at the opposite end of the tiled +loggia was fitted up, Moorish fashion, for the making of coffee; walls +and ceiling carved, gilded, and painted in brilliant colours; the floor +tiled with the charming "windmill" pattern; many shelves adorned with +countless little coffee cups in silver standards; with copper and brass +utensils of all imaginable kinds; and in a gilded recess was a curious +apparatus for boiling water. + +Nevill Caird displayed his treasures and the beauties of his domain with +an ingenuous pride, delighted at every word of appreciation, stopping +Stephen here and there to point out something of which he was fond, +explaining the value of certain old tiles from the point of view of an +expert, and gladly lingering to answer every question. Some day, he +said, he was going to write a book about tiles, a book which should have +wonderful illustrations. + +"Do you really like it all?" he asked, as Stephen looked out from a +barred window of the loggia, over the wide view. + +"I never even imagined anything so fantastically beautiful," Stephen +returned warmly. "You ought to be happy, even if you could never go +outside your own house and gardens. There's nothing to touch this on the +Riviera. It's a palace of the 'Arabian Nights.'" + +"There was a palace in the 'Arabian Nights,' if you remember," said +Nevill, "where everything was perfect except one thing. Its master was +miserable because he couldn't get that thing." + +"The Roc's egg, of Aladdin's palace," Stephen recalled. "Do you lack a +Roc's egg for yours?" + +"The equivalent," said Nevill. "The one thing which I want, and don't +seem likely to get, though I haven't quite given up hope. It's a woman. +And she doesn't want me--or my palace. I'll tell you about her some +day--soon, perhaps. And maybe you'll see her. But never mind my troubles +for the moment. I can put them out of my mind with comparative ease, in +the pleasure of welcoming you. Now we'll go indoors. You haven't an idea +what the house is like yet. By the way, I nearly forgot this chap." + +He put his hand into the pocket of his grey flannel coat, and pulled out +a green frog, wrapped in a lettuce leaf which was inadequate as a +garment, but a perfect match as to colour. + +"I bought him on the way down to meet you," Nevill explained. "Saw an +Arab kid trying to sell him in the street, poor little beast. Thought it +would be a friendly act to bring him here to join my happy family, which +is large and varied. I don't remember anybody living in this fountain +who's likely to eat him, or be eaten by him." + +Down went the frog on the wide rim of the marble fountain, and sat +there, meditatively, with a dawning expression of contentment, so +Stephen fancied, on his green face. He looked, Stephen thought, as if he +were trying to forget a troubled past, and as if his new home with all +its unexplored mysteries of reeds and lily pads were wondrously to his +liking. + +"I wish you'd name that person after me," said Stephen. "You're being +very good to both of us,--taking us out of Hades into Paradise." + +"Come along in," was Nevill Caird's only answer. But he walked into the +house with his hand on Stephen's shoulder. + + + + +IX + + +Djenan El Djouad was a labyrinth. Stephen Knight abandoned all attempt +at keeping a mental clue before he had reached the drawing-room. Nevill +led him there by way of many tile-paved corridors, lit by hanging Arab +lamps suspended from roofs of arabesqued cedar-wood. They went up or +down marble steps, into quaint little alcoved rooms furnished with +nothing but divans and low tables or dower chests crusted with Syrian +mother-o'-pearl, on into rooms where brocade-hung walls were covered +with Arab musical instruments of all kinds, or long-necked Moorish guns +patterned with silver, ivory and coral. Here and there as they passed, +were garden glimpses, between embroidered curtains, looking through +windows always barred with greenish wrought iron, so old as to be rarely +beautiful; and some small windows had no curtains, but were thickly +frilled outside with the violent crimson of bougainvillaea, or fringed +with tassels of wistaria, loop on loop of amethysts. High above these +windows, which framed flowery pictures, were other windows, little and +jewelled, mere plaques of filigree workmanship, fine as carved ivory or +silver lace, and lined with coloured glass of delicate tints--gold, +lilac, and pale rose. + +"Here's the drawing-room at last," said Nevill, "and here's my aunt." + +"If you can call it a drawing-room," objected a gently complaining +voice. "A filled-in court, where ghosts of murdered slaves come and +moan, while you have your tea. How do you do, Mr. Knight? I'm delighted +you've taken pity on Nevill. He's never so happy as when he's showing a +new friend the house--except when he's obtained an old tile, or a new +monster of some sort, for his collection." + +"In me, he kills two birds with one stone," said Stephen, smiling, as he +shook the hand of a tiny lady who looked rather like an elderly fairy +disguised in a cap, that could have been born nowhere except north of +the Tweed. + +She had delicate little features which had been made to fit a pretty +child, and had never grown up. Her hair, of a reddish yellow, had faded +to a yellowish white, which by a faint fillip of the imagination could +be made to seem golden in some lights. Her eyes were large and round, +and of a china-blue colour; her eyebrows so arched as to give her an +expression of perpetual surprise, her forehead full, her cheekbones high +and pink, her small, pursed mouth of the kind which prefers to hide a +sense of humour, and then astonish people with it when they have ceased +to believe in its existence. If her complexion had not been netted all +over with a lacework of infinitesimal wrinkles, she would have looked +like a little girl dressed up for an old lady. She had a ribbon of the +MacGregor tartan on her cap, and an uncompromising cairngorm fastened +her fichu of valuable point lace. A figure more out of place than hers +in an ancient Arab palace of Algiers it would be impossible to conceive; +yet it was a pleasant figure to see there, and Stephen knew that he was +going to like Nevill's Aunt Caroline, Lady MacGregor. + +"I wish you looked more of a monster than you do," said she, "because +you might frighten the ghosts. We're eaten up with them, the way some +folk in old houses are with rats. Nearly all of them slaves, too, so +there's no variety, except that some are female. I've given you the room +with the prettiest ghosts, but if you're not the seventh son of a +seventh son, you may not see or even hear them." + +"Does Nevill see or hear?" asked Stephen. + +"As much as Aunt Caroline does, if the truth were known," answered her +nephew. "Only she couldn't be happy unless she had a grievance. Here she +wanted to choose an original and suitable one, so she hit upon +ghosts--the ghosts of slaves murdered by a cruel master." + +"Hit upon them, indeed!" she echoed indignantly, making her knitting +needles click, a movement which displayed her pretty, miniature hands, +half hidden in lace ruffles. "As if they hadn't gone through enough, in +flesh and blood, poor creatures! Some of them may have been my +countrymen, captured on the seas by those horrid pirates." + +"Who was the cruel master?" Stephen wanted to know, still smiling, +because it was almost impossible not to smile at Lady MacGregor. + +"Not my brother James, I'm glad to say," she quickly replied. "It was +about three hundred years before his time. And though he had some quite +irritating tricks as a young man, murdering slaves wasn't one of them. +To be sure, they tell strange tales of him here, as I make no doubt +Nevill has already mentioned, because he's immoral enough to be proud of +what he calls the romance. I mean the story of the beautiful Arab lady, +whom James is supposed to have stolen from her rightful husband--that +is, if an Arab can be rightful--and hidden in this house far many a +year, till at last she died, after the search for her had long, long +gone by." + +"You're as proud of the romance as I am, or you wouldn't be at such +pains to repeat it to everybody, pretending to think I've already told +it," said Nevill. "But I'm going to show Knight his quarters. Pretty or +plain, there are no ghosts here that will hurt him. And then we'll have +lunch, for which he's starving." + +Stephen's quarters consisted of a bedroom (furnished in Tunisian style, +with an imposing four-poster of green and gold ornamented with a gilded, +sacred cow under a crown) and a sitting room gay with colourful +decorations imported from Morocco. These rooms opened upon a wide +covered balcony screened by a carved wooden lattice and from the +balcony Stephen could look over hills, near and far, dotted with white +villas that lay like resting gulls on the green wave of verdure which +cascaded down to join the blue waves of the sea. Up from that far +blueness drifted on the wind a murmurous sound like AEolian harps, +mingled with the tinkle of fairy mandolins in the fountain of the court +below. + +At luncheon, in a dining-room that opened on to a white-walled garden +where only lilies of all kinds grew, to Stephen's amazement two +Highlanders in kilts stood behind his hostess's chair. They were young, +exactly alike, and of precisely the same height, six foot two at least. +"No, you are not dreaming them, Mr. Knight," announced Lady MacGregor, +evidently delighted with the admiring surprise in the look he bestowed +upon these images. "And you're quite right. They _are_ twins. I may as +well break it to you now, as I had to do to Nevill when he invited me to +come to Algiers and straighten out his housekeeping accounts: they play +Ruth to my Naomi. Whither I go, they go also, even to the door of the +bathroom, where they carry my towels, for I have no other maid than +they." + +Stephen could not help glancing at the two giants, expecting to see some +involuntary quiver of eye or nostril answer electrically to this frank +revelation of their office; but their countenances (impossible to think +of as mere faces) remained expressionless as if carved in stone. Lady +MacGregor took nothing from Mohammed and the other Kabyle servant who +waited on Nevill and Stephen. Everything for her was handed to one of +the Highlanders, who gravely passed on the dish to their mistress. If +she refused a _plat_ favoured by them, instead of carrying it away, the +giants in kilts silently but firmly pressed it upon her acceptance, +until in self-defence she seized some of the undesired food, and ate it +under their watchful eyes. + +During the meal a sudden thunderstorm boiled up out of the sea: the sky +became a vast brazen bowl, and a strange, coppery twilight bleached the +lilies in the white garden to a supernatural pallor. The room, with its +embroidered Moorish hangings, darkened to a rich gloom; but Mohammed +touched a button on the wall, and all the quaint old Arab lamps that +stood in corners, or hung suspended from the cedar roof, flashed out +cunningly concealed electric lights. At the same moment, there began a +great howling outside the door. Mohammed sprang to open it, and in +poured a wave of animals. Stephen hastily counted five dogs; a collie, a +white deerhound, a Dandy Dinmont, and a mother and child of unknown +race, which he afterwards learned was Kabyle, a breed beloved of +mountain men and desert tent-dwellers. In front of the dogs bounded a +small African monkey, who leaped to the back of Nevill's chair, and +behind them toddled with awkward grace a baby panther, a mere ball of +yellow silk. + +"They don't like the thunder, poor dears," Nevill apologised. "That's +why they howled, for they're wonderfully polite people really. They +always come at the end of lunch. Aunt Caroline won't invite them to +dinner, because then she sometimes wears fluffy things about which she +has a foolish vanity. The collie is Angus's. The deerhound is Hamish's. +The dandy is hers. The two Kabyles are Mohammed's, and the flotsam and +jetsam is mine. There's a great deal more of it out of doors, but this +is all that gets into the dining-room except by accident. And I expect +you think we are a very queer family." + +Stephen did think so, for never till now had he been a member of a +household where each of the servants was allowed to possess any animals +he chose, and flood the house with them. But the queerer he thought the +family, the better he found himself liking it. He felt a boy let out of +school after weeks of disgrace and punishment, and, strangely enough, +this old Arab palace, in a city of North Africa seemed more like home to +him than his London flat had seemed of late. + +When Lady MacGregor rose and said she must write the note she had +promised Nevill to send Miss Ray, Stephen longed to kiss her. This form +of worship not being permitted, he tried to open the dining-room door +for her to go out, but Angus and Hamish glared upon him so +superciliously that he retired in their favour. + +The luncheon hour, even when cloaked in the mysterious gloom of a +thunderstorm, is no time for confidences; besides, it is not conducive +to sustained conversation to find a cold nose in your palm, a baby claw +up your sleeve, or a monkey hand, like a bit of leather, thrust down +your collar or into your ear. But after dinner that night, when Lady +MacGregor had trailed her maligned "fluffiness" away to the +drawing-room, and Nevill and Stephen had strolled with their cigarettes +out into the unearthly whiteness of the lily garden, Stephen felt that +something was coming. He had known that Nevill had a story to tell, by +and by, and though he knew also that he would be asked no questions in +return, now or ever, it occurred to him that Nevill's offer of +confidences was perhaps meant to open a door, if he chose to enter by +it. He was not sure whether he would so choose or not, but the fact that +he was not sure meant a change in him. A few days ago, even this +morning, before meeting Nevill, he would have been certain that he had +nothing intimate to tell Caird or any one else. + +They strolled along the paths among the lilies. Moon and sky and flowers +and white-gravelled paths were all silver. Stephen thought of Victoria +Ray, and wished she could see this garden. He thought, too, that if she +would only dance here among the lilies in the moonlight, it would be a +vision of exquisite loveliness. + +"For a moment white, then gone forever," he caught himself repeating +again. + +It was odd how, whenever he saw anything very white and of dazzling +purity, he thought of this dancing girl. He wondered what sort of woman +it was whose image came to Nevill's mind, in the garden of lilies that +smelt so heavenly sweet under the moon. He supposed there must always be +some woman whose image was suggested to every man by all that was +fairest in nature. Margot Lorenzi was the woman whose image he must keep +in his mind, if he wanted to know any faint imitation of happiness in +future. She would like this moonlit garden, and in one way it would suit +her as a background. Yet she did not seem quite in the picture, despite +her beauty. The perfume she loved would not blend with the perfume of +the lilies. + +"Aunt Caroline's rather a dear, isn't she?" remarked Nevill, apropos of +nothing. + +"She's a jewel," said Stephen. + +"Yet she isn't the immediate jewel of my soul. I'm hard hit, Stephen, +and the girl won't have me. She's poorer than any church or other mouse +I ever met, yet she turns up her little French nose at me and my palace, +and all the cheese I should like to see her nibble--my cheese." + +"Her French nose?" echoed Stephen. + +"Yes. Her nose and the rest of her's French, especially her dimples. You +never saw such dimples. Miss Ray's prettier than my girl, I suppose. But +I think mine's beyond anything. Only she isn't and won't be mine that's +the worst of it." + +"Where is she?" Stephen asked. "In Algiers?" + +"No such luck. But her sister is. I'll take you to see the sister +to-morrow morning. She may be able to tell us something to help Miss +Ray. She keeps a curiosity-shop, and is a connoisseur of Eastern +antiquities, as well as a great character in Algiers, quite a sort of +queen in her way--a quaint way. All the visiting Royalties of every +nation drop in and spend hours in her place. She has a good many Arab +acquaintances, too. Even rich chiefs come to sell, or buy things from +her, and respect her immensely. But my girl--I like to call her that--is +away off in the west, close to the border of Morocco, at Tlemcen. I +wish you were interested in mosques, and I'd take you there. People who +care for such things sometimes travel from London or Paris just to see +the mosque of Sidi Bou-Medine and a certain Mirab. But I suppose you +haven't any fad of that kind, eh?" + +"I feel it coming on," said Stephen. + +"Good chap! Do encourage the feeling. I'll lend you books, lots of +books, on the subject. She's 'malema,' or mistress of an _ecole +indigene_ for embroideries and carpets, at Tlemcen. Heaven knows how few +francs a month she earns by the job which takes all her time and life, +yet she thinks herself lucky to get it. And she won't marry me." + +"Surely she must love you, at least a little, if you care so much for +her," Stephen tried to console his friend. + +"Oh, she does, a lot," replied Nevill with infinite satisfaction. "But, +you see--well, you see, her family wasn't up to much from a social point +of view--such rot! The mother came out from Paris to be a nursery +governess, when she was quite young, but she was too pretty for that +position. She had various but virtuous adventures, and married a +non-com. in the Chasseurs d'Afrique, who chucked the army for her. The +two kept a little hotel. Then the husband died, while the girls were +children. The mother gave up the hotel and took in sewing. Everybody was +interested in the family, they were so clever and exceptional, and +people helped in the girls' education. When their mother became an +invalid, the two contrived to keep her and themselves, though Jeanne was +only eighteen then, and Josette, my girl, fifteen. She's been dead now +for some years--the mother. Josette is nearly twenty-four. Do you see +why she won't marry me? I'm hanged if I do." + +"I can see what her feeling is," Stephen said. "She must be a ripping +girl." + +"I should say she is!--though as obstinate as the devil. Sometimes I +could shake her and box her ears. I haven't seen her for months now. +She wouldn't like me to go to Tlemcen--unless I had a friend with me, +and a good excuse. I didn't know it could hurt so much to be in love, +though I was in once before, and it hurt too, rather. But that was +nothing. For the woman had no soul or mind, only her beauty, and an +unscrupulous sort of ambition which made her want to marry me when my +uncle left me his money. She'd refused to do anything more serious than +flirt and reduce me to misery, until she thought I could give her what +she wanted. I'd imagined myself horribly in love, until her sudden +willingness to take me showed me once for all what she was. Even so, I +couldn't cure the habit of love at first; but I had just sense enough to +keep out of England, where she was, for fear I should lose my head and +marry her. My cure was rather slow, but it was sure; and now I know that +what I thought was love then wasn't love at all. The real thing's as +different as--as--a modern Algerian tile is from an old Moorish one. I +can't say anything stronger! That's why I cut England, to begin with, +and after a while my interests were more identified with France. +Sometimes I go to Paris in the summer--or to a little place in Dauphiny. +But I haven't been back to England for eight years. Algeria holds all my +heart. In Tlemcen is my girl. Here are my garden and my beasts. Now you +have my history since Oxford days." + +"You know something of _my_ history through the papers," Stephen blurted +out with a desperate defiance of his own reserve. + +"Not much of your real history, I think. Papers lie, and people +misunderstand. Don't talk of yourself unless you really want to. But I +say, look here, Stephen. That woman I thought I cared for--may I tell +you what she was like? Somehow I want you to know. Don't think me a cad. +I don't mean to be. But--may I tell?" + +"Of course. Why not?" + +"She was dark and awfully handsome, and though she wasn't an actress, +she would have made a splendid one. She thought only of herself. +I--there was a picture in a London paper lately which reminded me of +her--the picture of a young lady you know--or think you know. +They--those two--are of the same type. I don't believe either could make +a man happy." + +Stephen laughed--a short, embarrassed laugh. "Oh, happy!" he echoed. +"After twenty-five we learn not to expect happiness. But--thank you +for--everything, and especially for inviting me here." He knew now why +it had occurred to Nevill to ask him to Algiers. Nevill had seen +Margot's picture. In silence they walked towards the open door of the +dining-room. Somewhere not far away the Kabyle dogs were barking +shrilly. In the distance rose and fell muffled notes of strange passion +and fierceness, an Arab tom-tom beating like the heart of the conquered +East, away in the old town. + +Stephen's short-lived gaiety was struck out of his soul. + +"For a moment white, then gone forever." + +He pushed the haunting words out of his mind. He did not want them to +have any meaning. They had no meaning. + +It seemed to him that the perfume of the lilies was too heavy on the +air. + + + + +X + + +A white peacock, screaming in the garden under Stephen's balcony, waked +him early, and dreamily his thoughts strayed towards the events planned +for the day. + +They were to make a morning call on Mademoiselle Soubise in her +curiosity-shop, and ask about Ben Halim, the husband of Saidee Ray. +Victoria was coming to luncheon, for she had accepted Lady MacGregor's +invitation. Her note had been brought in last night, while he and Nevill +walked in the garden. Afterwards Lady MacGregor had shown it to them +both. The girl wrote an interesting hand, full of individuality, and +expressive of decision. Perhaps on her arrival they might have something +to tell her. + +This hope shot Stephen out of bed, though it was only seven, and +breakfast was not until nine. He had a cold bath in the private +bathroom, which was one of Nevill's modern improvements in the old +house, and by and by went for a walk, thinking to have the gardens to +himself. But Nevill was there, cutting flowers and whistling tunefully. +It was to him that the jewelled white peacock had screamed a greeting. + +"I like cutting the flowers myself," said he. "I don't think they care +to have others touch them, any more than a cow likes to be milked by a +stranger. Of course they feel the difference! Why, they know when I +praise them, and preen themselves. They curl up when they're scolded, or +not noticed, just as I do when people aren't nice to me. Every day I +send off a box of my best roses to Tlemcen. _She_ allows me to do that." + +Lady MacGregor did not appear at breakfast, which was served on a +marble loggia; and by half-past nine Stephen and Nevill were out in the +wide, tree-shaded streets, where masses of bougainvillaea and clematis +boiled over high garden-walls of old plaster, once white, now streaked +with gold and rose, and green moss and lichen. After the thunderstorm of +the day before, the white dust was laid, and the air was pure with a +curious sparkling quality. + +They passed the museum in its garden, and turned a corner. + +"There's Mademoiselle Soubise's shop," said Nevill. + +It was a low white building, and had evidently been a private house at +one time. The only change made had been in the shape and size of the +windows on the ground-floor; and these were protected by green +_persiennes_, fanned out like awnings, although the house was shaded by +magnolia trees. There was no name over the open door, but the word +"_Antiquites_" was painted in large black letters on the house-wall. + +Under the green blinds was a glitter of jewels displayed among brocades +and a tangle of old lace, or on embossed silver trays; and walking in at +the door, out of the shadowy dusk, a blaze of colour leaped to the eyes. +Not a soul was there, unless some one hid and spied behind a carved and +gilded Tunisian bed or a marqueterie screen from Bagdad. Yet there was a +collection to tempt a thief, and apparently no precaution taken against +invaders. + +Delicate rugs, soft as clouds and tinted like opals, were heaped in +piles on the tiled floor; rugs from Ispahan, rugs from Mecca; old rugs +from the sacred city of Kairouan, such as are made no more there or +anywhere. The walls were hung with Tunisian silks and embroidered stuffs +from the homes of Jewish families, where they had served as screens for +talismanic words too sacred to be seen by common eyes; and there was +drapery of ancient banners, Tyrian-dyed, whose gold or silver fringes +had been stained with blood, in battle. From the ceiling were suspended +antique lamps, and chandeliers of rare rock crystal, whose prisms gave +out rose and violet sparks as they caught the light. + +On shelves and inlaid tables were beggars' bowls of strange dark woods, +carried across deserts by wandering mendicants of centuries ago, the +chains, which had hung from throats long since crumbled into dust, +adorned with lucky rings and fetishes to preserve the wearer from evil +spirits. There were other bowls, of crystal pure as full-blown bubbles, +bowls which would ring at a tap like clear bells of silver. Some of +these were guiltless of ornament, some were graven with gold flowers, +but all seemed full of lights reflected from tilted, pearl-framed +mirrors, and from the swinging prisms of chandeliers. + +Chafing-dishes of bronze at which vanished hands had been warmed, stood +beside chased brazen ewers made to pour rose-water over henna-stained +fingers, after Arab dinners, eaten without knives or forks. In the +depths of half-open drawers glimmered precious stones, strangely cut +pink diamonds, big square turquoises and emeralds, strings of creamy +pearls, and hands of Fatma, a different jewel dangling from each +finger-tip. + +The floor was encumbered, not only with rugs, but with heaps of +priceless tiles, Persian and Moorish, of the best periods and patterns, +taken from the walls of Arab palaces now destroyed; huge brass salvers; +silver anklets, and chain armour, sabres captured from Crusaders, and +old illuminated Korans. It was difficult to move without knocking +something down, and one stepped delicately in narrow aisles, to avoid +islands of piled, precious objects. Everywhere the eye was drawn to +glittering points, or patches of splendid colour; so that at a glance +the large, dusky room was like a temple decorated with mosaics. There +was nothing that did not suggest the East, city or desert, or mountain +village of the Kabyles; and the air was loaded with Eastern perfumes, +ambergris and musk that blended with each other, and the scent of the +black incense sticks brought by caravan from Tombouctou. + +"Why doesn't some one come in and steal?" asked Stephen, in surprise at +seeing the place deserted. + +"Because there's hardly a thief in Algiers mean enough to steal from +Jeanne Soubise, who gives half she has to the poor. And because, if +there were one so mean, Haroun el Raschid would soon let her know what +was going on," said Nevill. "His latest disguise is that of a parrot, +but he may change it for something else at any moment." + +Then Stephen saw, suspended among the crystal chandeliers and antique +lamps, a brass cage, shaped like a domed palace. In this cage, in a +coral ring, sat a grey parrot who regarded the two young men with +jewel-eyes that seemed to know all good and evil. + +"He yells if any stranger comes into the shop when his mistress is out," +Nevill explained. "I am an humble friend of His Majesty's, so he says +nothing. I gave him to Mademoiselle Jeanne." + +Perhaps their voices had been heard. At all events, there was a light +tapping of heels on unseen stairs, and from behind a red-curtained +doorway appeared a tall young woman, dressed in black. + +She was robust as well as tall, and Stephen thought she looked rather +like a handsome Spanish boy; yet she was feminine enough in her +outlines. It was the frank and daring expression of her face and great +black eyes which gave the look of boyishness. She had thick, straight +eyebrows, a large mouth that was beautiful when she smiled, to show +perfect teeth between the red lips that had a faint, shadowy line of +down above them. + +"Ah, Monsieur Nevill Caird!" she exclaimed, in English, with a full +voice, and a French accent that was pretty, though not Parisian. She +smiled at Stephen, too, without waiting to be introduced. "Monsieur +Caird is always kind in bringing his friends to me, and I am always glad +to see them." + +"I've brought Mr. Knight, not to buy, but to ask a favour," said Nevill. + +"To buy, too," Stephen hastened to cut in. "I see things I can't live +without. I must own them." + +"Well, don't set your heart on anything Mademoiselle Soubise won't sell. +She bought everything with the idea of selling it, she admits, but now +she's got them here, there are some things she can't make up her mind to +part with at any price." + +"Oh, only a few tiles--and some Jewish embroideries--and bits of +jewellery--and a rug or two or a piece of pottery--and maybe _one_ copy +of the Koran, and a beggar's bowl," Jeanne Soubise excused herself, +hastily adding more and more to her list of exceptions, as her eyes +roved wistfully among her treasures. "Oh, and an amphora just dug up +near Timgad, with Roman oil still inside. It's a beauty. Will you come +down to the cellar to look at it?" + +Nevill thanked her, and reserved the pleasure for another time. Then he +inquired what was the latest news from Mademoiselle Josette at Tlemcen; +and when he heard that there was nothing new, he told the lady of the +curiosity-shop what was the object of the early visit. + +"But of course I have heard of Ben Halim, and I have seen him, too," she +said; "only it was long ago--maybe ten years. Yes, I could not have been +seventeen. It is already long that he went away from Algiers, no one +knows where. Now he is said to be dead. Have you not heard of him, +Monsieur Nevill? You must have. He lived at Djenan el Hadj; close to the +Jardin d'Essai. You know the place well. The new rich Americans, Madame +Jewett and her daughter, have it now. There was a scandal about Ben +Halim, and then he went away--a scandal that was mysterious, because +every one talked about it, yet no one knew what had happened--never +surely at least." + +"I told you Mademoiselle would be able to give you information!" +exclaimed Nevill. "I felt sure the name was familiar, somehow, though I +couldn't think how. One hears so many Arab names, and generally there's +a 'Ben' or a 'Bou' something or other, if from the South." + +"Flan-ben-Flan," laughed Jeanne Soubise. "That means," she explained, +turning to Stephen, "So and So, son of So and So. It is strange, a young +lady came inquiring about Ben Halim only yesterday afternoon; such a +pretty young lady. I was surprised, but she said they had told her in +her hotel I knew everything that had ever happened in Algiers. A nice +compliment to my age. I am not so old as that! But," she added, with a +frank smile, "all the hotels and guides expect commissions when they +send people to me. I suppose they thought this pretty girl fair game, +and that once in my place she would buy. So she did. She bought a string +of amber beads. She liked the gold light in them, and said it seemed as +if she might see a vision of something or some one she wanted to find, +if she gazed through the beads. Many a good Mussulman has said his +prayers with them, if that could bring her luck." + +The two young men looked at one another. + +"Did she tell you her name?" Stephen asked. + +"But yes; she was Mees Ray, and named for the dead Queen Victoria of +England, I suppose, though American. And she told me other things. Her +sister, she said, married a Captain Ben Halim of the Spahis, and came +with him to Algiers, nearly ten years ago. Now she is looking for the +sister." + +"We've met Miss Ray," said Nevill. "It's on her business we've come. We +didn't know she'd already been to you, but we might have guessed some +one would send her. She didn't lose much time." + +"She wouldn't," said Stephen. "She isn't that kind." + +"I knew nothing of the sister," went on Mademoiselle Soubise. "I could +hardly believe at first that Ben Halim had an American wife. Then I +remembered how these Mohammedan men can hide their women, so no one +ever knows. Probably no one ever did know, otherwise gossip would have +leaked out. The man may have been jealous of her. You see, I have Arab +acquaintances. I go to visit ladies in the harems sometimes, and I hear +stories when anything exciting is talked of. You can't think how word +flies from one harem to another--like a carrier-pigeon! This could never +have been a matter of gossip--though it is true I was young at the +time." + +"You think, then, he would have shut her up?" asked Nevill. "That's what +I feared." + +"But of course he would have shut her up--with another wife, perhaps." + +"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Stephen. "The poor child has never thought of +that possibility. She says he promised her sister he would never look at +any other woman." + +"Ah, the promise of an Arab in love! Perhaps she did not know the +Arabs--that sister. It is only the men of princely families who take but +one wife. And he would not tell her if he had already looked at another +woman. He would be sure, no matter how much in love a Christian girl +might be, she would not marry a man who already had a wife." + +"We might find out that," suggested Stephen. + +"It would be difficult," said the Frenchwoman. "I can try, among Arabs I +know, but though they like to chat with Europeans, they will not answer +questions. They resent that we should ask them, though they are polite. +As for you, if you ask men, French or Arab, you will learn nothing. The +French would not know. The Arabs, if they did, would not tell. They must +not talk of each other's wives, even among themselves, much less to +outsiders. You can ask an Arab about anything else in the world, but not +his wife. That is the last insult." + +"What a country!" Stephen ejaculated. + +"I don't know that it has many more faults than others," said Nevill, +defending it, "only they're different." + +"But about the scandal that drove Ben Halim away?" Stephen ventured on. + +"Strange things were whispered at the time, I remember, because Ben +Halim was a handsome man and well known. One looked twice at him in his +uniform when he went by on a splendid horse. I believe he had been to +Paris before the scandal. What he did afterwards no one can say. But I +could not tell Mees Ray what I had heard of that scandal any more than I +would tell a young girl that almost all Europeans who become harem women +are converted to the religion of Islam, and that very likely the sister +wasn't Ben Halim's first wife." + +"Can you tell us of the scandal, or--would you rather not talk of the +subject?" Stephen hesitated. + +"Oh, I can tell you, for it would not hurt your feelings. People said +Ben Halim flirted too much with his Colonel's beautiful French wife, who +died soon afterwards, and her husband killed himself. Ben Halim had not +been considered a good officer before. He was too fond of pleasure, and +a mad gambler; so at last it was made known to him he had better leave +the army of his own accord if he did not wish to go against his will; at +least, that was the story." + +"Of course!" exclaimed Nevill. "It comes back to me now, though it all +happened before I lived in Algiers. Ben Halim sold his house and +everything in it to a Frenchman who went bankrupt soon after. It's +passed through several hands since. I go occasionally to call on Mrs. +Jewett and her daughter." + +"It is said they wish you would call oftener, Monsieur Caird." + +Nevill turned red. Stephen thought he could understand, and hid a smile. +No doubt Nevill was a great "catch" in Algerian society. And he was in +love with a teacher of Arab children far away in Tlemcen, a girl "poor +as a church mouse," who wouldn't listen to him! It was a quaint world; +as quaint in Africa as elsewhere. + +"What did you tell Miss Ray?" Nevill hurried to ask. + +"That Ben Halim had left Algiers nine years ago, and had never been +heard of since. When I saw she did not love his memory, I told her +people believed him to be dead; and this rumour might be true, as no +news of him has ever come back. But she turned pale, and I was sorry I +had been so frank. Yet what would you? Oh, and I thought of one more +thing, when she had gone, which I might have mentioned. But perhaps +there is nothing in it. All the rest of the day I was busy with many +customers, so I was tired at night, otherwise I would have sent a note +to her hotel. And this morning since six I have been hurrying to get off +boxes and things ordered by some Americans for a ship which sails at +noon. But you will tell the young lady when you see her, and that will +be better than my writing, because sending a note would make it seem too +important. She might build hopes, and it would be a pity if they did +explode." + +Both men laughed a little at this ending of the Frenchwoman's sentence, +but Stephen was more impatient than Nevill to know what was to come +next. He grudged the pause, and made her go on. + +"It is only that I remember my sister telling me, when she was at home +last year for a holiday, about a Kabyle servant girl who waits on her in +Tlemcen. The girl is of a great intelligence, and my sister takes an +interest in her. Josette teaches her many things, and they talk. +Mouni--that is the Kabyle's name--tells of her home life to my sister. +One thing she did was to serve a beautiful foreign lady in the house of +a rich Arab. She was only a child then, not more than thirteen, for such +girls grow up early; but she has always thought about that lady, who was +good to her, and very sad. Mouni told Josette she had never seen any one +so beautiful, and that her mistress had hair of a natural colour, redder +than hair dyed with henna and powdered with gold dust. It was this +describing of the hair which brought the story back to my head when Miss +Ray had gone, because she has hair like that, and perhaps her sister had +it too." + +"By Jove, we'll run over to Tlemcen in the car, and see that Kabyle +girl," Nevill eagerly proposed, carefully looking at his friend, and not +at Jeanne Soubise. But she raised her eyebrows, then drew them together, +and her frank manner changed. With that shadow of a frown, and smileless +eyes and lips, there was something rather formidable about the handsome +young woman. + +"Mees Ray may like to manage all her own beesiness," she remarked. And +it occurred to Stephen that it would be a propitious moment to choose +such curios as he wished to buy. In a few moments Mademoiselle Soubise +was her pleasant self again, indicating the best points of the things he +admired, and giving him their history. + +"There's apparently a conspiracy of silence to keep us from finding out +anything about Miss Ray's sister as Ben Halim's wife," he said to Nevill +when they had left the curiosity-shop. "Also, what has become of Ben +Halim." + +"You'll learn that there's always a conspiracy of silence in Africa, +where Arabs are concerned," Nevill answered. There was a far-off, fatal +look in his eyes as he spoke, those blue eyes which seemed at all times +to see something that others could not see. And again the sense of an +intangible, illusive, yet very real mystery of the East, which he had +felt for a moment before landing, oppressed Stephen, as if he had +inhaled too much smoke from the black incense of Tombouctou. + + + + +XI + + +Stephen and Nevill Caird were in the cypress avenue when Victoria Ray +drove up in a ramshackle cab, guided by an Arab driver who squinted +hideously. She wore a white frock which might have cost a sovereign, and +had probably been made at home. Her wide brimmed hat was of cheap straw, +wound with a scarf of thin white muslin; but her eyes looked out like +blue stars from under its dove-coloured shadow, and a lily was tucked +into her belt. To both young men she seemed very beautiful, and radiant +as the spring morning. + +"You aren't superstitious, engaging a man with a squint," said Nevill. + +"Of course not," she laughed. "As if harm could come to me because the +poor man's so homely! I engaged him because he was the worst looking, +and nobody else seemed to want him." + +They escorted her indoors to Lady MacGregor, and Stephen wondered if she +would be afraid of the elderly fairy with the face of a child and the +manner of an autocrat. But she was not in the least shy; and indeed +Stephen could hardly picture the girl as being self-conscious in any +circumstances. Lady MacGregor took her in with one look; white hat, red +hair, blue eyes, lily at belt, simple frock and all, and--somewhat to +Stephen's surprise, because she was to him a new type of old +lady--decided to be charmed with Miss Ray. + +Victoria's naive admiration of the house and gardens delighted her host +and hostess. She could not be too much astonished at its wonders to +please them, and, both being thoroughbred, they liked her the better +for saying frankly that she was unused to beautiful houses. "You can't +think what this is like after school in Potterston and cheap +boarding-houses in New York and London," she said, laughing when the +others laughed. + +Stephen was longing to see her in the lily-garden, which, to his mind, +might have been made for her; and after luncheon he asked Lady MacGregor +if he and Nevill might show it to Miss Ray. + +The garden lay to the east, and as it was shadowed by the house in the +afternoon, it would not be too hot. + +"Perhaps you won't mind taking her yourself," said the elderly fairy. +"Just for a few wee minutes I want Nevill. He is to tell me about +accepting or refusing some invitations. I'll send him to you soon." + +Stephen was ashamed of the gladness with which he could not help hearing +this proposal. He had nothing to say to the girl which he might not say +before Nevill, or even before Lady MacGregor, yet he had been feeling +cheated because he could not be alone with Victoria, as on the boat. + +"Gather Miss Ray as many lilies as she can carry away," were Nevill's +parting instructions. And it was exactly what Stephen had wished for. He +wanted to give her something beautiful and appropriate, something he +could give with his own hands. And he longed to see her holding masses +of white lilies to her breast, as she walked all white in the white +lily-garden. Now, too, he could tell her what Mademoiselle Soubise had +said about the Kabyle girl, Mouni. He was sure Nevill wouldn't grudge +his having that pleasure all to himself. Anyway he could not resist the +temptation to snatch it. + +He began, as soon as they were alone together in the garden, by asking +her what she had done, whether she had made progress; and it seemed that +she retired from his questions with a vague suggestion of reserve she +had not shown on the ship. It was not that she answered unwillingly, but +he could not define the difference in her manner, although he felt that +a difference existed. + +It was as if somebody might have been scolding her for a lack of +reserve; yet when he inquired if she had met any one she knew, or made +acquaintances, she said no to the first question, and named only +Mademoiselle Soubise in reply to the second. + +That was Stephen's opportunity, and he began to tell of his call at the +curiosity-shop. He expected Victoria to cry out with excitement when he +came to Mouni's description of the beautiful lady with "henna-coloured, +gold-powdered hair"; but though she flushed and her breath came and went +quickly as he talked, somehow the girl did not appear to be enraptured +with a new hope, as he had expected. + +"My friend Caird proposes that he and I should motor to Tlemcen, which +it seems is near the Moroccan border, and interview Mouni," he said. "We +may be able to make sure, when we question her, that it was your sister +she served; and perhaps we can pick up some clue through what she lets +drop, as to where Ben Halim took his wife when he left Algiers--though, +of course, there are lots of other ways to find out, if this should +prove a false clue." + +"You are both more than good," Victoria answered, "but I mustn't let you +go so far for me. Perhaps, as you say, I shall be able to find out in +other ways, from some one here in Algiers. It does sound as if it might +be my sister the maid spoke of to Mademoiselle Soubise. How I should +love to hear Mouni talk!--but you must wait, and see what happens, +before you think of going on a journey for my sake." + +"If only there were some woman to take you, you might go with us," said +Stephen, more eagerly than he was aware, and thinking wild thoughts +about Lady MacGregor as a chaperon, or perhaps Mademoiselle Soubise--if +only she could be persuaded to leave her beloved shop, and wouldn't draw +those black brows of hers together as though tabooing a forbidden idea. + +"Let's wait--and see," Victoria repeated. And this patience, in the face +of such hope, struck Stephen as being strange in her, unlike his +conception of the brave, impulsive nature, ready for any adventure if +only there were a faint flicker of light at the end. Then, as if she did +not wish to talk longer of a possible visit to Tlemcen, Victoria said: +"I've something to show you: a picture of my sister." + +The white dress was made without a collar, and was wrapped across her +breast like a fichu which left the slender white stem of her throat +uncovered. Now she drew out from under the muslin folds a thin gold +chain, from which dangled a flat, open-faced locket. When she had +unfastened a clasp, she handed the trinket to Stephen. "Saidee had the +photograph made specially for me, just before she was married," the girl +explained, "and I painted it myself. I couldn't trust any one else, +because no one knew her colouring. Of course, she was a hundred times +more beautiful than this, but it gives you some idea of her, as she +looked when I saw her last." + +The face in the photograph was small, not much larger than Stephen's +thumb-nail, but every feature was distinct, not unlike Victoria's, +though more pronounced; and the nose, seen almost in profile, was +perfect in its delicate straightness. The lips were fuller than +Victoria's, and red as coral. The eyes were brown, with a suggestion of +coquetry absent in the younger girl's, and the hair, parted in the +middle and worn in a loose, wavy coil, appeared to be of a darker red, +less golden, more auburn. + +"That's exactly Saidee's colouring," repeated Victoria. "Her lips were +the reddest I ever saw, and I used to say diamonds had got caught behind +her eyes. Do you wonder I worshipped her--that I just _couldn't_ let her +go out of my life forever?" + +"No, I don't wonder. She's very lovely," Stephen agreed. The coquetry in +the eyes was pathetic to him, knowing the beautiful Saidee's history. + +"She was eighteen then. She's twenty-eight now. Saidee twenty-eight! I +can hardly realize it. But I'm sure she hasn't changed, unless to grow +prettier. I used always to think she would." Victoria took back the +portrait, and gazed at it. Stephen was sorry for the child. He thought +it more than likely that Saidee had changed for the worse, physically +and spiritually, even mentally, if Mademoiselle Soubise were right in +her surmises. He was glad she had not said to Victoria what she had said +to him, about Saidee having to live the life of other harem women. + +"I bought a string of amber beads at that curiosity-shop yesterday," the +girl went on, "because there's a light in them like what used to be in +Saidee's eyes. Every night, when I've said my prayers and am ready to go +to sleep, I see her in that golden silence I told you about, looking +towards the west--that is, towards me, too, you know; with the sun +setting and streaming right into her eyes, making that jewelled kind of +light gleam in them, which comes and goes in those amber beads. When I +find her, I shall hold up the beads to her eyes in the sunlight and +compare them." + +"What is the golden silence like?" asked Stephen. "Do you see more +clearly, now that at last you've come to Africa?" + +"I couldn't see more clearly than I did before," the girl answered +slowly, looking away from him, through the green lace of the trees that +veiled the distance. "Yet it's just as mysterious as ever. I can't guess +yet what it can be, unless it's in the desert. I just see Saidee, +standing on a large, flat expanse which looks white. And she's dressed +in white. All round her is a quivering golden haze, wave after wave of +it, endless as the sea when you're on a ship. And there's silence--not +one sound, except the beating which must be my own heart, or the blood +that sings in my ears when I listen for a long time--the kind of singing +you hear in a shell. That's all. And the level sun shining in her eyes, +and on her hair." + +"It is a picture," said Stephen. + +"Wherever Say was, there would always be a picture," Victoria said with +the unselfish, unashamed pride she had in her sister. + +"How I hope Saidee knows I'm near her," she went on, half to herself. +"She'd know that I'd come to her as soon as I could--and she may have +heard things about me that would tell her I was trying to make money +enough for the journey and everything. If I hadn't hoped she _might_ see +the magazines and papers, I could never have let my photograph be +published. I should have hated that, if it hadn't been for the thought +of the portraits coming to her eyes, with my name under them; 'Victoria +Ray, who is dancing in such and such a place.' _She_ would know why I +was doing it; dancing nearer and nearer to her." + +"You darling!" Stephen would have liked to say. But only as he might +have spoken caressingly to a lovely child whose sweet soul had won him. +She seemed younger than ever to-day, in the big, drooping hat, with the +light behind her weaving a gold halo round her hair and the slim white +figure, as she talked of Saidee in the golden silence. When she looked +up at him, he thought that she was like a girl-saint, painted on a +background of gold. He felt very tender over her, very much older than +she, and it did not occur to him that he might fall in love with this +young creature who had no thought for anything in life except the +finding of her sister. + +A tiny streak of lily-pollen had made a little yellow stain on the white +satin of her cheek, and under her blue eyes were a few faint freckles, +golden as the lily-pollen. He had seen them come yesterday, on the ship, +in a bright glare of sunlight, and they were not quite gone yet. He had +a foolish wish to touch them with his finger, to see if they would rub +off, and to brush away the lily-pollen, though it made her skin look +pure as pearl. + +"You are an inspiration!" was all he said. + +"I? But how do you mean?" she asked. + +He hardly knew that he had spoken aloud; yet challenged, he tried to +explain. "Inspiration to new life and faith in things," he answered +almost at random. But hearing the words pronounced by his own voice, +made him realize that they were true. This child, of whose existence he +had not known a week ago, could give him--perhaps was already giving +him--new faith and new interests. He felt thankful for her, somehow, +though she did not belong to him, and never would--unless a gleam of +sunshine can belong to one on whom it shines. And he would always +associate her with the golden sunshine and the magic charm of Algeria. + +"I told you I'd given you half my star," she said, laughing and blushing +a little. + +"Which star is it?" he wanted to know. "When I don't see you any more, I +can look up and hitch my thought-wagon to Mars or Venus." + +"Oh, it's even grander than any planet you can see, with your real eyes. +But you can look at the evening star if you like. It's so thrilling in +the sunset sky, I sometimes call it my star." + +"All right," said Stephen, with his elder-brother air. "And when I look +I'll think of you." + +"You can think of me as being with Saidee at last." + +"You have the strongest presentiment that you'll find her without +difficulty." + +"When _I_ say 'presentiment,' I mean creating a thing I want, making a +picture of it happening, so it _has_ to happen by and by, as God made +pictures of this world, and all the worlds, and they came true." + +"By Jove, I wish I could go to school to you!" Stephen said this +laughing; but he meant every word. She had just given him two new ideas. +He wondered if he could do anything with them. Yet no; his life was cut +out on a certain plan. It must now follow that plan. + +"If you should have any trouble--not that you _will_--but just 'if,' +you know," he went on, "and if I could help you, I want you to remember +this, wherever you are and whatever the trouble may be; there's nothing +I wouldn't do for you--nothing. There's no distance I wouldn't travel." + +"Why, you're the kindest man I ever met!" Victoria exclaimed, +gratefully. "And I think you must be one of the best." + +"Good heavens, what a character to live up to!" laughed Stephen. +Nevertheless he suddenly lost his sense of exaltation, and felt sad and +tired, thinking of life with Margot, and how difficult it would be not +to degenerate in her society. + +"Yes. It's a good character. And I'll promise to let you know, if I'm in +any trouble and need help. If I can't write, I'll _call_, as I said +yesterday." + +"Good. I shall hear you over the wireless telephone." They both laughed; +and Nevill Caird, coming out of the house was pleased that Stephen +should be happy. + +It had occurred to him while helping his aunt with the invitations, that +something of interest to Miss Ray might be learned at the Governor's +house. He knew the Governor more or less, in a social way. Now he asked +Victoria if she would like him to make inquiries about Ben Halim's past +as a Spahi? + +"I've already been to the Governor," replied Victoria. "I got a letter +to him from the American Consul, and had a little audience with him--is +that what I ought to call it?--this morning. He was kind, but could tell +me nothing I didn't know--any way, he would tell nothing more. He wasn't +in Algiers when Saidee came. It was in the day of his predecessor." + +Nevill admired her promptness and energy, and said so. He shared +Stephen's chivalrous wish to do something for the girl, so alone, so +courageous, working against difficulties she had not begun to +understand. He was sorry that he had had no hand in helping Victoria to +see the most important Frenchman in Algiers, a man of generous sympathy +for Arabs; but as he had been forestalled, he hastened to think of +something else which he might do. He knew the house Ben Halim had owned +in Algiers, the place which must have been her sister's home. The people +who lived there now were acquaintances of his. Would she like to see +Djenan el Hadj? + +The suggestion pleased her so much that Stephen found himself envying +Nevill her gratitude. And it was arranged that Mrs. Jewett should be +asked to appoint an hour for a visit next day. + + + + +XII + + +While Victoria was still in the lily-garden with her host and his +friend, the cab which she had ordered to return came back to fetch her. +It was early, and Lady MacGregor had expected her to stop for tea, as +most people did stop, who visited Djenan el Djouad for the first time, +because every one wished to see the house; and to see the house took +hours. But the dancing-girl, appearing slightly embarrassed as she +expressed her regrets, said that she must go; she had to keep an +engagement. She did not explain what the engagement was, and as she +betrayed constraint in speaking of it, both Stephen and Nevill guessed +that she did not wish to explain. They took it for granted that it was +something to do with her sister's affairs, something which she +considered of importance; otherwise, as she had no friends in Algiers, +and Lady MacGregor was putting herself out to be kind, the girl would +have been pleased to spend an afternoon with those to whom she could +talk freely. No questions could be asked, though, as Lady MacGregor +remarked when Victoria had gone (after christening the baby panther), it +did seem ridiculous that a child should be allowed to make its own plans +and carry them out alone in a place like Algiers, without having any +advice from its elders. + +"I've been, and expect to go on being, what you might call a perpetual +chaperon," said she resignedly; "and chaperoning is so ingrained in my +nature that I hate to see a baby running about unprotected, doing what +it chooses, as if it were a married woman, not to say a widow. But I +suppose it can't be stopped." + +"She's been on the stage," said Nevill reassuringly, Miss Ray having +already broken this hard fact to the Scotch lady at luncheon. + +"I tell you it's a baby! Even John Knox would see that," sharply replied +Aunt Caroline. + +There was nothing better to do with the rest of the afternoon, Nevill +thought, than to take a spin in the motor, which they did, the chauffeur +at the wheel, as Nevill confessed himself of too lazy a turn of mind to +care for driving his own car. While Stephen waited outside, he called at +Djenan el Hadj (an old Arab house at a little distance from the town, +buried deep in a beautiful garden), but the ladies were out. Nevill +wrote a note on his card, explaining that his aunt would like to bring a +friend, whose relatives had once lived in the house; and this done, they +had a swift run about the beautiful country in the neighbourhood of +Algiers. + +It was dinner-time when they returned, and meanwhile an answer had come +from Mrs. Jewett. She would be delighted to see any friend of Lady +MacGregor's, and hoped Miss Ray might be brought to tea the following +afternoon. + +"Shall we send a note to her hotel, or shall we stroll down after +dinner?" asked Nevill. + +"Suppose we stroll down," Stephen decided, trying to appear indifferent, +though he was ridiculously pleased at the idea of having a few +unexpected words with Victoria. + +"Good. We might take a look at the Kasbah afterward," said Nevill. +"Night's the time when it's most mysterious, and we shall be close to +the old town when we leave Miss Ray's hotel." + +Dinner seemed long to Stephen. He could have spared several courses. +Nevertheless, though they sat down at eight, it was only nine when they +started out. Up on the hill of Mustapha Superieur, all was peaceful +under the moonlight; but below, in the streets of French shops and +cafes, the light-hearted people of the South were ready to begin +enjoying themselves after a day of work. Streams of electric light +poured from restaurant windows, and good smells of French cooking +filtered out, as doors opened and shut. The native cafes were crowded +with dark men smoking chibouques, eating kous-kous, playing dominoes, or +sipping absinthe and golden liqueurs which, fortunately not having been +invented in the Prophet's time, had not been forbidden by him. Curio +shops and bazaars for native jewellery and brasswork were still open, +lit up with pink and yellow lamps. The brilliant uniforms of young +Spahis and Zouaves made spots of vivid colour among the dark clothes of +Europeans, tourists, or employes in commercial houses out for amusement. +Sailors of different nations swung along arm in arm, laughing and ogling +the handsome Jewesses and painted ladies from the Levant or Marseilles. +American girls just arrived on big ships took care of their chaperons +and gazed with interest at the passing show, especially at the +magnificent Arabs who appeared to float rather than walk, looking +neither to right nor left, their white burnouses blowing behind them. +The girls stared eagerly, too, at the few veiled and swathed figures of +native women who mingled with the crowd, padding timidly with bare feet +thrust into slippers. The foreigners mistook them no doubt for Arab +ladies, not knowing that ladies never walk; and were but little +interested in the old, unveiled women with chocolate-coloured faces, who +begged, or tried to sell picture-postcards. The arcaded streets were +full of light and laughter, noise of voices, clatter of horses' hoofs, +carriage-wheels, and tramcars, bells of bicycles and horns of motors. +The scene was as gay as any Paris boulevard, and far more picturesque +because of the older, Eastern civilization in the midst of, though never +part of, an imported European life--the flitting white and brown +figures, like thronging ghosts outnumbering the guests at a banquet. + +Stephen and Nevill Caird went up the Rue Bab-el-Oued, leading to the old +town, and so came to the Hotel de la Kasbah, where Victoria Ray was +staying. It looked more attractive at night, with its blaze of +electricity that threw out the Oriental colouring of some crude +decorations in the entrance-hall, yet the place appeared less than ever +suited to Victoria. + +An Arab porter stood at the door, smoking a cigarette. His fingers were +stained with henna, and he wore an embroidered jacket which showed +grease-spots and untidy creases. It was with the calmest indifference he +eyed the Englishmen, as Nevill inquired in French for Miss Ray. + +The question whether she were "at home" was conventionally put, for it +seemed practically certain that she must be in the hotel. Where could +she, who had no other friends than they, and no chaperon, go at night? +It was with blank surprise, therefore, that he and Stephen heard the +man's answer. Mademoiselle was out. + +"I don't believe it," Stephen muttered in English, to Nevill. + +The porter understood, and looked sulky. "I tell ze troot," he +persisted. "Ze gentlemens no believe, zay ask some ozzer." + +They took him at his word, and walked past the Arab into the hotel. A +few Frenchmen and Spaniards of inferior type were in the hall, and at +the back, near a stairway made of the cheapest marble, was a window +labelled "Bureau." Behind this window, in a cagelike room, sat the +proprietor at a desk, adding up figures in a large book. He was very +fat, and his chins went all the way round his neck in grooves, as if his +thick throat might pull out like an accordion. There was something +curiously exotic about him, as there is in persons of mixed races; an +olive pallor of skin, an oiliness of black hair, and a jetty brightness +of eye under heavy lids. + +This time it was Stephen who asked for Miss Ray; but he was given the +same answer. She had gone out. + +"You are sure?" + +"Mais, oui, monsieur." + +"Has she been gone long?" Stephen persisted, feeling perplexed and +irritated, as if something underhand were going on. + +"Of that I cannot tell," returned the hotel proprietor, still in +guttural French. "She left word she would not be at the dinner." + +"Did she say when she would be back?" + +"No, monsieur. She did not say." + +"Perhaps the American Consul's family took pity on her, and invited her +to dine with them," suggested Nevill. + +"Yes," Stephen said, relieved. "That's the most likely thing, and would +explain her engagement this afternoon." + +"We might explore the Kasbah for an hour, and call again, to inquire." + +"Let us," returned Stephen. "I should like to know that she's got in all +right." + +Five minutes later they had left the noisy Twentieth Century behind +them, and plunged into the shadowy silence of a thousand years ago. + +The change could not have been more sudden and complete if, from a gaily +lighted modern street, full of hum and bustle, they had fallen down an +oubliette into a dark, deserted fairyland. Just outside was the imported +life of Paris, but this old town was Turkish, Arab, Moorish, Jewish and +Spanish; and in Algeria old things do not change. + +After all, the alley was not deserted, though it was soundless as a tomb +save for a dull drumming somewhere behind thick walls. They were in a +narrow tunnel, rather than a street, between houses that bent towards +each other, their upper stories supported by beams. There was no +electric light, scarcely any light at all save a strip of moonshine, +fine as a line of silver inlaid in ebony, along the cobbled way which +ascended in steps, and a faint glimmer of a lamp here and there in the +distance, a lamp small and greenish as the pale spark of a glow-worm. As +they went up, treading carefully, forms white as spirits came down the +street in heelless babouches that made no more noise than the wings of a +bat. These forms loomed vague in the shadow, then took shape as Arab +men, whose eyes gleamed under turbans or out from hoods. + +Moving aside to let a cloaked figure go by, Stephen brushed against the +blank wall of a house, which was cold, sweating dampness like an +underground vault. No sun, except a streak at midday, could ever +penetrate this tunnel-street. + +So they went on from one alley into another, as if lost in a catacomb, +or the troubling mazes of a nightmare. Always the walls were blank, save +for a deep-set, nail-studded door, or a small window like a square dark +hole. Yet in reality, Nevill Caird was not lost. He knew his way very +well in the Kasbah, which he never tired of exploring, though he had +spent eight winters in Algiers. By and by he guided his friend into a +street not so narrow as the others they had climbed, though it was +rather like the bed of a mountain torrent, underfoot. Because the moon +could pour down a silver flood it was not dark, but the lamps were so +dull that the moonlight seemed to put them out. + +Here the beating was as loud as a frightened heart. The walls resounded +with it, and sent out an echo. More than one nailed door stood open, +revealing a long straight passage, with painted walls faintly lighted +from above, and a curtain like a shadow, hiding the end. In these +passages hung the smoky perfume of incense; and from over tile-topped +walls came the fragrance of roses and lemon blossoms, half choked with +the melancholy scent of things old, musty and decayed. Beautiful +pillars, brought perhaps from ruined Carthage, were set deeply in the +whitewashed walls, looking sad and lumpy now that centuries of +chalk-coats had thickened their graceful contours. But to compensate for +loss of shape, they were dazzling white, marvellous as columns of carved +pearl in the moonlight, they and their surrounding walls seeming to send +out an eerie, bleached light of their own which struck at the eye. The +uneven path ran floods of moonlight; and from tiny windows in the +leaning snow-palaces--windows like little golden frames--looked out the +faces of women, as if painted on backgrounds of dull yellow, +emerald-green, or rose-coloured light. + +They were unveiled women, jewelled like idols, white and pink as +wax-dolls, their brows drawn in black lines with herkous, their eyes +glittering between bluish lines of kohl, their lips poppy-red with the +tint of mesouak, their heads bound in sequined nets of silvered gauze, +and crowned with tiaras of gold coins. The windows were so small that +the women were hidden below their shoulders, but their huge +hoop-earrings flashed, and their many necklaces sent out sparks as they +nodded, smiling, at the passers; and one who seemed young and beautiful +as a wicked fairy, against a purple light, threw a spray of orange +blossoms at Stephen's feet. + +Then, out of that street of muffled music, open doors, and sequined +idols, the two men passed to another where, in small open-air cafes, +bright with flaring torches or electric light squatting men smoked, +listening to story-tellers; and where, further on, Moorish baths belched +out steam mingled with smells of perfume and heated humanity. So, back +again to black tunnels, where the blind walls heard secrets they would +never tell. The houses had no eyes, and the street doors drew back into +shadow. + +"Do you wonder now," Nevill asked, "that it's difficult to find out what +goes on in an Arab's household?" + +"No," said Stephen. "I feel half stifled. It's wonderful, but somehow +terrible. Let's get out of this 'Arabian Nights' dream, into light and +air, or something will happen to us, some such things as befell the +Seven Calendars. We must have been here an hour. It's time to inquire +for Miss Ray again. She's sure to have come in by now." + +Back they walked into the Twentieth Century. Some of the lights in the +hotel had been put out. There was nobody in the hall but the porter, who +had smoked his last cigarette, and as no one had given him another, he +was trying to sleep in a chair by the door. + +Mademoiselle might have come in. He did not know. Yes, he could ask, if +there were any one to ask, but the woman who looked after the bedrooms +had an evening out. There was only one _femme de chambre_, but what +would you? The high season was over. As for the key of Mademoiselle, +very few of the clients ever left their keys in the bureau when they +promenaded themselves. It was too much trouble. But certainly, he could +knock at the door of Mademoiselle, if the gentlemen insisted, though it +was now on the way to eleven o'clock, and it would be a pity to wake the +young lady if she were sleeping. + +"Knock softly. If she's awake, she'll hear you," Stephen directed. "If +she's asleep, she won't." + +The porter went lazily upstairs, appearing again in a few minutes to +announce that he had obeyed instructions and the lady had not answered. +"But," he added, "one would say that an all little light came through +the keyhole." + +"Brute, to look!" mumbled Stephen. There was, however, nothing more to +be done. It was late, and they must take it for granted that Miss Ray +had come home and gone to bed. + + + + +XIII + + +That night Stephen dreamed troubled dreams about Victoria. All sorts of +strange things were happening behind a locked door, he never quite knew +what, though he seemed forever trying to find out. In the morning, +before he was dressed, Mahommed brought a letter to his door; only one, +on a small tray. It was the first letter he had received since leaving +London--he, who had been used to sighing over the pile that heaped up +with every new post, and must presently be answered. + +He recognized the handwriting at a glance, though he had seen it only +once, in a note written to Lady MacGregor. The letter was from Victoria, +and was addressed to "Mr. Stephen Knight," in American fashion--a +fashion unattractive to English eyes. But because it was Victoria's way, +it seemed to Stephen simple and unaffected, like herself. Besides, she +was not aware that he had any kind of handle to his name. + +"Now I shall know where she was last night," he said to himself, and was +about to tear open the envelope, when suddenly the thought that she had +touched the paper made him tender in his usage of it. He found a +paper-knife and with careful precision cut the envelope along the top. +The slight delay whetted his eagerness to read what Victoria had to +tell. She had probably heard of the visit which she had missed, and had +written this letter before going to bed. It was a sweet thought of the +girl's to be so prompt in explaining her absence, guessing that he must +have suffered some anxiety. + + "DEAR MR. KNIGHT," + +he read, the blood slowly mounting to his face as his eyes travelled +from line to line, + + "I don't know what you will think of me when I have told you about + the thing I am going to do. But whatever you may think, don't think + me ungrateful. Indeed, indeed I am not that. I hate to go away + without seeing you again, yet I must; and I can't even tell you + why, or where I am going--that is the worst. But if you could know + why, I'm almost sure you would feel that I am doing the right + thing, and the only thing possible. Before all and above all with + me, must be my sister's good. Everything else has to be sacrificed + to that, even things that I value very, very much. + + "Don't imagine though, from what I say, that I'm making a great + sacrifice, so far as any danger to myself is concerned. The + sacrifice is, to risk being thought unkind, ungrateful, by you, and + of losing your friendship. This is the _only_ danger I am running, + really; so don't fear for me, and please forgive me if you can. + Just at the moment I must seem (as well as ungracious) a little + mysterious, not because I want to be mysterious, but because it is + forced on me by circumstances. I hate it, and soon I hope I shall + be able to be as frank and open with you as I was at first, when I + saw how good you were about taking an interest in my sister Saidee. + I think, as far as I can see ahead, I may write to you in a + fortnight. Then, I shall have news to tell, the _best of news_, I + hope; and I won't need to keep anything back. By that time I may + tell you all that has happened, since bidding you and Mr. Caird + good-bye, at the door of his beautiful house, and all that will + have happened by the time I can begin the letter. How I wish it + were now! + + "There's just one more word I want to say, that I really can say + without doing harm to anybody or to any plan. It's this. I did feel + so guilty when you talked about your motoring with Mr. Caird to + Tlemcen. It was splendid of you both to be willing to go, and you + must have thought me cold and half-hearted about it. But I couldn't + tell you what was in my mind, even then. I didn't know what was + before me; but there was already a thing which I had to keep from + you. It was only a small thing. But now it has grown to be a very + big one. + + "Good-bye, my dear friend Mr. Knight. I like to call you my friend, + and I shall always remember how good you were to me, if, for any + reason, we should never see each other again. It is very likely we + may not meet, for I don't know how long you are going to stay in + Africa, or how long I shall stay, so it may be that you will go + back to England soon. I don't suppose I shall go there. When I can + leave this country it will be to sail for America with my + sister--_never without her_. But I shall write, as I said, in a + fortnight, if all is well--indeed, I shall write whatever happens. + I shall be able to give you an address, too, I hope very much, + because I should like to hear from you. And I shall pray that you + may always be happy. + + "I meant this to be quite a short letter, but after all it is a + long one! Good-bye again, and give my best remembrances to Lady + MacGregor and Mr. Caird, if they are not disgusted with me for the + way I am behaving. Gratefully your friend, + + "VICTORIA RAY." + +There was no room for any anger against the girl in Stephen's heart. He +was furious, but not with her. And he did not know with whom to be +angry. There was some one--there must be some one--who had persuaded her +to take this step in the dark, and this secret person deserved all his +anger and more. To persuade a young girl to turn from the only friends +she had who could protect her, was a crime. Stephen could imagine no +good purpose to be served by mystery, and he could imagine many bad +ones. The very thought of the best among them made him physically sick. +There was a throat somewhere in the world which his fingers were +tingling to choke; and he did not know where, or whose it was. It made +his head ache with a rush of beating blood not to know. And realizing +suddenly, with a shock like a blow in the face, the violence of his +desire to punish some person unknown, he saw how intimate a place the +girl had in his heart. The longing to protect her, to save her from harm +or treachery, was so intense as to give pain. He felt as if a lasso had +been thrown round his body, pressing his lungs, roping his arms to his +sides, holding him helpless; and for a moment the sensation was so +powerful that he was conscious of a severe effort, as if to break away +from the spell of a hypnotist. + +It was only for a moment that he stood still, though a thousand thoughts +ran through his head, as in a dream--as in the dreams of last night, +which had seemed so interminable. + +The thing to do was to find out at once what had become of Victoria, +whom she had seen, who had enticed her to leave the hotel. It would not +take long to find out these things. At most she could not have been gone +more than thirteen or fourteen hours. + +At first, in his impatience, he forgot Nevill. In two or three minutes +he had finished dressing, and was ready to start out alone when the +thought of his friend flashed into his mind. He knew that Nevill Caird, +acquainted as he was with Algiers, would be able to suggest things that +he might not think of unaided. It would be better that they two should +set to work together, even though it might mean a delay of a few minutes +in the beginning. + +He put Victoria's letter in his pocket, meaning to show it to Nevill as +the quickest way of explaining what had happened and what he wanted to +do; but before he had got to his friend's door, he knew that he could +not bear to show the letter. There was nothing in it which Nevill might +not see, nothing which Victoria might not have wished him to see. +Nevertheless it was now _his_ letter, and he could not have it read by +any one. + +He knocked at the door, but Nevill did not answer. Then Stephen guessed +that his friend must be in the garden. One of the under-gardeners, +working near the house, had seen the master, and told the guest where to +go. Monsieur Caird was giving medicine to the white peacock, who was not +well, and in the stable-yard Nevill was found, in the act of pouring +something down the peacock's throat with a spoon. + +When he heard what Stephen had to say, he looked very grave. + +"I wish Miss Ray hadn't stopped at that hotel," he said. + +"Why?" Stephen asked sharply. "You don't think the people there----" + +"I don't know what to think. But I have a sort of idea the brutes knew +something last night and wouldn't tell." + +"They'll have to tell!" exclaimed Stephen. + +Nevill did not answer. + +"I shall go down at once," Stephen went on. + +"Of course I'll go with you," said his friend. + +They had forgotten about breakfast. Stopping only to get their hats, +they started for the town. + + + + +XIV + + +"Don't begin by accusing the landlord of anything," Nevill advised, at +the hotel door. "He's got too much Arab blood in him to stand that. +You'd only make him tell you lies. We must seem to know things, and ask +questions as if we expected him to confirm our knowledge. That may +confuse him if he wants to lie. He won't be sure what ground to take." + +The Arab porter was not in his place, but the proprietor sat in his den +behind the window. He was drinking a cup of thick, syrupy coffee, and +soaking a rusk in it. Stephen thought this a disgusting sight, and could +hardly bear to let his eyes rest on the thick rolls of fat that bulged +over the man's low collar, all the way round his neck like a yellow +ruff. Not trusting himself to speak just then, Stephen let Caird begin +the conversation. + +The landlord bowed over his coffee and some letters he was reading, but +did not trouble to do more than half rise from his chair and sink back +again, solidly. These fine gentlemen would never be clients of his, +would never be instrumental in sending any one to him. Why should he put +himself out? + +"We've had a letter from Miss Ray this morning," Nevill announced, after +a perfunctory exchange of "good days" in French. + +The two young men both looked steadily at the proprietor of the hotel, +as Nevill said these words. The fat man did not show any sign of +embarrassment, however, unless his expectant gaze became somewhat fixed, +in an effort to prevent a blink. If this were so, the change was +practically imperceptible. "She had left here before six o'clock last +evening, hadn't she?" + +"I cannot tell you, Monsieur. It is as I answered yesterday. I do not +know the time when she went out." + +"You must know what she said when she went." + +"On the contrary, Monsieur. The young lady did not speak with me +herself. She sent a message." + +"And the message was that she was leaving your hotel?" + +"First of all, that she had the intention of dining out. With a lady." + +Stephen and Nevill looked at each other. With a lady? Could it be +possible that Mademoiselle Soubise, interested in the story, had called +and taken the girl away? + +"What then?" went on Caird. "She let you know eventually that she'd made +up her mind to go altogether?" + +"The message was that she might come back in some days. But yes, +Monsieur, she let me know that for the present she was leaving." + +"Yet you didn't tell us this when we called!" exclaimed Stephen. "You +let us think she would be back later in the evening." + +"Pardon me, Monsieur, if you remember, you asked _when_ Mademoiselle +would be back. I replied that I did not know. It was perfectly true. And +desolated as I was to inconvenience you, I could not be as frank as my +heart prompted. My regrettable reserve was the result of Mademoiselle's +expressed wish. She did not desire to have it known that she was leaving +the hotel, until she herself chose to inform her friends. As it seems +you have had a letter, Monsieur, I can now speak freely. Yesterday +evening I could not." + +He looked like the last man whose heart would naturally prompt him to +frankness, but it seemed impossible to prove, at the moment, that he was +lying. It was on the cards that Miss Ray might have requested silence as +to her movements. + +Stephen bit his lip to keep back an angry reproach, nevertheless, and +Caird reflected a moment before answering. Then he said slowly; "Look +here: we are both friends of Miss Ray, the only ones she has in Algiers, +except of course my aunt, Lady MacGregor, with whom she lunched +yesterday. We are afraid she has been imprudently advised by some one, +as she is young and inexperienced in travelling. Now, if you will find +out from your servants, and also let us know from your own observation, +exactly what she did yesterday, after returning from her visit to my +aunt--what callers she had, if any; to whose house she went, and so +on--we will make it worth your while. Lady MacGregor" (he made great +play with his relative's name, as if he wished the landlord to +understand that two young men were not the girl's only friends in +Algiers) "is very anxious to see Miss Ray. To spare her anxiety, we +offer a reward of a thousand francs for reliable information. But we +must hear to-day, or to-morrow at latest." + +As he evolved this proposal, Nevill and Stephen kept their eyes upon the +man's fat face. He looked politely interested, but not excited, though +the offer of a thousand francs was large enough to rouse his cupidity, +it would seem, if he saw his way to earning it. + +He shrugged his shoulders with a discouraged air when Nevill finished. + +"I can tell you now, Monsieur, all that I know of Mademoiselle's +movements--all that anybody in the hotel knows, I think. No one came to +see her, except yourselves. She was out all the morning of yesterday, +and did not return here till sometime after the _dejeuner_. After that, +she remained in her room until towards evening. It was the head-waiter +who brought me the message of which I have told you, and requested the +bill. At what hour the young lady actually went out, I do not know. The +porter can probably tell you." + +"But her luggage," Stephen cut in quickly. "Where did it go? You can at +least tell that?" + +"Mademoiselle's luggage is still in the hotel. She asked permission to +store it, all but a dressing-bag of some sort, which, I believe she +carried with her." + +"In a cab?" + +"That I do not know. It will be another question for the porter. But +were I in the place of Monsieur and his friend, I should have no +uneasiness about the young lady. She is certain to have found +trustworthy acquaintances, for she appeared to be very sensible." + +"We shall be glad if you will let us have a short talk with several of +your servants," said Nevill--"the _femme de chambre_ who took care of +Miss Ray's room, and the waiter who served her, as well as the porter." + +"Certainly, Monsieur. They shall be brought here," the landlord +assented. "I will help you by questioning them myself." + +"I think we'll do that without your help, thank you," replied Stephen +drily. + +The fat man looked slightly less agreeable, but touched a bell in the +wall by his desk. A boy answered and was sent to command Angele and +Ahmed to report at once. Also he was to summon the porter, whether that +man had finished his breakfast or not. These orders given, Monsieur +Constant looked at the two Englishmen as if to say, "You see! I put my +whole staff at your disposition. Does not this prove my good faith? What +would you have more?" + +Angele was Algerian French, evidently of mixed parentage, like all those +in the Hotel de la Kasbah who were not Arabs. She was middle-aged, with +a weary, hatchet face, and eyes from which looked a crushed spirit. If +Stephen and Nevill could have seen Madame Constant, they would hardly +have wondered at that expression. + +Ahmed had negro blood in his veins, and tried to smooth out the +frizziness of the thick black hair under his fez, with much pomatum, +which smelled of cheap bergamot. + +These two, with the porter who soon appeared, brushing breadcrumbs from +his jacket, stood in front of the bureau window, waiting to learn the +purpose for which they had been torn from their various occupations. "It +is these gentlemen who have something to ask you. They do not wish me to +interfere," announced the master to his servants, with a gesture. He +then turned ostentatiously to the sipping of his neglected coffee. + +Nevill undertook the cross-questionings, with occasional help from +Stephen, but they learned no detail of importance. Angele said that she +had been out when the demoiselle Americaine had left the hotel; but that +the luggage of Mademoiselle was still in her room. Ahmed had taken a +message to Monsieur le Patron, about the bill, and had brought back +Mademoiselle's change, when the note was paid. The porter had carried +down a large dressing-bag, at what time he could not be sure, but it was +long before dark. He had asked if Mademoiselle wished him to call a +_voiture_, but she had said no. She was going out on foot, and would +presently return in a carriage. This she did. The porter believed it was +an ordinary cab in which Mademoiselle had driven back, but he had not +thought much about it, being in a hurry as he took the bag. He was at +least certain that Mademoiselle had been alone. She had received no +callers while she was in the hotel, and had not been seen speaking to +any one: but she had gone out a great deal. Why had he not mentioned in +the evening that the young lady had driven away with luggage? For the +sufficient reason that Mademoiselle had particularly requested him to +say nothing of her movements, should any one come to inquire. It was for +the same reason that he had been obliged to deceive Monsieur in the +matter of knocking at her door. And as the porter made this answer, he +looked far more impudent than he had looked last night, though he was +smiling blandly. + +How much of this was lies and how much truth? Stephen wondered, when, +having given up hope of learning more from landlord or servants, they +left the hotel. + +Nevill had to confess that he was puzzled. "Their stories hold together +well enough," he said, "but if they have anything to hide (mind, I don't +say they have) they're the sort to get up their tale beforehand, so as +to make it water-tight. We called last night, and that man Constant must +have known we'd come again, whether we heard from Miss Ray or whether we +didn't--still more, if we _didn't_. Easy as falling off a log to put the +servants up to what he wanted them to say, and prepare them for +questions, without giving them tips under our noses." + +"If they know anything that fat old swine doesn't want them to give +away, we can bribe it out of them," said Stephen, savagely. "Surely +these Arabs and half-breeds love money." + +"Yes, but there's something else they hold higher, most of them, I will +say in their favour--loyalty to their own people. If this affair has to +do with Arabs, like as not we might offer all we've got without inducing +them to speak--except to tell plausible lies and send us farther along +the wrong track. It's a point of pride with these brown faces. Their own +above the Roumis, and I'm hanged if I can help respecting them for that, +lies and all." + +"But why should they lie?" broke out Stephen. "What can it be to them?" + +"Nothing, in all probability," Nevill tried to soothe him. "The chances +are, they've told us everything they know, in good faith, and that +they're just as much in the dark about Miss Ray's movements as we +are--without the clue we have, knowing as we do why she came to Algiers. +It's mysterious enough anyhow, what's become of her; but it's more +likely than not that she kept her own secret. You say she admitted in +her letter having heard something which she didn't mention to us when +she was at my house; so she must have got a clue, or what she thought +was a clue, between the time when we took her from the boat to the Hotel +de la Kasbah, and the time when she came to us for lunch." + +"It's simply hideous!" Stephen exclaimed. "The only way I can see now is +to call in the police. They must find out where that cab came from and +where it took Miss Ray. That's the important thing." + +"Yes, to get hold of the cabman is the principal thing," said Nevill, +without any ring of confidence in his voice. "But till we learn the +contrary, we may as well presume she's safe. As for the police, for her +sake they must be a last resort." + +"Let's go at once and interview somebody. But there's one hope. She may +have gone to Tlemcen to see that Kabyle maid of Mademoiselle Soubise, +for herself. Perhaps that's why she didn't encourage us to motor there. +She's jolly independent." + +Nevill's face brightened. "When we've done what we can in Algiers, we +might run there ourselves in the car, just as I proposed before," he +said eagerly. "If nothing came of it, we wouldn't be wasting time, you +know. She warned you not to expect news for a fortnight, so there's no +use hanging about here in hopes of a letter or telegram. We can go to +Tlemcen and get back inside five days. What do you say?" + +What Stephen might have said was, that they could save the journey by +telegraphing to Mademoiselle Soubise to ask whether Miss Ray had arrived +in Tlemcen. But the brightness in Nevill's eyes and the hopefulness in +his voice kept back the prosaic suggestion. + +"I say, by all means let's go to Tlemcen," he answered. "To-morrow, +after we've found out what we can here about the cab, inquired at the +railway stations and so on. Besides, we can at least apply to the police +for information about Ben Halim. If we learn he's alive, and where he is +living, it may be almost the same as knowing where Miss Ray has gone." + + + + +XV + + +Nothing could be heard of Victoria at any place of departure for ships, +nor at the railway stations. Stephen agreed with Nevill that it would +not be fair to lay the matter in the hands of the police, lest in some +way the girl's mysterious "plan" should be defeated. But he could not +put out of his head an insistent idea that the Arab on board the +_Charles Quex_ might stand for something in this underhand business. +Stephen could not rest until he had found out the name of this man, and +what had become of him after arriving at Algiers. As for the name, +having appeared on the passenger list, it was easily obtained without +expert help. The Arab was a certain Sidi Maieddine ben el Hadj Messaoud; +and when Jeanne Soubise was applied to for information concerning him, +she was able to learn from her Arab friends that he was a young man of +good family, the son of an Agha or desert chief, whose douar lay far +south, in the neighbourhood of El-Aghouat. He was respected by the +French authorities and esteemed by the Governor of Algiers. Known to be +ambitious, he was anxious to stand well with the ruling power, and among +the dissipated, sensuous young Arabs of his class and generation, he was +looked upon as an example and a shining light. The only fault found in +him by his own people was that he inclined to be too modern, too French +in his political opinions; and his French friends found no fault with +him at all. + +It seemed impossible that a person so highly placed would dare risk his +future by kidnapping a European girl, and Jeanne Soubise advised Stephen +to turn his suspicions in another direction. Still he would not be +satisfied, until he had found and engaged a private detective, said to +be clever, who had lately seceded from a Paris agency and set up for +himself in Algiers. Through him, Stephen hoped to learn how Sidi +Maieddine ben el Hadj Messaoud had occupied himself after landing from +the _Charles Quex_; but all he did learn was that the Arab, accompanied +by his servant and no one else, had, after calling on the Governor, left +Algiers immediately for El-Aghouat. At least, he had taken train for +Bogharie, and was known to have affairs of importance to settle between +his father the Agha, and the French authorities. Secret inquiries at the +Hotel de la Kasbah elicited answers, unvaryingly the same. Sidi +Maieddine ben el Hadj Messaoud was not a patron of the house, and had +never been seen there. No one answering at all to his description had +stopped in, or even called at, the hotel. + +Of course, the value of such assurances was negatived by the fact that +Arabs hold together against foreigners, and that if Si Maieddine wished +to be incognito among his own people, his wish would probably be +respected, in spite of bribery. Besides, he was rich enough to offer +bribes on his own part. Circumstantial evidence, however, being against +the supposition that the man had followed Victoria after landing, +Stephen abandoned it for the time, and urged the detective, Adolphe +Roslin, to trace the cabman who had driven Miss Ray away from her hotel. +Roslin was told nothing about Victoria's private interests, but she was +accurately described to him, and he was instructed to begin his search +by finding the squint-eyed cab-driver who had brought the girl to lunch +at Djenan el Djouad. + +Only in the affair of Cassim ben Halim did Stephen and Nevill decide to +act openly, Nevill using such influence as he had at the Governor's +palace. They both hoped to learn something which in compassion or +prudence had been kept from the girl; but they failed, as Victoria had +failed. If a scandal had driven the Arab captain of Spahis from the +army and from Algiers, the authorities were not ready to unearth it now +in order to satisfy the curiosity, legitimate or illegitimate, of two +Englishmen. + +Captain Cassim ben Halim el Cheik el Arab, had resigned from the army on +account of ill-health, rather more than nine years ago, and having sold +his house in Algiers had soon after left Algeria to travel abroad. He +had never returned, and there was evidence that he had been burned to +death in a great fire at Constantinople a year or two later. The few +living relatives he had in Algeria believed him to be dead; and a house +which Ben Halim had owned not far from Bou Saada, had passed into the +hands of his uncle, Caid of a desert-village in the district. As to Ben +Halim's marriage with an American girl, nobody knew anything. The +present Governor and his staff had come to Algiers after his supposed +death; and if Nevill suspected a deliberate reticence behind certain +answers to his questions, perhaps he was mistaken. Cassim ben Halim and +his affairs could now be of little importance to French officials. + +It did not take Roslin an hour to produce the squinting cabman; but the +old Arab was able to prove that he had been otherwise engaged than in +driving Miss Ray on the evening when she left the Hotel de la Kasbah. +His son had been ill, and the father had given up work in order to play +nurse. A doctor corroborated this story, and nothing was to be gained in +that direction. + +Then it was that Nevill almost timidly renewed his suggestion of a visit +to Tlemcen. They could find out by telegraphing Josette, he admitted, +whether or no Victoria Ray had arrived, but if she were not already in +Tlemcen, she might come later, to see Mouni. And even if not, they might +find out how to reach Saidee, by catechizing the Kabyle girl. Once they +knew the way to Victoria's sister, it was next best to knowing the way +to find Victoria herself. This last argument was not to be despised. It +impressed Stephen, and he consented at once to "try their luck" at +Tlemcen. + +Early in the morning of the second day after the coming of Victoria's +letter, the two men started in Nevill's yellow car, the merry-eyed +chauffeur charmed at the prospect of a journey worth doing. He was +tired, he remarked to Stephen, "de tous ces petits voyages d'une +demi-heure, comme les tristes promenades des enfants, sans une seule +aventure." + +They had bidden good-bye to Lady MacGregor, and most of the family +animals, overnight, and it was hardly eight o'clock when they left +Djenan el Djouad, for the day's journey would be long. A magical light, +like the light in a dream, gilded the hills of the Sahel; and beyond lay +the vast plain of the Metidja, a golden bowl, heaped to its swelling rim +of mountains with the fairest fruits of Algeria. + +The car rushed through a world of blossoms, fragrant open country full +of flowers, and past towns that did their small utmost to bring France +into the land which France had conquered. Boufarik, with its tall +monument to a brave French soldier who fought against tremendous odds: +Blidah, a walled and fortified mixture of garrison and orange-grove, +with a market-place like a scene in the "Arabian Nights": Orleansville, +modern and ostentatiously French, built upon ruins of vast antiquity, +and hotter than all other towns in the dry cup of the Chelif Valley: +Relizane, Perregaux, and finally Oran (famed still for its old Spanish +forts), which they reached by moonlight. + +Always there were fields embroidered round the edges with wild flowers +of blue and gold, and rose. Always there were white, dusty roads, along +which other motors sometimes raced, but oftener there were farm-carts, +wagons pulled by strings of mules, and horses with horned harness like +the harness in Provence or on the Spanish border. There were huge, +two-storied diligences, too, drawn by six or eight black mules, crammed +under their canvas roofs with white- or brown-robed Arabs, and going +very fast. + +From Oran they might have gone on the same night, reaching the end of +their journey after a few hours' spin, but Nevill explained that haste +would be vain. They could not see Mademoiselle Soubise until past nine, +so better sleep at Oran, start at dawn, and see something of the +road,--a road more picturesque than any they had travelled. + +It was not for Stephen to offer objections, though he was in a mood +which made him long to push on without stopping, even though there were +no motive for haste. He was ashamed of the mood, however, and hardly +understood what it meant, since he had come to Algeria in search of +peace. When first he landed, and until the day of Victoria's letter, he +had been enormously interested in the panorama of the East which passed +before his eyes. He had eagerly noticed each detail of colour and +strangeness, but now, though the London lethargy was gone, in its place +had been born a disturbing restlessness which would not let him look +impersonally at life as at a picture. + +Questioning himself as he lay awake in the Oran hotel, with windows open +to the moonlight, Stephen was forced to admit that the picture was +blurred because Victoria had gone out of it. Her figure had been in the +foreground when first he had seen the moving panorama, and all the rest +had been only a magical frame for her. The charm of her radiant youth, +and the romance of the errand which had brought her knocking, when he +knocked, at the door of the East, had turned the glamour into glory. Now +she had vanished; and as her letter said, it might be that she would +never come back. The centre of interest was transferred to the unknown +place where she had gone, and Stephen began to see that his impatience +to be moving was born of the wish not only to know that she was safe, +but to see her again. + +He was angry with himself at this discovery, and almost he was angry +with Victoria. If he had not her affairs to worry over, Africa would be +giving him the rest cure he had expected. He would be calmly enjoying +this run through beautiful country, instead of chafing to rush on to +the end. Since, in all probability, he could do the girl no good, and +certainly she could do him none, he half wished that one or the other +had crossed from Marseilles to Algiers on a different ship. What he +needed was peace, not any new and feverish personal interest in life. +Yes, decidedly he wished that he had never known Victoria Ray. + +But the wish did not live long. Suddenly her face, her eyes, came before +him in the night. He heard her say that she would give him "half her +star," and his heart grew sick with longing. + +"I hope to Heaven I'm not going to love that girl," he said aloud to the +darkness. If no other woman came into his life, he might be able to get +through it well enough with Margot. He could hunt and shoot, and do +other things that consoled men for lack of something better. But if--he +knew he must not let there be an "if." He must go on thinking of +Victoria Ray as a child, a charming little friend whom he wished to +help. Any other thought of her would mean ruin. + +Before dawn they were called, and started as the sun showed over the +horizon. + +So they ran into the western country, near to the Morocco border. Dull +at first, save for its flooding flowers, soon the way wound among dark +mountains, from whose helmeted heads trailed the long plumes of white +cascades, and whose feet--like the stone feet of Egyptian kings in +ruined temples--were bathed by lakes that glimmered in the depths of +gorges. + +It was a land of legends and dreams round about Tlemcen, the "Key of the +West," city of beautiful mosques. The mountains were honeycombed with +onyx mines; and rising out of wide plains were crumbling brown +fortresses, haunted by the ghosts of long-dead Arabs who had buried +hoards of money in secret hiding-places, and died before they could +unearth their treasure. Tombs of kings and princes, and koubbahs of +renowned marabouts, Arab saints, gleamed white, or yellow as old gold, +under the faded silver of ancient olive trees, in fields that ran red +with blood of poppies. Minarets jewelled like peacocks' tails soared +above the tops of blossoming chestnuts. On low trees or bushes, guarding +the graves of saints, fluttered many-coloured rags, left there by +faithful men and women who had prayed at the shrine for health or +fortune; and for every foot of ground there was some wild tale of war or +love, an echo from days so long ago that history had mingled +inextricably with lore of fairies. + +Nevill was excited and talkative as they drove into the old town, once +the light of western Algeria. They passed in by the gateway of Oran, and +through streets that tried to be French, but contrived somehow to be +Arab. Nevill told stories of the days when Tlemcen had queened it over +the west, and coined her own money; of the marabouts after whom the most +famous mosques were named: Sidi-el-Haloui, the confectioner-saint from +Seville, who preached to the children and made them sweetmeats; of the +lawyer-saint, Sidi Aboul Hassan from Arabia, and others. But he did not +speak of Josette Soubise, until suddenly he touched Stephen's arm as +they passed the high wall of a garden. + +"There, that's where _she_ teaches," he said; and it was not necessary +to add a name. + +Stephen glanced at him quickly. Nevill looked very young. His eyes no +longer seemed to gaze at far-away things which no one else could see. +All his interests were centred near at hand. + +"Don't you mean to stop?" Stephen asked, surprised that the car went on. + +"No; school's begun. We'll have to wait till the noon interval, and even +then we shan't be allowed indoors, for a good many of the girls are over +twelve, the age for veiling--_hadjabah_, they call it--when they're shut +up, and no man, except near relations, can see their faces. Several of +the girls are already engaged. I believe there's one, not fourteen, +who's been divorced twice, though she's still interested in dolls. +Weird, isn't it? Josette will talk with us in the garden. But we'll +have time now to take rooms at the hotel and wash off the dust. To eat +something too, if you're hungry." + +But Stephen was no hungrier than Nevill, whose excitement, perhaps, was +contagious. + +The hotel was in a wide _place_, so thickly planted with acacias and +chestnut trees as to resemble a shabby park. An Arab servant showed them +to adjoining rooms, plain but clean, and a half-breed girl brought tins +of hot water and vases of syringas. As for roses, she said in hybrid +French, no one troubled about them--there were too many in Tlemcen. Ah! +but it was a land of plenty! The gentlemen would be happy, and wish to +stay a long time. There was meat and good wine for almost nothing, and +beggars need not ask twice for bread--fine, white bread, baked as the +Moors baked, across the border. + +As they bathed and dressed more carefully than they had dressed for the +early-morning start, strange sounds came up from the square below, which +was full of people, laughing, quarrelling, playing games, striking +bargains, singing songs. Arab bootblacks clamoured for custom at the +hotel-door, pushing one another aside, fiercely. Little boys in +embroidered green or crimson jackets sat on the hard, yellow earth, +playing an intricate game like "jack stones," and disputed so violently +that men and even women stopped to remonstrate, and separate them; now a +grave, prosperous Jew dressed in red (Jewish mourning in the province of +Oran); then an old Kabyle woman of the plains, in a short skirt of fiery +orange scarcely hiding the thin sticks of legs that were stained with +henna half-way up the calves, like painted stockings. Moors from across +the frontier--fierce men with eagle faces and striped cloaks--grouped +together, whispering and gesticulating, stared at with suspicion by the +milder Arabs, who attributed all the crimes of Tlemcen to the wild men +from over the border. Black giants from the Negro quarter kept together, +somewhat humble, yet laughing and happy. Slender, coffee-coloured youths +drove miniature cows from Morocco, or tiny black donkeys, heavily laden +and raw with sores, colliding with well-dressed Turks, who had the air +of merchants, and looked as if they could not forget that Tlemcen had +long been theirs before the French dominion. Bored but handsome officers +rode through the square on Arab horses graceful as deer, and did not +even glance at passing women, closely veiled in long white haicks. + +It was lively and amusing in the sunlight; but just as the two friends +were ready to go out, the sky was swept with violet clouds. A storm +threatened fiercely, but they started out despite its warning, turning +deaf ears to the importunities of a Koulougli guide who wished to show +them the mosques, "ver' cheap." He followed them, but they hurried on, +pushing so sturdily through a flock of pink-headed sheep, which poured +in a wave over the pavement, that they might have out-run the rain had +they not been brought to a sudden standstill by a funeral procession. + +It was the strangest sight Stephen had seen yet, and he hardly noticed +that, in a burst of sunlight, rain had begun to pelt down through the +canopy of trees. + +The band of figures in brown burnouses marched quickly, with a sharp +rustling of many slippered feet moving in unison, and golden spears of +rain seemed to pierce the white turbans of the men who carried the bier. +As they marched, fifty voices rose and fell wildly in a stirring chant, +exciting and terrible as the beat-beat of a tom-tom, sometimes a shout +of barbaric triumph, sometimes a mourning wail. Then, abruptly, a halt +was made in the glittering rain, and the bearers were changed, because +of the luck it brings Arab men to carry the corpse of a friend. + +Just in front of the two Englishmen the body rested for an instant, +stretched out long and piteously flat, showing its thin shape through +the mat of woven straw which wrapped it, only the head and feet being +wound with linen. So, by and by, it would be laid, without a coffin, in +its shallow grave in the Arab cemetery, out on the road to Sidi +Bou-Medine. + +There were but a few seconds of delay. Then the new bearers lifted the +bier by its long poles, and the procession moved swiftly, feverishly, on +again, the wild chant trailing behind as it passed, like a torn +war-banner. The thrill of the wailing crept through Stephen's veins, and +roused an old, childish superstition which an Irish nurse had implanted +in him when he was a little boy. According to Peggy Brian it was "a +cruel bad omen" to meet a funeral, especially after coming into a new +town. "Wait for a corpse," said she, "an' ye'll wait while yer luck goes +by." + +"They're singing a song in praise of the dead man's good deeds, and of +triumph for the joys he'll know in Paradise," explained Nevill. "It's +only the women who weep and scratch their faces when those they love +have died. The men rejoice, or try to. Soon, they are saying, this one +who has gone will be in gardens fair as the gardens of Allah Himself, +where sit beautiful houris, in robes woven of diamonds, sapphires, and +rubies, each gem of which has an eye of its own that glitters through a +vapour of smouldering ambergris, while fountains send up pearly spray in +the shade of fragrant cedars." + +"No wonder the Mohammedan poor don't fear death, if they expect to +exchange their hovels for such quarters," said Stephen. "I wish I +understood Arabic." + +"It's a difficult language to keep in your mind, and I don't know it +well," Nevill answered. "But Jeanne and Josette Soubise speak it like +natives; and the other day when Miss Ray lunched with us, I thought her +knowledge of Arabic wonderful for a person who'd picked it up from +books." + +Stephen did not answer. He wished that Nevill had not brought the +thought of Victoria into his mind at the moment when he was recalling +his old nurse's silly superstition. Victoria laughed at superstitions, +but he was not sure that he could laugh, in this barbaric land where it +seemed that anything might happen. + + + + +XVI + + +Nevill had not sent word to Josette Soubise that he was coming to see +her. He wished to make the experiment of a surprise, although he +insisted that Stephen should be with him. At the door in the high white +wall of the school-garden, he asked an unveiled crone of a porteress to +say merely that two gentlemen had called. + +"She'll suspect, I'm afraid," he muttered to Stephen as they waited, +"even if her sister hasn't written that I thought of turning up. But she +won't have time to invent a valid excuse, if she disapproves of the +visit." + +In three or four minutes the old woman hobbled back, shuffling slippered +feet along the tiled path between the gate and the low whitewashed +house. Mademoiselle requested that ces Messieurs would give themselves +the pain of walking into the garden. She would descend almost at once. + +They obeyed, Nevill stricken dumb by the thought of his coming +happiness. Stephen would have liked to ask a question or two about the +school, but he refrained, sure that if Nevill were forced into speech he +would give random answers. + +This was being in love--the real thing! And Stephen dimly envied his +friend, even though Caird seemed to have small hope of winning the girl. +It was far better to love a woman you could never marry, than to be +obliged to marry one you could never love. + +He imagined himself waiting to welcome Margot, beautiful Margot, +returning from Canada to him. He would have to go to Liverpool, of +course. She would be handsomer than ever, probably, and he could +picture their meeting, seven or eight weeks from now. Would his face +wear such an expression as Nevill's wore at this moment? He knew well +that it would not. + +"She is coming!" said Nevill, under his breath. + +The door of the schoolhouse was opening, and Nevill moved forward as a +tall and charming young woman appeared, like a picture in a dark frame. + +She was slender, with a tiny waist, though her bust was full, and her +figure had the intensely feminine curves which artists have caused to be +associated with women of the Latin races; her eyes were like those of +her elder sister, but larger and more brilliant. So big and splendid +they were that they made the smooth oval of her olive face seem small. +Quantities of heavy black hair rippled away from a forehead which would +have been square if the hair had not grown down in a point like a Marie +Stuart cap. Her chin was pointed, with a deep cleft in the middle, and +the dimples Nevill had praised flashed suddenly into being, as if a ray +of sunshine had touched her pale cheeks. + +"Mon bon ami!" she exclaimed, holding out both hands in token of +comradeship, and putting emphasis on her last word. + +"She's determined the poor chap shan't forget they're only friends," +thought Stephen, wishing that Caird had not insisted upon his presence +at this first meeting. And in a moment he was being introduced to +Mademoiselle Josette Soubise. + +"Did I surprise you?" asked Nevill, looking at her as if he could never +tear his eyes away, though he spoke in an ordinary tone. + +"Ah, I know you want me to say 'yes'," she laughed. "I'd like to tell a +white fib, to please you. But no, I am not quite surprised, for my +sister wrote that you might come, and why. What a pity you had this long +journey for nothing. My Kabyle maid, Mouni, has just gone to her home, +far away in a little village near Michelet, in la Grande Kabylia. She is +to be married to her cousin, the chief's son, whom she has always +loved--but there were obstacles till now." + +"Obstacles can always be overcome," broke in Nevill. + +Josette would not understand any hidden meaning. "It is a great pity +about Mouni," she went on. "Only four days ago she left. I gave her the +price of the journey, for a wedding present. She is a good girl, and I +shall miss her. But of course you can write to ask her questions. She +reads a little French." + +"Perhaps we shall go ourselves," Nevill answered, glancing at Stephen's +disappointed face. "For I know Miss Ray can't be here, or you would have +said so." + +"No, she is not here," echoed Josette, looking astonished. "Jeanne wrote +about the American young lady searching for her sister, but she did not +say she might visit Tlemcen." + +"We hoped she would, that's all," explained Nevill. "She's left her +hotel in Algiers in a mysterious way, not telling where she meant to go, +although she assured us she'd be safe, and we needn't worry. However, +naturally we do worry." + +"But of course. I see how it is." The dimples were gone, and the +brightness of Josette's eyes was overcast. She looked at Nevill +wistfully, and a flash of sympathetic understanding enlightened Stephen. +No doubt she was generously solicitous for the fate of Victoria Ray, but +there was something different from solicitude in her darkening eyes. + +"Good! she's jealous. She thinks Nevill's heart's been caught in the +rebound," he told himself. But Nevill remained modestly unconscious. + +"Miss Ray may arrive yet," he suggested. "We'd better stop to-day, +anyhow, on the chance; don't you think so, Stephen? and then, if there's +no news of her when we get back to Algiers, go on to interview the bride +in Grand Kabylia?" + +Stephen had not the heart to dispute the wisdom of this decision, though +he was sure that, since Victoria was not in Tlemcen now, she would never +come. + +"So you think we've made a long journey for nothing, Mademoiselle +Josette?" said Nevill. + +"But yes. So it turns out." + +"Seeing an old friend doesn't count, then?" + +"Oh, well, that can seem but little--in comparison to what you hoped. +Still, you can show Monsieur Knight the sights. He may not guess how +beautiful they are. Have you told him there are things here as wonderful +as in the Alhambra itself, things made by the Moors who were in +Granada?" + +"I've told him about all I care most for in Tlemcen," returned Nevill, +with that boyish demureness he affected sometimes. "But I'm not a +competent cicerone. If you want Knight to do justice to the wonders of +this place, you'll have to be our guide. We've got room for several +large-sized chaperons in the car. Do come. Don't say you won't! I feel +as if I couldn't stand it." + +His tone was so desperate that Josette laughed some of her brightness +back again. "Then I suppose I mustn't refuse. And I should like +going--after school hours. Madame de Vaux, who is the bride of a French +officer, will join us, I think, for she and I are friends, and besides, +she has had no chance to see things yet. She has been busy settling in +her quarters--and I have helped her a little." + +"When can you start?" asked Nevill, enraptured at the prospect of a few +happy hours snatched from fate. + +"Not till five." + +His face fell. "But that's cruel!" + +"It would be cruel to my children to desert them sooner. Don't forget I +am malema--malema before all. And there will be time for seeing nearly +everything. We can go to Sidi Bou-Medine, afterwards to the ruins of +Mansourah by sunset. Meanwhile, show your friend the things near by, +without me; the old town, with its different quarters for the Jews, the +Arabs, and the Negroes. He will like the leather-workers and the bakers, +and the weavers of haicks. And you will not need me for the Grande +Mosquee, or for the Mosquee of Aboul Hassan, where Monsieur Knight will +see the most beautiful mihrab in all the world. When he has looked at +that, he cannot be sorry he has come to Tlemcen; and if he has regrets, +Sidi Bou-Medine will take them away." + +"Has Sidi Bou-Medine the power to cure all sorrows?" Stephen asked, +smiling. + +"Indeed, yes. Why, Sidi Bou-Medine himself is one of the greatest +marabouts. You have but to take a pinch of earth from his tomb, and make +a wish upon it. Only one wish, but it is sure to be granted, whatever it +may be, if you keep the packet of earth afterwards, and wear it near +your heart." + +"What a shame you never told me that before. The time I've wasted!" +exclaimed Nevill. "But I'll make up for it now. Thank Heaven I'm +superstitious." + +They had forgotten Stephen, and laughing into each other's eyes, were +perfectly happy for the moment. Stephen was glad, yet he felt vaguely +resentful that they could forget the girl for whose sake the journey to +Tlemcen had ostensibly been undertaken. They were ready to squander +hours in a pretence of sightseeing, hours which might have been spent in +getting back to Algiers and so hastening on the expedition to Grand +Kabylia. How selfish people in love could be! And charming as Josette +Soubise was, it seemed strange to Stephen that she should stand for +perfection to a man who had seen Victoria Ray. + +Nevill was imploring Josette to lunch with them, chaperoned by Madame de +Vaux, and Josette was firmly refusing. Then he begged that they might +leave money as a gift for the malema's scholars, and this offer she +accepted, only regretting that the young men could not be permitted to +give the _cadeau_ with their own hands. "My girls are so pretty," she +said, "and it is a picture to see them at their embroidery frames, or +the carpet making, their fingers flying, their eyes always on the +coloured designs, which are the same as their ancestresses used a +century ago, before the industry declined. I love them all, the dear +creatures, and they love me, though I am a Roumia and an unbeliever. I +ought to be happy in their affection, helping them to success. And now I +must run back to my flock, or the lambs will be getting into mischief. +Au revoir--five o'clock. You will find me waiting with Madame de Vaux." + +At luncheon, in the bare, cool dining-room of the hotel, Nevill was like +a man in a dream. He sat half smiling, not knowing what he ate, hardly +conscious of the talk and laughter of the French officers at another +table. Just at the last, however, he roused himself. "I can't help being +happy. I see her so seldom. And I keep turning over in my mind what new +arguments in favour of myself I can bring forward when I propose this +afternoon--for of course I shall propose, if you and the bride will +kindly give me the chance. I know she won't have me--but I always do +propose, on the principle that much dropping may wear away a stone." + +"Suppose you break the habit just for once," ventured Stephen. + +Nevill looked anxious. "Why, do you think the case is hopeless?" + +"On the contrary. But--well, I can't help feeling it would do you more +good to show an absorbing interest in Miss Ray's affairs, this time." + +"So I have an absorbing interest," Nevill protested, remorsefully. "I +don't want you to suppose I mean to neglect them. I assure you----" + +Stephen laughed, though a little constrainedly. "Don't apologise, my +dear fellow. Miss Ray's no more to me than to you, except that I +happened to make her acquaintance a few days sooner." + +"I know," Nevill agreed, mildly. Then, after a pause, which he earnestly +occupied in crumbling bread. "Only I'm head over ears in love with +another woman, while you're free to think of her, or any other girl, +every minute of the day." + +Stephen's face reddened. "I am not free," he said in a low voice. + +"I beg your pardon. I hoped you were. I still think--you ought to be." +Nevill spoke quickly, and without giving Stephen time to reply, he +hurried on; "Miss Ray may arrive here yet. Or she may have found out +about Mouni in some other way, and have gone to see her in Grand +Kabylia--who knows?" + +"If she were merely going there to inquire about her sister, why should +she have to make a mystery of her movements?" + +"Well, it's on the cards that whatever she wanted to do, she didn't care +to be bothered with our troublesome advice and offers of help. Our +interest was, perhaps, too pressing." + +"Mademoiselle Soubise is of that opinion, anyhow--in regard to you," +remarked Stephen. + +"What--that angel _jealous_? It's too good to be true! But I'll relieve +her mind of any such idea." + +"If you'll take one more tip from me, I'd leave her mind alone for the +present." + +"Why, you flinty-hearted reprobate?" + +"Well, I'm no authority. But all's fair in love and war. And sometimes +an outsider sees features of the game which the players don't see." + +"That's true, anyhow," Nevill agreed. "Let's _both_ remember that--eh?" +and he got up from the table abruptly, as if to keep Stephen from +answering, or asking what he meant. + +They had several empty hours, between the time of finishing luncheon, +and five o'clock, when they were to meet Mademoiselle Soubise and her +chaperon, so they took Josette's advice and went sightseeing. + +Preoccupied as he was, Stephen could not be indifferent to the +excursion, for Tlemcen is the shrine of gems in Arab architecture, only +equalled at Granada itself. Though he was so ignorant still of eastern +lore, that he hardly knew the meaning of the word mihrab, the arched +recess looking towards Mecca, in the Mosque of the lawyer-saint Aboul +Hassan, held him captive for many moments with its beauty. Its +ornamentation was like the spread tail of Nevill's white peacock, or the +spokes of a silver wheel incrusted with an intricate pattern in jewels. +Not a mosque in town, or outside the gates, did they leave unvisited, +lest, as Nevill said, Josette Soubise should ask embarrassing questions; +and the last hour of probation they gave to the old town. There, as they +stopped to look in at the workshops of the weavers, and the bakers, or +stared at the hands of Fatma-Zora painted in henna on the doors of Jews +and True Believers, crowds of ragged boys and girls followed them, +laughing and begging as gaily as if begging were a game. Only this band +of children, and heavily jewelled girls of Morocco or Spain, with +unveiled, ivory faces and eyes like suns, looked at the Englishmen, as +Stephen and Nevill passed the isolated blue and green houses, in front +of which the women sat in a bath of sunshine. Arabs and Jews walked by +proudly, and did not seem to see that there were strangers in their +midst. + +When at last it was time to go back to the hotel, and motor to the Ecole +Indigene, Josette was ready, plainly dressed in black. She introduced +her friends to the bride, Madame de Vaux, a merry young woman, blonde by +nature and art, who laughed always, like the children in the Arab town. +She admired Knight far more than Caird, because she liked tall, dark +men, her own husband being red and stout. Therefore, she would have been +delighted to play the tactful chaperon, if Josette had not continually +broken in upon her duet with Stephen, ordering them both to look at this +or that. + +The country through which they drove after passing out of the gate in +the modern French wall, might have been the south of England in +midsummer, had it not been peopled by the dignified Arab figures which +never lost their strangeness and novelty for Stephen. Here, in the west +country, they glittered in finery like gorgeous birds: sky-blue jacket, +scarlet fez and sash glowing behind a lacework of green branches netted +with flowers, where a man hoed his fields or planted his garden. + +Hung with a tapestry of roses, immense brown walls lay crumbling--ruined +gateways, and shattered traces of the triple fortifications which +defended Tlemcen when the Almohades were in power. By a clear rill of +water gushing along the roadside, a group of delicate broken arches +marked the tomb of the "flying saint," Sidi Abou Ishad el Taiyer, an +early Wright or Bleriot who could swim through the air; and though in +his grave a chest of gold was said to be buried, no one--not even the +lawless men from over the border--had ever dared dig for the treasure. +Close by, under the running water, a Moor had found a huge lump of +silver which must have lain for no one could tell how many years, +looking like a grey stone under a sheet of glass; nevertheless, the +neighbouring tomb had still remained inviolate, for Sidi Abou Ishad el +Taiyer was a much respected saint, even more loved than the marabout who +sent rain for the gift of a sacrificed fowl, or he who cured sore eyes +in answer to prayer. Only Sidi Bou-Medine himself was more important; +and presently (because the distance was short, though the car had +travelled slowly) they came to the footpath in the hills which must be +ascended on foot, to reach the shrine of the powerful saint, friend of +great Sidi Abd el Kader. + +Already they could see the minaret of the mosque, high above the mean +village which clustered round it, rising as a flame rises against a +windless sky, while beneath this shining Giralda lay half-ruined houses +rejuvenated with whitewash or coats of vivid blue. They passed up a +narrow street redeemed from sordidness by a domed koubbah or two; and +from the roofed balconies of cafes maures, Arabs looked down on them +with large, dreamy eyes like clouded stars. All the glory and pride of +the village was concentrated in the tomb and beautiful mosque of the +saint whose name falls sweet on the ear as the music of a summer storm, +the tinkle and boom of rain and thunder coming together: Sidi +Bou-Medine. + +Toddling girls with henna-dyed hair, and miniature brown men, like +blowing flower-petals in scarlet, yellow, and blue, who had swarmed up +the street after the Roumis, stopped at the portals of the mosque and +the sacred tomb. But there was a humming in the air like the song of +bees, which floated rhythmically out from the zaouia, the school in the +mosque where many boys squatted cross-legged before the aged Taleb who +taught the Koran; bowing, swaying towards him, droning out the words of +the Prophet, some half asleep, nodding against the onyx pillars. + +In the shadow of the mosque it was cool, though the crown of the +minaret, gemmed with priceless tiles from Fez, blazed in the sun's rays +as if it were on fire. Into this coolness the four strangers passed, +involuntarily hushing their voices in the portico of decorated walls and +hanging honeycombs of stucco whence, through great doors of ancient, +greenish bronze (doors said to have arrived miraculously from across the +sea), they found their way into a courtyard open to the sky, where a +fountain waved silver plumes over a marble basin. Two or three dignified +Arab men bathed their feet in preparation for the afternoon prayer, and +tired travellers from a distance slept upon mats of woven straw, spread +on tiles like a pavement of precious stones, or dozed in the little +cells made for the students who came in the grand old days. The sons of +Islam were reverent, yet happy and at home on the threshold of Allah's +house, and Stephen began to understand, as Nevill and Josette already +understood, something of the vast influence of the Mohammedan religion. +Only Madame de Vaux remained flippant. In the car, she had laughed at +the women muffled in their haicks, saying that as the men of Tlemcen +were so tyrannical about hiding female faces, it was strange they did +not veil the hens and cows. In the shadowy mosque, with its five naves, +she giggled at the yellow babouches out of which her little high-heeled +shoes slipped, and threatened to recite a French verse under the +delicate arch of the pale blue mihrab. + +But Stephen was impressed with the serene beauty of the Moslem temple, +where, between labyrinths of glimmering pillars like young ash trees in +moonlight, across vistas of rainbow-coloured rugs like flower-beds, the +worshippers looked out at God's blue sky instead of peering through +thick, stained-glass windows; where the music was the murmur of running +water, instead of sounding organ-pipes; and where the winds of heaven +bore away the odours of incense before they staled. He wondered whether +a place of prayer like this--white-walled, severely simple despite the +veil-like adornment of arabesques--did not more tend to religious +contemplation than a cathedral of Italy or Spain, with its bloodstained +Christs, its Virgins, and its saints. Did this Arab art perhaps more +truly express the fervour of faith which needs no extraneous +elaborations, because it has no doubts? But presently calling up a +vision of the high, dim aisles, the strong yet soaring columns, all the +mysterious purity of gothic cathedrals, he convinced himself that, after +all, the old monkish architects had the real secret of mystic +aspirations in the human heart. + +When Josette and Nevill led the way out of the mosque, Stephen was in +the right mood for the tomb of that ineffable saint of Islam, Shaoib ibn +Husain el Andalousi, Sidi Bou-Medine. He was almost ready to believe in +the extraordinary virtue of the earth which had the honour of covering +the marabout's remains. It annoyed him that Madame de Vaux should laugh +at the lowness of the doorway under which they had to stoop, and that +she should make fun of the suspended ostrich eggs, the tinselled +pictures and mirrors, the glass lustres and ancient lanterns, the spilt +candle-wax of many colours, or the old, old flags which covered the +walls and the high structure of carved wood which was the saint's last +resting-place. + +A grave Arab who approved their air of respect, gave a pinch of earth +each to Stephen and Nevill, wrapped in paper, repeating Josette's +assurance that their wishes would be granted. It would be necessary, he +added, to reflect long before selecting the one desire of the soul +which was to be put above all others. But Nevill had no hesitation. He +wished instantly, and tucked the tiny parcel away in the pocket nearest +his heart. + +"And you, Monsieur?" asked Madame de Vaux, smiling at Stephen. "It does +not appear easy to choose. Ah, now you have decided! Will you tell me +what you wished?" + +"I think I mustn't do that. Saints favour those who can keep secrets," +said Stephen, teasingly. Yet he made his wish in earnest, after turning +over several in his mind. To ask for his own future happiness, in spite +of obstacles which would prove the marabout's power, was the most +intelligent thing to do; but somehow the desire clamouring loudest at +the moment was for Victoria, and the rest might go ungranted. + +"I wish that I may find her safe and happy," he said over the pinch of +earth before putting it into what Josette named his "poche du coeur." + +"As for me," remarked Madame de Vaux, "I will not derange any of their +Moslem saints, thank you. I have more influential ones of my own, who +might be annoyed. And it is stuffy in this tomb. I am sure it is full of +microbes. Let us go and see the ruined palace of the Black Sultan who, +Josette says, founded everything here that was worth founding. That +there should be a Black Sultan sounds like a fairy tale. And I like +fairy tales next to bon-bons and new hats." + +So they made their pilgrimage to the third treasure of the hill-village; +and then away to where the crumbling walls of Mansourah, and that great +tower, which is one of the noblest Moorish relics in all Algeria, rise +out of a flowering plain. + +Cherry blossoms fell in scented snow over their heads as the car ran +back to Tlemcen, and out once more, through the Moorish Porte de Fez, +past the reservoir built by a king for an Arab beauty to sail her boats +upon. Sunset was near, and the sky blazed red as if Mansourah burned +with ten thousand torches. + +The way led through vast blue lakes which were fields of periwinkles, +and along the road trotted pink-robed children, whose heads were wrapped +in kerchiefs of royal purple. They led sheep with golden-gleaming +fleece, and at the tombs of marabouts they paused to pray, among groups +of kneeling figures in long white cloaks and turbans. All the atmosphere +swam with changing colours, such as come and go in the heart of a +fire-opal. + +Very beautiful must have been the city of Mansourah, named after +murdered Sultan el Mansour, the Victorious, who built its vast +fortifications, its mosques and vanished palaces, its caravanserais and +baths, in the seven years when he was besieging Tlemcen. And still are +its ruins beautiful, after more than five centuries of pillage and +destruction. Josette Soubise loved the place, and often came to it when +her day's work was done, therefore she was happy showing it to Nevill +and--incidentally--to the others. + +The great brown wall pricked with holes like an enormous wasp's nest, +the ruined watch-towers, and the soaring, honey-coloured minaret with +its intricate carvings, its marble pillars, its tiles and inset enamels +iridescent as a Brazilian beetle's wing, all gleamed with a splendour +that was an enchantment, in the fire of sunset. The scent of aromatic +herbs, such as Arabs love and use to cure their fevers, was bitter-sweet +in the fall of the dew, and birds cried to each other from hidden nests +among the ruins. + +"Mussulmans think that the spirits of their dead fly back to visit their +own graves, or places they have loved, in the form of birds," said +Josette, looking up at the minaret, large marguerites with orange +centres embroidering her black dress, as she stood knee-deep in their +waving gold. "I half believe that these birds among the lovely carvings +of the tower are the priests who used to read the Koran in the mosque, +and could not bear to leave it. The birds in the walls are the soldiers +who defended the city." + +As she spoke there was a flight of wings, black against the rose and +mauve of the sunset. "There!" she exclaimed. "Arabs would call that an +omen! To see birds flying at sundown has a special meaning for them. If +a man wanted something, he would know that he could get it only by going +in the direction the birds take." + +"Which way are they flying?" asked Stephen. + +All four followed the flight of wings with their eyes. + +"They are going south-east," said Nevill. + + + + +XVII + + +If Victoria Ray had accepted Nevill Caird's invitation to be Lady +MacGregor's guest and his, at Djenan el Djouad, many things might have +been different. But she had wished to be independent, and had chosen to +go to the Hotel de la Kasbah. + +When she went down to dinner in the _salle a manger_, shortly after +seven o'clock on the evening of her arrival, only two other tables were +occupied, for it was late in the season, and tourists were leaving +Algiers. + +No one who had been on board the _Charles Quex_ was there, and Victoria +saw that she was the only woman in the room. At one table sat a happy +party of Germans, apparently dressed from head to foot by Dr. Jaeger, +and at another were two middle-aged men who had the appearance of +commercial travellers. By and by an elderly Jew came in, and dinner had +reached the stage of peppery mutton ragout, when the door opened again. +Victoria's place was almost opposite, and involuntarily, she glanced up. +The handsome Arab who had crossed from Marseilles on the boat saluted +her with grave courtesy as he met her look, and passed on, casting down +his eyes. He was shown to a table at some distance, the manner of the +Arab waiter who conducted him being so impressive, that Victoria was +sure the newcomer must be a person of importance. + +He was beautifully dressed, as before, and the Germans stared at him +frankly, but he did not seem to be aware of their existence. Special +dishes arrived for him, and evidently he had been expected. + +There was but one waiter to serve the meal, and not only did he somewhat +neglect the other diners for the sake of the latest arrival, but the +landlord appeared, and stood talking with the Arab while he ate, with an +air of respect and consideration. + +The Germans, who had nearly finished their dinner when Victoria came in, +now left the table, using their toothpicks and staring with the +open-eyed interest of children at the picturesque figure near the door. +The commercial travellers and the Jew followed. Victoria also was ready +to go, when the landlord came to her table, bowing. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, in French, "I am charged with a message from an +Arab gentleman of distinction, who honours my house by his presence. +Sidi Maieddine ben el Hadj Messaoud is the son of an Agha, and therefore +he is a lord, and Mademoiselle need have no uneasiness that he would +condescend to an indiscretion. He instructs me to present his respectful +compliments to Mademoiselle, whom he saw on the ship which brought him +home, after carrying through a mission in France. Seeing that +Mademoiselle travelled alone, and intends perhaps to continue doing so, +according to the custom of her courageous and intelligent countrywomen, +Sidi Maieddine wishes to say that, as a person who has influence in his +own land, he would be pleased to serve Mademoiselle, if she would honour +him by accepting his offer in the spirit in which it is made: that is, +as the chivalrous service of a gentleman to a lady. He will not dream of +addressing Mademoiselle, unless she graciously permits." + +As the landlord talked on, Victoria glanced across the room at the Arab, +and though his eyes were bent upon his plate, he seemed to feel the +girl's look, as if by a kind of telepathy, instantly meeting it with +what seemed to her questioning eyes a sincere and disarming gaze. + +"Tell Sidi Maieddine ben el Hadj Messaoud that I thank him," she +answered, rewarded for her industry in keeping up French, which she +spoke fluently, with the Parisian accent she had caught as a child in +Paris. "It is possible that he can help me, and I should be glad to talk +with him." + +"In that case Si Maieddine would suggest that Mademoiselle grant him a +short interview in the private sitting-room of my wife, Madame Constant, +who will be honoured," the fat man replied promptly. "It would not be +wise for Mademoiselle to be seen by strangers talking with the +distinguished gentleman, whose acquaintance she is to make. This, +largely for her own sake; but also for his, or rather, for the sake of +certain diplomatic interests which he is appointed to carry out. +Officially, he is supposed to have left Algiers to-day. And it is by his +permission that I mention the matter to Mademoiselle." + +"I will do whatever you think best," said Victoria, who was too glad of +the opportunity to worry about conventionalities. She was so young, and +inexperienced in the ways of society, that a small transgression against +social laws appeared of little importance to a girl situated as she was. + +"Would the time immediately after dinner suit Mademoiselle, for Si +Maieddine to pay his respects?" + +Victoria answered that she would be pleased to talk with Si Maieddine as +soon as convenient to him, and Monsieur Constant hurried away to prepare +his wife. While he was absent the Arab did not again look at Victoria, +and she understood that this reserve arose from delicacy. Her heart +began to beat, and she felt that the way to her sister might be opening +at last. The fact that she did feel this, made her tell herself that it +must be true. Instinct was not given for nothing! + +She thought, too, of Stephen Knight. He would be glad to-morrow, when +meeting her at luncheon in his friend's house, to hear good news. +Already she had been to see Jeanne Soubise, in the curiosity-shop, and +had bought a string of amber prayer-beads. She had got an introduction +to the Governor from the American Consul, whom she had visited before +unpacking, lest the consular office should be closed for the day; and +she had obtained an appointment at the palace for the next morning; but +all that was not much to tell Mr. Knight. It seemed to her that even in +a few hours she ought to have accomplished more. Now, however, the key +of the door which opened into the golden silence might be waiting for +her hand. + +In three or four minutes the landlord came back, and begged to show her +his wife's _petit salon_. This time as she passed the Arab she bowed, +and gave him a grateful smile. He rose, and stood with his head slightly +bent until she had gone out, remaining in the dining-room until the +landlord returned to say that he was expected by Mademoiselle. + +"Remember," Si Maieddine said in Arabic to the fat man, "everybody is to +be discreet, now and later. I shall see that all are rewarded for +obedience." + +"Thou art considerate, even of the humblest," replied the half-breed, +using the word "thou," as all Arabs use it. "Thy presence is an honour +for my house, and all in it is thine." + +Si Maieddine--who had never been in the Hotel de la Kasbah before, and +would not have considered it worthy of his patronage if he had not had +an object in coming--allowed himself to be shown the door of Madame +Constant's salon. On the threshold, the landlord retired, and the young +man was hardly surprised to find, on entering, that Madame was not in +the room. + +Victoria was there alone; but free from self-consciousness as she always +was, she received Si Maieddine without embarrassment. She saw no reason +to distrust him, just because he was an Arab. + +Now, how glad she was that she had learned Arabic! She began to speak +diffidently at first, stammering and halting a little, because, though +she could read the language well after nine years of constant study, +only once had she spoken with an Arab;--a man in New York from whom she +had had a few lessons. Having learned what she could of the accent from +phrase-books, her way had been to talk to herself aloud. But the flash +of surprised delight which lit up the dark face told her that Si +Maieddine understood. + +"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "My best hope was that French might come +easily to thy lips, as I have little English." + +"I have a sister married to one of thy countrymen," Victoria explained +at once. "I do not know where she is living, and it is in finding out, +that I need help. Even on the ship I wished to ask thee if thou hadst +knowledge of her husband, but to speak then seemed impossible. It is a +fortunate chance that thou shouldst have come to this hotel, for I think +thou wilt do what thou canst for me." Then she went on and told him that +her sister was the wife of Captain Cassim ben Halim, who had once lived +in Algiers. + +Si Maieddine who had dropped his eyes as she spoke of the fortunate +chance which had brought him to the hotel, listened thoughtfully and +with keen attention to her story, asking no questions, yet showing his +interest so plainly that Victoria was encouraged to go on. + +"Didst thou ever hear the name of Cassim ben Halim?" she asked. + +"Yes, I have heard it," the Arab replied. "I have friends who knew him. +And I myself have seen Cassim ben Halim." + +"Thou hast seen him!" Victoria cried, clasping her hands tightly +together. She longed to press them over her heart, which was like a bird +beating its wings against the bars of a cage. + +"Long ago. I am much younger than he." + +"Yes, I see that," Victoria answered. "But thou knewest him! That is +something. And my sister. Didst thou ever hear of her?" + +"We of the Mussulman faith do not speak of the wives of our friends, +even when our friends are absent. Yet--I have a relative in Algiers who +might know something, a lady who is no longer young. I will go to her +to-night, and all that is in her heart she will tell me. She has lived +long in Algiers; and always when I come, I pay her my respects. But, +there is a favour I would beg in return for any help I can give, and +will give gladly. I am supposed to be already on my way south, to finish +a diplomatic mission, and, for reasons connected with the French +government, I have had to make it appear that I started to-day with my +servant. There is also a reason, connected with Si Cassim, which makes +it important that nothing I may do should be known to thy European +friends. It is for his sake especially that I ask thy silence; and +whatsoever might bring harm to him--if he be still upon the earth--would +also harm thy sister. Wilt thou give me thy word, O White Rose of +another land, that thou wilt keep thine own counsel?" + +"I give thee my word--and with it my trust," said the girl. + +"Then I swear that I will not fail thee. And though until I have seen my +cousin I cannot speak positively, yet I think what I can do will be more +than any other could. Wilt thou hold thyself free of engagements with +thy European friends, until I bring news?" + +"I have promised to lunch to-morrow with people who have been kind, but +rather than risk a delay in hearing from thee, I will send word that I +am prevented from going." + +"Thou hast the right spirit, and I thank thee for thy good faith. But it +may be well not to send that message. Thy friends might think it +strange, and suspect thee of hiding something. It is better to give no +cause for questionings. Go then, to their house, but say nothing of +having met me, or of any new hope in thine heart. Yet let the hope +remain, and be to thee like the young moon that riseth over the desert, +to show the weary traveller a rill of sweet water in an oasis of date +palms. And now I will bid thee farewell, with a night of dreams in which +thy dearest desires shall be fulfilled before thine eyes. I go to my +cousin, on thy business." + +"Good night, Sidi. Henceforth my hope is in thee." Victoria held out her +hand, and Si Maieddine clasped it, bowing with the courtesy of his race. +He was nearer to her than he had been before, and she noticed a perfume +which hung about his clothing, a perfume that seemed to her like the +East, heavy and rich, suggestive of mystery and secret things. It +brought to her mind what she had read about harems, and beautiful, +languid women, yet it suited Si Maieddine's personality, and somehow did +not make him seem effeminate. + +"See," he said, in the poetic language which became him as his +embroidered clothes and the haunting perfume became him; "see, how thine +hand lies in mine like a pearl that has dropped into the hollow of an +autumn leaf. But praise be to Allah, autumn and I are yet far apart. I +am in my summer, as thou, lady, art in thine early spring. And I vow +that thou shalt never regret confiding thy hand to my hand, thy trust to +my loyalty." + +As he spoke, he released her fingers gently, and turning, went out of +the room without another word or glance. + +When he had gone, Victoria stood still, looking at the door which Si +Maieddine had shut noiselessly. + +If she had not lived during all the years since Saidee's last letter, in +the hope of some such moment as this, she would have felt that she had +come into a world of romance, as she listened to the man of the East, +speaking the language of the East. But she had read too many Arabic +tales and poems to find his speech strange. At school, her studies of +her sister's adopted tongue had been confined to dry lesson-books, but +when she had been free to choose her own literature, in New York and +London, she had read more widely. People whom she had told of her +sister's marriage, and her own mission, had sent her several rare +volumes,--among others a valuable old copy of the Koran, and she had +devoured them all, delighting in the facility which grew with practice. +Now, it seemed quite simple to be talking with Sidi Maieddine ben el +Hadj Messaoud as she had talked. It was no more romantic or strange +than all of life was romantic and strange. Rather did she feel that at +last she was face to face with reality. + +"He _does_ know something about Cassim," she said, half aloud, and +searching her instinct, she still thought that she could trust him to +keep faith with her. He was not playing. She believed that there was +sincerity in his eyes. + +The next morning, when Victoria called at the Governor's palace, and +heard that Captain Cassim ben Halim was supposed to have died in +Constantinople, years ago, she was not cast down. "I know Si Maieddine +doesn't think he's dead," she told herself. + +There was a note for her at the hotel, and though the writer had +addressed the envelope to "Mademoiselle Ray," in an educated French +handwriting, the letter inside was written in beautiful Arab lettering, +an intentionally flattering tribute to her accomplishment. + +Si Maieddine informed her that his hope had been justified, and that in +conversation with his cousin his own surmises had been confirmed. A +certain plan was suggested, which he wished to propose to Mademoiselle +Ray, but as it would need some discussion, there was not time to bring +it forward before the hour when she must go out to keep her engagement. +On her return, however, he begged that she would see him, in the salon +of Madame Constant, where she would find him waiting. Meanwhile, he +ventured to remind her that for the present, secrecy was even more +necessary than he had at first supposed; he would be able to explain +why, fully and satisfactorily, when they met in the afternoon. + +With this appointment to look forward to, it was natural that Victoria +should excuse herself to Lady MacGregor earlier than most people cared +to leave Djenan el Djouad. The girl was more excited than she had ever +been in her life, and it was only by the greatest self-control that she +kept--or believed that she kept--her manner as usual, while with Stephen +in the white garden of lilies. She was happy, because she saw her feet +already upon the path which would lead through the golden silence to her +sister; but there was a drawback to her happiness--a fly in the amber, +as in one of the prayer-beads she had bought of Jeanne Soubise: her +secret had to be kept from the man of whom she thought as a very staunch +friend. She felt guilty in talking with Stephen Knight, and accepting +his sympathy as if she were hiding nothing from him; but she must be +true to her promise, and Si Maieddine had the right to exact it, though +of course Mr. Knight might have been excepted, if only Si Maieddine knew +how loyal he was. But Si Maieddine did not know, and she could not +explain. It was consoling to think of the time when Stephen might be +told everything; and she wished almost unconsciously that it was his +help which she had to rely upon now. + + + + +XVIII + + +True to his word, Si Maieddine was waiting in Madame Constant's hideous +sitting-room, when Victoria returned to the hotel from Djenan el Djouad. + +To-day he had changed his grey bournous for a white one, and all his +clothing was white, embroidered with silver. + +"It is written," he began in Arabic, as he rose to welcome the girl, +"that the messenger who brings good tidings shall come in white. Now +thou art prepared for happiness. Thou also hast chosen white; but even +in black, thy presence would bring a blessing, O Rose of the West." + +The colour of the rose stained Victoria's cheeks, and Si Maieddine's +eyes were warm as he looked at her. When she had given him her hand, he +kissed his own, after touching it. "Be not alarmed, or think that I take +a liberty, for it is but a custom of my people, in showing respect to +man or woman," he explained. "Thou hast not forgotten thy promise of +silence?" + +"No, I spoke not a word of thee, nor of the hope thou gavest me last +night," Victoria answered. + +"It is well," he said. "Then I will keep nothing back from thee." + +They sat down, Victoria on a repulsive sofa of scarlet plush, the Arab +on a chair equally offensive in design and colour. + +"Into the life of thy brother-in-law, there came a great trouble," he +said. "It befell after the days when he was known by thee and thy sister +in Paris. Do not ask what it was, for it would grieve me to refuse a +request of thine. Shouldst thou ever hear this thing, it will not be +from my lips. But this I will say--though I have friends among the +French, and am loyal to their salt which I have eaten, and I think their +country great--France was cruel to Ben Halim. Were not Allah above all, +his life might have been broken, but it was written that, after a time +of humiliation, a chance to win honour and glory such as he had never +known, should be put in his way. In order to take this blessing and use +it for his own profit and that of others, it was necessary that Ben +Halim--son of a warrior of the old fighting days, when nomads of high +birth were as kings in the Sahara, himself lately a captain of the +Spahis, admired by women, envied of men--it was necessary that he should +die to the world." + +"Then he is not really dead!" cried Victoria. + +The face of Si Maieddine changed, and wore that look which already the +girl had remarked in Arab men she had passed among French crowds: a look +as if a door had shut behind the bright, open eyes; as if the soul were +suddenly closed. + +"Thy brother-in-law was living when last I heard of him," Maieddine +answered, slowly. + +"And my sister?" + +"My cousin told me last night that Lella Saida was in good health some +months ago when news came of her from a friend." + +"They call her Saida!" murmured the girl, half sadly; for that Saidee +should tolerate such a change of name, seemed to signify some subtle +alteration in her spirit. But she knew that "Lella" meant "Madame" in +Arab society. + +"It is my cousin who spoke of the lady by that name. As for me, it is +impossible that I should know anything of her. Thou wishest above all +things to see thy sister?" + +"Above all things. For more than nine years it has been the one great +wish of my life to go to her." + +"It is a long journey. Thou wouldst have to go far--very far." + +"What would it matter, if it were to the end of the world?" + +"As well try to reach the place where she is, as though it were beyond +where the world ends, unless thou wert guided by one who knew the way." + +Victoria looked the Arab full in the face. "I have always been sure that +God would lead me there, one day, soon or late," she said. + +"Thy God is my God, and Mohammed is his Prophet, as thy Christ was also +among his Prophets. It is as thou sayest; Allah wills that thou shouldst +make this journey, for He has sent me into thy life at the moment of thy +need. I can take thee to thy sister's house, if thou wilt trust thyself +to me. Not alone--I would not ask that. My cousin will take care of +thee. She has her own reason for going on this great journey, a reason +which in its way is as strong as thine, for it concerns her life or +death. She is a noble lady of my race, who should be a Princess of +Touggourt, for her grandfather was Sultan before the French conquered +those warlike men of the desert, far south where Touggourt lies. Lella +M'Barka Bent Djellab hears the voice of the Angel Azrail in her ears, +yet her spirit is strong, and she believes it is written in the Book +that she shall reach the end of her journey. This is the plan she and I +have made; that thou leave the hotel to-day, towards evening, and drive +(in a carriage which she will send)--to her house, where thou wilt spend +the night. Early in the morning of to-morrow she can be ready to go, +taking thee with her. I shall guard thee, and we shall have an escort +which she and I will provide. Dost thou consent? Because if the idea +pleases thee, there are many arrangements which must be made quickly. +And I myself will take all trouble from thy shoulders in the matter of +leaving the hotel. I am known and well thought of in Algiers and even +the landlord here, as thou hast seen, has me in consideration, because +my name is not strange to him. Thou needst not fear misconstruction of +thine actions, by any one who is here." + +Si Maieddine added these arguments, seeing perhaps that Victoria +hesitated before answering his question. + +"Thou art generous, and I have no fear," she said at last, with a faint +emphasis which he could read as he chose. "But, since thou hast my word +to be silent, surely thou wilt tell me where lies the end of the journey +we must take?" + +"Even so, I cannot tell thee," Si Maieddine replied with decision which +Victoria felt to be unalterable. "It is not for lack of trust in thee, O +Rose, but for a reason which is not mine to explain. All I can do is to +pledge my honour, and the honour of a princess, to conduct thee loyally +to the house of thy sister's husband. If thou goest, it must be in the +dress of an Arab lady, veiled from eyes which might spy upon thee; and +so thou wilt be safe under the protection of my cousin." + +"My thanks to thee and to her--I will go," Victoria said, after a +moment's pause. + +She was sure that Stephen Knight and his friend would prevent her from +leaving Algiers with strangers, above all, in the company of Arabs, if +they could know what was in her mind. But they were unjustly prejudiced, +she thought. Her brother-in-law was of Arab blood, therefore she could +not afford to have such prejudices, even if she were so inclined; and +she must not hesitate before such a chance as Si Maieddine offered. + +The great difficulty she had experienced in learning anything about Ben +Halim made it easy for her to believe that she could reach her sister's +husband only through people of his own race, who knew his secrets. She +was ready to agree with Si Maieddine that his God and her God had sent +him at the right moment, and she would not let that moment pass her by. + +Others might say that she was wildly imprudent, that she was +deliberately walking into danger; but she was not afraid. Always she +trusted to her star, and now it had brought her to Algiers, she would +not weaken in that trust. Common sense, in which one side of the girl's +nature was not lacking, told her that this Arab might be deceiving her, +that he might know no more of Ben Halim than she herself had told him +yesterday; but she felt that he had spoken the truth, and feelings were +more to her than common sense. She would go to the house which Si +Maieddine said was the house of his cousin, and if there she found +reason to doubt him, she had faith that even then no evil would be +allowed to touch her. + +At seven o'clock, Si Maieddine said, Lella M'Barka would send a +carriage. It would then be twilight, and as most people were in their +homes by that hour, nobody would be likely to see her leave the hotel. +The shutters of the carriage would be closed, according to the custom of +Arab ladies, and on entering the vehicle Victoria would find a negress, +a servant of Lella M'Barka Bent Djellab. This woman would dress her in a +gandourah and a haick, while they were on their way to the house of +Victoria's hostess, and on stepping out she would have the appearance of +a lady of Algiers. Thus all trace of her would be lost, as one Arab +carriage was exactly like another. + +Meanwhile, there would be time to pack, and write a letter which +Victoria was determined to write. To satisfy Si Maieddine that she would +not be indiscreet in any admission or allusion, she suggested +translating for him every word she wrote into French or Arabic; but he +refused this offer with dignity. She trusted him. He trusted her also. +But he himself would post the letter at an hour too late for it to be +delivered while she was still in Algiers. + +It was arranged that she should carry only hand-bags, as it would be too +conspicuous to load and unload boxes. Her large luggage could be stored +at the hotel until she returned or sent, and as Lella M'Barka intended +to offer her an outfit suitable to a young Arab girl of noble birth, she +need take from the hotel only her toilet things. + +So it was that Victoria wrote to Stephen Knight, and was ready for the +second stage of what seemed the one great adventure to which her whole +life had been leading up. + + + + +XIX + + +Victoria did not wait in her room to be told that the carriage had come +to take her away. It was better, Si Maieddine had said, that only a few +people should know the exact manner of her going. A few minutes before +seven, therefore, she went down to the entrance-hall of the hotel, which +was not yet lighted. Her appearance was a signal for the Arab porter, +who was waiting, to run softly upstairs and return with her hand +luggage. + +For some moments Victoria stood near the door, interesting herself in a +map of Algeria which hung on the wall. A clock began to strike as her +eyes wandered over the desert, and was on the last stroke of seven, when +a carriage drove up. It was drawn by two handsome brown mules with +leather and copper harness which matched the colour of their shining +coats, and was driven by a heavy, smooth-faced Negro in a white turban +and an embroidered cafetan of dark blue. The carriage windows were +shuttered, and as the black coachman pulled up his mules, he looked +neither to the right nor to the left. It was the hotel porter who opened +the door, and as Victoria stepped in without delay, he thrust two +hand-bags after her, snapping the door sharply. + +It was almost dark inside the carriage, but she could see a white +figure, which in the dimness had neither face nor definite shape; and +there was a perfume as of aromatic amulets grown warm on a human body. + +"Pardon, lady, I am Hsina, the servant of Lella M'Barka Bent Djellab, +sent to wait upon thee," spoke a soft and guttural voice, in Arabic. +"Blessings be upon thee!" + +"And upon thee blessings," Victoria responded in the Arab fashion which +she had learned while many miles of land and sea lay between her and the +country of Islam. "I was told to expect thee." + +"Eihoua!" cried the woman, "The little pink rose has the gift of +tongues!" As she grew accustomed to the twilight, Victoria made out a +black face, and white teeth framed in a large smile. A pair of dark eyes +glittered with delight as the Roumia answered in Arabic, although Arabic +was not the language of the negress's own people. She chattered as she +helped Victoria into a plain white gandourah. The white hat and hat-pins +amused her, and when she had arranged the voluminous haick in spite of +the joltings of the carriage, she examined these European curiosities +with interest. Whenever she moved, the warm perfume of amulets grew +stronger, overpowering the faint mustiness of the cushions and +upholstery. + +"Never have I held such things in my hands!" Hsina gurgled. "Yet often +have I wished that I might touch them, when driving with my mistress and +peeping at the passers by, and the strange finery of foreign women in +the French bazaars." + +Victoria listened politely, answering if necessary; yet her interest was +concentrated in peering through the slits in the wooden shutter of the +nearest window. She did not know Algiers well enough to recognize +landmarks; but after driving for what seemed like fifteen or twenty +minutes through streets where lights began to turn the twilight blue, +she caught a glint of the sea. Almost immediately the trotting mules +stopped, and the negress Hsina, hiding Victoria's hat in the folds of +her haick, turned the handle of the door. + +Victoria looked out into azure dusk, and after the closeness of the +shuttered carriage, thankfully drew in a breath of salt-laden air. One +quick glance showed her a street near the sea, on a level not much above +the gleaming water. There were high walls, evidently very old, hiding +Arab mansions once important, and there were other ancient dwellings, +which had been partly transformed for business or military uses by the +French. The girl's hasty impression was of a melancholy neighbourhood +which had been rich and stately long ago in old pirate days, perhaps. + +There was only time for a glance to right and left before a nailed door +opened in the flatness of a whitewashed wall which was the front of an +Arab house. No light shone out, but the opening of the door proved that +some one had been listening for the sound of carriage wheels. + +"Descend, lady. I will follow with thy baggage," said Hsina. + +The girl obeyed, but she was suddenly conscious of a qualm as she had to +turn from the blue twilight, to pass behind that half-open door into +darkness, and the mystery of unknown things. + +Before she had time to put her foot to the ground the door was thrown +wide open, and two stout Negroes dressed exactly alike in flowing white +burnouses stepped out of the house to stand on either side the carriage +door. Raising their arms as high as their heads they made two white +walls of their long cloaks between which Victoria could pass, as if +enclosed in a narrow aisle. Hsina came close upon her heels; and as they +reached the threshold of the house the white-robed black servants +dropped their arms, followed the two women, and shut the nailed door. +Then, despite the dimness of the place, they bowed their heads turning +aside as if humbly to make it evident that their unworthy eyes did not +venture to rest upon the veiled form of their mistress's guest. As for +Hsina, she, too, was veiled, though her age and ugliness would have +permitted her face to be revealed without offence to Mussulman ideas of +propriety. It was mere vanity on her part to preserve the mystery as +dear to the heart of the Moslem woman as to the jealous prejudice of the +man. + +A faint glittering of the walls told Victoria that the corridor she had +entered was lined with tiles; and she could dimly see seats let in like +low shelves along its length, on either side. It was but a short +passage, with a turn into a second still shorter. At the end of this +hung a dark curtain, which Hsina lifted for Victoria to pass on, round +another turn into a wider hall, lit by an Arab lamp with glass panes +framed in delicately carved copper. The chain which suspended it from +cedar beams swayed slightly, causing the light to move from colour to +colour of the old tiles, and to strike out gleams from the marble floor +and ivory-like pillars set into the walls. The end of this corridor also +was masked by a curtain of wool, dyed and woven by the hands of nomad +tribes, tent-dwellers in the desert; and when Hsina had lifted it, +Victoria saw a small square court with a fountain in the centre. + +It was not on a grand scale, like those in the palace owned by Nevill +Caird; but the fountain was graceful and charming, ornamented with the +carved, bursting pomegranates beloved by the Moors of Granada, and the +marble columns which supported a projecting balcony were wreathed with +red roses and honeysuckle. + +On each of the four sides of the quadrangle, paved with black and white +marble, there were little windows, and large glass doors draped on the +inside with curtains thin enough to show faint pink and golden lights. + +"O my mistress, Lella M'Barka, I have brought thy guest!" cried Hsina, +in a loud, sing-song voice, as if she were chanting; whereupon one of +the glass doors opened, letting out a rosy radiance, and a Bedouin +woman-servant dressed in a striped foutah appeared on the threshold. She +was old, with crinkled grey hair under a scarlet handkerchief, and a +blue cross was tattooed between her eyes. + +"In the name of Lella M'Barka be thou welcome," she said. "My mistress +has been suffering all day, and fears to rise, lest her strength fail +for to-morrow's journey, or she would come forth to meet thee, O Flower +of the West! As it is, she begs that thou wilt come to her. But first +suffer me to remove thy haick, that the eyes of Lella M'Barka may be +refreshed by thy beauty." + +She would have unfastened the long drapery, but Hsina put down +Victoria's luggage, and pushing away the two brown hands, tattooed with +blue mittens, she herself unfastened the veil. "No, this is _my_ lady, +and my work, Fafann," she objected. + +"But it is my duty to take her in," replied the Bedouin woman, +jealously. "It is the wish of Lella M'Barka. Go thou and make ready the +room of the guest." + +Hsina flounced away across the court, and Fafann held open both the door +and the curtains. Victoria obeyed her gesture and went into the room +beyond. It was long and narrow, with a ceiling of carved wood painted in +colours which had once been violent, but were now faded. The walls were +partly covered with hangings like the curtains that shaded the glass +door; but, on one side, between gold-embroidered crimson draperies, were +windows, and in the white stucco above, showed lace-like openings, +patterned to represent peacocks, the tails jewelled with glass of +different colours. On the opposite side opened doors of dark wood inlaid +with mother-o'-pearl; and these stood ajar, revealing rows of shelves +littered with little gilded bottles, or piled with beautiful brocades +that were shot with gold in the pink light of an Arab lamp. + +There was little furniture; only a few low, round tables, or maidas, +completely overlaid with the snow of mother-o'-pearl; two or three +tabourets of the same material, and, at one end of the room a low divan, +where something white and orange-yellow and purple lay half buried in +cushions. + +Though the light was dim, Victoria could see as she went nearer a thin +face the colour of pale amber, and a pair of immense dark eyes that +glittered in deep hollows. A thin woman of more than middle age, with +black hair, silver-streaked, moved slightly and held out an emaciated +hand heavy with rings. Her head was tied round with a silk handkerchief +or takrita of pansy purple; she wore seroual, full trousers of soft +white silk, and under a gold-threaded orange-coloured jacket or rlila, a +blouse of lilac gauze, covered with sequins and open at the neck. On the +bony arm which she held out to Victoria hung many bracelets, golden +serpents of Djebbel Amour, and pearls braided with gold wire and coral +beads. Her great eyes, ringed with kohl, had a tortured look, and there +were hollows under the high cheek-bones. If she had ever been handsome, +all beauty of flesh had now been drained away by suffering; yet stricken +as she was there remained an almost indefinable distinction, an air of +supreme pride befitting a princess of the Sahara. + +Her scorching fingers pressed Victoria's hand, as she gazed up at the +girl's face with hungry curiosity and interest such as the Spirit of +Death might feel in looking at the Spirit of Life. + +"Thou art fresh and fair, O daughter, as a lily bud opening in the spray +of a fountain, and radiant as sunrise shining on a desert lake," she +said in a weary voice, slightly hoarse, yet with some flutelike notes. +"My cousin spoke but truth of thee. Thou art worthy of a reward at the +end of that long journey we shall take together, thou, and he, and I. I +have never seen thy sister whom thou seekest, but I have friends, who +knew her in other days. For her sake and thine own, kiss me on my +cheeks, for with women of my race, it is the seal of friendship." + +Victoria bent and touched the faded face under each of the great burning +eyes. The perfume of _ambre_, loved in the East, came up to her +nostrils, and the invalid's breath was aflame. + +"Art thou strong enough for a journey, Lella M'Barka?" the girl asked. + +"Not in my own strength, but in that which Allah will give me, I shall +be strong," the sick woman answered with controlled passion. "Ever +since I knew that I could not hope to reach Mecca, and kiss the sacred +black stone, or pray in the Mosque of the holy Lella Fatima, I have +wished to visit a certain great marabout in the south. The pity of Allah +for a daughter who is weak will permit the blessing of this marabout, +who has inherited the inestimable gift of Baraka, to be the same to me, +body and soul, as the pilgrimage to Mecca which is beyond the power of +my flesh. Another must say for me the Fatakah there. I believe that I +shall be healed, and have vowed to give a great feast if I return to +Algiers, in celebration of the miracle. Had it not been for my cousin's +wish that I should go with thee, I should not have felt that the hour +had come when I might face the ordeal of such a journey to the far +south. But the prayer of Si Maieddine, who, after his father, is the +last man left of his line, has kindled in my veins a fire which I +thought had burnt out forever. Have no fear, daughter. I shall be ready +to start at dawn to-morrow." + +"Does the marabout who has the gift of Baraka live near the place where +I must go to find my sister?" Victoria inquired, rather timidly; for she +did not know how far she might venture to question Si Maieddine's +cousin. + +Lella M'Barka looked at her suddenly and strangely. Then her face +settled into a sphinx-like expression, as if she had been turned to +stone. "I shall be thy companion to the end of thy journey," she +answered in a dull, tired tone. "Wilt thou visit thy room now, or wilt +thou remain with me until Fafann and Hsina bring thy evening meal? I +hope that thou wilt sup here by my side: yet if it pains thee to take +food near one in ill health, who does not eat, speak, and thou shalt be +served in another place." + +Victoria hastened to protest that she would prefer to eat in the company +of her hostess, which seemed to please Lella M'Barka. She began to ask +the girl questions about herself, complimenting her upon her knowledge +of Arabic; and Victoria answered, though only half her brain seemed to +be listening. She was glad that she had trusted Si Maieddine, and she +felt safe in the house of his cousin; but now that she was removed from +European influences, she could not see why the mystery concerning Ben +Halim and the journey which would lead to his house, should be kept up. +She had read enough books about Arab customs and superstitions to know +that there are few saints believed to possess the gift of Baraka, the +power given by Allah for the curing of all fleshly ills. Only the very +greatest of the marabouts are supposed to have this power, receiving it +direct from Allah, or inheriting it from a pious saint--father or more +distant relative--who handed down the maraboutship. Therefore, if she +had time and inclination, she could probably learn from any devout +Mussulman the abiding places of all such famous saints as remained upon +the earth. In that way, by setting her wits to work, she might guess the +secret if Si Maieddine still tried to make a mystery of their +destination. But, somehow, she felt that it would not be fair to seek +information which he did not want her to have. She must go on trusting +him, and by and by he would tell her all she wanted to know. + +Lella M'Barka had invited her guest to sit on cushions beside the divan +where she lay, and the interest in her feverish eyes, which seldom left +Victoria's face, was so intense as to embarrass the girl. + +"Thou hast wondrous hair," she said, "and when it is unbound it must be +a fountain of living gold. Is it some kind of henna grown in thy +country, which dyes it that beautiful colour?" + +Victoria told her that Nature alone was the dyer. + +"Thou art not yet affianced; that is well," murmured the invalid. "Our +young girls have their hair tinted with henna when they are betrothed, +that they may be more fair in the eyes of their husbands. But thou +couldst scarcely be lovelier than thou art; for thy skin is of pearl, +though there is no paint upon it, and thy lips are pink as rose petals. +Yet a little messouak to make them scarlet, like coral, and kohl to +give thine eyes lustre would add to thy brilliancy. Also the hand of +woman reddened with henna is as a brazier of rosy flame to kindle the +heart of a lover. When thou seest thy sister, thou wilt surely find that +she has made herself mistress of these arts, and many more." + +"Canst thou tell me nothing of her, Lella M'Barka?" + +"Nothing, save that I have a friend who has said she was fair. And it is +not many moons since I heard that she was blessed with health." + +"Is she happy?" Victoria was tempted to persist. + +"She should be happy. She is a fortunate woman. Would I could tell thee +more, but I live the life of a mole in these days, and have little +knowledge. Thou wilt see her with thine own eyes before long, I have no +doubt. And now comes food which my women have prepared for thee. In my +house, all are people of the desert, and we keep the desert customs, +since my husband has been gathered to his fathers--my husband, to whose +house in Algiers I came as a bride from the Sahara. Such a meal as thou +wilt eat to-night, mayst thou eat often with a blessing, in the country +of the sun." + +Fafann, who had softly left the room when the guest had been introduced, +now came back, with great tinkling of khal-khal, and mnaguach, the huge +earrings which hung so low as to strike the silver beads twisted round +her throat. She was smiling, and pleasantly excited at the presence of a +visitor whose arrival broke the tiresome monotony of an invalid's +household. When she had set one of the pearly maidas in front of +Victoria's seat of cushions, she held back the curtains for Hsina to +enter, carrying a copper tray. This the negress placed on the maida, and +uncovered a china bowl balanced in a silver stand, like a giant coffee +cup of Moorish fashion. It contained hot soup, called cheurba, in which +Hsina had put so much fell-fell, the red pepper loved by Arabs, that +Victoria's lips were burned. But it was good, and she would not wince +though the tears stung her eyes as she drank, for Lella M'Barka and the +two servants were watching her eagerly. + +Afterwards came a kouskous of chicken and farina, which she ate with a +large spoon whose bowl was of tortoiseshell, the handle of ivory tipped +with coral. Then, when the girl hoped there might be nothing more, +appeared tadjine, a ragout of mutton with artichokes and peas, followed +by a rich preserve of melon, and many elaborate cakes iced with pink and +purple sugar, and powdered with little gold sequins that had to be +picked off as the cake was eaten. At last, there was thick, sweet +coffee, in a cup like a little egg-shell supported in filigree gold (for +no Mussulman may touch lip to metal), and at the end Fafann poured +rosewater over Victoria's fingers, wiping them on a napkin of fine +damask. + +"Now thou hast eaten and drunk, thou must allow thyself to be dressed by +my women in the garments of an Arab maiden of high birth, which I have +ready for thee," said Lella M'Barka, brightening with the eagerness of a +little child at the prospect of dressing a beautiful new doll. "Fafann +shall bring everything here, and thou shalt be told how to robe thyself +afterwards. I wish to see that all is right, for to-morrow morning thou +must arise while it is still dark, that we may start with the first +dawn." + +Fafann and Hsina had forgotten their jealousies in the delight of the +new play. They moved about, laughing and chattering, and were not +chidden for the noise they made. From shelves behind the inlaid doors in +the wall, they took down exquisite boxes of mother-o'-pearl and red +tortoiseshell. Also there were small bundles wrapped in gold brocade, +and tied round with bright green cord. These were all laid on a +dim-coloured Kairouan rug, at the side of the divan, and the two women +squatted on the floor to open them, while their mistress leaned on her +thin elbow among cushions, and skins of golden jackal from the Sahara. + +From one box came wide trousers of white silk, like Lella M'Barka's; +from another, vests of satin and velvet of pale shades embroidered with +gold or silver. A fat parcel contained delicately tinted stockings and +high-heeled slippers of different sizes. A second bundle contained +blouses of thin silk and gauze, and in a pearl box were pretty little +chechias of sequined velvet, caps so small as to fit the head closely; +and besides these, there were sashes and gandourahs, and haicks white +and fleecy, woven from the softest wool. + +When everything was well displayed, the Bedouin and the negress sprang +up, lithe as leopards, and to Victoria's surprise began to undress her. + +"Please let me do it myself!" she protested, but they did not listen or +understand, chattering her into silence, as if they had been lively +though elderly monkeys. Giggling over the hooks and buttons which were +comical to them, they turned and twisted her between their hands, +fumbling at neck and waist with black fingers, and brown fingers +tattooed blue, until she, too, began to laugh. She laughed herself into +helplessness, and encouraged by her wild merriment, and Lella M'Barka's +smiles and exclamations punctuated with fits of coughing, they set to +work at pulling out hairpins, and the tortoise-shell combs that kept the +Roumia's red gold waves in place. At last down tumbled the thick curly +locks which Stephen Knight had thought so beautiful when they flowed +round her shoulders in the Dance of the Shadow. + +The invalid made her kneel, just as she was in her petticoat, in order +to pass long, ringed fingers through the soft masses, and lift them up +for the pleasure of letting them fall. When the golden veil, as Lella +M'Barka called it, had been praised and admired over and over again, the +order was given to braid it in two long plaits, leaving the ends to curl +as they would. Then, the game of dressing the doll could begin, but +first the embroidered petticoat of batiste with blue ribbons at the top +of its flounce, and the simple pretty little stays had to be examined +with keen interest. Nothing like these things had ever been seen by +mistress or servants, except in occasional peeps through shuttered +carriage windows when passing French shops: for Lella M'Barka Bent +Djellab, daughter of Princes of Touggourt, was what young Arabs call +"vieux turban." She was old-fashioned in her ideas, would have no +European furniture or decorations, and until to-night had never +consented to know a Roumia, much less receive one into her house. She +had felt that she was making a great concession in granting her cousin's +request, but she had forgotten her sense of condescension in +entertaining an unveiled girl, a Christian, now that she saw what the +girl was like. She was too old and lonely to be jealous of Victoria's +beauty; and as Si Maieddine, her favourite cousin, deigned to admire +this young foreigner, Lella M'Barka took an unselfish pride in each of +the American girl's charms. + +When she was dressed to all outward appearances precisely like the +daughter of a high-born Arab family, Fafann brought a mirror framed in +mother-o'-pearl, and Victoria could not help admiring herself a little. +She wished half unconsciously that Stephen Knight could see her, with +hair looped in two great shining braids on either side her face, under +the sequined chechia of sapphire velvet; and then she was ashamed of her +own vanity. + +Having been dressed, she was obliged to prove, before the three women +would be satisfied, that she understood how each garment ought to be +arranged; and later she had to try on a new gandourah, with a white +burnouse such as women wear, and the haick she had worn in coming to the +house. Hsina would help her in the morning, she was told, but it would +be better that she should know how to do things properly for herself, +since only Fafann would be with them on the journey, and she might +sometimes be busy with Lella M'Barka when Victoria was dressing. + +The excitement of adorning the beautiful doll had tired the invalid. The +dark lines under her eyes were very blue, and the flesh of her face +seemed to hang loose, making her look piteously haggard. She offered but +feeble objections when her guest proposed to say good night, and after a +few more compliments and blessings, Victoria was able to slip away, +escorted by the negress. + +The room where she was to sleep was on another side of the court from +that of Lella M'Barka, but Hsina took great pains to assure her that +there was nothing to fear. No one could come into this court; and +she--Hsina--slept near by with Fafann. To clap the hands once would be +to bring one of them instantly. And Hsina would wake her before dawn. + +Victoria's long, narrow sleeping room had the bed across one end, in +Arab fashion. It was placed in an alcove and built into the wall, with +pillars in front, of gilded wood, and yellow brocaded curtains of a +curious, Oriental design. At the opposite end of the room stood a large +cupboard, like a buffet, beautifully inlaid with mother-o'-pearl, and +along the length of the room ran shelves neatly piled with +bright-coloured bed-clothing, or ferrachiyas. Above these shelves texts +from the Koran were exquisitely illuminated in red, blue and gold, like +a frieze; and there were tinselled pictures of relatives of the Prophet, +and of Mohammed's Angel-horse, Borak. The floor was covered with soft, +dark-coloured rugs; and on a square of white linen was a huge copper +basin full of water, with folded towels laid beside it. + +The bed was not uncomfortable, but Victoria could not sleep. She did not +even wish to sleep. It was too wonderful to think that to-morrow she +would be on her way to Saidee. + + + + +XX + + +Before morning light, Si Maieddine was in his cousin's house. Hsina had +not yet called Victoria, but Lella M'Barka was up and dressed, ready to +receive Maieddine in the room where she had entertained the Roumia girl +last night. Being a near relation, Si Maieddine was allowed to see Lella +M'Barka unveiled; and even in the pink and gold light of the hanging +lamps, she was ghastly under her paint. The young man was struck with +her martyred look, and pitied her; but stronger than his pity was the +fear that she might fail him--if not to-day, before the journey's end. +She would have to undergo a strain terrible for an invalid, and he could +spare her much of this if he chose; but he would not choose, though he +was fond of his cousin, and grateful in a way. To spare her would mean +the risk of failure for him. + +Each called down salutations and peace upon the head of the other, and +Lella M'Barka asked Maieddine if he would drink coffee. He thanked her, +but had already taken coffee. And she? All her strength would be needed. +She must not neglect to sustain herself now that everything depended +upon her health. + +"My health!" she echoed, with a sigh, and a gesture of something like +despair. "O my cousin, if thou knewest how I suffer, how I dread what +lies before me, thou wouldst in mercy change thy plans even now. Thou +wouldst go the short way to the end of our journey. Think of the +difference to me! A week or eight days of travel at most, instead of +three weeks, or more if I falter by the way, and thou art forced to +wait." + +Maieddine's face hardened under her imploring eyes, but he answered with +gentleness, "Thou knowest, my kind friend and cousin, that I would give +my blood to save thee suffering, but it is more than my blood that thou +askest now. It is my heart, for my heart is in this journey and what I +hope from it, as I told thee yesterday. We discussed it all, thou and I, +between us. Thou hast loved, and I made thee understand something of +what I feel for this girl, whose beauty, as thou hast seen, is that of +the houris in Paradise. Never have I found her like; and it may be I +care more because of the obstacles which stand high as a wall between me +and her. Because of the man who is her sister's husband, I must not fail +in respect, or even seem to fail. I cannot take her and ride away, as I +might with a maiden humbly placed, trusting to make her happy after she +was mine. My winning must be done first, as is the way of the Roumis, +and she will be hard to win. Already she feels that one of my race has +stolen and hidden her sister; for this, in her heart, she fears and half +distrusts all Arabs. A week would give me no time to capture her love, +and when the journey is over it will be too late. Then, at best, I can +see little of her, even if she be allowed to keep something of her +European freedom. It is from this journey together--the long, long +journey--that I hope everything. No pains shall be spared. No luxury +shall she lack even on the hardest stretches of the way. She shall know +that she owes all to my thought and care. In three weeks I can pull down +that high wall between us. She will have learned to depend on me, to +need me, to long for me when I am out of her sight, as the gazelle longs +for a fountain of sweet water." + +"Poet and dreamer thou hast become, Maieddine," said Lella M'Barka with +a tired smile. + +"I have become a lover. That means both and more. My heart is set on +success with this girl: and yesterday thou didst promise to help. In +return, I offered thee a present that is like the gift of new life to a +woman, the amulet my father's dead brother rubbed on the sacred Black +Stone at Mecca, touched by the foot of the Prophet. I assured thee that +at the end of our journey I would persuade the marabout to make the +amulet as potent for good to thee as the Black Stone itself, against +which thou canst never cool the fever in thy forehead. Then, when he has +used his power, and thou hast pressed the amulet on thy brows, thou +mayst read the destiny of men and women written between their eyes, as a +sand-diviner reads fate in the sands. Thou wilt become in thine own +right a marabouta, and be sure of Heaven when thou diest. This blessing +the marabout will give, not for thy sake, but for mine, because I will +do for him certain things which he has long desired, and so far I have +never consented to undertake. Thou wilt gain greatly through keeping thy +word to me. Believing in thy courage and good faith, I have made all +arrangements for the journey. Not once last night did I close my eyes in +sleep. There was not a moment to rest, for I had many telegrams to send, +and letters to write, asking my friends along the different stages of +the way, after we have left the train, to lend me relays of mules or +horses. I have had to collect supplies, to think of and plan out details +for which most men would have needed a week's preparation, yet I have +completed all in twelve hours. I believe nothing has been forgotten, +nothing neglected. And can it be that my prop will fail me at the last +moment?" + +"No, I will not fail thee, unless soul and body part," Lella M'Barka +answered. "I but hoped that thou mightest feel differently, that in +pity--but I see I was wrong to ask. I will pray that the amulet, and the +hope of the divine benediction of the baraka may support me to the end." + +"I, too, will pray, dear cousin. Be brave, and remember, the journey is +to be taken, in easy stages. All the comforts I am preparing are for +thee, as well as for this white rose whose beauty has stolen the heart +out of my breast." + +"It is true. Thou art kind, or I would not love thee even as I should +have loved a son, had one been given me," said the haggard woman, +meekly. "Does _she_ know that there will be three weeks or more of +travelling?" + +"No. I told her vaguely that she could hardly hope to see her sister in +less than a fortnight. I feared that, at first hearing, the thought of +such distances, separating her from what she has known of life, might +cause her to hesitate. But she will be willing to sacrifice herself and +travel less rapidly than she hoped, when she sees that thou art weak and +ailing. She has a heart with room in it for the welfare of others." + +"Most women have. It is expected of us." Lella M'Barka sighed again, +faintly. "But she is all that thou describedst to me, of beauty and +sweetness. When she has been converted to the True Faith, as thy wife, +nothing will be lacking to make her perfect." + +Hsina appeared at the door. "Thy guest, O Lella M'Barka, is having her +coffee, and is eating bread with it," she announced. "In a few minutes +she will be ready. Shall I fetch her down while the gracious lord +honours the house with his presence, or----" + +"My guest is a Roumia, and it is not forbidden that she show her face to +men," answered Hsina's mistress. "She will travel veiled, because, for +reasons that do not concern thee, it is wiser. But she is free to appear +before the Lord Maieddine. Bring her; and remember this, when I am gone. +If to a living soul outside this house thou speakest of the Roumia +maiden, or even of my journey, worse things will happen to thee than +tearing thy tongue out by the roots." + +"So thou saidst last night to me, and to all the others," the negress +answered, like a sulky child. "As we are faithful, it is not necessary +to say it again." Without waiting to be scolded for her impudence, as +she knew she deserved, she went out, to return five minutes later with +Victoria. + +Maieddine's eyes lighted when he saw the girl in Arab dress. It seemed +to him that she was far more beautiful, because, like all Arabs, he +detested the severe cut of a European woman's gowns. He loved bright +colours and voluptuous outlines. + +It was only beginning to be daylight when they left the house and went +out to the carriage in which Victoria had been driven the night before. +She and Lella M'Barka were both veiled, though there was no eye to see +them. Hsina and Fafann took out several bundles, wrapped in dark red +woollen haicks, and the Negro servants carried two curious trunks of +wood painted bright green, with coloured flowers and scrolls of gold +upon them, and shining, flat covers of brass. In these was contained the +luggage from the house; Maieddine's had already gone to the railway +station. He wore a plain, dark blue burnous, with the hood up, and his +chin and mouth were covered by the lower folds of the small veil which +fell from his turban, as if he were riding in the desert against a wind +storm. It would have been impossible even for a friend to recognize him, +and the two women in their white veils were like all native women of +wealth and breeding in Algiers. Hsina was crying, and Fafann, who +expected to go with her mistress, was insufferably important. Victoria +felt that she was living in a fairy story, and the wearing of the veil +excited and amused her. She was happy, and looked forward to the journey +itself as well as to the journey's end. + +There were few people in the railway station, and Victoria saw no +European travellers. Maieddine had taken the tickets already, but he did +not tell her the name of the place to which they were going by rail. She +would have liked to ask, but as neither Si Maieddine nor Lella M'Barka +encouraged questions, she reminded herself that she could easily read +the names of the stations as they passed. + +Soon the train came in, and Maieddine put them into a first-class +compartment, which was labelled "reserved," though all other Arabs were +going second or third. Fafann arranged cushions and haicks for Lella +M'Barka; and at six o'clock a feeble, sulky-sounding trumpet blew, +signalling the train to move out of the station. + +Victoria was not sleepy, though she had lain awake thinking excitedly +all night; but Lella M'Barka bade her rest, as the day would be tiring. +No one talked, and presently Fafann began to snore. The girl's eyes met +Si Maieddine's, and they smiled at each other. This made him seem to her +more like an ordinary human being than he had seemed before. + +After a while, she dropped into a doze, and was surprised when she waked +up, to find that it was nearly nine o'clock. Fafann had roused her by +moving about, collecting bundles. Soon they would be "there." And as the +train slowed down, Victoria saw that "there" was Bouira. + +This place was the destination of a number of Arab travellers, but the +instant they were out of the train, these passengers appeared to melt +away unobtrusively. Only one carriage was waiting, and that was for Si +Maieddine and his party. + +It was a very different carriage from Lella M'Barka's, in Algiers; a +vehicle for the country, Victoria thought it not unlike old-fashioned +chaises in which farmers' families sometimes drove to Potterston, to +church. It had side and back curtains of canvas, which were fastened +down, and an Arab driver stood by the heads of two strong black mules. + +"This carriage belongs to a friend of mine, a Caid," Maieddine explained +to Victoria. "He has lent it to me, with his driver and mules, to use as +long as I wish. But we shall have to change the mules often, before we +begin at last to travel in a different way." + +"How quickly thou hast arranged everything," exclaimed the girl. + +This was a welcome sign of appreciation, and Maieddine was pleased. "I +sent the Caid a telegram," he said. "And there were many more telegrams +to other places, far ahead. That is one good thing which the French have +brought to our country. The telegraph goes to the most remote places in +the Sahara. By and by, thou wilt see the poles striding away over desert +dunes." + +"By and by! Dost thou mean to-day?" asked Victoria. + +"No, it will be many days before thou seest the great dunes. But thou +wilt see them in the end, and I think thou wilt love them as I do. +Meanwhile, there will be other things of interest. I shall not let thee +tire of the way, though it be long." + +He helped them into the carriage, the invalid first, then Victoria, and +got in after them; Fafann, muffled in her veil, sitting on the seat +beside the driver. + +"By this time Mr. Knight has my letter, and has read it," the girl said +to herself. "Oh, I do hope he won't be disgusted, and think me +ungrateful. How glad I shall be when the day comes for me to explain." + +As it happened, the letter was in Maieddine's thoughts at the same +moment. It occurred to him, too, that it would have been read by now. He +knew to whom it had been written, for he had got a friend of his to +bring him a list of passengers on board the _Charles Quex_ on her last +trip from Marseilles to Algiers. Also, he had learned at whose house +Stephen Knight was staying. + +Maieddine would gladly have forgotten to post the letter, and could have +done so without hurting his conscience. But he had thought it might be +better for Knight to know that Miss Ray was starting on a journey, and +that there was no hope of hearing from her for a fortnight. Victoria had +been ready to show him the letter, therefore she had not written any +forbidden details; and Knight would probably feel that she must be left +to manage her own affairs in her own way. No doubt he would be curious, +and ask questions at the Hotel de la Kasbah, but Maieddine believed that +he had made it impossible for Europeans to find out anything there, or +elsewhere. He knew that men of Western countries could be interested in +a girl without being actually in love with her; and though it was almost +impossible to imagine a man, even a European, so cold as not to fall in +love with Victoria at first sight, he hoped that Knight was blind enough +not to appreciate her, or that his affections were otherwise engaged. +After all, the two had been strangers when they came on the boat, or had +met only once before, therefore the Englishman had no right to take +steps unauthorized by the girl. Altogether, Maieddine thought he had +reason to be satisfied with the present, and to hope in the future. + + + + +XXI + + +Stephen and Nevill Caird returned from Tlemcen to Algiers, hoping for +news of Victoria, but there was none; and after two days they left for +Grand Kabylia. + +The prophetic birds at Mansourah had flown in a south-easterly +direction, but when Stephen and Nevill started in search of Josette's +maid Mouni, they turned full east, their faces looking towards the dark +heights of Kabylia. It was not Victoria they hoped to find there, +however, or Saidee her sister, but only a hint as to their next move. +Nevertheless, Nevill was superstitious about the birds, and said to +Stephen when the car had run them out of Algiers, past Maison Carre, +into open country: "Isn't it queer how the birds follow us? I never saw +so many before. They're always with us. It's just as if they'd passed on +word, the way chupatties are passed on in India, eh? Or maybe Josette +has told her protegees to look after us." + +And Stephen smiled, for Nevill's superstitions were engaging, rather +than repulsive; and his quaintnesses were endearing him more and more to +the man who had just taken up the dropped thread of friendship after +eight or nine years. What an odd fellow Nevill was! Stephen thought, +indulgently. No wonder he was worshipped by his servants, and even his +chauffeur. No wonder Lady MacGregor adored her nephew, though treating +him as if he were a little boy! + +One of Nevill's idiosyncrasies, after arranging everything to fit a +certain plan, was to rush off at the last minute and do something +entirely different. Last night--the night before starting for Grand +Kabylia--he had begged Stephen to be ready by eight, at which time the +car was ordered. At nine--having sat up till three o'clock writing +letters, and then having visited a lately imported gazelle in its +quarters--Nevill was still in his bath. At length he arrived on the +scene, beaming, with a sulky chameleon in his pocket, and flew about +giving last directions, until he suddenly discovered that there was a +violent hurry, whereupon he began to be boyishly peevish with the +chauffeur for not getting off an hour ago. No sooner had the car +started, however, than he fell into a serious mood, telling Stephen of +many things which he had thought out in the night--things which might be +helpful in finding Victoria. He had been lying awake, it seemed, +brooding on this subject, and it had occurred to him that, if Mouni +should prove a disappointment, they might later discover something +really useful by going to the annual ball at the Governor's palace. This +festivity had been put off, on account of illness in the chief +official's family; but it would take place in a fortnight or so now. All +the great Aghas and Caids of the south would be there, and as Nevill +knew many of them, he might be able to get definite information +concerning Ben Halim. As for Saidee--to hear of Ben Halim was to hear of +her. And then it was, in the midst of describing the ball, and the +important men who would attend, that Nevill suddenly broke off to be +superstitious about birds. + +It was true that the birds were everywhere! little greenish birds +flitting among the trees; larger grey-brown birds flying low; fairy-like +blue and yellow birds that circled round the car as it ran east towards +the far, looming mountains of the Djurdjura; larks that spouted music +like a fountain of jewels as they soared into the quivering blue; and +great, stately storks, sitting in their nests on tall trees or tops of +poles, silhouetted against the sky as they gazed indifferently down at +the automobile. + +"Josette would tell us it's splendid luck to see storks on their +nests," said Nevill. "Arabs think they bring good fortune to places. +That's why people cut off the tops of the trees and make nests for them, +so they can bless the neighbourhood and do good to the crops. Storks +have no such menial work here as bringing babies. Arab babies have to +come as best they can--sent into the world anyhow; for storks are men +who didn't do their religious duties in the most approved style, so they +have to revisit the world next time in the form of beneficent birds." + +But Nevill did not want to answer questions about storks and their +habits. He had tired of them in a moment, and was passionately +interested in mules. "There ought to be an epic written about the mules +of North Africa!" he exclaimed. "I tell you, it's a great subject. Look +at those poor brave chaps struggling to pull carts piled up with casks +of beastly Algerian wine, through that sea of mud, which probably goes +all the way through to China. Aren't they splendid? Wait till you've +been in this country as long as I have, and you'll respect mules as I +do, from army mules down to the lowest dregs of the mule kingdom. I +don't ask you to love them--and neither do they. But how they work here +in Africa--and never a groan! They go on till they drop. And I don't +believe half of them ever get anything to eat. Some day I'm going to +start a Rest Farm for tired mules. I shall pay well for them. A man I +know did write a paean of praise for mules. I believe I'll have it +translated into Arabic, and handed about as a leaflet. These natives are +good to their horses, because they believe they have souls, but they +treat their mules like the dirt under their feet." And Nevill began +quoting here and there a verse or a line he remembered of the "mule +music," chanting in time to the throbbing of the motor. + + "Key A minor, measure common, + One and two and three and four and-- + Every hoof-beat half a second + Every hoof-beat linked with heart-beat, + Every heart-beat nearer bursting. + Andantino sostenuto: + In the downpour or the dryness, + Hottest summer, coldest winter; + Sick and sore and old and feeble, + Hourly, hourly; daily, daily, + From the sunrise to the setting; + From the setting to the sunrise + Scarce a break in all the circle + For the rough and scanty eating, + For the scant and muddy drinking, + For the fitful, fearful resting, + For the master haunted-sleeping. + Dreams in dark of God's far heaven + Tempo primo; tempo sempre." + +And so, through pools of wild flowers and the blood of poppies, their +road led to wild mountain scenery, then into the embrace of the +Djurdjura mountains themselves--evil, snow-splashed, sterile-seeming +mountains, until the car had passed the fortified town of Tizi Ouzou, an +overgrown village, whose name Stephen thought like a drunken term of +endearment. It was market-day there, and the long street was so full of +Kabyles dressed apparently in low-necked woollen bags, of soldiers in +uniform, of bold-eyed, scantily-clad children, and of dyed sheep and +goats, that the car had to pass at a walk. Nevill bought a good deal of +Kabyle jewellery, necklaces and long earrings, or boxes enamelled in +crude greens and reds, blues and yellows. Not that he had not already +more than he knew what to do with; but he could not resist the handsome +unveiled girls, the wretched old women, or pretty, half-naked children +who offered the work of the neighbouring hill villages, or family +heirlooms. Sometimes he saw eyes which made him think of Josette's; but +then, all beautiful things that he saw reminded him of her. She was an +obsession. But, for a wonder, he had taken Stephen's advice in Tlemcen +and had not proposed again. He was still marvelling at his own strength +of mind, and asking himself if, after all, he had been wise. + +After Tizi Ouzou the mountains were no longer sterile-seeming. The road +coiled up and up snakily, between rows of leering cactus; and far below +the densely wooded heights lay lovely plains through which a great river +wandered. There was a homely smell of mint, and the country did not look +to Stephen like the Africa he had imagined. All the hill-slopes were +green with the bright green of fig trees and almonds, even at heights so +great that the car wallowed among clouds. This steep road was the road +to Fort National--the "thorn in the eye of Kabylia," which pierces so +deeply that Kabylia may writhe, but revolt no more. Already it was +almost as if the car had brought them into another world. The men who +occasionally emerged from the woolly white blankets of the clouds, were +men of a very different type from the mild Kabyles of the plains they +had met trooping along towards Algiers in search of work. + +These were brave, upstanding men, worthy of their fathers who revolted +against French rule and could not be conquered until that thorn, Fort +National, was planted deeply in heart and eye. Some were fair, and even +red-haired, which would have surprised Stephen if he had not heard from +Nevill that in old days the Christian slaves used to escape from Algiers +and seek refuge in Kabylia, where they were treated as free men, and no +questions were asked. + +Without Fort National, it seemed to Stephen that this strange Berber +people would never have been forced to yield; for looking down from +mountain heights as the motor sped on, it was as if he looked into a +vast and intricate maze of valleys, and on each curiously pointed peak +clung a Kabyle village that seemed to be inlaid in the rock like +separate bits of scarlet enamel. It was the low house-roofs which gave +this effect, for unlike the Arabs, whom the ancient Berber lords of the +soil regard with scorn, the Kabyles build their dwellings of stone, +roofed with red tiles. + +This was a wild, tormented world, broken into a hundred sharp mountain +ridges which seemed to cut the sky, because between the high peaks and +the tangled skein of far-away villages surged foaming seas of cloud, +which appeared to separate high, bright peaks from shadowed vales, by +incredible distances. As far as the eye could travel with utmost +straining, away to the dark, imposing background of the Djurdjura range, +billowed ridges and ravines, ravines and ridges, each pointing pinnacle +or razor-shelf adorned with its coral-red hamlet, like a group of +poisonous fungi, or the barnacles on a ship's steep side. Such an +extraordinary landscape Stephen had never imagined, or seen except on a +Japanese fan; and it struck him that the scene actually did resemble +quaint prints picturing half-real, half-imaginary scenes in old Japan. + +"What a country for war! What a country for defence!" he said to +himself, as Nevill's yellow car sped along the levels of narrow ridges +that gave, on either hand, vertical views far down to fertile valleys, +rushed into clouds of weeping rain, or out into regions of sunlight and +rainbows. + +It was three o'clock when they reached Michelet, but they had not +stopped for luncheon, as both were in haste to find Mouni: and Mouni's +village was just beyond Michelet. Since Fort National, they had been in +the heart of Grand Kabylia; and Michelet was even more characteristic of +this strange mountain country, so different from transplanted Arabia +below. + +Not an Arab lived here, in the long, straggling town, built on the crest +of a high ridge. Not a minaret tower pointed skyward. The Kabyle place +of worship had a roof of little more height or importance than those +that clustered round it. The men were in striped brown gandourahs of +camel's hair; the lovely unveiled women were wrapped in woollen foutahs +dyed red or yellow, blue or purple, and from their little ears heavy +rings dangled. The blue tattoo marks on their brown cheeks and +foreheads, which in forgotten times had been Christian crosses, gave +great value to their enormous, kohl-encircled eyes; and their teeth +were very white as they smiled boldly, yet proudly, at Stephen and +Nevill. + +There was a flight of steps to mount from the car to the hotel, and as +the two men climbed the stairs they turned to look, across a profound +chasm, to the immense mass of the Djurdjura opposite Michelet's thin +ledge. From their point of view, it was like the Jungfrau, as Stephen +had seen it from Muerren, on one of his few trips to Switzerland. +Somehow, those little conventional potterings of his seemed pitiable +now, they had been so easy to do, so exactly what other people did. + +It was long past ordinary luncheon time, and hunger constrained the two +men to eat before starting out to find the village where Mouni and her +people lived. It was so small a hamlet, that Nevill, who knew Kabylia +well, had never heard of it until Josette Soubise wrote the name for him +on one of her own cards. The landlord of the hotel at Michelet gave +rapid and fluent directions how to go, saying that the distance was two +miles, but as the way was a steep mountain path, les messieurs must go +on foot. + +Immediately after lunching they started, armed with a present for the +bride; a watch encrusted with tiny brilliants, which, following +Josette's advice, they had chosen as the one thing of all others +calculated to win the Kabyle girl's heart. "It will be like a fairy +dream to her to have a watch of her own," Josette had said. "Her friends +will be dying of envy, and she will enjoy that. Oh, she will search her +soul and tell you everything she knows, if you but give her a watch!" + +For a little way the friends walked along the wild and beautiful road, +which from Michelet plunges down the mountains toward Bougie and the +sea; but soon they came to the narrow, ill-defined footpath described by +the landlord. It led straight up a steep shoulder of rock which at its +highest part became a ledge; and when they had climbed to the top, at a +distance they could see a cluster of red roofs apparently falling down a +precipice, at the far end. + +Here and there were patches of snow, white as fallen lily-petals on the +pansy-coloured earth. Looking down was like looking from a high wave +upon a vast sea of other waves, each wave carrying on its apex a few +bits of broken red mosaic, which were Kabyle roofs; and the pale sky was +streaked with ragged violet clouds exactly like the sky and clouds +painted on screens by Japanese artists. + +They met not a soul as they walked, but while the village was still far +away and unreal, the bark of guns, fired quickly one after the other, +jarred their ears, and the mountain wind brought a crying of raitas, +African clarionettes, and the dull, yet fierce beat of tom-toms. + +"Now I know why we've met no one," said Nevill. "The wedding feast's +still on, and everybody who is anybody at Yacoua, is there. You know, if +you're an Arab, or even a Kabyle, it takes you a week to be married +properly, and you have high jinks every day: music and dancing and +eating, and if you've money enough, above all you make the powder speak. +Mouni's people are doing her well. What a good thing we've got the +watch! Even with Josette's introduction we mightn't have been able to +come near the bride, unless we had something to offer worth her having." + +The mountain village of Yacoua had no suburbs, no outlying houses. The +one-story mud huts with their pointed red roofs, utterly unlike Arab +dwellings, were huddled together, with only enough distance between for +a man and a mule or a donkey to pass. The best stood in pairs, with a +walled yard between; and as Stephen and Nevill searched anxiously for +some one to point out the home of Mouni, from over a wall which seemed +to be running down the mountain-side, came a white puff of smoke and a +strident bang, then more, one after the other. Again the wailing of the +raita began, and there was no longer any need to ask the way. + +"That's where the party is--in that yard," said Nevill, beginning to be +excited. "Now, what sort of reception will they give us? That's the next +question." + +"Can't we tell, the first thing, that we've come from Algiers with a +present for the bride?" suggested Stephen. + +"We can if they understand Arabic," Nevill answered. "But the Kabyle +lingo's quite different--Berber, or something racy of the soil. I ought +to have brought Mohammed to interpret." + +So steeply did the yard between the low houses run downhill, that, +standing at the top of a worn path like a seam in some old garment, the +two Europeans could look over the mud wall. Squalid as were the mud huts +and the cattle-yard connecting them, the picture framed in the square +enclosure blazed with colour. It was barbaric, and beautiful in its +savagery. + +Squatting on the ground, with the last rank against the house wall, were +several rows of women, all unveiled, their uncovered arms jewelled to +the elbows, embracing their knees. The afternoon sunlight shone on their +ceremonial finery, setting fire to the red, blue and green enamel of +their necklaces, their huge hoop earrings and the jewelled silver chains +pinned to their scarlet or yellow head-wrappings, struck out strange +gleams from the flat, round brooches which fastened their gaily striped +robes on their shoulders, and turned their great dark eyes into brown +topazes. Twenty or thirty men, dressed in their best burnouses, draped +over new gandourahs, their heads swathed in clean white muslin turbans, +sat on the opposite side of the court, watching the "powder play" +furnished by two tall, handsome boys, who handled with delicate grace +and skill old-fashioned, long-muzzled guns inlaid with coral and silver, +heirlooms perhaps, and of some value even to antiquaries. + +While the powder spoke, nobody had a thought for anything else. All eyes +were upon the boys with the guns, only travelling upward in ecstasy to +watch the puffs of smoke that belched out round and white as fat +snowballs. Then, when the music burst forth again, and a splendidly +handsome young Kabyle woman ran forward to begin the wild dance of the +body and of the hands--dear to the mountain men as to the nomads of the +desert--every one was at first absorbed in admiration of her movements. +But suddenly a child (one of a dozen in a row in front of all the women) +tired of the show, less amusing to him than the powder play, and looking +up, saw the two Roumis on the hill behind the wall. He nudged his +neighbour, and the neighbour, who happened to be a little girl, followed +with her eyes the upward nod of his head. So the news went round that +strangers had come uninvited to the wedding-feast, and men began to +frown and women to whisper, while the dancer lost interest in her own +tinklings and genuflections. + +It was time for the intruders to make it known that business of some +sort, not idle curiosity, had brought them on the scene, and Nevill +stepped forward, holding out the visiting card given him by Josette, and +the crimson velvet case containing the watch which Stephen had bought in +Algiers. + + + + +XXII + + +An elderly man, with a reddish beard, got up from the row of men grouped +behind the musicians, and muttered to one of the youths who had been +making the powder speak. They argued for a moment, and then the boy, +handing his gun to the elder man, walked with dignity to a closed gate, +large enough to let in the goats and donkeys pertaining to the two +houses. This gate he opened half-way, standing in the aperture and +looking up sullenly as the Roumis came down the narrow, slippery track +which led to it. + +"Cebah el-kheir, ia Sidi--Good day, sir," said Nevill, agreeably, in his +best Arabic. "Ta' rafi el-a' riya?--Do you speak Arabic?" + +The young man bowed, not yet conciliated. "Ach men sebba jit lhena, ia +Sidi?--Why have you come here, sir?" he asked suspiciously, in very +guttural Arabic. + +Relieved to find that they would have no great difficulty in +understanding each other, Nevill plunged into explanations, pointing to +Josette's card. They had come recommended by the malema at Tlemcen. They +brought good wishes and a present to the bride of the village, the +virtuous and beautiful Mouni, from whom they would gladly receive +information concerning a European lady. Was this the house of her +father? Would they be permitted to speak with her, and give this little +watch from Algiers? + +Nevill made his climax by opening the velvet case, and the brown eyes of +the Kabyle boy flashed with uncontrollable admiration, though his face +remained immobile. He answered that this was indeed the house of +Mouni's father, and he himself was the brother of Mouni. This was the +last day of her wedding-feast, and in an hour she would go to the home +of her husband. The consent of the latter, as well as of her father, +must be asked before strangers could hope to speak with her. +Nevertheless, the Roumis were welcome to enter the yard and watch the +entertainment while Mouni's brother consulted with those most concerned +in this business. + +The boy stood aside, inviting them to pass through the gate, and the +Englishmen availed themselves of his courtesy, waiting just inside until +the red-bearded man came forward. He and his son consulted together, and +then a dark young man in a white burnous was called to join the +conclave. He was a handsome fellow, with a haughtily intelligent face, +and an air of breeding superior to the others. + +"This is my sister's husband. He too speaks Arabic, but my father not so +much." The boy introduced his brother-in-law. "Messaud-ben-Arzen is the +son of our Caid," (he spoke proudly). "Will you tell him and my father +what your business is with Mouni?" + +Nevill broke into more explanations, and evidently they were +satisfactory, for, while the dancing and the powder play were stopped, +and the squatting ranks of guests stared silently, the two Roumis were +conducted into the house. + +It was larger than most of the houses in the village, but apart from the +stable of the animals through which the visitors passed, there was but +one room, long and narrow, lighted by two small windows. The darkest +corner was the bedroom, which had a platform of stone on which rugs were +spread, and there was a lower mound of dried mud, roughly curtained off +from the rest with two or three red and blue foutahs suspended on ropes +made of twisted alfa, or dried grass. Toward the farther end, a hole in +the floor was the family cooking-place, and behind it an elevation of +beaten earth made a wide shelf for a long row of jars shaped like the +Roman amphorae of two thousand years ago. Pegs driven into one of the +walls were hung with gandourahs and a foutah or two; and of furniture, +worthy of that name in the eyes of Europeans, there was none. + +At the bedroom end of the room, several women were gathered round a +central object of interest, and though the light was dim after the vivid +sunshine outside, the visitors guessed that the object of interest was +the bride. Decorously they paused near the door, while a great deal of +arguing went on, in which the shriller voices of women mingled with the +guttural tones of the men. Nevill could catch no word, for they were +talking their own Kabyle tongue which had come down from their +forefathers the Berbers, lords of the land long years before the Arabs +drove them into the high mountains. But at last the group opened, and a +young woman stepped out with half-shy eagerness. She was loaded with +jewels, and her foutah was barbarically splendid in colour, but she was +almost as fair as her father; a slim creature with grey eyes, and brown +curly hair that showed under her orange foulard. + +Proud of her French, she began talking in that language, welcoming the +guests, telling them how glad she was to see friends of her dear +Mademoiselle Soubise. But soon she must be gone to her husband's house, +and already the dark young bridegroom, son of the Caid, was growing +impatient. There was no time to be lost, if they were to learn anything +of Ben Halim's wife. + +As a preface to what they wished to ask, Nevill made a presentation +speech, placing the velvet watch-case in Mouni's hand, and she opened it +with a kind of moan expressing intense rapture. Never had she seen +anything so beautiful, and she would cheerfully have recalled every +phase of her career from earliest babyhood, if by doing so she could +have pleased the givers. + +"But yes," she answered to Nevill's first questions, "the beautiful lady +whom I served was the wife of Sidi Cassim ben Halim. At first it was in +Algiers that I lived with her, but soon we left, and went to the +country, far, oh, very far away, going towards the south. The house was +like a large farmhouse, and to me as a child--for I was but a child--it +seemed fine and grand. Yet my lady was not pleased. She found it rough, +and different from any place to which she was used. Poor, beautiful +lady! She was not happy there. She cried a great deal, and each day I +thought she grew paler than the day before." + +Mouni spoke in French, hesitating now and then for a word, or putting in +two or three in Arabic, before she stopped to think, as she grew +interested in her subject. Stephen understood almost all she said, and +was too impatient to leave the catechizing to Nevill. + +"Whereabouts was this farmhouse?" he asked. "Can't you tell us how to +find it?" + +Mouni searched her memory. "I was not yet thirteen," she said. "It is +nine years since I left that place; and I travelled in a shut-up +carriage, with a cousin, older than I, who had been already in the house +of the lady when I came. She told her mistress of me, and I was sent +for, because I was quick and lively in my ways, and white of face, +almost as white as the beautiful lady herself. My work was to wait on +the mistress, and help my cousin, who was her maid. Yamina--that was my +cousin's name--could have told you more about the place in the country +than I, for she was even then a woman. But she died a few months after +we both left the beautiful lady. We left because the master thought my +cousin carried a letter for her mistress, which he did not wish sent; +and he gave orders that we should no longer live under his roof." + +"Surely you can remember where you went, and how you went, on leaving +the farmhouse?" Stephen persisted. + +"Oh yes, we went back to Algiers. But it was a long distance, and took +us many days, because we had only a little money, and Yamina would not +spend it in buying tickets for the diligence, all the way. We walked +many miles, and only took a diligence when I cried, and was too tired +to move a step farther. At night we drove sometimes, I remember, and +often we rested under the tents of nomads who were kind to us. + +"While I was with the lady, I never went outside the great courtyard. It +is not strange that now, after all these years, I cannot tell you more +clearly where the house was. But it was a great white house, on a hill, +and round it was a high wall, with towers that overlooked the country +beneath. And in those towers, which were on either side the big, wide +gate, were little windows through which men could spy, or even shoot if +they chose." + +"Did you never hear the name of any town that was near?" Stephen went +on. + +"I do not think there was a town near; yet there was a village not far +off to the south. I saw it from the hill-top, both as I went in at the +gate with my cousin, and when, months later, I was sent away with her. +We did not pass through it, because our road was to and from the north; +and I do not even know the name of the village. But there was a cemetery +outside it, where some of the master's ancestors and relations were +buried. I heard my lady speak of it one day, when she cried because she +feared to die and be laid there without ever again seeing her own +country and her own people. Oh, and once I heard Yamina talk with +another servant about an oasis called Bou-Saada. It was not near, yet I +think it could be reached by diligence in a long day." + +"Good!" broke in Nevill. "There's our first real clue! Bou-Saada I know +well. When people who come and visit me want a glimpse of the desert in +a hurry, Bou-Saada is where I take them. One motors there from Algiers +in seven or eight hours--through mountains at first, then on the fringe +of the desert; but it's true, as Mouni says, going by diligence, and +walking now and then, it would be a journey of days. Her description of +the house on the hill, looking down over a village and cemetery, will be +a big help. And Ben Halim's name is sure to be known in the country +round, if he ever lived there." + +"He may have been gone for years," said Stephen. "And if there's a +conspiracy of silence in Algiers, why not elsewhere?" + +"Well, at least we've got a clue, and will follow it up for all we know. +By Jove, this is giving me a new interest in life!" And Nevill rubbed +his hands in a boyish way he had. "Tell us what the beautiful lady was +like," he went on to Mouni. + +"Her skin was like the snow on our mountain-tops when the sunrise paints +the white with rose," answered Mouni. "Her hair was redder than the red +of henna, and when it was unfastened it hung down below her waist. Her +eyes were dark as a night without moon, and her teeth were little, +little pearls. Yet for all her beauty she was not happy. She wasted the +flower of her youth in sadness, and though the master was noble, and +splendid as the sun to look upon, I think she had no love to give him, +perhaps because he was grave and seldom smiled, or because she was a +Roumia and could not suit herself to the ways of true believers." + +"Did she keep to her own religion?" asked Stephen. + +"That I cannot tell. I was too young to understand. She never talked of +such things before me, but she kept to none of our customs, that I know. +In the three months I served her, never did she leave the house, not +even to visit the cemetery on a Friday, as perhaps the master would have +allowed her to do, if she had wished." + +"Do you remember if she spoke of a sister?" + +"She had a photograph of a little girl, whose picture looked like +herself. Once she told me it was her sister, but the next day the +photograph was gone from its place, and I never saw it again. Yamina +thought the master was jealous, because our lady looked at it a great +deal." + +"Was there any other lady in that house," Nevill ventured, "or was yours +the master's only wife?" + +"There was no other lady at that time," Mouni replied promptly. + +"So far, so good," said Nevill. "Well, Legs, I don't think there's any +doubt we've got hold of the right end of the stick now. Mouni's +beautiful lady and Miss Ray's sister Saidee are certainly one and the +same. Ho for the white farmhouse on the hill!" + +"Must we go back to Algiers, or can we get to Bou-Saada from here?" +Stephen asked. + +Nevill laughed. "You are in a hurry! Oh, we can get there from here all +right. Would you like to start now?" + +Stephen's face reddened. "Why not, if we've found out all we can from +this girl?" He tried to speak indifferently. + +Nevill laughed again. "Very well. There's nothing left then, except to +say good-bye to the fair bride and her relations." + +He had expected to get back to Algiers that night, slipping away from +the high passes of Grand Kabylia before dusk, and reaching home late, by +lamplight. But now the plan was changed. They were not to see Algiers +again until Stephen had made acquaintance with the desert. By setting +off at once, they might arrive at Bou-Saada some time in the dark hours; +and Nevill upset his old arrangements with good grace. Why should he +mind? he asked, when Stephen apologized shame-facedly for his +impatience. Bou-Saada was as good a place as any, except Tlemcen, and +this adventure would give him an excuse for a letter, even two letters, +to Josette Soubise. She would want to hear about Mouni's wedding, and +the stately Kabyle home which they had visited. Besides she would be +curious to know whether they found the white farmhouse on the hill, and +if so, what they learned there of the beautiful lady and her mysterious +fate. Oh yes, it would certainly mean two letters at least: one from +Bou-Saada, one after the search for the farmhouse; and Nevill thought +himself in luck, for he was not allowed to write often to Josette. + +After Michelet the road, a mere shelf projecting along a precipice, +slants upward on its way to the Col de Tirouda, sharp as a knife aimed +at the heart of the mountains. From far below clouds boil up as if the +valleys smoked after a destroying fire, and through flying mists flush +the ruddy earth, turning the white film to pinkish gauze. Crimson and +purple stones shine like uncut jewels, and cascades of yellow gorse, +under red-flowering trees, pour down over low-growing white flowers, +which embroider the rose-coloured rocks. + +Then, suddenly, gone is the green Kabyle mountain-world, gone like a +dream the tangle of ridges and chasms, the bright tapestry of fig trees +and silver olives, dark karoubias (the wild locusts of John the Baptist) +and climbing roses. Rough, coarse grass has eaten up the flowers, or +winds sweeping down from the Col have killed them. Only a few stunted +trees bend grotesquely to peer over the sheer sides of shadowed gorges +as the road strains up and up, twisting like a scar left by a whip-lash, +on the naked brown shoulders of a slave. So at last it flings a loop +over the Col de Tirouda. Then, round a corner the wand of an invisible +magician waves: darkness and winter cold become summer warmth and light. + +This light was the level golden glory of late afternoon when Stephen saw +it from Nevill's car; and so green were the wide stretching meadows and +shining rivers far below, that he seemed to be looking at them through +an emerald, as Nero used to gaze at his gardens in Rome. Down the motor +plunged towards the light, threading back and forth a network of +zig-zags, until long before sunset they were in the warm lowlands, +racing towards Bordj-bou Arreredj and Msila. Beyond Msila, they would +follow the desert track which would bring them by and by to the oasis +town of Bou-Saada. + +If Stephen had been a tourist, guide-book in hand, he would have +delighted in the stony road among the mountains between Bordj-bou +Arreredj and Msila; but it was the future, not the past, which held his +thoughts to-day, and he had no more than a passing glance for ruined +mosques and palaces. It was only after nightfall, far beyond the town of +Msila, far beyond the vast plain of the Hodna, that his first dim +glimpse of the desert thrilled him out of self-absorption. + +Even under the stars which crusted a moonless sky, the vast stretches of +billowing sand glimmered faintly golden as a phosphorescent sea. And +among the dimly gleaming waves of that endless waste the motor tossed, +rocking on the rough track like a small boat in mid-ocean. + +Nowhere was there any sound except the throbbing of their machinery, and +a fairy fiddling of unseen crickets, which seemed to make the silence +more intense, under the great sparkling dome that hung over the gold. + +"Now I am in the place where she wished to be: the golden silence," +Stephen said to himself. And he found himself listening, as if for the +call Victoria had promised to give if she needed him. + + + + +XXIII + + +On the top of a pale golden hill, partly sand, partly rock, rises a +white wall with square, squat towers which look north and south, east +and west. The wall and the towers together are like an ivory crown set +on the hill's brow, and from a distance the effect is very barbaric, +very impressive, for all the country round about is wild and desolate. +Along the southern horizon the desert goes billowing in waves of gold, +and rose, and violet, that fade into the fainter violet of the sky; and +nearer there are the strange little mountains which guard the oasis of +Bou-Saada, like a wall reared to hide a treasure from some dreaded +enemy; and even the sand is heaped in fantastic shapes, resembling a +troop of tawny beasts crouched to drink from deep pools of purple +shadow. Northward, the crumpled waste rolls away like prairie land or +ocean, faint green over yellow brown, as if grass seed had been +sprinkled sparsely on a stormy sea and by some miracle had sprouted. And +in brown wastes, bright emerald patches gleam, vivid and fierce as +serpents' eyes, ringed round with silver. Far away to the east floats +the mirage of a lake, calm as a blue lagoon. Westward, where desert +merges into sky, are high tablelands, and flat-topped mountains with +carved sides, desert architecture, such as might have suggested Egyptian +temples and colossal sphinxes. + +Along the rough desert track beneath the hill, where bald stones break +through sandy earth, camels come and go, passing from south to north, +from north to south, marching slowly with rhythmic gait, as if to the +sound of music which only they can hear, glancing from side to side with +unutterable superciliousness, looking wistfully here and there at some +miniature oasis thrown like a dark prayer-carpet on the yellow sand. Two +or three in a band they go, led by desert men in blowing white, or again +in a long train of twelve or twenty, their legs a moving lattice, their +heart-shaped feet making a soft, swishing "pad-pad," on the hard road. + +The little windows of the squat, domed towers on the hill are like eyes +that spy upon this road,--small, dark and secret eyes, very weary of +seeing nothing better than camels since old days when there were +razzias, and wars, something worth shutting stout gates upon. + +When, after three days of travelling, Victoria came southward along this +road, and looked between the flapping carriage curtains at the white +wall that crowned the dull gold hill, her heart beat fast, for the +thought of the golden silence sprang to her mind. The gold did not burn +with the fierce orange flames she had seen in her dreams--it was a +bleached and faded gold, melancholy and almost sinister in colour; yet +it would pass for gold; and a great silence brooded where prairie +blended with desert. She asked no questions of Maieddine, for that was a +rule she had laid upon herself; but when the carriage turned out of the +rough road it had followed so long, and the horses began to climb a +stony track which wound up the yellow hill to the white towers, she +could hardly breathe, for the throbbing in her breast. Always she had +only had to shut her eyes to see Saidee, standing on a high white place, +gazing westward through a haze of gold. What if this were the high white +place? What if already Si Maieddine was bringing her to Saidee? + +They had been only three days on the way so far, it was true, and she +had been told that the journey would be very, very long. Still, Arabs +were subtle, and Si Maieddine might have wanted to test her courage. +Looking back upon those long hours, now, towards evening of the third +day, it seemed to Victoria that she had been travelling for a week in +the swaying, curtained carriage, with the slow-trotting mules. + +Just at first, there had been some fine scenery to hold her interest; +far-off mountains of grim shapes, dark as iron, and spotted with snow as +a leper is spotted with scales. Then had come low hills, following the +mountains (nameless to her, because Maieddine had not cared to name +them), and blue lakes of iris flowing over wide plains. But by and by +the plains flattened to dullness; a hot wind ceaselessly flapped the +canvas curtains, and Lella M'Barka sighed and moaned with the fatigue of +constant motion. There was nothing but plain, endless plain, and +Victoria had been glad, for her own sake as well as the invalid's, when +night followed the first day. They had stopped on the outskirts of a +large town, partly French, partly Arab, passing through and on to the +house of a caid who was a friend of Si Maieddine's. It was a primitively +simple house, even humble, it seemed to the girl, who had as yet no +conception of the bareness and lack of comfort--according to Western +ideas--of Arab country-houses. Nevertheless, when, after another tedious +day, they rested under the roof of a village adel, an official below a +caid, the first house seemed luxurious in contrast. During this last, +third day, Victoria had been eager and excited, because of the desert, +through one gate of which they had entered. She felt that once in the +desert she was so close to Saidee in spirit that they might almost hear +the beating of each other's hearts, but she had not expected to be near +her sister in body for many such days to come: and the wave of joy that +surged over her soul as the horses turned up the golden hill towards the +white towers, was suffocating in its force. + +The nearer they came, the less impressive seemed the building. After +all, it was not the great Arab stronghold it had looked from far away, +but a fortified farmhouse a century old, at most. Climbing the hill, +too, Victoria saw that the golden colour was partly due to a monstrous +swarm of ochre-hued locusts, large as young canary birds, which had +settled, thick as yellow snow, over the ground. They were resting after +a long flight, and there were millions and millions of them, covering +the earth in every direction as far as the eye could reach. Only a few +were on the wing, but as the carriage stopped before the closed gates, +fat yellow bodies came blundering against the canvas curtains, or fell +plumply against the blinkers over the mules' eyes. + +Si Maieddine got down from the carriage, and shouted, with a peculiar +call. There was no answering sound, but after a wait of two or three +minutes the double gates of thick, greyish palm-wood were pulled open +from inside, with a loud creak. For a moment the brown face of an old +man, wrinkled as a monkey's, looked out between the gates, which he held +ajar; then, with a guttural cry, he threw both as far back as he could, +and rushing out, bent his white turban over Maieddine's hand. He kissed +the Sidi's shoulder, and a fold of his burnous, half kneeling, and +chattering Arabic, only a word of which Victoria could catch here and +there. As he chattered, other men came running out, some of them +Negroes, all very dark, and they vied with one another in humble kissing +of the master's person, at any spot convenient to their lips. + +Politely, though not too eagerly, he made the gracious return of seeming +to kiss the back of his own hand, or his fingers, where they had been +touched by the welcoming mouths, but in reality he kissed air. With a +gesture, he stopped the salutations at last, and asked for the Caid, to +whom, he said, he had written, sending his letter by the diligence. + +Then there were passionate jabberings of regret. The Caid, was away, had +been away for days, fighting the locusts on his other farm, west of +Aumale, where there was grain to save. But the letter had arrived, and +had been sent after him, immediately, by a man on horseback. This +evening he would certainly return to welcome his honoured guest. The +word was "guest," not "guests," and Victoria understood that she and +Lella M'Barka would not see the master of the house. So it had been at +the other two houses: so in all probability it would be at every house +along their way unless, as she still hoped, they had already come to the +end of the journey. + +The wide open gates showed a large, bare courtyard, the farmhouse, which +was built round it, being itself the wall. On the outside, no windows +were visible except those in the towers, and a few tiny square apertures +for ventilation, but the yard was overlooked by a number of small glass +eyes, all curtained. + +As the carriage was driven in, large yellow dogs gathered round it, +barking; but the men kicked them away, and busied themselves in chasing +the animals off to a shed, their white-clad backs all religiously turned +as Si Maieddine helped the ladies to descend. Behind a closed window a +curtain was shaking; and M'Barka had not yet touched her feet to the +ground when a negress ran out of a door that opened in the same distant +corner of the house. She was unveiled, like Lella M'Barka's servants in +Algiers, and, with Fafann, she almost carried the tired invalid towards +the open door. Victoria followed, quivering with suspense. What waited +for her behind that door? Would she see Saidee, after all these years of +separation? + +"I think I'm dying," moaned Lella M'Barka. "They will never take me away +from this house alive. White Rose, where art thou? I need thy hand under +my arm." + +Victoria tried to think only of M'Barka, and to wait with patience for +the supreme moment--if it were to come. Even if she had wished it, she +could not have asked questions now. + + + + +XXIV + + +It was midnight when Nevill's car ran into the beautiful oasis town, +guarded by the most curious mountains of the Algerian desert, and they +were at their strangest, cut out clear as the painted mountains of stage +scenery, in the light of the great acetylene lamps. Stephen thought them +like a vast, half-burned Moorish city of mosques and palaces, over which +sand-storms had raged for centuries, leaving only traces here and there +of a ruined tower, a domed roof, or an ornamental frieze. + +Of the palms he could see nothing, except the long, dark shape of the +oasis among the pale sand-billows; but early next morning he and Nevill +were up and out on the roof of the little French hotel, while sunrise +banners marched across the sky. Stephen had not known that desert dunes +could be bright peach-pink, or that a river flowing over white stones +could look like melted rubies, or that a few laughing Arab girls, +ankle-deep in limpid water, could glitter in morning light like jewelled +houris in celestial gardens. But now that he knew, he would never forget +his first desert picture. + +The two men stood on the roof among the bubbly domes for a long time, +looking over the umber-coloured town and the flowing oasis which swept +to Bou-Saada's brown feet like a tidal wave. It was not yet time to go +and ask questions of the Caid, whom Nevill knew. + +Stephen was advised not to drink coffee in the hotel before starting on +their quest. "We shall have to swallow at least three cups each of _cafe +maure_ at the Caid's house, and perhaps a dash of tea flavoured with +mint, on top of all, if we don't want to begin by hurting our host's +feelings," Nevill said. So they fasted, and fed their minds by walking +through Bou-Saada in its first morning glory. Already the old part of +the town was alive, for Arabs love the day when it is young, even as +they love a young girl for a bride. + +The Englishmen strolled into the cool, dark mosque, where heavy Eastern +scents of musk and benzoin had lain all night like fugitives in +sanctuary, and where the roof was held up by cypress poles instead of +marble pillars, as in the grand mosques of big cities. By the time they +were ready to leave, dawn had become daylight, and coming out of the +brown dusk, the town seemed flooded with golden wine, wonderful, +bubbling, unbelievable gold, with scarlet and purple and green figures +floating in it, brilliant as rainbow fish. + +The Caid lived near the old town, in an adobe house, with a garden which +was a tangle of roses and pomegranate blossoms, under orange trees and +palms. And there were narrow paths of hard sand, the colour of old gold, +which rounded up to the centre, and had little runnels of water on +either side. The sunshine dripped between the long fingers of the palm +leaves, to trail in a lacy pattern along the yellow paths, and the sound +of the running water was sweet. + +It was in this garden that the Caid gave his guests the three cups of +coffee each, followed by the mint-flavoured tea which Nevill had +prophesied. And when they had admired a tame gazelle which nibbled cakes +of almond and honey from their hands, the Caid insisted on presenting it +to his good friend, Monsieur Caird. + +Over the cups of _cafe maure_, they talked of Captain Cassim ben Halim, +but their host could or would tell them nothing beyond the fact that Ben +Halim had once lived for a little while not far from Bou-Saada. He had +inherited from his father a country house, about fifty kilometres +distant, but he had never stayed there until after retiring from the +army, and selling his place in Algiers. Then he had spent a few months +in the country. The Caid had met him long ago in Algiers, but had not +seen him since. Ben Halim had been ill, and had led a retired life in +the country, receiving no one. Afterward he had gone away, out of +Algeria. It was said that he had died abroad a little later. Of that, +the Caid was not certain; but in any case the house on the hill was now +in the possession of the Caid of Ain Dehdra, Sidi Elaid ben Sliman, a +distant cousin of Ben Halim, said to be his only living relative. + +Then their host went on to describe the house with the white wall, which +looked down upon a cemetery and a village. His description was almost +precisely what Mouni's had been, and there was no doubt that the place +where she had lived with the beautiful lady was the place of which he +spoke. But of the lady herself they could learn nothing. The Caid had no +information to give concerning Ben Halim's family. + +He pressed them to stay, and see all the beauties of the oasis. He would +introduce them to the marabout at El Hamel, and in the evening they +should see a special dance of the Ouled Nails. But they made excuses +that they must get on, and bade the Caid good-bye after an hour's talk. +As for the _gazelle approvoisee_, Nevill named her Josette, and hired an +Arab to take her to Algiers by the diligence, with explicit instructions +as to food and milk. + +Swarms of locusts flew into their faces, and fell into the car, or were +burned to death in the radiator, as they sped along the road towards the +white house on the golden hill. They started from Bou-Saada at ten +o'clock, and though the road was far from good, and they were not always +sure of the way, the noon heat was scarcely at its height when Stephen +said: "There it is! That must be the hill and the white wall with the +towers." + +"Yes, there's the cemetery too," answered Nevill. "We're seeing it on +our left side, as we go, I hope that doesn't mean we're in for bad +luck." + +"Rot!" said Stephen, promptly. Yet for all his scorn of Nevill's +grotesque superstitions, he was not in a confident mood. He did not +expect much good from this visit to Ben Halim's old country house. And +the worst was, that here seemed their last chance of finding out what +had become of Saidee Ray, if not of her sister. + +The sound of the motor made a brown face flash over the top of the tall +gate, like a Jack popping out of his box. + +"La Sidi, el Caid?" asked Nevill. "Is he at home?" + +The face pretended not to understand; and having taken in every detail +of the strangers' appearance and belongings, including the motor-car, it +disappeared. + +"What's going to happen now?" Stephen wanted to know. + +Nevill looked puzzled. "The creature isn't too polite. Probably it's +afraid of Roumis, and has never been spoken to by one before. But I hope +it will promptly scuttle indoors and fetch its master, or some one with +brains and manners." + +Several minutes passed, and the yellow motor-car continued to advertise +its presence outside the Caid's gate by panting strenuously. The face +did not show itself again; and there was no evidence of life behind the +white wall, except the peculiarly ominous yelping of Kabyle dogs. + +"Let's pound on the gate, and show them we mean to get in," said +Stephen, angry-eyed. + +But Nevill counselled waiting. "Never be in a hurry when you have to do +with Arabs. It's patience that pays." + +"Here come two chaps on horseback," Stephen said, looking down at the +desert track that trailed near the distant cluster of mud houses, which +were like square blocks of gold in the fierce sunshine. "They seem to be +staring up at the car. I wonder if they're on their way here!" + +"It may be the Caid, riding home with a friend, or a servant," Nevill +suggested. "If so, I'll bet my hat there are other eyes than ours +watching for him, peering out through some spy-hole in one of the +gate-towers." + +His guess was right. It was the Caid coming home, and Maieddine was with +him; for Lella M'Barka had been obliged to rest for three days at the +farmhouse on the hill, and the Caid's guest had accompanied him before +sunrise this morning to see a favourite white mehari, or racing camel, +belonging to Sidi Elaid ben Sliman, which was very ill, in care of a +wise man of the village. Now the mehari was dead, and as Maieddine +seemed impatient to get back, they were riding home, in spite of the +noon heat. + +Maieddine had left the house reluctantly this morning. Not that he could +often see Victoria, who was nursing M'Barka, and looking so wistful that +he guessed she had half hoped to find her sister waiting behind the +white wall on the golden hill. + +Though he could expect little of the girl's society, and there was +little reason to fear that harm would come to her, or that she would +steal away in his absence, still he had hated to ride out of the gate +and leave her. If the Caid had not made a point of his coming, he would +gladly have stayed behind. Now, when he looked up and saw a yellow +motor-car at the gate, he believed that his feeling had been a +presentiment, a warning of evil, which he ought so have heeded. + +He and the Caid were a long way off when he caught sight of the car, and +heard its pantings, carried by the clear desert air. He could not be +certain of its identity, but he prided himself upon his keen sight and +hearing, and where they failed, instinct stepped in. He was sure that it +was the car which had waited for Stephen Knight when the _Charles Quex_ +came in, the car of Nevill Caird, about whom he had made inquiries +before leaving Algiers. Maieddine knew, of course, that Victoria had +been to the Djenan el Djouad, and he was intensely suspicious as well as +jealous of Knight, because of the letter Victoria had written. He knew +also that the two Englishmen had been asking questions at the Hotel de +la Kasbah; and he was not surprised to see the yellow car in front of +the Caid's gates. Now that he saw it, he felt dully that he had always +known it would follow him. + +If only he had been in the house, it would not have mattered. He would +have been able to prevent Knight and Caird from seeing Victoria, or even +from having the slightest suspicion that she was, or had been, there. It +was the worst of luck that he should be outside the gates, for now he +could not go back while the Englishmen were there. Knight would +certainly recognize him, and guess everything that he did not know. + +Maieddine thought very quickly. He dared not ride on, lest the men in +the car should have a field-glass. The only thing was to let Ben Sliman +go alone, so that, if eyes up there on the hill were watching, it might +seem that the Caid was parting from some friend who lived in the +village. He would have to trust Elaid's discretion and tact, as he knew +already he might trust his loyalty. Only--the situation was desperate. +Tact, and an instinct for the right word, the frank look, were worth +even more than loyalty at this moment. And one never quite knew how far +to trust another man's judgment. Besides, the mischief might have been +done before Ben Sliman could arrive on the scene; and at the thought of +what might happen, Maieddine's heart seemed to turn in his breast. He +had never known a sensation so painful to body and mind, and it was +hideous to feel helpless, to know that he could do only harm, and not +good, by riding up the hill. Nevertheless, he said to himself, if he +should see Victoria come out to speak with these men, he would go. He +would perhaps kill them, and the chauffeur too. Anything rather than +give up the girl now; for the sharp stab of the thought that he might +lose her, that Stephen Knight might have her, made him ten times more in +love than he had been before. He wished that Allah might strike the men +in the yellow car dead; although, ardent Mussulman as he was, he had no +hope that such a glorious miracle would happen. + +"It is those men from Algiers of whom I told thee," he said to the Caid. +"I must stop below. They must not recognize me, or the dark one who was +on the ship, will guess. Possibly he suspects already that I stand for +something in this affair." + +"Who can have sent them to my house?" Ben Sliman wondered. The two drew +in their horses and put on the manner of men about to bid each other +good-bye. + +"I hope, I am almost sure, that they know nothing of _her_, or of me. +Probably, when inquiring about Ben Halim, in order to hear of her +sister, and so find out where she has gone, they learned only that Ben +Halim once lived here. If thy servants are discreet, it may be that no +harm will come from this visit." + +"They will be discreet. Have no fear," the Caid assured him. Yet it was +on his tongue to say; "the lady herself, when she hears the sound of the +car, may do some unwise thing." But he did not finish the sentence. Even +though the young girl--whom he had not seen--was a Roumia, obsessed with +horrible, modern ideas, which at present it would be dangerous to try +and correct, he could not discuss her with Maieddine. If she showed +herself to the men, it could not be helped. What was to be, would be. +Mektub! + +"Far be it from me to distrust my friend's servants," said Maieddine; +"but if in their zeal they go too far and give an impression of +something to hide, it would be as bad as if they let drop a word too +many." + +"I will ride on and break any such impression if it has been made," Ben +Sliman consoled him. "Trust me. I will be as gracious to these Roumis as +if they were true believers." + +"I do trust thee completely," answered the younger man. "While they are +at thy gates, or within them, I must wait with patience. I cannot remain +here in the open--yet I wish to be within sight, that I may see with my +own eyes all that happens. What if I ride to one of the black tents, and +ask for water to wash the mouth of my horse? If they have it not, it is +no matter." + +"Thine is a good thought," said Ben Sliman, and rode on, putting his +slim white Arab horse to a trot. + +To the left from the group of adobe houses, and at about the same +distance from the rough track on which they had been riding, was a +cluster of nomad tents, like giant bats with torpid wings spread out +ink-black on the gold of the desert. A little farther off was another +small encampment of a different tribe; and their tents were brown, +striped with black and yellow. They looked like huge butterflies +resting. But Maieddine thought of no such similes. He was a child of the +Sahara, and used to the tents and the tent-dwellers. His own father, the +Agha, lived half the year in a great tent, when he was with his douar, +and Maieddine had been born under the roof of camel's hair. His own +people and these people were not kin, and their lives lay far apart; yet +a man of one nomad tribe understands all nomads, though he be a chief's +son, and they as poor as their own ill-fed camels. His pride was his +nomad blood, for all men of the Sahara, be they princes or +camel-drivers, look with scorn upon the sedentary people, those of the +great plain of the Tell, and fat eaters of ripe dates in the cities. + +The eight or ten black tents were gathered round one, a little higher, a +little less ragged than the others--the tent of the Kebir, or headman; +but it was humble enough. There would have been room and to spare for a +dozen such under the _tente sultane_ of the Agha, at his douar south of +El Aghouat. + +As Maieddine rode up, a buzz of excitement rose in the hive. Some one +ran to tell the Kebir that a great Sidi was arriving, and the headman +came out from his tent, where he had been meditating or dozing after the +chanting of the midday prayer--the prayer of noon. + +He was a thin, elderly man, with an eagle eye to awe his women-folk, and +an old burnous of sheep's wool, which was of a deep cream colour because +it had not been washed for many years. Yet he smelt good, with a smell +that was like the desert, and there was no foul odour in the miniature +douar, as in European dwellings of the very poor. There is never a smell +of uncleanliness about Arabs, even those people who must perform most of +the ablutions prescribed by their religion with sand instead of water. +But the Saharian saying is that the desert purifies all things. + +The Kebir was polite though not servile to Maieddine, and while the +horse borrowed from the Caid was having its face economically sprinkled +with water from a brown goat-skin, black coffee was being hospitably +prepared for the guest by the women of the household, unveiled of +course, as are all women of the nomad tribes, except those of highest +birth. + +Maieddine did not want the coffee, but it would have been an insult to +refuse, and he made laboured conversation with the Kebir, his eyes and +thoughts fixed on the Caid's gate and the yellow motor-car. He hardly +saw the tents, beneath whose low-spread black wings eyes looked out at +him, as the bright eyes of chickens look out from under the mother-hen's +feathers. They were all much alike, though the Kebir's, as befitted his +position, was the best, made of wide strips of black woollen material +stitched together, spread tightly over stout poles, and pegged down into +the hard sand. There was a partition dividing the tent in two, a +partition made of one or two old haicks, woven by hand, and if Maieddine +had been interested, he could have seen his host's bedding arranged for +the day; a few coarse rugs and _frechias_ piled up carelessly, out of +the way. There was a bale of camels' hair, ready for weaving, and on top +of it a little boy was curled up asleep. From the tent-poles hung an +animal's skin, drying, and a cradle of netted cords in which swung and +slept a swaddled baby no bigger than a doll. It was a girl, therefore +its eyes were blackened with kohl, and its eyebrows neatly sketched on +with paint, as they had been since the unfortunate day of its birth, +when the father grumbled because it was not a "child," but only a +worthless female. + +The mother of the four weeks' old doll, a fine young woman tinkling with +Arab silver, left her carpet-weaving to grind the coffee, while her +withered mother-in-law brightened with brushwood the smouldering fire of +camel-dung. The women worked silently, humbly, though they would have +been chattering if the great Sidi stranger had not been there; but two +or three little children in orange and scarlet rags played giggling +among the rubbish outside the tent--a broken bassour-frame, or +palanquin, waiting to be mended; date boxes, baskets, and wooden plates; +old kous-kous bowls, bundles of alfa grass, chicken feathers, and an +infant goat with its mother. + +The sound of children's shrill laughter, which passed unnoticed by the +parents, who had it always in their ears, rasped Maieddine's nerves, and +he would have liked to strike or kick the babies into silence. Most +Arabs worship children, even girls, and are invariably kind to them, but +to-day Maieddine hated anything that ran about disturbingly and made a +noise. + +Now the Caid had reached the gate, and was talking to the men in the +motor-car. Would he send them away? No, the gate was being opened by a +servant. Ben Sliman must have invited the Roumis in. Possibly it was a +wise thing to do, yet how dangerous, how terribly dangerous, with +Victoria perhaps peeping from one of the tiny windows at the women's +corner of the house, which looked on the court! They could not see her +there, but she could see them, and if she were tired of travelling and +dancing attendance on a fidgety invalid--if she repented her promise to +keep the secret of this journey? + +Maieddine's experience of women inclined him to think that they always +did forget their promises to a man the moment his back was turned. +Victoria was different from the women of his race, or those he had met +in Paris, yet she was, after all, a woman; and there was no truer saying +than that you might more easily prophesy the direction of the wind than +say what a woman was likely to do. The coffee which the Kebir handed him +made him feel sick, as if he had had a touch of the sun. What was +happening up there on the hill, behind the gates which stood half open? +What would she do--his Rose of the West? + + + + +XXV + + +It was a relief to Stephen and Nevill to see one of the horsemen coming +up the rough hill-track to the gate, and to think that they need no +longer wait upon the fears or inhospitable whims of the Arab servants on +the other side of the wall. + +As soon as the rider came near enough for his features to be sketched in +clearly, Nevill remembered having noticed him at one or two of the +Governor's balls, where all Arab dignitaries, even such lesser lights as +caids and adels show themselves. But they had never met. The man was not +one of the southern chiefs whom Nevill Caird had entertained at his own +house. + +Stephen thought that he had never seen a more personable man as the Caid +rode up to the car, saluting courteously though with no great warmth. + +His face was more tanned than very dark by nature, but it seemed brown +in contrast to his light hazel eyes. His features were commanding, if +not handsome, and he sat his horse well. Altogether he was a notable +figure in his immensely tall white turban, wound with pale grey-brown +camel's-hair rope, his grey cloth burnous, embroidered with gold, flung +back over an inner white burnous, his high black boots, with wrinkled +brown tops, and his wonderful Kairouan hat of light straw, embroidered +with a leather applique of coloured flowers and silver leaves, +steeple-crowned, and as big as a cart-wheel, hanging on his shoulders. + +He and Nevill politely wished the blessings of Allah and Mohammed his +Prophet upon each other, and Nevill then explained the errand which had +brought him and his friend to the Caid's house. + +The Caid's somewhat heavy though intelligent face did not easily show +surprise. It changed not at all, though Stephen watched it closely. + +"Thou art welcome to hear all I can tell of my dead relation, Ben +Halim," he said. "But I know little that everybody does not know." + +"It is certain, then, that Ben Halim is dead?" asked Nevill. "We had +hoped that rumour lied." + +"He died on his way home after a pilgrimage to Mecca," gravely replied +the Caid. + +"Ah!" Nevill caught him up quickly. "We heard that it was in +Constantinople." + +Ben Sliman's expression was slightly strained. He glanced from Nevill's +boyish face to Stephen's dark, keen one, and perhaps fancied suspicion +in both. If he had intended to let the Englishmen drive away in their +motor-car without seeing the other side of his white wall, he now +changed his mind. "If thou and thy friend care to honour this poor farm +of mine by entering the gates, and drinking coffee with me," he said, +"We will afterwards go down below the hill to the cemetery where my +cousin's body lies buried. His tombstone will show that he was El Hadj, +and that he had reached Mecca. When he was in Constantinople, he had +just returned from there." + +Possibly, having given the invitation by way of proving that there was +nothing to conceal, Ben Sliman hoped it would not be accepted; but he +was disappointed. Before the Caid had reached the top of the hill, +Nevill had told his chauffeur to stop the motor, therefore the restless +panting had long ago ceased, and when Ben Sliman looked doubtfully at +the car, as if wondering how it was to be got in without doing damage to +his wall, Nevill said that the automobile might stay where it was. Their +visit would not be long. + +"But the longer the better," replied the Caid. "When I have guests, it +pains me to see them go." + +He shouted a word or two in Arabic, and instantly the gates were opened. +The sketchily clad brown men inside had only been waiting for a signal. + +"I regret that I cannot ask my visitors into the house itself, as I have +illness there," Ben Sliman announced; "but we have guest rooms here in +the gate-towers. They are not what I could wish for such distinguished +personages, but thou canst see, Sidi, thou and thy friend, that this is +a simple farmhouse. We make no pretension to the luxury of towns, but we +do what we can." + +As he spoke, the brown men were scuttling about, one unfastening the +door of a little tower, which stuck as if it had not been opened for a +long time, another darting into the house, which appeared silent and +tenantless, a third and fourth running to a more distant part, and +vanishing also through a dark doorway. + +The Caid quickly ushered his guests into the tower room, but not so +quickly that the eyes of a girl, looking through a screened window, did +not see and recognize both. The servant who had gone ahead unbarred a +pair of wooden shutters high up in the whitewashed walls of the tower, +which was stiflingly close, with a musty, animal odour. As the opening +of the shutters gave light, enormous black-beetles which seemed to +Stephen as large as pigeon's eggs, crawled out from cracks between wall +and floor, stumbling awkwardly about, and falling over each other. It +was a disgusting sight, and did not increase the visitors' desire to +accept the Caid's hospitality for any length of time. It may be that he +had thought of this. But even if he had, the servants were genuinely +enthusiastic in their efforts to make the Roumis at home. The two who +had run farthest returned soonest. They staggered under a load of large +rugs wrapped in unbleached sheeting, and a great sack stuffed full of +cushions which bulged out at the top. The sheeting they unfastened, +and, taking no notice of the beetles, hurriedly spread on the rough +floor several beautifully woven rugs of bright colours. Then, having +laid four or five on top of one another, they clawed the cushions out of +the sack, and placed them as if on a bed. + +Hardly had they finished, when the first servant who had disappeared +came back, carrying over his arm a folding table, and dishes in his +hands. The only furniture already in the tower consisted of two long, +low wooden benches without backs; and as the servant from the house set +up the folding table, he who had opened the windows placed the benches, +one on either side. At the same moment, through the open door, a man +could be seen running with a live lamb flung over his shoulder. + +"Good heavens, what is he going to do with that?" Stephen asked, +stricken with a presentiment. + +"I'm afraid," Nevill answered quickly in English, "that it's going to be +killed for our entertainment." His pink colour faded, and in Arabic he +begged the Caid to give orders that, if the lamb were for them, its life +be spared, as they were under a vow never to touch meat. This was the +first excuse he could think of; and when, to his joy, a message was sent +after the slayer of innocence, he added that, very unfortunately, they +had a pressing engagement which would tear them away from the Caid's +delightful house all too soon. + +Perhaps the Caid's face expressed no oppressive regret, yet he said +kindly that he hoped to keep his guests at least until next morning. In +the cool of the day they would see the cemetery; they would return, and +eat the evening meal. It would then be time to sleep. And with a gesture +he indicated the rugs and cushions, under which the beetles were now +buried like mountain-dwellers beneath an avalanche. + +Nevill, still pale, thanked his host earnestly, complimented the rugs, +and assured the Caid that, of course, they would be extraordinarily +comfortable, but even such inducements did not make it possible for +them to neglect their duty elsewhere. + +"In any case we shall now eat and drink together," said Ben Sliman, +pointing to the table, and towards a servant now arriving from the house +with a coffee-tray. The dishes had been set down on the bare board, and +one contained the usual little almond cakes, the other, a conserve of +some sort bathed in honey, where already many flies were revelling. The +servant who had spread the table, quietly pulled the flies out by their +wings, or killed them on the edge of the dish. + +Nevill, whiter than before, accepted cordially, and giving Stephen a +glance of despair, which said: "Noblesse oblige," he thrust his fingers +into the honey, where there were fewest flies, and took out a sweetmeat. +Stephen did the same. All three ate, and drank sweet black _cafe maure_. +Once the Caid turned to glance at something outside the door, and his +secretive, light grey eyes were troubled. As they ate and drank, they +talked, Nevill tactfully catechizing, the Caid answering with pleasant +frankness. He did not inquire why they wished to have news of Ben Halim, +who had once lived in the house for a short time, and had now long been +dead. Perhaps he wished to give the Roumis a lesson in discretion; but +as their friendliness increased over the dripping sweets, Nevill +ventured to ask a crucial question. What had become of Ben Halim's +American wife? + +Then, for the first time, the Caid frowned, very slightly, but it was +plain to see he thought a liberty had been taken which, as host, he was +unable to resent. + +"I know nothing of my dead cousin's family," he said. "No doubt its +members went with him, if not to Mecca, at least a part of the way, and +if any such persons wished to return to Europe after his death, it is +certain they would have been at liberty to do so. This house my cousin +wished me to have, and I took possession of it in due time, finding it +empty and in good order. If you search for any one, I should advise +searching in France or, perhaps, in America. Unluckily, there I cannot +help. But when it is cool, we will go to the cemetery. Let us go after +the prayer, the prayer of _Moghreb_." + +But Nevill was reluctant. So was Stephen, when the proposal was +explained. They wished to go while it was still hot, or not at all. It +may be that even this eccentric proposal did not surprise or grieve the +Caid, though as a rule he was not fond of being out of doors in the +glare of the sun. + +He agreed to the suggestion that the motor-car should take all three +down the hill, but said that he would prefer to walk back. + +The "teuf-teuf" of the engine began once more outside the white gates; +and for the second time Victoria flew to the window, pressing her face +against the thick green moucharabia which excluded flies and prevented +any one outside from seeing what went on within. + +"Calm thyself, O Rose," urged the feeble voice of Lella M'Barka. "Thou +hast said these men are nothing to thee." + +"One is my friend," the girl pleaded, with a glance at the high couch of +rugs on which M'Barka lay. + +"A young girl cannot have a man for a friend. He may be a lover or a +husband, but never a friend. Thou knowest this in thy heart, O Rose, and +thou hast sworn to me that never hast thou had a lover." + +Victoria did not care to argue. "I am sure he has come here to try and +find me. He is anxious. That is very good of him--all the more, because +we are nothing to each other. How can I let him go away without a word? +It is too hard-hearted. I do think, if Si Maieddine were here, he would +say so too. He would let me see Mr. Knight and just tell him that I'm +perfectly safe and on the way to my sister. That once she lived in this +house, and I hoped to find her here, but----" + +"Maieddine would not wish thee to tell the young man these things, or +any other things, or show thyself to him at all," M'Barka persisted, +lifting herself on the bed in growing excitement. "Dost thou not guess, +he runs many dangers in guiding thee to the wife of a man who is as one +dead? Dost thou wish to ruin him who risks his whole future to content +thee?" + +"No, of course I would do nothing which could bring harm to Si +Maieddine," Victoria said, the eagerness dying out of her voice. "I have +kept my word with him. I have let nobody know--nobody at all. But we +could trust Mr. Knight and Mr. Caird. And to see them there, in the +courtyard, and let them go--it is too much!" + +"Why shouldst thou consider me, whom thou hast known but a few days, +when thou wouldst be hurrying on towards thy sister Saida? Yet it will +surely be my death if thou makest any sign to those men. My heart would +cease to beat. It beats but weakly now." + +With a sigh, Victoria turned away from the moucharabia, and crossing the +room to M'Barka, sat down on a rug by the side of her couch. "I do +consider thee," she said. "If it were not for thee and Si Maieddine, I +might not be able to get to Saidee at all; so I must not mind being +delayed a few days. It is worse for thee than for me, because thou art +suffering." + +"When a true believer lies ill for more than three days, his sins are +all forgiven him," M'Barka consoled herself. She put out a hot hand, and +laid it on Victoria's head. "Thou art a good child. Thou hast given up +thine own will to do what is right." + +"I'm not quite sure at this moment that I am doing what is right," +murmured Victoria. "But I can't make thee more ill than thou art, so I +must let Mr. Knight go. And probably I shall never see him, never hear +of him again. He will look for me, and then he will grow tired, and +perhaps go home to England before I can write to let him know I am safe +with Saidee." Her voice broke a little. She bent down her head, and +there were tears in her eyes. + +She heard the creaking of the gate as it shut. The motor-car had gone +panting away. For a moment it seemed as if her heart would break. Just +one glimpse had she caught of Stephen's face, and it had looked to her +more than ever like the face of a knight who would fight to the death +for a good cause. She had not quite realized how noble a face it was, or +how hard it would be to let it pass out of her life. He would always +hate her if he guessed she had sat there, knowing he had come so far for +her sake?--she was sure it was for her sake--and had made no sign. But +he would not guess. And it was true, as Lella M'Barka said, he was +nothing to her. Saidee was everything. And she was going to Saidee. She +must think only of Saidee, and the day of their meeting. + + * * * * * * * + +Stephen had never seen an Arab cemetery; and it seemed to him that this +Mussulman burial-place, scattered over two low hills, in the midst of +desert wastes, was beautiful and pathetic. The afternoon sunshine beat +upon the koubbahs of marabouts, and the plastered graves or headstones +of less important folk; but so pearly pale were they all that the golden +quality of the light was blanched as if by some strange, white magic, +and became like moonlight shining on a field of snow. + +There were no names on any of the tombs, even the grandest. Here and +there on a woman's grave was a hand of Fatma, or a pair of the Prophet's +slippers; and on those of a few men were turbans carved in marble, to +tell that the dead had made pilgrimage to Mecca. All faces were turned +towards the sacred city, as Mussulmans turn when they kneel to pray, in +mosque or in desert; and the white slabs, narrow or broad, long or +short, ornamental or plain, flat or roofed with fantastic maraboutic +domes, were placed very close together. At one end of the cemetery, only +bits of pottery marked the graves; yet each bit was a little different +from the other, meaning as much to those who had placed them there as +names and epitaphs in European burial grounds. On the snowy headstones +and flat platforms, drops of rose-coloured wax from little candles, lay +like tears of blood shed by the mourners, and there was a scattered +spray of faded orange blossoms, brought by some loving hand from a +far-away garden in an oasis. + +"Here lies my cousin, Cassim ben Halim," said the Caid, pointing to a +grave comparatively new, surmounted at the head with a carved turban. +Nearer to it than any other tomb was that of a woman, beautified with +the Prophet's slippers. + +"Is it possible that his wife lies beside him?" Stephen made Nevill ask. + +"It is a lady of his house. I can say no more. When his body was brought +here, hers was brought also, in a coffin, which is permitted to the +women of Islam, with the request that it should be placed near my +cousin's tomb. This was done; and it is all I can tell, because it is +all I know." + +The Arab looked the Englishman straight in the eyes as he answered; and +Stephen felt that in this place, so simple, so peaceful, so near to +nature's heart, it would be difficult for a man to lie to another, even +though that man were a son of Islam, the other a "dog of a Christian." +For the first time he began to believe that Cassim ben Halim had in +truth died, and that Victoria Ray's sister was perhaps dead also. Her +death alone could satisfactorily explain her long silence. And against +the circumstantial evidence of this little grave, adorned with the +slippers of the Prophet, there was only a girl's impression--Victoria's +feeling that, if Saidee were dead, she "must have known." + +The two friends stood for a while by the white graves, where the +sunshine lay like moonlight on snow; and then, because there was nothing +more for them to do in that place, they thanked the Caid, and made ready +to go their way. Again he politely refused their offer to drive him up +to his own gate, and bade them good-bye when they had got into the car. +He stood and watched it go bumping away over the rough, desert road, +pieces of which had been gnawed off by a late flood, as a cake is bitten +round the edge by a greedy child. + +They had had enough of motor-cars for that day, up there on the hill! +The Caid was glad when the sound died. The machine was no more suited to +his country, he thought, than were the men of Europe who tore about the +world in it, trying to interfere in other people's business. + +"El hamdou-lillah! God be praised!" he whispered, as the yellow +automobile vanished from sight and Maieddine came out from the cluster +of black tents in the yellow sand. + + + + +XXVI + + +Next day, Lella M'Barka was well enough to begin the march again. They +started, in the same curtained carriage, at that moment before dawn +while it is still dark, and a thin white cloth seems spread over the +dead face of night. Then day came trembling along the horizon, and the +shadows of horses and carriage grew long and grotesquely deformed. It +was the time, M'Barka said, when Chitan the devil, and the evil Djenoun +that possess people's minds and drive them insane, were most powerful; +and she would hardly listen when Victoria answered that she did not +believe in Djenoun. + +In a long day, they came to Bou-Saada, reaching the hidden oasis after +nightfall, and staying in the house of the Caid with whom Stephen and +Nevill had talked of Ben Halim. Lella M'Barka was related to the Caid's +wife, and was so happy in meeting a cousin after years of separation, +that the fever in her blood was cooled; and in the morning she was able +to go on. + +Then came two days of driving to Djelfa, at first in a country strange +enough to be Djinn-haunted, a country of gloomy mountains, and deep +water-courses like badly healed wounds; passing through dry river-beds, +and over broken roads with here and there a bordj where men brought +water to the mules, in skins held together with ropes of straw. At last, +after a night, not too comfortable, spent in a dismal bordj, they came +to a wilderness which any fairytale-teller would have called the end of +the world. The road had dwindled to a track across gloomy desert, all +the more desolate, somehow, because of the dry asparto grass growing +thinly among stones. Nothing seemed to live or move in this world, +except a lizard that whisked its grey-green length across the road, a +long-legged bird which hopped gloomily out of the way, or a few ragged +black and white sheep with nobody to drive them. In the heat of the day +nothing stirred, not even the air, though the distance shimmered and +trembled with heat; but towards night jackals padded lithely from one +rock shelter to another. The carriage drove through a vast plain, rimmed +with far-away mountains, red as porphyry, but fading to purple at the +horizon. Victoria felt that she would never come to the end of this +plain, that it must finish only with eternity; and she wished in an +occasional burst of impatience that she were travelling in Nevill +Caird's motor-car. She could reach her sister in a third of the time! +She told herself that these thoughts were ungrateful to Maieddine, who +was doing so much for her sake, and she kept up her spirits whether they +dragged on tediously, or stopped by the way to eat, or to let M'Barka +rest. She tried to control her restlessness, but feared that Maieddine +saw it, for he took pains to explain, more than once, how necessary was +the detour they were making. Along this route he had friends who were +glad to entertain them at night, and give them mules or horses, and +besides, it was an advantage that the way should be unfrequented by +Europeans. He cheered her by describing the interest of the journey +when, by and by, she would ride a mehari, sitting in a bassour, made of +branches heated and bent into shape like a great cage, lined and draped +with soft haoulis of beautiful colours, and comfortably cushioned. It +would not be long now before they should come to the douar of his father +the Agha, beyond El Aghouat. She would have a wonderful experience +there; and according to Maieddine, all the rest of the journey would be +an enchantment. Never for a moment would he let her tire. Oh, he would +promise that she should be half sorry when the last day came! As for +Lella M'Barka, the Rose of the West need not fear, for the bassour was +easy as a cradle to a woman of the desert; and M'Barka, rightfully a +princess of Touggourt, was desert-born and bred. + +Queer little patches of growing grain, or miniature orchards enlivened +the dull plain round the ugly Saharian town of Djelfa, headquarters of +the Ouled Nails. The place looked unprepossessingly new and French, and +obtrusively military; dismal, too, in the dusty sand which a wailing +wind blew through the streets; but scarcely a Frenchman was to be seen, +except the soldiers. Many Arabs worked with surprising briskness at the +loading or unloading of great carts, men of the Ouled Nails, with eyes +more mysterious than the eyes of veiled women; tall fellows wearing high +shoes of soft, pale brown leather made for walking long distances in +heavy sand; and Maieddine said that there was great traffic and commerce +between Djelfa and the M'Zab country, where she and he and M'Barka would +arrive presently, after passing his father's douar. + +Maieddine was uneasy until they were out of Djelfa, for, though few +Europeans travelled that way, and the road is hideous for motors, still +it was not impossible that a certain yellow car had slipped in before +them, to lie in wait. The Caid's house, where they spent that night, was +outside the town, and behind its closed doors and little windows there +was no fear of intruders. It was good to be sure of shelter and security +under a friend's roof; and so far, in spite of the adventure at Ben +Sliman's, everything was going well enough. Only--Maieddine was a little +disappointed in Victoria's manner towards himself. She was sweet and +friendly, and grateful for all he did, but she did not seem interested +in him as a man. He felt that she was eager to get on, that she was +counting the days, not because of any pleasure they might bring in his +society, but to make them pass more quickly. Still, with the deep-rooted +patience of the Arab, he went on hoping. His father, Agha of the +Ouled-Serrin, reigned in the desert like a petty king. Maieddine thought +that the douar and the Agha's state must impress her; and the journey +on from there would be a splendid experience, different indeed from this +interminable jogging along, cramped up in a carriage, with M'Barka +sighing, or leaning a heavy head on the girl's shoulder. Out in the +open, Victoria in her bassour, he on the horse which he would take from +his father's goum, travelling would be pure joy. And Maieddine had been +saving up many surprises for that time, things he meant to do for the +girl, which must turn her heart towards him. + +Beyond Djelfa, on the low mountains that alone broke the monotony +of the dismal plain, little watch-towers rose dark along the +sky-line--watch-towers old as Roman days. Sometimes the travellers met a +mounted man wearing a long, hooded cloak over his white burnous; a +cavalier of the Bureau Arabe, or native policeman on his beat, under the +authority of a civil organization more powerful in the Sahara than the +army. These men, riding alone, saluted Si Maieddine almost with +reverence, and Lella M'Barka told Victoria, with pride, that her cousin +was immensely respected by the French Government. He had done much for +France in the far south, where his family influence was great, and he +had adjusted difficulties between the desert men and their rulers. "He +is more tolerant than I, to those through whom Allah has punished us for +our sins," said the woman of the Sahara. "I was brought up in an older +school; and though I may love one of the Roumis, as I have learned to +love thee, oh White Rose, I cannot love whole Christian nations. +Maieddine is wiser than I, yet I would not change my opinions for his; +unless, as I often think, he really----" she stopped suddenly, frowning +at herself. "This dreariness is not _our_ desert," she explained eagerly +to the girl, as the horses dragged the carriage over the sandy earth, +through whose hard brown surface the harsh, colourless blades of _drinn_ +pricked like a few sparse hairs on the head of a shrivelled old man. "In +the Sahara, there are four kinds of desert, because Allah put four +angels in charge, giving each his own portion. The Angel of the Chebka +was cold of nature, with no kindness in his heart, and was jealous of +the others; so the Chebka is desolate, sown with sharp rocks which were +upheaved from under the earth before man came, and its dark ravines are +still haunted by evil spirits. The Angel of the Hameda was careless, and +forgot to pray for cool valleys and good water, so the Hameda hardened +into a great plateau of rock. The Angel of the Gaci was loved by a +houri, who appeared to him and danced on the firm sand of his desert. +Vanishing, she scattered many jewels, and fruits from the celestial +gardens which turned into beautifully coloured stones as they fell, and +there they have lain from that day to this. But best of all was the +Angel of the Erg, our desert--desert of the shifting dunes, never twice +the same, yet always more beautiful to-day than yesterday; treacherous +to strangers, but kind as the bosom of a mother to her children. The +first three angels were men, but the fourth and best is the angel woman +who sows the heaven with stars, for lamps to light her own desert, and +all the world beside, even the world of infidels." + +M'Barka and Maieddine both talked a great deal of El Aghouat, which +M'Barka called the desert pearl, next in beauty to her own wild +Touggourt, and Maieddine laughingly likened the oasis-town to Paris. "It +is the Paris of our Sahara," he said, "and all the desert men, from +Caids to camel-drivers, look forward to its pleasures." + +He planned to let the girl see El Aghouat for the first time at sunset. +That was to be one of his surprises. By nature he was dramatic; and the +birth of the sun and the death of the sun are the great dramas of the +desert. He wished to be the hero of such a drama for Victoria, with El +Aghouat for his background; for there, he was leading her in at the gate +of his own country. + +When they had passed the strange rock-shape known as the Chapeau de +Gendarme, and the line of mountains which is like the great wall of +China, Maieddine defied the danger he had never quite ceased to fear +during the five long days since the adventure on the other side of +Bou-Saada. He ordered the carriage curtains to be rolled up as tightly +as they would go, and Victoria saw a place so beautiful that it was like +the secret garden of some Eastern king. It was as if they had driven +abruptly over the edge of a vast bowl half filled with gold dust, and +ringed round its rim with quivering rosy flames. Perhaps the king of the +garden had a dragon whose business it was to keep the fire always alight +to prevent robbers from coming to steal the gold dust; and so ardently +had it been blazing there for centuries, that all the sky up to the +zenith had caught fire, burning with so dazzling an intensity of violet +that Victoria thought she could warm her hands in its reflection on the +sand. In the azure crucible diamonds were melting, boiling up in a +radiant spray, but suddenly the violet splendour was cooled, and after a +vague quivering of rainbow tints, the celestial rose tree of the Sahara +sunset climbed blossoming over the whole blue dome, east, west, north +and south. + +In the bottom of the golden bowl, there was a river bed to cross, on a +bridge of planks, but among the burning stones trickled a mere runnel of +water, bright as spilt mercury. And Maieddine chose the moment when the +minarets of El Aghouat rose from a sea of palms, to point out the +strange, pale hills crowned by old koubbahs of marabouts and the +military hospital. He told the story of the Arab revolt of fifty odd +years ago; and while he praised the gallantry of the French, Victoria +saw in his eyes, heard in the thrill of his voice, that his admiration +was for his own people. This made her thoughtful, for though it was +natural enough to sympathize with the Arabs who had stood the siege and +been reconquered after desperate fighting, until now his point of view +had seemed to be the modern, progressive, French point of view. Quickly +the question flashed through her mind--"Is he letting himself go, +showing me his real self, because I'm in the desert with him, and he +thinks I'll never go back among Europeans?" + +She shivered a little at the thought, but she put it away with the doubt +of Maieddine that came with it. Never had he given her the least cause +to fear him, and she would go on trusting in his good faith, as she had +trusted from the first. + +Still, there was that creeping chill, in contrast to the warm glory of +the sunset, which seemed to shame it by giving a glimpse of the desert's +heart, which was Maieddine's heart. She hurried to say how beautiful was +El Aghouat; and that night, in the house of the Caid, (an uncle of +Maieddine's on his mother's side), as the women grouped round her, +hospitable and admiring, she reproached herself again for her suspicion. +The wife of the Caid was dignified and gentle. There were daughters +growing up, and though they knew nothing, or seemed to know nothing, of +Saidee, they were sure that, if Maieddine knew, all was well. Because +they were his cousins they had seen and been seen by him, and the young +girls poured out all the untaught romance of their little dim souls in +praise of Maieddine. Once they were on the point of saying something +which their mother seemed to think indiscreet, and checked them quickly. +Then they stopped, laughing; and their laughter, like the laughter of +little children, was so contagious that Victoria laughed too. + +There was some dreadful European furniture of sprawling, "nouveau art" +design in the guest-room which she and Lella M'Barka shared; and as +Victoria lay awake on the hard bed, of which the girls were proud, she +said to herself that she had not been half grateful enough to Si +Maieddine. For ten years she had tried to find Saidee, and until the +other day she had been little nearer her heart's desire than when she +was a child, hoping and longing in the school garret. Now Maieddine had +made the way easy--almost too easy, for the road to the golden silence +had become so wonderful that she was tempted to forget her haste to +reach the end. + + + + +XXVII + + +"There is my father's douar," said Si Maieddine; and Victoria's eyes +followed his pointing finger. + +Into a stony and desolate waste had billowed one golden wave of sand, +and on the fringe of this wave, the girl saw a village of tents, black +and brown, lying closely together, as a fleet of dark fishing-boats lie +in the water. There were many little tents, very flat and low, crouched +around one which even at a distance was conspicuous for its enormous +size. It looked like a squatting giant among an army of pigmies; and the +level light of late afternoon gave extraordinary value to its colours, +which were brighter and newer than those of the lesser tents. As their +swaying carriage brought the travellers nearer, Victoria could see deep +red and brown stripes, separated by narrow bands of white. For +background, there was a knot of trees; for they had come south of El +Aghouat to the strange region of dayas, where the stony desolation is +broken by little emerald hollows, running with water, like big round +bowls stuck full of delicate greenery and blossoms. + +Suddenly, as Victoria looked, figures began running about, and almost +before she had time to speak, ten or a dozen men in white, mounted on +horses, came speeding across the desert. + +A stain of red showed in Maieddine's cheeks, and his eyes lighted up. +"They have been watching, expecting us," he said. "Now my father is +sending men to bid us welcome." + +"Perhaps he is coming himself," said Victoria, for there was one figure +riding in the centre which seemed to her more splendidly dignified than +the others, though all were magnificent horsemen. + +"No. It would not be right that the Agha himself should come to meet his +son," Maieddine explained. "Besides he would be wearing a scarlet +burnous, embroidered with gold. He does me enough honour in sending out +the pick of his goum, which is among the finest of the Sahara." + +Victoria had picked up a great deal of desert lore by this time, and +knew that the "pick of the goum" would mean the best horses in the +Agha's stables, the crack riders among his trained men--fighting men, +such as he would give to the Government, if Arab soldiers were needed. + +The dozen cavaliers swept over the desert, making the sand fly up under +the horses' hoofs in a yellow spray; and nearing the carriage they +spread themselves in a semi-circle, the man Victoria had mistaken for +the Agha riding forward to speak to Maieddine. + +"It is my brother-in-law, Abderrhaman ben Douadi," exclaimed Maieddine, +waving his hand. + +M'Barka pulled her veil closer, and because she did so, Victoria hid her +face also, rather than shock the Arab woman's prejudices. + +At a word from his master, the driver stopped his mules so quickly as to +bring them on their haunches, and Maieddine sprang out. He and his +brother-in-law, a stately dark man with a short black beard under an +eagle nose, exchanged courtesies which seemed elaborate to Victoria's +European ideas, and Si Abderrhaman did not glance at the half-lowered +curtains behind which the women sat. + +The men talked for a few minutes; then Maieddine got into the carriage +again; and surrounded by the riders, it was driven rapidly towards the +tents, rocking wildly in the sand, because now it had left the desert +road and was making straight for the zmala. + +The Arab men on their Arab horses shouted as they rode, as if giving a +signal; and from the tents, reddened now by the declining sun, came +suddenly a strange crying in women's voices, shrill yet sweet; a sound +that was half a chant, half an eerie yodeling, note after note of +"you-you!--you-you!" Out from behind the zeribas, rough hedges of dead +boughs and brambles which protected each low tent, burst a tidal wave of +children, some gay as little bright butterflies in gorgeous dresses, +others wrapped in brilliant rags. From under the tents women appeared, +unveiled, and beautiful in the sunset light, with their heavy looped +braids and their dangling, clanking silver jewellery. "You-you! +you-you!" they cried, dark eyes gleaming, white teeth flashing. It was +to be a festival for the douar, this fortunate evening of the son and +heir's arrival, with a great lady of his house, and her friend, a Roumia +girl. There was joy for everyone, for the Agha's relatives, and for each +man, woman and child in the zmala, mighty ones, or humble members of the +tribe, the Ouled-Serrin. There would be feasting, and after dark, to +give pleasure to the Roumia, the men would make the powder speak. It was +like a wedding; and best of all, an exciting rumour had gone round the +douar, concerning the foreign girl and the Agha's son, Si Maieddine. + +The romance in Victoria's nature was stirred by her reception; by the +white-clad riders on their slender horses, and the wild "you-yous" of +the women and little girls. Maieddine saw her excitement and thrilled to +it. This was his great hour. All that had gone before had been leading +up to this day, and to the days to come, when they would be in the fiery +heart of the desert together, lost to all her friends whom he hated with +a jealous hatred. He helped M'Barka to descend from the carriage: then, +as she was received at the tent door by the Agha himself, Maieddine +forgot his self-restraint, and swung the girl down, with tingling hands +that clasped her waist, as if at last she belonged to him. + +Half fearful of what he had done, lest she should take alarm at his +sudden change of manner, he studied her face anxiously as he set her +feet to the ground. But there was no cause for uneasiness. So far from +resenting the liberty he had taken after so many days of almost +ostentatious respect, Victoria was not even thinking of him, and her +indifference would have been a blow, if he had not been too greatly +relieved to be hurt by it. She was looking at his father, the Agha, who +seemed to her the embodiment of some biblical patriarch. All through her +long desert journey, she had felt as if she had wandered into a dream of +the Old Testament. There was nothing there more modern than "Bible +days," as she said to herself, simply, except the French quarters in the +few Arab towns through which they had passed. + +Not yet, however, had she seen any figure as venerable as the Agha's, +and she thought at once of Abraham at his tent door. Just such a man as +this Abraham must have been in his old age. She could even imagine him +ready to sacrifice a son, if he believed it to be the will of Allah; and +Maieddine became of more importance in her eyes because of his +relationship to this kingly patriarch of the Sahara. + +Having greeted his niece, Lella M'Barka, and passed her hospitably into +the tent where women were dimly visible, the Agha turned to Maieddine +and Victoria. + +"The blessing of Allah be upon thee, O my son," he said, "and upon thee, +little daughter. My son's messenger brought word of thy coming, and thou +art welcome as a silver shower of rain after a long drought in the +desert. Be thou as a child of my house, while thou art in my tent." + +As she gave him her hand, her veil fell away from her face, and he saw +its beauty with the benevolent admiration of an old man whose blood has +cooled. He was so tall that the erect, thin figure reminded Victoria of +a lonely desert palm. The young girl was no stern critic, and was more +inclined to see good than evil in every one she met; therefore to her +the long snowy beard, the large dreamy eyes under brows like +Maieddine's, and the slow, benevolent smile of the Agha meant nobility +of character. Her heart was warm for the splendid old man, and he was +not unaware of the impression he had made. As he bowed her into the tent +where his wife and sister and daughter were crowding round M'Barka, he +said in a low voice to Maieddine: "It is well, my son. Being a man, and +young, thou couldst not have withstood her. When the time is ripe, she +will become a daughter of Islam, because for love of thee, she will wish +to fulfil thine heart's desire." + +"She does not yet know that she loves me," Maieddine answered. "But when +thou hast given me the white stallion El Biod, and I ride beside the +girl in her bassour through the long days and the long distances, I +shall teach her, in the way the Roumi men teach their women to love." + +"But if thou shouldst not teach her?" + +"My life is in it, and I shall teach her," said Maieddine. "But if +Chitan stands between, and I fail--which I will not do--why, even so, it +will come to the same thing in the end, because----" + +"Thou wouldst say----" + +"It is well to know one's own meaning, and to speak of--date stones. Yet +with one's father, one can open one's heart. He to whom I go has need of +my services, and what he has for twelve months vainly asked me to do, I +will promise to do, for the girl's sake, if I cannot win her without." + +"Take care! Thou enterest a dangerous path," said the old man. + +"Yet often I have thought of entering there, before I saw this girl's +face." + +"There might be a great reward in this life, and in the life beyond. Yet +once the first step is taken, it is irrevocable. In any case, commit me +to nothing with him to whom thou goest. He is eaten up with zeal. He is +a devouring fire--and all is fuel for that fire." + +"I will commit thee to nothing without thy full permission, O my +father." + +"And for thyself, think twice before thou killest the sheep. Remember +our desert saying. 'Who kills a sheep, kills a bee. Who kills a bee, +kills a palm, and who kills a palm, kills seventy prophets.'" + +"I would give my sword to the prophets to aid them in killing those who +are not prophets." + +"Thou art faithful. Yet let the rain of reason fall on thy head and on +thine heart, before thou givest thy sword into the hand of him who waits +thine answer." + +"Thine advice is of the value of many dates, even of the _deglet nour_, +the jewel date, which only the rich can eat." + +The old man laid his hand, still strong and firm, on his son's shoulder, +and together they went into the great tent, that part of it where the +women were, for all were closely related to them, excepting the Roumia, +who had been received as a daughter of the house. + + * * * * * * * + +When it was evening, the douar feasted, in honour of the guests who had +come to the _tente sultane_. The Agha had given orders that two sheep +should be killed. One was for his own household; his relatives, his +servants, many of whom lived under the one vast roof of red, and white, +and brown. His daughter, and her husband who assisted him in many ways, +and was his scribe, or secretary, had a tent of their own close by, next +in size to the Agha's; but they were bidden to supper in the great tent +that night, for the family reunion. And because there was a European +girl present, the women ate with the men, which was not usual. + +The second sheep was for the humbler folk of the zmala, and they roasted +it whole in an open space, over a fire of small, dry wood, and of dead +palm branches brought on donkey back twenty miles across the desert, +from the nearest oasis town, also under dominion of the Agha. He had a +house and garden there; but he liked best to be in his douar, with only +his tent roof between him and the sky. Also it made him popular with +the tribe of which he was the head, to spend most of his time with them +in the desert. And for some reasons of which he never spoke, the old man +greatly valued this popularity, though he treasured also the respect of +the French, who assured his position and revenues. + +The desert men had made a ring round the fire, far from the green +_daya_, so that the blowing sparks might not reach the trees. They sat +in a circle, on the sand, with a row of women on one side, who held the +smallest children by their short skirts; and larger children, wild and +dark, as the red light of the flames played over their faces, fed the +fire with pale palm branches. There was no moon, but a fountain of +sparks spouted towards the stars; and though it was night, the sky was +blue with the fierce blue of steel. Some of the Agha's black Soudanese +servants had made kous-kous of semolina with a little mutton and a great +many red peppers. This they gave to the crowd, in huge wooden bowls; and +the richer people boiled coffee which they drank themselves, and offered +to those sitting nearest them. + +When everybody had eaten, the powder play began round the fire, and at +each explosion the women shrilled out their "you-you, you-you!" But this +was all for the entertainment of outsiders. Inside the Agha's tent, the +family took their pleasure more quietly. + +Though a house of canvas, there were many divisions into rooms. The +Agha's wife had hers, separated completely from her sister's, and there +was space for guests, besides the Agha's own quarters, his reception +room, his dining-room (invaded to-night by all his family) the kitchen, +and sleeping place for a number of servants. + +There were many dishes besides the inevitable cheurba, or Arab soup, the +kous-kous, the mechoui, lamb roasted over the fire. Victoria was almost +sickened by the succession of sweet things, cakes and sugared preserves, +made by the hands of the Agha's wife, Alonda, who in the Roumia's eyes +was as like Sarah as the Agha was like Abraham. Yet everything was +delicious; and after the meal, when the coffee came, lagmi the desert +wine distilled from the heart of a palm tree, was pressed upon Victoria. +All drank a little, for, said Lella Alonda, though strong drink was +forbidden by the Prophet, the palms were dear to him, and besides, in +the throats of good men and women, wine was turned to milk, as Sidi +Aissa of the Christians turned water to wine at the marriage feast. + +When they had finished at last, a Soudanese woman poured rose-water over +their hands, from a copper jug, and wiped them with a large damask +napkin, embroidered by Aichouch, the pretty, somewhat coquettish married +daughter of the house, Maieddine's only sister. The rose-water had been +distilled by Lella Fatma, the widowed sister of Alonda, who shared the +hospitality of the Agha's roof, in village or douar. Every one +questioned Victoria, and made much of her, even the Agha; but, though +they asked her opinions of Africa, and talked of her journey across the +sea, they did not speak of her past life or of her future. Not a word +was said concerning her mission, or Ben Halim's wife, the sister for +whom she searched. + +While they were still at supper, the black servants who had waited upon +them went quietly away, but slightly raised the heavy red drapery which +formed the partition between that room and another. They looped up the +thick curtain only a little way, but there was a light on the other +side, and Victoria, curious as to what would happen next, spied the +servants' black legs moving about, watched a rough wooden bench placed +on the blue and crimson rugs of Djebel Amour, and presently saw other +black legs under a white burnous coil themselves upon the low seat. + +Then began strange music, the first sound of which made Victoria's heart +leap. It was the first time she had heard the music of Africa, except a +distant beating of tobols coming from a black tent across desert +spaces, while she had lain at night in the house of Maieddine's friends; +or the faint, pure note of a henna-dyed flute in the hand of some boy +keeper of goats--a note pure as the monotonous purling of water, heard +in the dark. + +But this music was so close to her, that it was like the throbbing of +her own heart. And it was no sweet, pure trickle of silver, but the cry +of passion, passion as old and as burning as the desert sands outside +the lighted tent. As she listened, struck into pulsing silence, she +could see the colour of the music; a deep crimson, which flamed into +scarlet as the tom-tom beat, or deepened to violent purple, wicked as +belladonna flowers. The wailing of the raita mingled with the heavy +throbbing of the tom-tom, and filled the girl's heart with a vague +foreboding, a yearning for something she had not known, and did not +understand. Yet it seemed that she must have both known and understood +long ago, before memory recorded anything--perhaps in some forgotten +incarnation. For the music and what it said, monotonously yet fiercely, +was old as the beginnings of the world, old and changeless as the +patterns of the stars embroidered on the astrological scroll of the sky. +The hoarse derbouka, and the languorous ghesbah joined in with the +savage tobol and the strident raita; and under all was the tired +heart-beat of the bendir, dull yet resonant, and curiously exciting to +the nerves. + +Victoria's head swam. She wondered if it were wholly the effect of the +African music, or if the lagmi she had sipped was mounting to her brain. +She grew painfully conscious of every physical sense, and it was hard to +sit and listen. She longed to spring up and dance in time to the +droning, and throbbing, and crying of the primitive instruments which +the Negroes played behind the red curtain. She felt that she must dance, +a new, strange dance the idea of which was growing in her mind, and +becoming an obsession. She could see it as if she were looking at a +picture; yet it was only her nerves and her blood that bade her dance. +Her reason told her to sit still. Striving to control herself she shut +her eyes, and would have shut her ears too, if she could. But the music +was loud in them. It made her see desert rivers rising after floods, and +water pounding against the walls of underground caverns. It made her +hear the wild, fierce love-call of a desert bird to its mate. + +She could bear it no longer. She sprang up, her eyes shining, her cheeks +red. "May I dance for you to that music, Lella Alonda?" she said to the +Agha's wife. "I think I could. I long to try." + +Lella Alonda, who was old, and accustomed only to the dancing of the +Almehs, which she thought shameful, was scandalized at the thought that +the young girl would willingly dance before men. She was dumb, not +knowing what answer to give, that need not offend a guest, but which +might save the Roumia from indiscretion. + +The Agha, however, was enchanted. He was a man of the world still, +though he was aged now, and he had been to Paris, as well as many times +to Algiers. He knew that European ladies danced with men of their +acquaintance, and he was curious to see what this beautiful child wished +to do. He glanced at Maieddine, and spoke to his wife: "Tell the little +White Rose to dance; that it will give us pleasure." + +"Dance then, in thine own way, O daughter," Lella Alonda was forced to +say; for it did not even occur to her that she might disobey her +husband. + +Victoria smiled at them all; at M'Barka and Aichouch, and Aichouch's +dignified husband, Si Abderrhaman: at Alonda and the Agha, and at +Maieddine, as, when a child, she would have smiled at her sister, when +beginning a dance made up from one of Saidee's stories. + +She had told Stephen of an Eastern dance she knew, but this was +something different, more thrilling and wonderful, which the wild music +put into her heart. At first, she hardly knew what was the meaning she +felt impelled to express by gesture and pose. The spirit of the desert +sang to her, a song of love, a song old as the love-story of Eve; and +though the secret of that song was partly hidden from her as yet, she +must try to find it out for herself, and picture it to others, by +dancing. + +Always before, when she danced, Victoria had called up the face of her +sister, to keep before her eyes as an inspiration. But now, as she bent +and swayed to catch the spirit's whispers, as wheat sways to the whisper +of the wind, it was a man's face she saw. Stephen Knight seemed to stand +in the tent, looking at her with a curiously wistful, longing look, over +the heads of the Arab audience, who sat on their low divans and piled +carpets. + +She thrilled to the look, and the desert spirit made her screen her face +from it, with a sequined gauze scarf which she wore. For a few measures +she danced behind the glittering veil, then with a sudden impulse which +the music gave, she tossed it back, holding out her arms, and smiling up +to Stephen's eyes, above the brown faces, with a sweet smile very +mysterious to the watchers. Consciously she called to Stephen then, as +she had promised she would call, if she should ever need him, for +somehow she did need and want him;--not for his help in finding Saidee: +she was satisfied with all that Maieddine was doing--but for herself. +The secret of the music which she had been trying to find out, was in +his eyes, and learning it slowly, made her more beautiful, more womanly, +than she had ever been before. As she danced on, the two long plaits of +her red hair loosened and shook out into curls which played round her +white figure like flames. Her hands fluttered on the air as they rose +and fell like the little white wings of a dove; and she was dazzling as +a brandished torch, in the ill-lit tent with its dark hangings. + +M'Barka had given her a necklace of black beads which the negresses had +made of benzoin and rose leaves and spices, held in shape with pungent +rezin. Worn on the warm flesh, the beads gave out a heady perfume, which +was like the breath of the desert. It made the girl giddy, and it grew +stronger and sweeter as she danced, seeming to mingle with the crying +of the raita and the sobbing of the ghesbah, so that she confused +fragrance with music, music with fragrance. + +Maieddine stared at her, like a man who dreams with his eyes open. If he +had been alone, he could have watched her dance on for hours, and wished +that she would never stop; but there were other men in the tent, and he +had a maddening desire to snatch the girl in his arms, smothering her in +his burnous, and rushing away with her into the desert. + +Her dancing astonished him. He did not know what to make of it, for she +had told him nothing about herself, except what concerned her errand in +Africa. Though he had been in Paris when she was there, he had been +deeply absorbed in business vital to his career, and had not heard of +Victoria Ray the dancer, or seen her name on the hoardings. + +Like his father, he knew that European women who danced were not as the +African dancers, the Ouled Nails and the girls of Djebel Amour. But an +Arab may have learned to know many things with his mind which he cannot +feel with his heart; and with his heart Maieddine felt a wish to blind +Abderrhaman, because his eyes had seen the intoxicating beauty of +Victoria as she danced. He was ferociously angry, but not with the girl. +Perhaps with himself, because he was powerless to hide her from others, +and to order her life as he chose. Yet there was a kind of delicious +pain in knowing himself at her mercy, as no Arab man could be at the +mercy of an Arab woman. + +The sight of Victoria dancing, had shot new colours into his existence. +He understood her less, and valued her more than before, a thousand +times more, achingly, torturingly more. Since their first meeting on the +boat, he had admired the American girl immensely. Her whiteness, the +golden-red of her hair, the blueness of her eyes had meant perfection +for him. He had wanted her because she was the most beautiful creature +he had seen, because she was a Christian and difficult to win; also +because the contrast between her childishness and brave independence +was piquant. Apart from that contrast, he had not thought much about her +nature. He had looked upon her simply as a beautiful girl, who could not +be bought, but must be won. Now she had become a bewildering houri. +Nothing which life could give him would make up for the loss of her. +There was nothing he would not do to have her, or at least to put her +beyond the reach of others. + +If necessary, he would even break his promise to the Agha. + +While she danced inside the great tent, outside in the open space round +the fire, the dwellers in the little tents sat with their knees in their +arms watching the dancing of two young Negroes from the Soudan. The +blacks had torn their turbans from their shaven heads, and thrown aside +their burnouses. Naked to their waists, with short, loose trousers, and +sashes which other men seized, to swing the wearers round and round, +their sweating skin had the gloss of ebony. It was a whirlwind of a +dance, and an old wizard with a tom-tom, and a dark giant with metal +castanets made music for the dancers, taking eccentric steps themselves +as they played. The Soudanese fell into an ecstasy of giddiness, running +about on their hands and feet like huge black tarantulas, or turning +themselves into human wheels, to roll through the bed of the dying fire +and out on the other side, sending up showers of sparks. All the while, +they uttered a barking chant, in time to the wicked music, which seemed +to shriek for war and bloodshed; and now and then they would dash after +some toddling boy, catch him by the scalp-lock on his shaved head (left +for the grasp of Azrail the death-angel) and force him to join the +dance. + +Mean-faced Kabyle dogs, guarding deserted tents, howled their hatred of +the music, while far away, across desert spaces, jackals cried to one +another. And the scintillating network of stars was dimmed by a thin +veil of sand which the wind lifted and let fall, as Victoria lifted and +let fall the spangled scarf that made her beauty more mysterious, more +desirable, in the eyes of Maieddine. + + + + +XXVIII + + +"In the name of the All-Merciful and Pitiful! We seek refuge with the +Lord of the Day, against the sinfulness of beings created by Him; +against all evil, and against the night, lest they overcome us +suddenly." + +It was the Prayer of the Dawn, El Fejur; and Victoria heard it cried in +the voices of the old men of the zmala, early in the morning, as she +dressed to continue her journey. + +Every one was astir in the _tente sultane_, behind the different curtain +partitions, and outside were the noises of the douar, waking to a new +day. The girl could not wait for the coffee that Fafann would bring her, +for she was eager to see the caravan that Si Maieddine was assembling. +As soon as she was ready she stole out into the dim dawn, more mystic in +the desert than moon-rise or moon-setting. The air was crisp and +tingling, and smelled of wild thyme, the herb that nomad women love, and +wear crushed in their bosoms, or thrust up their nostrils. The camels +had not come yet, for the men of the douar had not finished their +prayer. In the wide open space where they had watched the dance last +night, now they were praying, sons of Ishmael, a crowd of prostrate +white figures, their faces against the sand. + +Victoria stood waiting by the big tent, but she had not much need for +patience. Soon the desert prayer was over, and the zmala was buzzing +with excitement, as it had buzzed when the travellers arrived. + +The Soudanese Negroes who had danced the wild dance appeared leading two +white meharis, running camels, aristocrats of the camel world. On the +back of each rose a cage-like bassour, draped with haoulis, striped +rose-colour and purple. The desert beasts moved delicately, on legs +longer and more slender than those of pack-camels, their necks swaying +like the necks of swans who swim with the tide. Victoria thought them +like magnificent, four-legged cousins of ostriches, and the +superciliousness of their expressions amused her; the look they had of +elderly ladies, dissatisfied with every one but themselves, and +conscious of being supremely "well-connected." "A camel cannot see its +own hump, but it can see those of others," she had heard M'Barka say. + +As Victoria stood alone in the dawn, laughing at the ghostly meharis, +and looking with interest at the heavily laden pack-camel and the mule +piled up with tents and mattresses, Maieddine came riding round from +behind the great tent, all in white, on a white stallion. Seeing the +girl, he tested her courage, and made a bid for her admiration by +reining El Biod in suddenly, making him stand erect on his hind feet, +pawing the air and dancing. But Roumia as she was, and unaccustomed to +such manoeuvres, she neither ran back nor screamed. She was not ashamed +to show her admiration of man and horse, and Maieddine did not know that +her thoughts were more of El Biod the white, "drinker of air," the +saddle of crimson velvet and tafilet leather embroidered in gold, and +the bridle from Figuig, encrusted with silver, than of the rider. + +"This is the horse of whom I told thee," Maieddine said, letting El Biod +come down again on all four feet. "He was blessed as a foal by having +the magical words 'Bissem Allah' whispered over him as he drew the first +draught of his mother's milk. But thou wilt endow him with new gifts if +thou touchest his forehead with thy hand. Wilt thou do that, for his +sake, and for mine?" + +Victoria patted the flesh-coloured star on the stallion's white face, +not knowing that, if a girl's fingers lie between the eyes of an Arab's +horse, it is as much as to say that she is ready to ride with him to the +world's end. But Maieddine knew, and the thought warmed his blood. He +was superstitious, like all Arabs, and he had wanted a sign of success. +Now he had it. He longed to kiss the little fingers as they rested on El +Biod's forehead, but he said to himself, "Patience; it will not be long +before I kiss her lips." + +"El Biod is my citadel," he smiled to her. "Thou knowest we have the +same word for horse and citadel in Arabic? And that is because a brave +stallion is a warrior's citadel, built on the wind, a rampart between +him and the enemy. And we think the angels gave a horse the same heart +as a man, that he might be our friend as well as servant, and carry us +on his back to Paradise. Whether that is true or not, to-day El Biod and +I are already on the threshold of Paradise, because we are thy guides, +thy guardians through the desert which we love." + +As he made this speech, Maieddine watched the girl's face anxiously, to +see whether she would resent the implication, but she only smiled in her +frank way, knowing the Arab language to be largely the language of +compliment; and he was encouraged. Perhaps he had been over-cautious +with her, he thought; for, after all, he had no reason to believe that +she cared for any man, and as he had a record of great successes with +women, why be so timid with an unsophisticated girl? Each day, he told +himself, he would take another and longer step forward; but for the +moment he must be content. He began to talk about the meharis and the +Negroes who would go with them and the beasts of burden. + +When it was time for Victoria and M'Barka to be helped into their +bassourahs, Maieddine would not let the Soudanese touch the meharis. It +was he who made the animals kneel, pulling gently on the bridle attached +to a ring in the left nostril of each; and both subsided gracefully in +haughty silence instead of uttering the hideous gobbling which common +camels make when they get down and get up, or when they are loaded or +unloaded. These beasts, Guelbi and Mansour, had been bought from Moors, +across the border where Oran and Morocco run together, and had been +trained since babyhood by smugglers for smuggling purposes. "If a man +would have a silent camel," said Maieddine, "he must get him from +smugglers. For the best of reasons their animals are taught never to +make a noise." + +M'Barka was to have Fafann in the same bassour, but Victoria would have +her rose and purple cage to herself. Maieddine told her how, as the +camel rose, she must first bow forward, then bend back; and, obeying +carefully, she laughed like a child as the tall mehari straightened the +knees of his forelegs, bearing his weight upon them as if on his feet, +then got to his hind feet, while his "front knees," as she called them, +were still on the ground, and last of all swung himself on to all four +of his heart-shaped feet. Oh, how high in the air she felt when Guelbi +was up, ready to start! She had had no idea that he was such a tall, +moving tower, under the bassour. + +"What a sky-scraping camel!" she exclaimed. And then had to explain to +Maieddine what she meant; for though he knew Paris, for him America +might as well have been on another planet. + +He rode beside Victoria's mehari, when good-byes had been said, +blessings exchanged, and the little caravan had started. Looking out +between the haoulis which protected her from sun and wind, the handsome +Arab on his Arab horse seemed far below her, as Romeo must have seemed +to Juliet on her balcony; and to him the fair face, framed with dazzling +hair was like a guiding star. + +"Thou canst rest in thy bassour?" he asked. "The motion of thy beast +gives thee no discomfort?" + +"No. Truly it is a cradle," she answered. "I had read that to ride on a +camel was misery, but this is like being rocked on the bough of a tree +when the wind blows." + +"To sit in a bassour is very different from riding on a saddle, or even +on a mattress, as the poor Bedouin women sometimes ride, or the dancers +journeying from one place to another. I would not let thee travel with +me unless I had been able to offer thee all the luxuries which a sultana +might command. With nothing less would I have been content, because to +me thou art a queen." + +"At least thou hast given me a beautiful moving throne," laughed +Victoria; "and because thou art taking me on it to my sister, I'm happy +to-day as a queen." + +"Then, if thou art happy, I also am happy," he said. "And when an Arab +is happy, his lips would sing the song that is in his heart. Wilt thou +be angry or pleased if I sing thee a love-song of the desert?" + +"I cannot be angry, because the song will not really be for me," +Victoria answered with the simplicity which had often disarmed and +disconcerted Maieddine. "And I shall be pleased, because in the desert +it is good to hear desert songs." + +This was not exactly the answer which he had wanted, but he made the +best of it, telling himself that he had not much longer to wait. + +"Leaders of camels sing," he said, "to make the beasts' burdens weigh +less heavily. But thy mehari has no burden. Thou in thy bassour art +lighter on his back than a feather on the wing of a dove. My song is for +my own heart, and for thine heart, if thou wilt have it, not for Guelbi, +though the meaning of Guelbi is 'heart of mine.'" + +Then Maieddine sang as he rode, his bridle lying loose, an old Arab +song, wild and very sad, as all Arab music sounds, even when it is the +cry of joy: + + "Truly, though I were to die, it would be naught, + If I were near my love, for whom my bosom aches, + For whom my heart is beating. + + "Yes, I am to die, but death is nothing + O ye who pass and see me dying, + For I have kissed the eyes, the mouth that I desired." + +"But that is a sad song," said Victoria, when Maieddine ceased his +tragic chant, after many verses. + +"Thou wouldst not say so, if thou hadst ever loved. Nothing is sad to a +lover, except to lose his love, or not to have his love returned." + +"But an Arab girl has no chance to love," Victoria argued. "Her father +gives her to a man when she is a child, and they have never even spoken +to each other until after the wedding." + +"We of the younger generation do not like these child marriages," +Maieddine apologized, eagerly. "And, in any case, an Arab man, unless he +be useless as a mule without an eye, knows how to make a girl love him +in spite of herself. We are not like the men of Europe, bound down by a +thousand conventions. Besides, we sometimes fall in love with women not +of our own race. These we teach to love us before marriage." + +Victoria laughed again, for she felt light-hearted in the beautiful +morning. "Do Arab men always succeed as teachers?" + +"What is written is written," he answered slowly. "Yet it is written +that a strong man carves his own fate. And for thyself, wouldst thou +know what awaits thee in the future?" + +"I trust in God and my star." + +"Thou wouldst not, then, that the desert speak to thee with its tongue +of sand out of the wisdom of all ages?" + +"What dost thou mean?" + +"I mean that my cousin, Lella M'Barka, can divine the future from the +sand of the Sahara, which gave her life, and life to her ancestors for a +thousand years before her. It is a gift. Wilt thou that she exercise it +for thee to-night, when we camp?" + +"There is hardly any real sand in this part of the desert," said +Victoria, seeking some excuse not to hear M'Barka's prophecies, yet not +to hurt M'Barka's feelings, or Maieddine's. "It is all far away, where +we see the hills which look golden as ripe grain. And we cannot reach +those hills by evening." + +"My cousin always carries the sand for her divining. Every night she +reads in the sand what will happen to her on the morrow, just as the +women of Europe tell their fate by the cards. It is sand from the dunes +round Touggourt; and mingled with it is a little from Mecca, which was +brought to her by a holy man, a marabout. It would give her pleasure to +read the sand for thee." + +"Then I will ask her to do it," Victoria promised. + +As the day grew, its first brightness faded. A wind blew up from the +south, and slowly darkened the sky with a strange lilac haze, which +seemed tangible as thin silk gauze. Behind it the sun glimmered like a +great silver plate, and the desert turned pale, as in moonlight. +Although the ground was hard under the camels' feet, the wind carried +with it from far-away spaces a fine powder of sand which at last forced +Victoria to let down the haoulis, and Maieddine and the two Negroes to +cover their faces with the veils of their turbans, up to the eyes. + +"It will rain this afternoon," M'Barka prophesied from between her +curtains. + +"No," Maieddine contradicted her. "There has been rain this month, and +thou knowest better than I do that beyond El Aghouat it rains but once +in five years. Else, why do the men of the M'Zab country break their +hearts to dig deep wells? There will be no rain. It is but a sand-storm +we have to fear." + +"Yet I feel in the roots of my hair and behind my eyes that the rain is +coming." + +Maieddine shrugged his shoulders, for an Arab does not twice contradict +a woman, unless she be his wife. But the lilac haze became a pall of +crape, and the noon meal was hurried. Maieddine saved some of the +surprises he had brought for a more favourable time. Hardly had they +started on again, when rain began to fall, spreading over the desert in +a quivering silver net whose threads broke and were constantly mended +again. Then the rough road (to which the little caravan did not keep) +and all the many diverging tracks became wide silver ribbons, lacing +the plain broken with green dayas. A few minutes more--incredibly few, +it seemed to Victoria--and the dayas were deep lakes, where the water +swirled and bubbled round the trunks of young pistachio trees. A torrent +poured from the mourning sky, and there was a wild sound of marching +water, which Victoria could hear, under the haoulis which sheltered her. +No water came through them, for the arching form of the bassour was like +the roof of a tent, and the rain poured down on either side. She peeped +out, enjoying her own comfort, while pitying Maieddine and the Negroes; +but all three had covered their thin burnouses with immensely thick, +white, hooded cloaks, woven of sheep's wool, and they had no air of +depression. By and by they came to an oued, which should have been a +dry, stony bed without a trickle of water; but half an hour's downpour +had created a river, as if by black magic; and Victoria could guess the +force at which it was rushing, by the stout resistance she felt Guelbi +had to make, as he waded through. + +"A little more, and we could not have crossed," said Maieddine, when +they had mounted up safely on the other side of the oued. + +"Art thou not very wet and miserable?" the girl asked sympathetically. + +"I--miserable?" he echoed. "I--who am privileged to feast upon the +deglet nour, in my desert?" + +Victoria did not understand his metaphor, for the deglet nour is the +finest of all dates, translucent as amber, sweet as honey, and so dear +that only rich men or great marabouts ever taste it. "The deglet nour?" +she repeated, puzzled. + +"Dost thou not know the saying that the smile of a beautiful maiden is +the deglet nour of Paradise, and nourishes a man's soul, so that he can +bear any discomfort without being conscious that he suffers?" + +"I did not know that Arab men set women so high," said Victoria, +surprised; for now the rain had stopped, suddenly as it began, and she +could look out again from between the curtains. Soon they would dry in +the hot sun. + +"Thou hast much to learn then, about Arab men," Maieddine answered, "and +fortunate is thy teacher. It is little to say that we would sacrifice +our lives for the women we love, because for us life is not that great +treasure it is to the Roumis, who cling to it desperately. We would do +far more than give our lives for the beloved woman, we Arabs. We would +give our heads, which is the greatest sacrifice a man of Islam could +make." + +"But is not that the same thing as giving life?" + +"It is a thousandfold more. It is giving up the joy of eternity. For we +are taught to believe that if a man's head is severed from his body, it +alone goes to Paradise. His soul is maimed. It is but a bodiless head, +and all celestial joys are for ever denied to it." + +"How horrible!" the girl exclaimed. "Dost thou really believe such a +thing?" + +He feared that he had made a mistake, and that she would look upon him +as an alien, a pagan, with whom she could have no sympathy. "If I am +more modern in my ideas than my forefathers," he said tactfully, "I must +not confess it to a Roumia, must I, oh Rose of the West?--for that would +be disloyal to Islam. Yet if I did believe, still would I give my head +for the love of the one woman, the star of my destiny, she whose sweet +look deserves that the word 'ain' should stand for bright fountain, and +for the ineffable light in a virgin's eyes." + +"I did not know until to-day, Si Maieddine, that thou wert a poet," +Victoria told him. + +"All true Arabs are poets. Our language--the literary, not the common +Arabic--is the language of poets, as thou must have read in thy books. +But I have now such inspiration as perhaps no man ever had; and thou +wilt learn other things about me, while we journey together in the +desert." + +As he said this he looked at her with a look which even her simplicity +could not have mistaken if she had thought of it; but instantly the +vision of Saidee came between her eyes and his. The current of her ideas +was abruptly changed. "How many days now," she asked suddenly, "will the +journey last?" + +His face fell. "Art thou tired already of this new way of travelling, +that thou askest me a question thou hast not once asked since we +started?" + +"Oh no, no," she reassured him. "I love it. I am not tired at all. +But--I did not question thee at first because thou didst not desire me +to know thy plans, while I was still within touch of Europeans. Thou +didst not put this reason in such words, for thou wouldst not have let +me feel I had not thy full trust. But it was natural thou shouldst not +give it, when thou hadst so little acquaintance with me, and I did not +complain. Now it is different. Even if I wished, I could neither speak +nor write to any one I ever knew. Therefore I question thee." + +"Art thou impatient for the end?" he wanted to know, jealously. + +"Not impatient. I am happy. Yet I should like to count the days, and say +each night, 'So many more times must the sun rise and set before I see +my sister.'" + +"Many suns must rise and set," Maieddine confessed doggedly. + +"But--when first thou planned the journey, thou saidst; 'In a fortnight +thou canst send thy friends news, I hope.'" + +"If I had told thee then, that it must be longer, wouldst thou have come +with me? I think not. For thou sayest I did not wholly trust thee. How +much less didst thou trust me?" + +"Completely. Or I would not have put myself in thy charge." + +"Perhaps thou art convinced of that now, when thou knowest me and Lella +M'Barka, and thou hast slept in the tent of my father, and in the houses +of my friends. But I saw in thine eyes at that time a doubt thou didst +not wish to let thyself feel, because through me alone was there a way +to reach thy sister. I wished to bring thee to her, for thy sake, and +for her sake, though I have never looked upon her face and never +shall----" + +"Why dost thou say 'never shall'?" the girl broke in upon him suddenly. + +The blood mounted to his face. He had made a second mistake, and she was +very quick to catch him up. + +"It was but a figure of speech," he corrected himself. + +"Thou dost not mean that she's shut up, and no man allowed to see her?" + +"I know nothing. Thou wilt find out all for thyself. But thou wert +anxious to go to her, at no matter what cost, and I feared to dishearten +thee, to break thy courage, while I was still a stranger, and could not +justify myself in thine eyes. Now, wilt thou forgive me an evasion, +which was to save thee anxiety, if I say frankly that, travel as we may, +we cannot reach our journey's end for many days yet?" + +"I must forgive thee," said Victoria, with a sigh. "Yet I do not like +evasions. They are unworthy." + +"I am sorry," Maieddine returned, so humbly that he disarmed her. "It +would be terrible to offend thee." + +"There can be no question of offence," she consoled him. "I am very, +very grateful for all thou hast done for me. I often lie awake in the +night, wondering how I can repay thee everything." + +"When we come to the end of the journey, I will tell thee of a thing +thou canst do, for my happiness," Maieddine said in a low voice, as if +half to himself. + +"Wilt thou tell me now to what place we are going? I should like to +know, and I should like to hear thee describe it." + +He did not speak for a moment. Then he said slowly; "It is a grief to +deny thee anything, oh Rose, but the secret is not mine to tell, even to +thee." + +"The secret!" she echoed. "Thou hast never called it a secret." + +"If I did not use that word, did I not give thee to understand the same +thing?" + +"Thou meanest, the secret about Cassim, my sister's husband?" + +"Cassim ben Halim has ceased to live." + +Victoria gave a little cry. "Dead! But thou hast made me believe, in +spite of the rumours, that he lived." + +"I cannot explain to thee," Maieddine answered gloomily, as if hating to +refuse her anything. "In the end, thou wilt know all, and why I had to +be silent." + +"But my sister?" the girl pleaded. "There is no mystery about her? Thou +hast concealed nothing which concerns Saidee?" + +"Thou hast my word that I will take thee to the place where she is. Thou +gavest me thy trust. Give it me again." + +"I have not taken it away. It is thine," said Victoria. + + + + +XXIX + + +That night they spent in a caravanserai, because, after the brief deluge +of rain, the ground was too damp for camping, when an invalid was of the +party. When they reached the place after sunset, the low square of the +building was a block of marble set in the dull gold of the desert, +carved in dazzling white against a deep-blue evening sky. Like Ben +Halim's house, it was roughly fortified, with many loopholes in the +walls, for it had been built to serve the uses of less peaceful days +than these. Within the strong gates, on one side were rooms for guests, +each with its own door and window opening into the huge court. On +another side of the square were the kitchens and dining-room, as well as +living-place for the Arab landlord and his hidden family; and opposite +was a roofed, open-fronted shelter for camels and other animals, the +ground yellow with sand and spilt fodder. Water overflowed from a small +well, making a pool in the courtyard, in which ducks and geese waddled, +quacking, turkey-cocks fought in quiet corners, barked at impotently by +Kabyle puppies. Tall, lean hounds or sloughis, kept to chase the desert +gazelles, wandered near the kitchens, in the hope of bones, and camels +gobbled dismally as their tired drivers forced them to their knees, or +thrust handfuls of date stones down their throats. There were sheep, +too, and goats; and even a cow, the "perpetual mother" loved and valued +by Arabs. + +M'Barka refused to "read the sand" that night, when Maieddine suggested +it. The sand would yield up its secrets only under the stars, she said, +and wished to wait until they should be in the tents. + +All night, outside Victoria's open but shuttered window, there was a +stealthy stirring of animals in the dark, a gliding of ghostly ducks, a +breathing of sheep and camels. And sometimes the wild braying of a +donkey or the yelp of a dog tore the silence to pieces. + +The next day was hot; so that at noon, when they stopped to eat, the +round blot of black shadow under one small tree was precious as a black +pearl. And there were flies. Victoria could not understand how they +lived in the desert, miles from any house, miles from the tents of +nomads; where there was no vegetation, except an occasional scrubby +tree, or a few of the desert gourds which the Arabs use to cure the bite +of scorpions. But she had not seen the cages of bones, sometimes +bleached like old ivory, sometimes of a dreadful red, which told of +wayside tragedies. Always when they had come in sight of a skeleton, +Maieddine had found some excuse to make the girl look in another +direction; for he wanted her to love the desert, not to feel horror of +its relentlessness. + +Now for the first time he had full credit for his cleverness as an +organizer. Never before had they been so remote from civilization. When +travelling in the carriage, stopping each night at the house of some +well-to-do caid or adel, it had been comparatively easy to provide +supplies; but to-day, when jellied chicken and cream-cheese, almond +cakes and oranges appeared at luncheon, and some popular French mineral +water (almost cool because the bottles had been wrapped in wet blanket) +fizzed in the glasses, Victoria said that Si Maieddine must have a tame +djinn for a slave. + +"Wait till evening," he told her. "Then perhaps thou mayest see +something to please thee." But he was delighted with her compliments, +and made her drink water from the glass out of which he had drunk, that +she might be sure of his good faith in all he had sworn to her +yesterday. "They who drink water from the same cup have made an eternal +pact together," he said. "I should not dare to be untrue, even if I +would. And thou--I think that thou wilt be true to me." + +"Why, certainly I will," answered Victoria, with the pretty American +accent which Stephen Knight had admired and smiled at the night he heard +it first. "Thou art one of my very best friends." + +Maieddine looked down into the glass and smiled, as if he were a +crystal-gazer, and could see something under the bright surface, that no +one else could see. + +Night folded down over the desert, hot and velvety, like the wings of a +mother-bird covering her children; but before darkness fell, the tents +glimmered under the stars. There were two only, a large one for the +women, and one very small for Maieddine. The Negroes would roll +themselves in their burnouses, and lie beside the animals. But +sleeping-time had not come yet; and it was the Soudanese who prepared +the evening meal. + +One of them was a good cook, and for that reason Maieddine had begged +him from the Agha. He made desert bread, by mixing farina with salted +water, and baking it on a flat tin supported by stones over a fire of +dry twigs. When the thin loaf was crisply brown on top, the man took it +off the fire, and covered it up, on the tin, because it was to be eaten +hot. + +While Victoria waited for all to be got ready, she strolled a little +away from the tents and the group of resting animals, having promised +Maieddine to avoid the tufts of alfa grass, for fear of vipers which +sometimes lurked among them. He would have liked to go with her, but the +unfailing tact of the Arab told him that she wished to be alone with her +thoughts, and he could only hope that they might be of him. + +Here, it was no longer beautiful desert. They had passed the charming +region of dayas, and were entering the grim world through which, long +ago, the ever harried M'Zabites had fled to find a refuge beyond the +reach of greedy pursuers. Nevertheless the enchantment of the Sahara, in +all its phases, had taken hold of Victoria. She did not now feel that +the desert was a place where a tired soul might find oblivion, though +once she had imagined that it would be a land of forgetfulness. Arabs +say, in talking idly to Europeans, that men forget their past in the +desert, but she doubted if they really forgot, in these vast spaces +where there was so much time to think. She herself began to feel that +the illimitable skies, where flamed sunsets and sunrises whose miracles +no eye saw, might teach her mysteries she had snatched at and lost, in +dreams. The immensity of the desert sent her soul straining towards the +immensity of the Beyond; and almost, in flashes elusive as the light on +a bird's wing, she understood what eternity might mean. She felt that +the last days of her childhood had been left behind, on the threshold of +these mysterious spaces, this vastness into which she had plunged, as +into an ocean. Yet she did not regret the loss, if it were a loss. +Never, she thought, whatever might happen, would she wish not to have +known this experience, not to have entered upon this great adventure, +whose end Maieddine still hid behind a veil of secrecy. + +It was true, as she had told him, that she was not impatient, though she +would have liked to count the days like the beads of a rosary. She +looked forward to each one, as to the discovery of a beautiful thing new +to the world and to her; for though the spaces surrounding her were wide +beyond thinking, they were not empty. As ships, great and small, sail +the sea, so sailed the caravans of the nomad tribes in the desert which +surges on unchecked to Egypt: nomads who come and go, north and south, +east and west, under the burning sun and the throbbing stars, as Allah +has written their comings and goings in His book: men in white, +journeying with their women, their children, and their trains of beasts, +singing as they pass, and at night under the black tents resting to the +music of the tom-tom and raita. + +Victoria's gaze waded through the shadows that flow over the desert at +evening, deep and blue and transparent as water. She searched the +distances for the lives that must be going on somewhere, perhaps not far +away, though she would never meet them. They, and she, were floating +spars in a great ocean; and it made the ocean more wonderful to know +that the spars were there, each drifting according to its fate. + +The girl drew into her lungs the strong air of the desert, born of the +winds which bring life or death to its children. + +The scent of the wild thyme, which she could never again disentangle +from thoughts of the Sahara, was very sweet, even insistent. She knew +that it was loved by nomad women; and she let pictures rise before her +mind of gorgeous dark girls on camels, in plumed red bassourahs, going +from one desert city to another, to dance--cities teeming with life, +which she would never see among these spaces that seemed empty as the +world before creation. She imagined the ghosts of these desert beauties +crowding round her in the dusk, bringing their fragrance with them, the +wild thyme they had loved in life, crushed in their bosoms; pathetic +ghosts, who had not learned to rise beyond what they had once desired, +therefore compelled to haunt the desert, the only world which they had +known. In the wind that came sighing to her ears from the dark ravines +of the terrible chebka, she seemed to hear battle-songs and groans of +desert men who had fought and died ages ago, whose bones had crumbled +under her feet, perhaps, and whose descendants had not changed one whit +in religion, custom, or thought, or even in dress. + +Victoria was glad that Maieddine had let her have these desert thoughts +alone, for they made her feel at home in the strange world her fancy +peopled; but the touch of the thyme-scented ghosts was cold. It was good +to turn back at last towards the tents, and see how the camp-fire +crimsoned the star-dusk. + +"Thou wert happy alone?" Maieddine questioned her jealously. + +"I was not alone." + +He understood. "I know. The desert voices spoke to thee, of the desert +mystery which they alone can tell; voices we can hear only by listening +closely." + +"That was the thought in my mind. How odd thou shouldst put it into +words." + +"Dost thou think it odd? But I am a man of the desert. I held back, for +thee to go alone and hear the voices, knowing they would teach thee to +understand me and my people. I knew, too, that the spirits would be +kind, and say nothing to frighten thee. Besides, thou didst not go to +them quite alone, for thine own white angel walked on thy right hand, as +always." + +"Thou makest poetical speeches, Si Maieddine." + +"It is no poetry to speak of thy white angel. We believe that each one +of us has a white angel at his right hand, recording his good actions. +But ordinary mortals have also their black angels, keeping to the left, +writing down wicked thoughts and deeds. Hast thou not seen men spitting +to the left, to show despite of their black angels? But because thy soul +is never soiled by sinful thoughts, there was no need for a black angel, +and whilst thou wert still a child, Allah discharged him of his +mission." + +"And thou, Si Maieddine, dost thou think, truly, that a black angel +walks ever at thy left side?" + +"I fear so." Maieddine glanced to the left, as if he could see a dark +figure writing on a slate. Things concerning Victoria must have been +written on that slate, plans he had made, of which neither his white +angel nor hers would approve. But, he told himself, if they had to be +carried out, she would be to blame, for driving him to extremes. "Whilst +thou art near me," he said aloud, "my black angel lags behind, and if +thou wert to be with me forever, I----" + +"Since that cannot be, thou must find a better way to keep him in the +background," Victoria broke in lightly. But Si Maieddine's compliments +were oppressive. She wished it were not the Arab way to pay so many. He +had been different at first; and feeling the change in him with a faint +stirring of uneasiness, she hurried her steps to join M'Barka. + +The invalid reclined on a rug of golden jackal skins, and rested a thin +elbow on cushions of dyed leather, braided in intricate strips by +Touareg women. Victoria sat beside her, Maieddine opposite, and Fafann +waited upon them as they ate. + +After supper, while the Bedouin woman saw that everything was ready for +her mistress and the Roumia, in their tent, M'Barka spread out her +precious sand from Mecca and the dunes round her own Touggourt. She had +it tied up in green silk, such as is used for the turbans of men who +have visited Mecca, lined with a very old Arab brocade, purple and gold, +like the banners that drape the tombs of marabouts. She opened the bag +carefully, until it lay flat on the ground in front of her knees, the +sand piled in the middle, as much perhaps as could have been heaped on a +soup plate. + +For a moment she sat gazing at the sand, her lips moving. She looked wan +as old ivory in the dying firelight, and in the hollows of her immense +eyes seemed to dream the mysteries of all ages. "Take a handful of +sand," she said to Victoria. "Hold it over thine heart. Now, wish with +the whole force of thy soul." + +Victoria wished to find Saidee safe, and to be able to help her, if she +needed help. + +"Put back the sand, sprinkling it over the rest." + +The girl, though not superstitious, could not help being interested, +even fascinated. It seemed to her that the sand had a magical sparkle. + +M'Barka's eyes became introspective, as if she waited for a message, or +saw a vision. She was as strange, as remote from modern womanhood as a +Cassandra. Presently she started, and began trailing her brown fingers +lightly over the sand, pressing them down suddenly now and then, until +she had made three long, wavy lines, the lower ones rather like +telegraphic dots and dashes. + +"Lay the forefinger of thy left hand on any figure in these lines," she +commanded. "Now on another--yet again, for the third time. That is all +thou hast to do. The rest is for me." + +She took from some hiding-place in her breast a little old note-book, +bound in dark leather, glossy from constant use. With it came a perfume +of sandalwood. Turning the yellow leaves of the book, covered with fine +Arab lettering, she read in a murmuring, indistinct voice, that sounded +to Victoria like one of those desert voices of which Maieddine had +spoken. Also she measured spaces between the figures the girl had +touched, and counted monotonously. + +"Thy wish lies a long way from thee," she said at last. "A long way! +Thou couldst never reach it of thyself--never, not till the end of the +world. I see thee--alone, very helpless. Thou prayest. Allah sends thee +a man--a strong man, whose brain and heart and arm are at thy service. +Allah is great!" + +"Tell her what the man is like, cousin," Maieddine prompted, eagerly. + +"He is dark, and young. He is not of thy country, oh Rose of the West, +but trust him, rely upon him, or thou art undone. In thy future, just +where thou hast ceased to look for them, I see troubles and +disappointments, even dangers. That is the time, above all others, to +let thyself be guided by the man Allah has sent to be thy prop. He has +ready wit and courage. His love for thee is great. It grows and grows. +He tells thee of it; and thou--thou seest between him and thee a +barrier, high and fearful as a wall with sharp knives on top. For thine +eyes it is impassable. Thine heart is sad; and thy words to him will +pierce his soul with despair. But think again. Be true to thyself and to +thy star. Speak another word, and throw down that high barrier, as the +wall of Jericho was thrown down. Thou canst do it. All will depend on +the decision of a moment--thy whole future, the future of the man, and +of a woman whose face I cannot see." + +M'Barka smoothed away the tracings in the sand. + +"What--is there no more?" asked Maieddine. + +"No, it is dark before my eyes now. The light has gone from the sand. I +can still tell her a few little things, perhaps. Such things as the +luckiest colours to wear, the best days to choose for journeys. But she +is different from most girls. I do not think she would care for such +hints." + +"All colours are lucky. All days are good," said Victoria. "I thank thee +for what thou hast told me, Lella M'Barka." + +She did not wish to hear more. What she had heard was more than enough. +Not that she really believed that M'Barka could see into the future; but +because of the "dark man." Any fortune-teller might introduce a dark man +into the picture of a fair girl's destiny; but the allusions were so +marked that Victoria's vague unrestfulness became distress. She tried to +encourage herself by thinking of Maieddine's dignified attitude, from +the beginning of their acquaintance until now. And even now, he had +changed only a little. He was too complimentary, that was all; and the +difference in his manner might arise from knowing her more intimately. +Probably Lella M'Barka, like many elderly women of other and newer +civilizations, was over-romantic; and the best thing was to prevent her +from putting ridiculous ideas into Maieddine's head. Such ideas would +spoil the rest of the journey for both. + +"Remember all I have told thee, when the time comes," M'Barka warned +her. + +"Yes--oh yes, I will remember." + +"Now it is my turn. Read the sand for me," said Maieddine. + +M'Barka made as if she would wrap the sand in its bag. "I can tell thy +future better another time. Not now. It would not be wise. Besides, I +have done enough. I am tired." + +"Look but a little way along the future, then, and say what thou seest. +I feel that it will bring good fortune to touch the sand where the hand +of Ourieda has touched it." + +Always now, he spoke of Victoria, or to her, as "Rose" (Ourieda in +Arabic); but as M'Barka gave her that name also, the girl could hardly +object. + +"I tell thee, instead it may bring thee evil." + +"For good or evil, I will have the fortune now," Maieddine insisted. + +"Be it upon thy head, oh cousin, not mine. Take thy handful of sand, and +make thy wish." + +Maieddine took it from the place Victoria had touched, and his wish was +that, as the grains of sand mingled, so their destinies might mingle +inseparably, his and hers. + +M'Barka traced the three rows of mystic signs, and read her notebook, +mumbling. But suddenly she let it drop into her lap, covering the signs +with both thin hands. + +"What ails thee?" Maieddine asked, frowning. + +"I saw thee stand still and let an opportunity slip by." + +"I shall not do that." + +"The sand has said it. Shall I stop, or go on?" + +"Go on." + +"I see another chance to grasp thy wish. This time thou stretchest out +thine hand. I see thee, in a great house--the house of one thou knowest, +whose name I may not speak. Thou stretchest out thine hand. The chance +is given thee----" + +"What then?" + +"Then--I cannot tell thee, what then. Thou must not ask. My eyes are +clouded with sleep. Come Ourieda, it is late. Let us go to our tent." + +"No," said Maieddine. "Ourieda may go, but not thou." + +Victoria rose quickly and lightly from among the jackal skins and +Touareg cushions which Maieddine had provided for her comfort. She bade +him good night, and with all his old calm courtesy he kissed his hand +after it had pressed hers. But there was a fire of anger or impatience +in his eyes. + +Fafann was in the tent, waiting to put her mistress to bed, and to help +the Roumia if necessary. The mattresses which had come rolled up on the +brown mule's back, had been made into luxurious looking beds, covered +with bright-coloured, Arab-woven blankets, beautiful embroidered sheets +of linen, and cushions slipped into fine pillow-cases. Folding frames +draped with new mosquito nettings had been arranged to protect the +sleepers' hands and faces; and there was a folding table on which stood +French gilt candlesticks and a glass basin and water-jug, ornamented +with gilded flowers; just such a basin and jug as Victoria had seen in +the curiosity-shop of Mademoiselle Soubise. There were folded towels, +too, of silvery damask. + +"What wonderful things we have!" the girl exclaimed. "I don't see how we +manage to carry them all. It is like a story of the 'Arabian Nights,' +where one has but to rub a lamp, and a powerful djinn brings everything +one wants." + +"The Lord Maieddine is the powerful djinn who has brought all thou +couldst possibly desire, without giving thee even the trouble to wish +for things," said Fafann, showing her white teeth, and glancing sidelong +at the Roumia. "These are not all. Many of these things thou hast seen +already. Yet there are more." Eagerly she lifted from the ground, which +was covered with rugs, a large green earthern jar. "It is full of +rosewater to bathe thy face, for the water of the desert here is +brackish, and harsh to the skin, because of saltpetre. The Sidi ordered +enough rosewater to last till Ghardaia, in the M'Zab country. Then he +will get thee more." + +"But it is for us both--for Lella M'Barka more than for me," protested +Victoria. + +Fafann laughed. "My mistress no longer spends time in thinking of her +skin. She prays much instead; and the Sidi has given her an amulet which +touched the sacred Black Stone at Mecca. To her, that is worth all the +rest; and it is worth this great journey, which she takes with so much +pain. The rosewater, and the perfumes from Tunis, and the softening +creams made in the tent of the Sidi's mother, are all offered to thee." + +"No, no," the girl persisted, "I am sure they are meant more for Lella +M'Barka than for me. She is his cousin." + +"Hast thou never noticed the caravans, when they have passed us in the +desert, how it is always the young and beautiful women who rest in the +bassourahs, while the old ones trot after the camels?" + +"I have noticed that, and it is very cruel." + +"Why cruel, oh Roumia? They have had their day. And when a man has but +one camel, he puts upon its back his treasure, the joy of his heart. A +man must be a man, so say even the women. And the Sidi is a man, as well +as a great lord. He is praised by all as a hunter, and for the +straightness of his aim with a gun. He rides, thou seest, as if he were +one with his horse, and as he gallops in the desert, so would he gallop +to battle if need be, for he is brave as the Libyan lion, and strong as +the heroes of old legends. Yet there is nothing too small for him to +bend his mind upon, if it be for thy pleasure and comfort. Thou shouldst +be proud, instead of denying that all the Sidi does is for thee. My +mistress would tell thee so, and many women would be dying of envy, +daughters of Aghas and even of Bach Aghas. But perhaps, as thou art a +Roumia, thou hast different feelings." + +"Perhaps," answered Victoria humbly, for she was crushed by Fafann's +fierce eloquence. And for a moment her heart was heavy; but she would +not let herself feel a presentiment of trouble. + +"What harm can happen to me?" she asked. "I haven't been guided so far +for nothing. Si Maieddine is an Arab, and his ways aren't like the ways +of men I've known, that's all. My sister's husband was his friend--a +great friend, whom he loved. What he does is more for Cassim's sake +than mine." + +Her cheeks were burning after the long day of sun, and because of her +thoughts; yet she was not glad to bathe them with Si Maieddine's +fragrant offering of rosewater, some of which Fafann poured into the +glass basin. + +Not far away Maieddine was still sitting by the fire with M'Barka. + +"Tell me now," he said. "What didst thou see?" + +"Nothing clearly. Another time, cousin. Let me have my mind fresh. I am +like a squeezed orange." + +"Yet I must know, or I shall not sleep. Thou art hiding something." + +"All was vague--confused. I saw as through a torn cloud. There was the +great house. Thou wert there, a guest. Thou wert happy, thy desire +granted, and then--by Allah, Maieddine, I could not see what happened; +but the voice of the sand was like a storm in my ears, and the knowledge +came to me suddenly that thou must not wait too long for thy wish--the +wish made with the sand against thine heart." + +"Thou couldst not see my wish. Thou art but a woman." + +"I saw, because I am a woman, and I have the gift. Thou knowest I have +the gift. Do not wait too long, or thou mayest wait for ever." + +"What wouldst thou have me do?" + +"It is not for me to advise. As thou saidst, I am but a woman. +Only--_act_! That is the message of the sand. And now, unless thou +wouldst have my dead body finish the journey in the bassour, take me to +my tent." + +Maieddine took her to the tent. And he asked no more questions. But all +night he thought of what M'Barka had said, and the message of the sand. +It was a dangerous message, yet the counsel was after his own heart. + + + + +XXX + + +In the morning he was still brooding over the message; and as they +travelled through the black desert on the way to Ghardaia and the hidden +cities of the M'Zab, he fell into long silences. Then, abruptly, he +would rouse himself to gaiety and animation, telling old legends or new +tales, strange dramas of the desert, very seldom comedies; for there are +few comedies in the Sahara, except for the children. + +Sometimes he was in danger of speaking out words which said themselves +over and over in his head. "If I 'wait too long, I may wait for ever.' +Then, by Allah, I will not wait." But he kept his tongue in control, +though his brain was hot as if he wore no turban, under the blaze of the +sun. "I will leave things as they are while we are in this black +Gehenna," he determined. "What is written is written. Yet who has seen +the book of the writing? And there is a curse on all this country, till +the M'Zab is passed." + +After Bou-Saada, he had gradually forgotten, or almost forgotten, his +fears. He had been happy in the consciousness of power that came to him +from the desert, where he was at home, and Europeans were helpless +strangers. But now, M'Barka's warnings had brought the fears back, like +flapping ravens. He had planned the little play of the sand-divining, +and at first it had pleased him. M'Barka's vision of the dark man who +was not of Victoria's country could not have been better; and because he +knew that his cousin believed in the sand, he was superstitiously +impressed by her prophecy and advice. In the end, he had forced her to +go on when she would have stopped, yet he was angry with her for +putting doubts into his mind, doubts of his own wisdom and the way to +succeed. With a girl of his own people, or indeed with any girl, if he +had not loved too much, he would have had no doubts. But he did not know +how it was best to treat Victoria. His love for her was so strong, that +it was like fear, and in trying to understand her, he changed his mind a +dozen times a day. He was not used to this uncertainty, and hated to +think that he could be weak. Would she turn from him, if he broke the +tacit compact of loyal friendship which had made her trust him as a +guide? He could not tell; though an Arab girl would scorn him for +keeping it. "Perhaps at heart all women are alike," he thought. "And if, +now that I am warned, I should risk waiting, I would be no man." At +last, the only question left in his mind was, "When?" + +For two days they journeyed through desolation, in a burnt-out world +where nothing had colour except the sad violet sky which at evening +flamed with terrible sunsets, cruelly beautiful as funeral pyres. The +fierce glow set fire to the black rocks which pointed up like dragons' +teeth, and turned them to glittering copper; polishing the dead white +chalk of the chebka to the dull gleam of dirty silver. Far away there +were always purple hills, behind which it seemed that hope and beauty +might come to life again; but travelling from morning to night they +never appeared any nearer. The evil magic of the black desert, which +Maieddine called accursed because of the M'Zabites, made the beautiful +hills recede always, leaving only the ugly brown waves of hardened +earth, which were disheartening to climb, painful to descend. + +At last, in the midst of black squalor, they came to an oasis like a +bright jewel fallen in the trough of swine. It was Berryan, the first +town of the M'Zabites, people older than the Arabs, and hated by them +with a hatred more bitter than their loathing for Jews. + +Maieddine would not pass through the town, since it could be avoided, +because in his eyes the Beni-M'Zab were dogs, and in their eyes he, +though heir to an agha, would be as carrion. + +Sons of ancient Phoenicians, merchants of Tyre and Carthage, there never +had been, never would be, any lust for battle in the hearts of the +M'Zabites. Their warfare had been waged by cunning, and through +mercenaries. They had fled before Arab warriors, driven from place to +place by brave, scornful enemies, and now, safely established in their +seven holy cities, protected by vast distances and the barrier of the +black desert, they revenged their wrongs with their wits, being rich, +and great usurers. Though Mussulmans in these days, the schisms with +which they desecrated the true religion were worse in the eyes of +Maieddine than the foolish faith of Christians, who, at least, were not +backsliders. He would not even point out to Victoria the strange minaret +of the Abadite mosque at Berryan, which tapered like a brown obelisk +against the shimmering sky, for to him its very existence was a +disgrace. + +"Do not speak of it; do not even look at it," he said to her, when she +exclaimed at the great Cleopatra Needle. But she did look, having none +of his prejudices, and he dared not bid her let down the curtains of her +bassour, as he would if she had been a girl of his own blood. + +The extraordinary city, whose crowded, queerly-built houses were blocks +of gold in the sunlight, seemed beautiful to Victoria, coming in sight +of it suddenly after days in the black desert. The other six cities, +called holy by the Beni-M'Zab, were far away still. She knew this, +because Maieddine had told her they would not descend into the Wady +M'Zab till next day. Berryan and Guerrara were on the upper plateau; and +Victoria could hardly bear to pass by, for Berryan was by far the most +Eastern-seeming place she had seen. She wondered if, should she ask him +as a favour, Maieddine would rest there that night, instead of camping +somewhere farther on, in the hideous desert; for already it was late +afternoon. But she would ask nothing of him now, for he was no longer +quite the trusty friend she had persuaded herself to think him. One +night, since the sand-divining, she had had a fearful dream concerning +Maieddine. Outside her tent she had heard a soft padding sound, and +peeping from under the flap, she had seen a splendid, tawny tiger, who +looked at her with brilliant topaz eyes which fascinated her so that she +could not turn away. But she knew that the animal was Maieddine; that +each night he changed himself into a tiger; and that as a tiger he was +more his real self than when by day he appeared as a man. + +They filed past Berryan; the meharis, the white stallion, the +pack-camel, and the mule, in slow procession, along a rough road which +wound close to the green oasis. And from among the palm trees men and +women and little children, gorgeous as great tropical birds, in their +robes of scarlet, ochre-yellow, and emerald, peered at the little +caravan with cynical curiosity. Victoria looked back longingly, for she +knew that the way from Berryan to the Wady M'Zab would be grim and +toilsome under the burning sun. Hill after hill, they mounted and +descended; hills stony yet sandy, always the same dull colour, and so +shapeless as to daze the brain with their monotony. But towards evening, +when the animals had climbed to the crest of a hill like a dingy wave, +suddenly a white obelisk shot up, pale and stiff as a dead man's finger. +Tops of tall palms were like the dark plumes on the heads of ten +thousand dancing women of the Sahara, and as a steep descent began, +there glittered the five hidden cities, like a strange fairyland lost in +the desert. The whole Wady M'Zab lay under the eyes of the travellers, +as if they looked down over the rim of an immense cup. Here, some who +were left of the sons of Tyre and Carthage dwelt safe and snug, +crouching in the protection of the valley they had found and reclaimed +from the abomination of desolation. + +It seemed to Victoria that she looked on one of the great sights of the +world: the five cities, gleaming white, and glowing bronze, closely +built on their five conical hills, which rose steeply from the flat +bottom of the gold-lined cup--Ghardaia, Beni-Isguen, Bou-Noura, Melika, +and El-Ateuf. The top of each hill was prolonged to a point by the +tapering minaret of one of those Abadite mosques which the girl thought +the most Eastern of all things imported from the East. The oasis which +gave wealth to the M'Zabites surged round the towns like a green sea at +ebb tide, sucked back from a strand of gold; and as the caravan wound +down the wonderful road with which the Beni-M'Zab had traced the sheer +side of their enchanted cup, the groaning of hundreds of well-chains +came plaintively up on the wind. + +The well-stones had the obelisk shape of the minarets, in miniature; and +Negroes--freed slaves of the rich M'Zabites--running back and forth in +pairs, to draw the water, were mere struggling black ants, seen from the +cup's rim. The houses of the five towns were like bleached skeletons, +and the arches that spanned the dark, narrow streets were their ribs. + +Arrived at the bottom of the cup, it was necessary to pass through the +longest and only modern street of Ghardaia, the capital of the M'Zab. A +wind had sprung up, to lift the sand which sprinkled the hard-trodden +ground with thick powder of gold dust, and whirl it westward against the +fire of sunset, red as a blowing spray of blood. "It is a sign of +trouble when the sand of the desert turns to blood," muttered Fafann to +her mistress, quoting a Bedouin proverb. + +The men of the M'Zab do not willingly give lodging to strangers, least +of all to Arabs; and at Beni-Isguen, holy city and scene of strange +mysteries, no stranger may rest for the night. But Maieddine, respected +by the ruling power, as by his own people, had a friend or two at every +Bureau Arabe and military station. A French officer stationed at +Ghardaia had married a beautiful Arab girl of good family distantly +related to the Agha of the Ouled-Serrin, and being at Algiers on +official business, his wife away at her father's tent, he had promised +to lend his house, a few miles out of the town, to Si Maieddine. It was +a long, low building of toub, the sun-dried sand-blocks of which most +houses are made in the ksour, or Sahara villages, but it had been +whitewashed, and named the Pearl. + +There they slept, in the cool shadow of the oasis, and early next +morning went on. + +As soon as they had passed out of this hidden valley, where a whole race +of men had gathered for refuge and wealth-building, Victoria felt, +rather than saw, a change in Maieddine. She hardly knew how to express +it to herself, unless it was that he had become more Arab. His +courtesies suggested less the modern polish learned from the French (in +which he could excel when he chose) than the almost royal hospitality of +some young Bey escorting a foreign princess through his dominions. +Always "_tres-male_," as Frenchwomen pronounced him admiringly, Si +Maieddine began to seem masculine in an untamed, tigerish way. He was +restless, and would not always be contented to ride El Biod, beside the +tall, white mehari, but would gallop far ahead, and then race back to +rejoin the little caravan, rushing straight at the animals as if he must +collide with them, then, at the last instant, when Victoria's heart +bounded, reining in his horse, so that El Biod's forefeet--shod +Arab-fashion--pawed the air, and the animal sat upon his haunches, +muscles straining and rippling under the creamlike skin. + +Or, sometimes, Maieddine would spring from the white stallion's back, +letting El Biod go free, while his master marched beside Guelbi, with +that panther walk that the older races, untrammelled by the civilization +of towns, have kept unspoiled. + +The Arab's eyes were more brilliant, never dreamy now, and he looked at +Victoria often, with disconcerting steadiness, instead of lowering his +eyelids as men of Islam, accustomed to the mystery of the veil, +unconsciously do with European women whom they respect, though they do +not understand. + +So they went on, travelling the immeasurable desert; and Victoria had +not asked again, since Maieddine's refusal, the name of the place to +which they were bound. M'Barka seemed brighter, as if she looked +forward to something, each day closer at hand; and her courage would +have given Victoria confidence, even if the girl had been inclined to +forebodings. They were going somewhere, Lella M'Barka knew where, and +looked forward joyously to arriving. The girl fancied that their +destination was the same, though at first she had not thought so. Words +that M'Barka let drop inadvertently now and then, built up this +impression in her mind. + +The "habitude du Sud," as Maieddine called it, when occasionally they +talked French together, was gradually taking hold of the girl. Sometimes +she resented it, fearing that by this time it must have altogether +enslaved Saidee, and dreading the insidious fascination for herself; +sometimes she found pleasure and peace in it; but in every mood the +influence was hard to throw off. + +"The desert has taken hold of thee," Maieddine said one day, when he had +watched her in silence for a while, and seen the rapt look in her eyes. +"I knew the time would come, sooner or later. It has come now." + +"No," Victoria answered. "I do not belong to the desert." + +"If not to-day, then to-morrow," he finished, as if he had not heard. + +They were going on towards Ouargla. So much he had told her, though he +had quickly added, "But we shall not stop there." He was waiting still, +though they were out of the black desert and the accursed land of the +renegades. He was not afraid of anything or anyone here, in this +vastness, where a European did not pass once a year, and few Arabs, only +the Spahis, carrying mails from one Bureau Arabe to another, or tired +soldiers changing stations. The beautiful country of the golden dunes, +with its horizon like a stormy sea, was the place of which he said in +his thoughts, "It shall happen there." + +On the other side of Ghardaia, even when Victoria had ceased to be +actually impatient for her meeting with Saidee, she had longed to know +the number of days, that she might count them. But now she had drunk so +deep of the colour and the silence that, in spite of herself, she was +passing beyond that phase. What were a few days more, after so many +years? She wondered how she could have longed to go flying across the +desert in Nevill Caird's big motor-car; nevertheless, she never ceased +to wish for Stephen Knight. Her thoughts of him and of the desert were +inextricably and inexplicably mingled, more than ever since the night +when she had danced in the Agha's tent, and Stephen's face had come +before her eyes, as if in answer to her call. Constantly she called him +now. When there was some fleeting, beautiful effect of light or shadow, +she said, "How I wish he were here to see that!" She never named him in +her mind. He was "he": that was name enough. Yet it did not occur to her +that she was "in love" with Knight. She had never had time to think +about falling in love. There had always been Saidee, and dancing; and to +Victoria, the desire to make money enough to start out and find her +sister, had taken the place which ideas of love and marriage fill in +most girls' heads. Therefore she did not know what to make of her +feeling for Stephen. But when a question floated into her brain, she +answered it simply by explaining that he was different from any other +man she had met; and that, though she had known him only a few days, +from the first he had seemed more a friend than Si Maieddine, or any one +else whom she knew much better than Stephen. + +As they travelled, she had many thoughts which pleased her--thoughts +which could have come to her nowhere else except in the desert, and +often she talked to herself, because M'Barka could not understand her +feelings, and she did not wish to make Maieddine understand. + +"Burning, burning," was the adjective which she repeated oftenest, in an +almost awestruck whisper, as her eyes travelled over immense spaces; for +she thought that the desert might have dropped out of the sun. The +colour of sand and sky was colour on fire, blazing. The whole Sahara +throbbed with the unimaginable fire of creative cosmic force, deep, +vital orange, needed by the primitive peoples of the earth who had not +risen high enough yet to deserve or desire the finer vibrations. + +As she leaned out of the bassour, the heat of the sun pressed on her +lightly veiled head, like the golden lid of a golden box. She could feel +it as an actual weight; and invisible behind it a living power which +could crush her in an instant, as the paw of a lion might crush a flower +petal. + +Africa itself was this savage power, fierce as fire, ever smouldering, +sometimes flaming with the revolt of Islam against other creeds; but the +heart of the fire was the desert. Only the shady seguias in the oasis +towns cooled it, like children's fingers on a madman's forehead; or the +sound of a boy's flute in a river bed, playing the music of Pan, +changeless, monotonous yet thrilling, as the music of earth and all +Nature. + +There were tracts in the desert which colour-blind people might have +hated; but Victoria grew to think the dreariest stretches beautiful; and +even the occasional plagues of flies which irritated M'Barka beyond +endurance, only made Victoria laugh. + +Sometimes came caravans, in this billowing immensity between the M'Zab +and Ouargla--city of Solomon, whither the Queen of Sheba rode on her +mehari: caravans blazing red and yellow, which swept like slow lines of +flame across the desert, going east towards the sunrise, or west where +the sunset spreads over the sky like a purple fan opening, or the tail +of a celestial peacock. + +What Victoria had once imagined the desert to be of vast emptiness, and +what she found it to be of teeming life, was like the difference between +a gold-bright autumn leaf seen by the naked eye, and the same leaf +swarming under a powerful microscope. + +The girl never tired of following with her eyes the vague tracks of +caravans that she could see dimly sketched upon the sand, vanishing in +the distance, like lines traced on the water by a ship. She would be +gazing at an empty horizon when suddenly from over the waves of the +dunes would appear a dark fleet; a procession of laden camels like a +flotilla of boats in a desolate sea. + +They were very effective, as they approached across the desert, these +silent, solemn beasts, but Victoria pitied them, because they were made +to work till they fell, and left to die in the shifting sand, when no +longer useful to their unloving masters. + +"My poor dears, this is only one phase," she would say to them as they +plodded past, their feet splashing softly down on the sand like big wet +sponges, leaving heart-shaped marks behind, which looked like violets as +the hollows filled up with shadow. "Wait till your next chance on earth. +I'm sure it will make up for everything." + +But Maieddine told her there was no need to be sorry for the sufferings +of camels, since all were deserved. Once, he said, they had been men--a +haughty tribe who believed themselves better than the rest of the world. +They broke off from the true religion, and lest their schism spread, +Allah turned the renegades into camels. He compelled them to bear the +weight of their sins in the shape of humps, and also to carry on their +backs the goods of the Faithful, whose beliefs they had trampled under +foot. While keeping their stubbornness of spirit they must kneel to +receive their loads, and rise at the word of command. Remembering their +past, they never failed to protest with roarings, against these +indignities, nor did their faces ever lose the old look of sullen pride. +But, in common with the once human storks, they had one consolation. +Their sins expiated, they would reincarnate as men; and some other +rebellious tribe would take their place as camels. + +Five days' journeying from Ghardaia brought the travellers to a desert +world full of movement and interest. There were many caravans going +northward. Pretty girls smiled at them from swaying red bassourahs, +sitting among pots and pans, and bundles of finery. Little children in +nests of scarlet rags, on loaded camels, clasped squawking cocks and +hens, tied by the leg. Splendid Negroes with bare throats like columns +of black marble sang strange, chanting songs as they strode along. +White-clad Arabs whose green turbans told that they had been to Mecca, +walked beside their young wives' camels. Withered crones in yellow +smocks trudged after the procession, driving donkeys weighed down with +sheepskins full of oil. Baby camels with waggling, tufted humps followed +their mothers. Slim grey sloughis and Kabyle dogs quarrelled with each +other, among flocks of black and white goats; and at night, the sky +pulsed with the fires of desert encampments, rosy as northern lights. + +Just before the walled city of Ouargla, Victoria saw her first mirage, +clear as a dream between waking and sleeping. It was a salt lake, in +which Guelbi and the other animals appeared to wade knee-deep in azure +waves, though there was no water; and the vast, distant oasis hovered so +close that the girl almost believed she had only to stretch out her hand +and touch the trunks of the crowding palm trees. + +M'Barka was tired, and they rested for two days in the strange Ghuara +town, the "City of Roses," founded (according to legend), by Solomon, +King of Jerusalem, and built for him by djenoum and angels in a single +night. They lived as usual in the house of the Caid, whose beautiful +twin daughters told Victoria many things about the customs of the Ghuara +people, descendants of the ancient Garamantes. How much happier and +freer they were than Arab girls, how much purer though gayer was the +life at Ouargla, Queen of the Oases, than at any other less enlightened +desert city; how marvellous was the moulet-el-rass, the dance cure for +headache and diseases of the brain; how wonderful were the women +soothsayers; and what a splendid thing it was to see the bridal +processions passing through the streets, on the one day of the year when +there is marrying and giving in marriage in Ouargla. + +The name of the prettier twin was Zorah, and she had black curls which +fell straight down over her brilliant eyes, under a scarlet head-dress. +"Dost thou love Si Maieddine?" she asked the Roumia, with a kind of +innocent boldness. + +"As a friend who has been very kind," Victoria answered. + +"Not as a lover, oh Roumia?" Zorah, like all girls of Ouargla, was proud +of her knowledge of Arabic. + +"No. Not as a lover." + +"Is there then one of thine own people whom thou lovest as a lover, Rose +of the West?" + +"I have no lover, little white moon." + +"Si Maieddine will be thy lover, whether thou desirest him or not." + +"Thou mistakest, oh Zorah." + +"I do not mistake. If thou dost not yet know I am right, thou wilt know +before many days. When thou findest out all that is in his heart for +thee, remember our talk to-day, in the court of oranges." + +"I will tell thee thou wert wrong in this same court of oranges when I +pass this way again without Si Maieddine." + +The Ghuara girl shook her head, until her curls seemed to ring like +bells of jet. "Something whispers to my spirit that thou wilt never +again pass this way, oh Roumia; that never again will we talk together +in this court of oranges." + + + + +XXXI + + +If it had not been for Zorah and her twin sister Khadijah, Maieddine +would have said to himself at Ouargla, "Now my hour has come." But +though his eyes saw not even the shadow of a woman in the Caid's house, +his ears heard the laughter of young girls, in which Victoria's voice +mingled; and besides, he knew, as Arabs contrive to know everything +which concerns others, that his host had daughters. He was well aware of +the freemasonry existing among the wearers of veils, the dwellers behind +shut doors; and though Victoria was only a Roumia, the Caid's daughters +would joyfully scheme to help her against a man, if she asked their +help. + +So he put the hour-hand of his patience a little ahead; and Victoria and +he were outwardly on the same terms as before when they left Ouargla, +and passed on to the region of the low dunes, shaped like the tents of +nomads buried under sand, the region of beautiful jewelled stones of all +colours, and the region of the chotts, the desert lakes, like sad, +wide-open eyes in a dead face. + +As they drew near to the Zaouia of Temacin, and the great oasis city of +Touggourt, the dunes increased in size, surging along the horizon in +turbulent golden billows. M'Barka knew that she was close to her old +home, the ancient stronghold of her royal ancestors, those sultans who +had owned no master under Allah; for though it was many years since she +had come this way, she remembered every land-mark which would have meant +nothing to a stranger. She was excited, and longed to point out historic +spots to Victoria, of whom she had grown fond; but Maieddine had +forbidden her to speak. He had something to say to the girl before +telling her that they were approaching another city of the desert. +Therefore M'Barka kept her thoughts to herself, not chatting even with +Fafann; for though she loved Victoria, she loved Maieddine better. She +had forgiven him for bringing her the long way round, sacrificing her to +his wish for the girl's society, because the journey was four-fifths +finished, and instead of being worse, her health was better. Besides, +whatever Maieddine wanted was for the Roumia's good, or would be +eventually. + +When they were only a short march from Touggourt, and could have reached +there by dark, Maieddine nevertheless ordered an early halt. The tents +were set up by the Negroes among the dunes, where not even the tall +spire of Temacin's mosque was visible. And he led the little caravan +somewhat out of the track, where no camels were likely to pass within +sight, to a place where there were no groups of black tents in the +yellow sand, and where the desert, in all its beauty, appeared lonelier +than it was in reality. + +By early twilight the camp was made, and the Soudanese were preparing +dinner. Never once in all the Sahara journey had there been a sunset of +such magical loveliness, it seemed to Maieddine, and he took it as a +good omen. + +"If thou wilt walk a little way with me, Ourieda," he said, "I will show +thee something thou hast never seen yet. When my cousin is rested, and +it is time for supper, I will bring thee back." + +Together they mounted and descended the dunes, until they could no +longer see the camp or the friendly smoke of the fire, which rose +straight up, a scarf of black gauze, against a sky of green and lilac +shot with crimson and gold. It was not the first time that Victoria had +strolled away from the tents at sunset with Maieddine, and she could not +refuse, yet this evening she would gladly have stayed with Lella +M'Barka. + +The sand was curiously crisp under their feet as they walked, and the +crystallized surface crackled as if they were stepping on thin, dry +toast. By and by they stood still on the summit of a dune, and Maieddine +took from the hood of his burnous a pair of field-glasses of the most +modern make. + +"Look round thee," he said. "I have had these with me since our start, +but I saved them for to-day, to give thee a surprise." + +Victoria adjusted the glasses, which were very powerful, and cried out +at what she saw. The turmoil of the dunes became a battle of giants. +Sand waves as high as the sky rushed suddenly towards her, towering far +above her head, as if she were a fly in the midst of a stormy ocean. The +monstrous yellow shapes came closing in from all sides, threatening to +engulf her. She felt like a butterfly in a cage of angry lions. + +"It is terrible!" she exclaimed, letting the glasses fall from her eyes. +The cageful of lions sat down, calmed, but now that the butterfly had +seen them roused, never could they look the same again. + +The effect upon the girl was exactly what Maieddine had wanted. For once +Victoria acted as he expected her to do in given circumstances. "She is +only a woman after all," he thought. + +"If thou wert alone in this sea of gold, abandoned, to find thine own +way, with no guide but the stars, then indeed thou mightst say 'it is +terrible,'" he answered. "For these waves roll between thee and the +north, whence thou hast come, and still higher between thee and the +desired end of thy journey. So high are they, that to go up and down is +like climbing and descending mountains, one after another, all day, day +after day. And beyond, where thou must soon go if thou art to find thy +sister, there are no tracks such as those we have followed thus far. In +these shifting sands, not only men and camels, but great caravans, and +even whole armies have been lost and swallowed up for ever. For +gravestones, they have only the dunes, and no man will know where they +lie till the world is rolled up as a scroll in the hand of Allah." + +Victoria grew pale. + +"Always before thou hast tried to make me love the desert," she said, +slowly. "If there were anything ugly to see, thou hast bidden me turn my +head the other way, or if I saw something dreadful thou wouldst at once +begin to chant a song of happiness, to make me forget. Why dost thou +wish to frighten me now?" + +"It is not that I mean to give thee pain, Ourieda." Maieddine's voice +changed to a tone that was gentle and pleading. "It is only that I would +have thee see how powerless thou wouldst be alone among the dunes, where +for days thou mightst wander, meeting no man. Or if thou hadst any +encounter, it might be with a Touareg, masked in blue, with a long knife +at his belt, and in his breast a heart colder than steel." + +"I see well enough that I would be powerless alone," Victoria repeated. +"Dost thou need to tell me that?" + +"It may be not," said Maieddine. "But there is a thing I need to tell +thee. My need is very sore. Because I have kept back the words I have +burned to speak, my soul is on fire, oh Rose! I love thee. I die for +thee. I must have thee for mine!" + +He snatched both her hands in his, and crushed them against his lips. +Then, carried away by the flower-like touch of her flesh, he let her +hands go, and caught her to his heart, folding her in his burnous as if +he would hide her even from the eye of the sun in the west. But she +threw herself back, and pushed him away, with her palms pressed against +his breast. She could feel under her hands a great pounding as of a +hammer that would beat down a yielding wall. + +"Thou art no true Arab!" she cried at him. + +The words struck Maieddine in a vulnerable place; perhaps the only one. + +He had expected her to exclaim, to protest, to struggle, and to beg +that he would let her go. But what she said was a sharp, unlooked for +stab. Above all things except his manhood, he prided himself on being a +true Arab. Involuntarily he loosened his clasp of her waist, and she +seized the chance to wrench herself free, panting a little, her eyes +dilated. But as she twisted herself out of his arms, he caught her by +the wrist. He did not grasp it tightly enough to hurt, yet the grip of +his slim brown hand was like a bracelet of iron. She knew that she could +not escape from it by measuring her strength against his, or even by +surprising him with some quick movement; for she had surprised him once, +and he would be on guard not to let it happen again. Now she did not +even try to struggle, but stood still, looking up at him steadily. Yet +her heart also was like a hammer that beat against a wall; and she +thought of the endless dunes in whose turmoil she was swallowed up. If +Stephen Knight were here--but he was far away; and Maieddine, whom she +had trusted, was a man who served another God than hers. His thoughts of +women were not as Stephen's thoughts. + +"Think of thy white angel," she said. "He stands between thee and me." + +"Nay, he gives thee to me," Maieddine answered. "I mean no harm to thee, +but only good, as long as we both shall live. My white angel wills that +thou shalt be my wife. Thou shalt not say I am no true Arab. I am true +to Allah and my own manhood when I tell thee I can wait no longer." + +"But thou art not true to me when thou wouldst force me against my will +to be thy wife. We have drunk from the same cup. Thou art pledged to +loyalty." + +"Is it disloyal to love?" + +"Thy love is not true love, or thou wouldst think of me before thyself." + +"I think of thee before all the world. Thou art my world. I had meant to +wait till thou wert in thy sister's arms; but since the night when I saw +thee dance, my love grew as a fire grows that feeds upon rezin. If I +offend thee, thou alone art to blame. Thou wert too beautiful that +night. I have been mad since then. And now thou must give me thy word +that thou wilt marry me according to the law of Islam. Afterwards, when +we can find a priest of thine own religion, we will stand before him." + +"Let my hand go, Si Maieddine, if thou wishest me to talk further with +thee," Victoria said. + +He smiled at her and obeyed; for he knew that she could not escape from +him, therefore he would humour her a little. In a few more moments he +meant to have her in his arms again. + +His smile gave the girl no hope. She thought of Zorah and the court of +the oranges. + +"What wilt thou do if I say I will not be thy wife?" she asked, in a +quiet voice; but there was a fluttering in her throat. + +A spark lit in his eyes. The moon was rising now, as the sun set, and +the two lights, silver and rose, touched his face, giving it an unreal +look, as if he were a statue of bronze which had "come alive," Victoria +thought, just as she had "come alive" in her statue-dance. He had never +been so handsome, but his dark splendour was dreadful to her, for he did +not seem like a human man whose heart could be moved to mercy. + +For an instant he gave her no answer, but his eyes did not leave hers. +"Since thou askest me that question, I would make thee change thy 'no' +into 'yes.' But do not force me to be harsh with thee, oh core of my +heart, oh soul of my soul! I tell thee fate has spoken. The sand has +spoken--sand gathered from among these dunes. It is for that reason in +part that I brought thee here." + +"The sand-divining!" Victoria exclaimed. "Lella M'Barka told thee----" + +"She told me not to wait. And her counsel was the counsel of my own +heart. Look, oh Rose, where the moon glitters on the sand--the sand that +twined thy life with mine. See how the crystals shape themselves like +little hands of Fatma; and they point from thee to me, from me to thee. +The desert has brought us together. The desert gives us to one another. +The desert will never let us part." + +Victoria's eyes followed his pointing gesture. The sand-crystals +sparkled in the sunset and moonrise, like myriads of earthbound +fireflies. Their bright facets seemed to twinkle at her with cold, fairy +eyes, waiting to see what she would do, and she did not know. She did +not know at all what she would do. + + + + +XXXII + + +"Dost thou wish me to hate thee, Si Maieddine?" she asked. + +"I do not fear thy hate. When thou belongest to me, I will know how to +turn it into love." + +"Perhaps if I were a girl of thine own people thou wouldst know, but I +see now that thy soul and my soul are far apart. If thou art so wicked, +so treacherous, they will never be nearer together." + +"The Koran does not teach us to believe that the souls of women are as +ours." + +"I have read. And if there were no other reason than that, it would be +enough to put a high wall between me and a man of thy race." + +For the first time Maieddine felt anger against the girl. But it did not +make him love or want her the less. + +"Thy sister did not feel that," he said, almost menacingly. + +"Then the more do I feel it. Is it wise to use her as an argument?" + +"I need no argument," he answered, sullenly. "I have told thee what is +in my mind. Give me thy love, and thou canst bend me as thou wilt. +Refuse it, and I will break thee. No! do not try to run from me. In an +instant I should have thee in my arms. Even if thou couldst reach +M'Barka, of what use to grasp her dress and cry to her for help against +me? She would not give it. My will is law to her, as it must be to thee +if thou wilt not learn wisdom, and how to hold me by a thread of silk, a +thread of thy silky hair. No one would listen to thee. Not Fafann, not +the men of the Soudan. It is as if we two were alone in the desert. +Dost thou understand?" + +"Thou hast made me understand. I will not try to run. Thou hast the +power to take me, since thou hast forgotten thy bond of honour, and thou +art stronger than I. Yet will I not live to be thy wife, Si Maieddine. +Wouldst thou hold a dead girl in thine arms?" + +"I would hold thee dead or living. Thou wouldst be living at first; and +a moment with thine heart beating against mine would be worth a +lifetime--perhaps worth eternity." + +"Wouldst thou take me if--if I love another man?" + +He caught her by the shoulders, and his hands were hard as steel. +"Darest thou to tell me that thou lovest a man?" + +"Yes, I dare," she said. "Kill me if thou wilt. Since I have no earthly +help against thee, kill my body, and let God take my spirit where thou +canst never come. I love another man." + +"Tell me his name, that I may find him." + +"I will not. Nothing thou canst do will make me tell thee." + +"It is that man who was with thee on the boat." + +"I said I would not tell thee." + +He shook her between his hands, so that the looped-up braids of her hair +fell down, as they had fallen when she danced, and the ends loosened +into curls. She looked like a pale child, and suddenly a great +tenderness for her melted his heart. He had never known that feeling +before, and it was very strange to him; for when he had loved, it had +been with passion, not with tenderness. + +"Little white star," he said, "thou art but a babe, and I will not +believe that any man has ever touched thy mouth with his lips. Am I +right?" + +"Yes, because he does not love me. It is I who love him, that is all," +she answered naively. "I only knew how I really felt when thou saidst +thou wouldst make me love thee, for I was so sure that never, never +couldst thou do that. And I shall love the other man all my life, even +though I do not see him again." + +"Thou shalt never see him again. For a moment, oh Rose, I hated thee, +and I saw thy face through a mist red as thy blood and his, which I +wished to shed. But thou art so young--so white--so beautiful. Thou hast +come so far with me, and thou hast been so sweet. There is a strange +pity for thee in my breast, such as I have never known for any living +thing. I think it must be that thou hast magic in thine eyes. It is as +if thy soul looked out at me through two blue windows, and I could fall +down and worship, Allah forgive me! I knew no man had kissed thee. And +the man thou sayest thou lovest is but a man in a dream. This is my +hour. I must not let my chance slip by, M'Barka told me. Yet promise me +but one thing and I will hold thee sacred--I swear on the head of my +father." + +"What is the one thing?" + +"That if thy sister Lella Saida puts thine hand in mine, thou wilt be my +wife." + +The girl's face brightened, and the great golden dunes, silvering now in +moonlight, looked no longer like terrible waves ready to overwhelm her. +She was sure of Saidee, as she was sure of herself. + +"That I will promise thee," she said. + +He looked at her thoughtfully. "Thou hast great confidence in thy +sister." + +"Perfect confidence." + +"And I----" he did not finish his sentence. "I am glad I did not wait +longer," he went on instead. "Thou knowest now that I love thee, that +thou hast by thy side a man and not a statue. And I have not let my +chance slip by, because I have gained thy promise." + +"If Saidee puts my hand in thine." + +"It is the same thing." + +"Thou dost not know my sister." + +"But I know----" Again he broke off abruptly. There were things it were +better not to say, even in the presence of one who would never be able +to tell of an indiscretion. "It is a truce between us?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Forget, then, that I frightened thee." + +"Thou didst not frighten me. I did not know what to do, and I thought I +might have to die without seeing Saidee. Yet I was not afraid, I +think--I hope--I was not afraid." + +"Thou wilt not have to die without seeing thy sister. Now, more than +before, I shall be in haste to put thee in her charge. But thou wilt die +without seeing again the face of that man whose name, which thou wouldst +not speak, shall be as smoke blown before the wind. Never shalt thou see +him on earth, and if he and I meet I will kill him." + +Victoria shut her eyes, and pressed her hands over them. She felt very +desolate, alone with Maieddine among the dunes. She would not dare to +call Stephen now, lest he should hear and come. Nevertheless she could +not be wholly unhappy, for it was wonderful to have learned what love +was. She loved Stephen Knight. + +"Thou wilt let me go back to M'Barka?" she said to Maieddine. + +"I will take thee back," he amended. "Because I have thy promise." + + + + +XXXIII + + +On a flat white roof, which bubbled up here and there in rounded domes, +a woman stood looking out over interminable waves of yellow sand, a vast +golden silence which had no end on her side of the horizon, east, west, +north, or south. + +No veil hid her face, but folds of thin woollen stuff beautifully woven, +and dyed blue, almost as dark as indigo, fell from her head nearly to +her feet, over a loose robe of orange-red, cut low in the neck, with +sleeves hiding the elbows. She looked towards the west, shading her eyes +with her hand: and the sun near its setting streamed over her face and +hair, chiselling her features in marble, brightening her auburn hair to +fiery gold, giving her brown eyes the yellow tints of a topaz, or of the +amber beads which hung in a long chain, as far down as her knees. + +From the white roof many things could be seen besides the immense +monotonous dunes along whose ridges orange fire seemed to play +unceasingly against the sky. + +There was the roof of the Zaouia mosque, with its low, white domes +grouped round the minaret, as somewhere below the youngest boys of the +school grouped round the taleb, or teacher. On the roof of the mosque +bassourah frames were in the making, splendid bassourahs, which, when +finished, would be the property of the great marabout, greatest of all +living marabouts, lord of the Zaouia, lord of the desert and its people, +as far as the eye could reach, and farther. + +There were other roofs, too, bubbling among the labyrinth of square open +courts and long, tunnel-like, covered and uncovered corridors which +formed the immense, rambling Zaouia, or sacred school of Oued Tolga. +Things happened on these roofs which would have interested a stranger, +for there was spinning of sheep's wool, making of men's burnouses, +fashioning of robes for women, and embroidering of saddles; but the +woman who looked towards the west with the sun in her eyes was tired of +the life on sun-baked roofs and in shadowed courts. + +The scent of orange blossoms in her own little high-walled garden came +up to her; yet she had forgotten that it was sweet, for she had never +loved it. The hum of the students' voices, faintly heard through the +open-work of wrought-iron windows, rasped her nerves, for she had heard +it too often; and she knew that the mysterious lessons, the lessons +which puzzled her, and constantly aroused her curiosity, were never +repeated aloud by the classes, as were these everlasting chapters of the +Koran. + +Men sleeping on benches in the court of the mosque, under arches in the +wall, waked and drank water out of bulging goatskins, hanging from huge +hooks. Pilgrims washed their feet in the black marble basin of the +trickling fountain, for soon it would be time for moghreb, the prayer of +the evening. + +Far away, eighteen miles distant across the sands, she could see the +twenty thousand domes of Oued Tolga, the desert city which had taken its +name from the older Zaouia, and the oued or river which ran between the +sacred edifice on its golden hill, and the ugly toub-built village, +raised above danger of floods on a foundation of palm trunks. + +Far away the domes of the desert city shimmered like white fire in the +strange light that hovers over the Sahara before the hour of sunset. +Behind those distant, dazzling bubbles of unearthly whiteness, the +valley-like oases of the southern desert, El Souf, dimpled the yellow +dunes here and there with basins of dark green. Near by, a little to the +left of the Zaouia hill, such an oasis lay, and the woman on the white +roof could look across a short stretch of sand, down into its green +depths. She could watch the marabout's men repairing the sloping +sand-walls with palm trunks, which kept them from caving in, and saved +the precious date-palms from being engulfed in a yellow tide. It was the +marabout's own private oasis, and brought him in a large income every +year. But everything was the marabout's. The woman on the roof was sick +to death of his riches, his honours, his importance, for she was the +marabout's wife; and in these days she loved him as little as she loved +the orange garden he had given her, and all the things that were hers +because she was his. + +It was very still in the Zaouia of Oued Tolga. The only sound was the +droning of the boys' voices, which came faintly from behind iron +window-gratings below, and that monotonous murmur emphasized the +silence, as the humming of bees in a hive makes the stillness of a +garden in summer more heavy and hot. + +No noises came from the courts of the women's quarters, or those of the +marabout's guests, and attendants, and servants; not a voice was raised +in that more distant part of the Zaouia where the students lived, and +where the poor were lodged and fed for charity's sake. No doubt the +village, across the narrow river in its wide bed, was buzzing with life +at this time of day; but seldom any sound there was loud enough to break +the slumberous silence of the great Zaouia. And the singing of the men +in the near oasis who fought the sand, the groaning of the well-cords +woven of palm fibre which raised the buckets of hollowed palm-trunks, +was as monotonous as the recitation of the Koran. The woman had heard it +so often that she had long ago ceased to hear it at all. + +She looked westward, across the river to the ugly village with the dried +palm-leaves on its roofs, and far away to the white-domed city, the +dimpling oases and the mountainous dunes that towered against a flaming +sky; then eastward, towards the two vast desert lakes, or chotts, one of +blue water, the other of saltpetre, which looked bluer than water, and +had pale edges that met the sand like snow on gold. Above the lake of +water suddenly appeared a soaring line of white, spreading and mounting +higher, then turning from white to vivid rose. It was the flamingoes +rising and flying over the chott, the one daily phenomenon of the desert +which the woman on the roof still loved to watch. But her love for the +rosy line against the blue was not entirely because of its beauty, +though it was startlingly beautiful. It meant something for which she +waited each evening with a passionate beating of her heart under the +orange-coloured robe and the chain of amber beads. It meant sunset and +the coming of a message. But the doves on the green tiled minaret of the +Zaouia mosque had not begun yet to dip and wheel. They would not stir +from their repose until the muezzin climbed the steps to call the hour +of evening prayer, and until they flew against the sunset the message +could not come. + +She must wait yet awhile. There was nothing to do till the time of hope +for the message. There was never anything else that she cared to do +through the long days from sunrise to sunset, unless the message gave +her an incentive when it came. + +In the river-bed, the women and young girls had not finished their +washing, which was to them not so much labour as pleasure, since it gave +them their opportunity for an outing and a gossip. In the bed of shining +sand lay coloured stones like jewels, and the women knelt on them, +beating wet bundles of scarlet and puce with palm branches. The watcher +on the roof knew that they were laughing and chattering together though +she could not hear them. She wondered dimly how many years it was since +she had laughed, and said to herself that probably she would never laugh +again, although she was still young, only twenty-eight. But that was +almost old for a woman of the East. Those girls over there, wading +knee-deep in the bright water to fill their goatskins and curious white +clay jugs, would think her old. But they hardly knew of her existence. +She had married the great marabout, therefore she was a marabouta, or +woman saint, merely because she was fortunate enough to be his wife, and +too highly placed for them to think of as an earthly woman like +themselves. What could it matter whether such a radiantly happy being +were young or old? And she smiled a little as she imagined those poor +creatures picturing her happiness. She passed near them sometimes going +to the Moorish baths, but the long blue drapery covered her face then, +and she was guarded by veiled negresses and eunuchs. They looked her way +reverently, but had never seen her face, perhaps did not know who she +was, though no doubt they had all heard and gossipped about the romantic +history of the new wife, the beautiful Ouled Nail, to whom the marabout +had condescended because of her far-famed, her marvellous, almost +incredible loveliness, which made her a consort worthy of a saint. + +The river was a mirror this evening, reflecting the sunset of crimson +and gold, and the young crescent moon fought for and devoured, then +vomited forth again by strange black cloud-monsters. The old brown +palm-trunks, on which the village was built, were repeated in the still +water, and seemed to go down and down, as if their roots might reach to +the other side of the world. + +Over the crumbling doorways of the miserable houses bleached skulls and +bones of animals were nailed for luck. The red light of the setting sun +stained them as if with blood, and they were more than ever disgusting +to the watcher on the white roof. They were the symbols of superstitions +the most Eastern and barbaric, ideas which she hated, as she was +beginning to hate all Eastern things and people. + +The streak of rose which meant a flock of flying flamingoes had faded +out of the sky. The birds seemed to have vanished into the sunset, and +hardly had they gone when the loud crystalline voice of the muezzin +began calling the faithful to prayer. Work stopped for the day. The men +and youths of the Zaouia climbed the worn stairs to the roof of the +mosque, where, in their white turbans and burnouses, they prostrated +themselves before Allah, going down on their faces as one man. The doves +of the minaret--called Imams, because they never leave the mosque or +cease to prostrate themselves, flying head downwards--began to wheel and +cry plaintively. The moment when the message might come was here at +last. + +The white roof had a wall, which was low in places, in others very high, +so high that no one standing behind it could be seen. This screen of +whitewashed toub was arranged to hide persons on the roof from those on +the roof of the mosque; but window-like openings had been made in it, +filled in with mashrabeyah work of lace-like pattern; an art brought to +Africa long ago by the Moors, after perfecting it in Granada. And this +roof was not the only one thus screened and latticed. There was another, +where watchers could also look down into the court of the fountain, at +the carved doors taken from the Romans, and up to the roof of the mosque +with all its little domes. From behind those other lace-like windows in +the roof-wall, sparkled such eyes as only Ouled Nail girls can have; but +the first watcher hated to think of those eyes and their wonderful +fringe of black lashes. It was an insult to her that they should +beautify this house, and she ignored their existence, though she had +heard her negresses whispering about them. + +While the faithful prayed, a few of the wheeling doves flew across from +the mosque to the roof where the woman waited for a message. At her feet +lay a small covered basket, from which she took a handful of grain. The +dove Imams forgot their saintly manners in an unseemly scramble as the +white hand scattered the seeds, and while they disputed with one +another, complaining mournfully, another bird, flying straight to the +roof from a distance, suddenly joined them. It was white, with feet like +tiny branches of coral, whereas the doves from the mosque were grey, or +burnished purple. + +The woman had been pale, but when the bird fluttered down to rest on the +open basket of grain, colour rushed to her face, as if she had been +struck on each cheek with a rose. None of the doves of the mosque were +tame enough to sit on the basket, which was close to her feet, though +they sidled round it wistfully; but the white bird let her stroke its +back with her fingers as it daintily pecked the yellow grains. + +Very cautiously she untied a silk thread fastened to a feather under the +bird's wing. As she did so it fluttered both wings as if stretching them +in relief, and a tiny folded paper attached to the cord fell into the +basket. Instantly the woman laid her hand over it. Then she looked +quickly, without moving her head, towards the square opening at a corner +of the roof where the stairway came up. No one was there. Nobody could +see her from the roof of the mosque, and her roof was higher than any of +the others, except that which covered the private rooms of the marabout. +But the marabout was away, and no one ever came out on his roof when he +was absent. + +She opened the folded bit of white paper, which was little more than two +inches square, and was covered on one side with writing almost +microscopically small. The other side was blank, but the woman had no +doubt that the letter was for her. As she read, the carrier-pigeon went +on pecking at the seeds in the basket, and the doves of the mosque +watched it enviously. + +The writing was in French, and no name was at the beginning or the end. + +"Be brave, my beautiful one, and dare to do as your heart prompts. +Remember, I worship you. Ever since that wonderful day when the wind +blew aside your veil for an instant at the door of the Moorish bath, the +whole world has been changed for me. I would die a thousand deaths if +need be for the joy of rescuing you from your prison. Yet I do not wish +to die. I wish to live, to take you far away and make you so happy that +you will forget the wretchedness and failure of the past. A new life +will begin for both of us, if you will only trust me, and forget the +scruples of which you write--false scruples, believe me. As he had a +wife living when he married you, and has taken another since, surely +you cannot consider that you are bound by the law of God or man? Let me +save you from the dragon, as fairy princesses were saved in days of old. +If I might speak with you, tell you all the arguments that constantly +suggest themselves to my mind, you could not refuse. I have thought of +more than one way, but dare not put my ideas on paper, lest some unlucky +chance befall our little messenger. Soon I shall have perfected the +cypher. Then there will not be the same danger. Perhaps to-morrow night +I shall be able to send it. But meanwhile, for the sake of my love, give +me a little hope. If you will try to arrange a meeting, to be settled +definitely when the cypher is ready, twist three of those glorious +threads of gold which you have for hair round the cord when you send the +messenger back." + +All the rosy colour had died away from the woman's face by the time she +had finished reading the letter. She folded it again into a tiny square +even smaller than before, and put it into one of the three or four +little engraved silver boxes, made to hold texts from the Koran, which +hung from her long amber necklace. Her eyes were very wide open, but she +seemed to see nothing except some thought printed on her brain like a +picture. + +On the mosque roof a hundred men of the desert knelt praying in the +sunset, their faces turned towards Mecca. Down in the fountain-court, +the marabout's lazy tame lion rose from sleep and stretched himself, +yawning as the clear voice of the muezzin chanted from the minaret the +prayer of evening, "Allah Akbar, Allah il Allah, Mohammed r'soul Allah." + +The woman did not know that she heard the prayer, for as her eyes saw a +picture, so did her ears listen to a voice which she had heard only +once, but desired beyond all things to hear again. To her it was the +voice of a saviour-knight; the face she saw was glorious with the +strength of manhood, and the light of love. Only to think of the voice +and face made her feel that she was coming to life again, after lying +dead and forgotten in a tomb for many years of silence. + +Yes, she was alive now, for he had waked her from a sleep like death; +but she was still in the tomb, and it seemed impossible to escape from +it, even with the help of a saviour-knight. If she said "yes" to what he +asked, as she was trying to make herself believe she had a moral and +legal right to do, they would be found out and killed, that was all. + +She was not brave. The lassitude which is a kind of spurious resignation +poisons courage, or quenches it as water quenches fire. Although she +hated her life, if it could be called life, had no pleasure in it, and +had almost forgotten how to hope, still she was afraid of being +violently struck down. + +Not long ago a woman in the village had tried to leave her husband with +a man she loved. The husband found out, and having shot the man before +her eyes, stabbed her with many wounds, one for each traitorous kiss, +according to the custom of the desert; not one knife-thrust deep enough +to kill; but by and by she had died from the shock of horror, and loss +of blood. Nobody blamed the husband. He had done the thing which was +right and just. And stories like this came often to the ears of the +woman on the roof through her negresses, or from the attendants at the +Moorish bath. + +The man she loved would not be shot like the wretched Bedouin, who was +of no importance except to her for whom his life was given; but +something would happen. He would be taken ill with a strange disease, of +which he would die after dreadful suffering; or at best his career would +be ruined; for the greatest of all marabouts was a man of immense +influence. Because of his religious vow to wear a mask always like a +Touareg, none of the ruling race had ever seen the marabout's features, +yet his power was known far and wide--in Morocco; all along the caravan +route to Tombouctou; in the capital of the Touaregs; in Algiers; and +even in Paris itself. + +She reminded herself of these things, and at one moment her heart was +like ice in her breast; but at the next, it was like a ball of fire; and +pulling out three long bright hairs from her head, she twisted them +round the cord which the carrier-pigeon had brought. Before tying it +under his wing again, she scattered more yellow seeds for the dove +Imams, because she did not want them to fly away until she was ready to +let her messenger go. Thus there was the less danger that the +carrier-pigeon would be noticed. Only Noura, her negress, knew of him. +Noura had smuggled him into the Zaouia, and she herself had trained him +by giving him food that he liked, though his home was at Oued Tolga, the +town. + +The birds from the mosque had waited for their second supply, for the +same programme had been carried out many times before, and they had +learned to expect it. + +When they finished scrambling for the grain which the white pigeon could +afford to scorn, they fluttered back to the minaret, following a leader. +But the carrier flew away straight and far, his little body vanishing at +last as if swallowed up in the gold of the sunset. For he went west, +towards the white domes of Oued Tolga. + + + + +XXXIV + + +Still the woman stood looking after the bird, but the sun had dropped +behind the dunes, and she no longer needed to shade her eyes with her +hand. There was nothing more to expect till sunset to-morrow, when +something might or might not happen. If no message came, then there +would be only dullness and stagnation until the day when the Moorish +bath was sacredly kept for the great ladies of the marabout's household. +There were but two of these, yet they never went to the bath together, +nor had they ever met or spoken to one another. They were escorted to +the bath by their attendants at different hours of the same day; and +later their female servants were allowed to go, for no one but the women +of the saintly house might use the baths that day. + +The woman on the white roof in the midst of the golden silence gazed +towards the west, though she looked for no event of interest; and her +eyes fixed themselves mechanically upon a little caravan which moved +along the yellow sand like a procession of black insects. She was so +accustomed to search the desert since the days, long ago, when she had +actually hoped for friends to come and take her away, that she could +differentiate objects at greater distances than one less trained to +observation. Hardly thinking of the caravan, she made out, nevertheless, +that it consisted of two camels, carrying bassourahs, a horse and Arab +rider, a brown pack camel, and a loaded mule, driven by two men who +walked. + +They had evidently come from Oued Tolga, or at least from that +direction, therefore it was probable that their destination was the +Zaouia; otherwise, as it was already late, they would have stopped in +the city all night. Of course, it was possible that they were on their +way to the village, but it was a poor place, inhabited by very poor +people, many of them freed Negroes, who worked in the oases and lived +mostly upon dates. No caravans ever went out from there, because no man, +even the richest, owned more than one camel or donkey; and nobody came +to stay, unless some son of the miserable hamlet, who had made a little +money elsewhere, and returned to see his relatives. But on the other +hand, numerous caravans arrived at the Zaouia of Oued Tolga, and +hundreds of pilgrims from all parts of Islam were entertained as the +marabout's guests, or as recipients of charity. + +Dimly, as she detached her mind from the message she had sent, the woman +began to wonder about this caravan, because of the bassourahs, which +meant that there were women among the travellers. There were +comparatively few women pilgrims to the Zaouia, except invalids from the +town of Oued Tolga, or some Sahara encampment, who crawled on foot, or +rode decrepit donkeys, hoping to be cured of ailments by the magic power +of the marabout, the power of the Baraka. The woman who watched had +learned by this time not to expect European tourists. She had lived for +eight years in the Zaouia, and not once had she seen from her roof a +European, except a French government-official or two, and a few--a very +few--French officers. Never had any European women come. Tourists were +usually satisfied with Touggourt, three or four days nearer +civilisation. Women did not care to undertake an immense and fatiguing +journey among the most formidable dunes of the desert, where there was +nothing but ascending and descending, day after day; where camels +sometimes broke their legs in the deep sand, winding along the fallen +side of a mountainous dune, and where a horse often had to sit on his +haunches, and slide with his rider down a sand precipice. + +She herself had experienced all these difficulties, so long ago now +that she had half forgotten how she had hated them, and the fate to +which they were leading her. But she did not blame other women for not +coming to Oued Tolga. + +Occasionally some caid or agha of the far south would bring his wife who +was ill or childless to be blessed by the marabout; and in old days they +had been introduced to the marabouta, but it was years now since she had +been asked, or even allowed, to entertain strangers. She thought, +without any active interest, as she looked at the nodding bassourahs, +growing larger and larger, that a chief was coming with his women, and +that he would be disappointed to learn that the marabout was away from +home. It was rather odd that the stranger had not been told in the city, +for every one knew that the great man had gone a fortnight ago to the +province of Oran. Several days must pass before he could return, even +if, for any reason, he came sooner than he was expected. But it did not +matter much to her, if there were to be visitors who would have the pain +of waiting. There was plenty of accommodation for guests, and there were +many servants whose special duty it was to care for strangers. She would +not see the women in the bassourahs, nor hear of them unless some gossip +reached her through the talk of the negresses. + +Still, as there was nothing else which she wished to do, she continued +to watch the caravan. + +By and by it passed out of sight, behind the rising ground on which the +village huddled, with its crowding brown house-walls that narrowed +towards the roofs. The woman almost forgot it, until it appeared again, +to the left of the village, where palm logs had been laid in the river +bed, making a kind of rough bridge, only covered when the river was in +flood. It was certain now that the travellers were coming to the Zaouia. + +The flame of the sunset had died, though clouds purple as pansies +flowered in the west. The gold of the dunes paled to silver, and the +desert grew sad, as if it mourned for a day that would never live again. +Far away, near Oued Tolga, where the white domes of the city and the +green domes of the oasis palms all blended together in shadow, fires +sprang up in the camps of nomads, like signals of danger. + +The woman on the roof shivered. The chill of the coming night cooled her +excitement. She was afraid of the future, and the sadness which had +fallen upon the desert was cold in her heart. The caravan was not far +from the gate of the Zaouia, but she was tired of watching it. She +turned and went down the narrow stairs that led to her rooms, and to the +little garden where the fragrance of orange blossoms was too sweet. + + + + +XXXV + + +The caravan stopped in front of the Zaouia gate. There were great iron +doors in a high wall of toub, which was not much darker in colour than +the deep gold of the desert sand; and because it was after sunset the +doors were closed. + +One of the Negroes knocked, and called out something inarticulate and +guttural in a loud voice. + +Almost at once the gate opened, and a shadowy figure hovered inside. A +name was announced, which was instantly shouted to a person unseen, and +a great chattering began in the dusk. Men ran out, and one or two kissed +the hand of the rider on the white horse. They explained volubly that +the lord was away, but the newcomer checked them as soon as he could, +saying that he had heard the news in the city. He had with him ladies, +one a relative of his own, another who was connected with the great lord +himself, and they must be entertained as the lord would wish, were he +not absent. + +The gates, or doors, of iron were thrown wide open, and the little +procession entered a huge open court. On one side was accommodation for +many animals, as in a caravanserai, with a narrow roof sheltering thirty +or forty stalls; and here the two white meharis were made to kneel, that +the women might descend from their bassourahs. There were three, all +veiled, but the arms of one were bare and very brown. She moved stiffly, +as if cramped by sitting for a long time in one position; nevertheless, +she supported her companion, whose bassour she had shared. The two +Soudanese Negroes remained in this court with their animals, which the +servants of the Zaouia, began helping them to unload; but the master of +the expedition, with the two ladies of his party and Fafann, was now +obliged to walk. Several men of the Zaouia acted as their guides, +gesticulating with great respect, but lowering their eyelids, and +appearing not to see the women. + +They passed through another court, very large, though not so immense as +the first, for no animals were kept there. Instead of stalls for camels +and horses, there were roughly built rooms for pilgrims of the poorer +class, with little, roofless, open-sided kitchens, where they could cook +their own food. Beyond was the third court, with lodging for more +important persons, and then the travellers were led through a labyrinth +of corridors, some roofed with palm branches, others open to the air, +and still more covered in with the toub blocks of which the walls were +built. Along the sides were crumbling benches of stucco, on which old +men lay rolled up in their burnouses; or here and there a door of +rotting palm wood hung half open, giving a glimpse into a small, dim +court, duskily red with the fire of cooking in an open-air kitchen. From +behind these doors came faint sounds of chanting, and spicy smells of +burning wood and boiling peppers. It was like passing through a +subterranean village; and little dark children, squatting in doorways, +or flattening their bodies against palm trunks which supported palm +roofs, or flitting ahead of the strangers, in the thick, musky scented +twilight, were like shadowy gnomes. + +By and by, as the newcomers penetrated farther into the mysterious +labyrinth of the vast Zaouia, the corridors and courts became less +ruined in appearance. The walls were whitewashed; the palm-wood doors +were roughly carved and painted in bright colours, which could be seen +by the flicker of lamps set high in little niches. Each tunnel-like +passage had a carved archway at the end, and at last they entered one +which was closed in with beautiful doors of wrought iron. + +Through the rich network they could see into a court where everything +glimmered white in moonlight. They had come to the court of the mosque, +which had on one side an entrance to the private house of the marabout, +the great Sidi El Hadj Mohammed ben Abd-el-Kader. + + * * * * * * * + +"Lella Saida, oh light of the young moon, if it please thee, thou hast +two guests come from very far off," announced an old negress to the +woman who had been looking out over the golden silence of the desert. + +It was an hour since she had come down from the roof, and having eaten a +little bread, with soup, she lay on a divan writing in a small book. +Several tall copper lamps with open-work copper shades, jewelled and +fringed with coloured glass, gave a soft and beautiful light to the +room. It had pure white walls, round which, close to the ceiling, ran a +frieze of Arab lettering, red, and black, and gold. The doors and +window-blinds and little cupboards were of cedar, so thickly inlaid with +mother-o'-pearl, that only dark lines of the wood defined the white +patterning of leaves and flowers. + +The woman had thrown off the blue drapery that had covered her head, and +her auburn hair glittered in the light of the lamp by which she wrote. +She looked up, vexed. + +"Thou knowest, Noura, that for years I have received no guests," she +said, in a dialect of the Soudan, in which most Saharian mistresses of +Negro servants learn to talk. "I can see no one. The master would not +permit me to do so, even if I wished it, which I do not." + +"Pardon, loveliest lady. But this is another matter. A friend of our +lord brings these visitors to thee. One is kin of his. She seeks to be +healed of a malady, by the power of the Baraka. But the other is a +Roumia." + +The wife of the great marabout shut the book in which she had been +writing, and her mind travelled quickly to the sender of the +carrier-pigeon. A European woman, the first who had ever come to the +Zaouia in eight years! It must be that she had a message from him. +Somehow he had contrived this visit. She dared ask no more questions. + +"I will see these ladies," she said. "Let them come to me here." + +"Already the old one is resting in the guest-house," answered the +negress. "She has her own servant, and she asks to see thee no earlier +than to-morrow, when she has rested, and is able to pay thee her +respects. It is the other, the young Roumia, who begs to speak with thee +to-night." + +The wife of the marabout was more certain than ever that her visitor +must come from the sender of the pigeon. She was glad of an excuse to +talk with his messenger alone, without waiting. + +"Go fetch her," she directed. "And when thou hast brought her to the +door I shall no longer need thee, Noura." + +Her heart was beating fast. She dreaded some final decision, or the need +to make a decision, yet she knew that she would be bitterly disappointed +if, after all, the European woman were not what she thought. She shut up +the diary in which she wrote each night, and opening one of the wall +cupboards near her divan, she put it away on a shelf, where there were +many other small volumes, a dozen perhaps. They contained the history of +her life during the last nine years, since unhappiness had isolated her, +and made it necessary to her peace of mind, almost to her sanity, to +have a confidant. She closed the inlaid doors of the cupboard, and +locked them with a key which hung from a ribbon inside her dress. + +Such a precaution was hardly needed, since the writing was all in +English, and she had recorded the events of the last few weeks +cautiously and cryptically. Not a soul in the marabout's house could +read English, except the marabout himself; and it was seldom he honoured +her with a visit. Nevertheless, it had become a habit to lock up the +books, and she found a secretive pleasure in it. + +She had only time to slip the ribbon back into her breast, and sit down +stiffly on the divan, when the door was opened again by Noura. + +"O Lella Saida, I have brought the Roumia," the negress announced. + +A slim figure in Arab dress came into the room, unfastening a white veil +with fingers that trembled with impatience. The door shut softly. Noura +had obeyed instructions. + + + + +XXXVI + + +For ten years Victoria had been waiting for this moment, dreaming of it +at night, picturing it by day. Now it had come. + +There was Saidee standing before her, found at last. Saidee, well and +safe, and lovely as ever, hardly changed in feature, and yet--there was +something strange about her, something which stopped the joyous beating +of the girl's heart. It was almost as if she had died and come to +Heaven, to find that Heaven was not Heaven at all, but a cold place of +fear. + +She was shocked at the impression, blaming herself. Surely Saidee did +not know her yet, that was all; or the surprise was too great. She +wished she had sent word by the negress. Though that would have seemed +banal, it would have been better than to see the blank look on Saidee's +face, a look which froze her into a marble statue. But it was too late +now. The only thing left was to make the best of a bad beginning. + +"Oh, darling!" Victoria cried. "Have I frightened you? Dearest--my +beautiful one, it's your little sister. All these years I've been +waiting--waiting to find a way. You knew I would come some day, didn't +you?" + +Tears poured down her face. She tried to believe they were tears of joy, +such as she had often thought to shed at sight of Saidee. She had been +sure that she could not keep them back, and that she would not try. They +should have been sweet as summer rain, but they burned her eyes and her +cheeks as they fell. Saidee was silent. The girl held out her arms, +running a step or two, then, faltering, she let her arms fall. They felt +heavy and stiff, as if they had been turned to wood. Saidee did not +move. There was an expression of dismay, even of fear on her face. + +"You don't know me!" Victoria said chokingly. "I've grown up, and I must +seem like a different person--but I'm just the same, truly. I've loved +you so, always. You'll get used to seeing me changed. You--you don't +think I'm somebody else pretending to be Victoria, do you? I can tell +you all the things we used to do and say. I haven't forgotten one. Oh, +Saidee, dearest, I've come such a long way to find you. Do be glad to +see me--do!" + +Her voice broke. She put out her hands pleadingly--the childish hands +that had seemed pathetically pretty to Stephen Knight. + +A look of intense concentration darkened Saidee's eyes. She appeared to +question herself, to ask her intelligence what was best to do. Then the +tense lines of her face softened. She forced herself to smile, and +leaning towards Victoria, clasped the slim white figure in her arms, +holding it tightly, in silence. But over the girl's shoulder, her eyes +still seemed to search an answer to their question. + +When she had had time to control her voice and expression, she spoke, +releasing her sister, taking the wistful face between her hands, and +gazing at it earnestly. Then she kissed lips and cheeks. + +"Victoria!" she murmured. "Victoria! I'm not dreaming you?" + +"No, no, darling," the girl answered, more hopefully. "No wonder you're +dazed. This--finding you, I mean--has been the object of my life, ever +since your letters stopped coming, and I began to feel I'd lost you. +That's why I can't realize your being struck dumb with the surprise of +it. Somehow, I've always felt you'd be expecting me. Weren't you? Didn't +you know I'd come when I could?" + +Saidee shook her head, looking with extraordinary, almost feverish, +interest at the younger girl, taking in every detail of feature and +complexion, all the exquisite outlines of extreme youth, which she had +lost. + +"No," she said slowly. "I thought I was dead to the world. I didn't +think it would be possible for anyone to find me, even you." + +"But--you are glad--now I'm here?" Victoria faltered. + +"Of course," Saidee answered unhesitatingly. "I'm +delighted--enchanted--for my own sake. If I'm frightened, if you think +me strange--_farouche_--it's because I'm so surprised, and because--can +you believe it?--this is the first time I've spoken English with any +human being for nine years--perhaps more. I almost forget--it seems a +century. I talk to myself--so as not to forget. And every night I write +down what has happened, or rather what I've thought, because things +hardly ever do happen here. The words don't come easily. They sound so +odd in my own ears. And then--there's another reason why I'm afraid. +It's on your account. I'd better tell you. It wouldn't be fair not to +tell. I--how are you going to get away again?" + +She almost whispered the last words, and spoke them as if she were +ashamed. But she watched the girl's face anxiously. + +Victoria slipped a protecting arm round her waist. "We are going away +together, dearest," she said. "Unless you're too happy and contented. +But, my Saidee--you don't look contented." + +Saidee flushed faintly. "You mean--I look old--haggard?" + +"No--no!" the girl protested. "Not that. You've hardly changed at all, +except--oh, I hardly know how to put it in words. It's your expression. +You look sad--tired of the things around you." + +"I am tired of the things around me," Saidee said. "Often I've felt like +a dead body in a grave with no hope of even a resurrection. What were +those lines of Christina Rossetti's I used to say over to myself at +first, while it still seemed worth while to revolt? Some one was buried, +had been buried for years, yet could think and feel, and cry out against +the doom of lying 'under this marble stone, forgotten, alone.' Doesn't +it sound agonizing--desperate? It just suited me. But now--now----" + +"Are things better? Are you happier?" Victoria clasped her sister +passionately. + +"No. Only I'm past caring so much. If you've come here, Babe, to take me +away, it's no use. I may as well tell you now. This is prison. And you +must escape, yourself, before the gaoler comes back, or it will be a +life-sentence for you, too." + +It warmed Victoria's heart that her sister should call her "Babe"--the +old pet name which brought the past back so vividly, that her eyes +filled again with tears. + +"You shall not be kept in prison!" she exclaimed. "It's +monstrous--horrible! I was afraid it would be like this. That's why I +had to wait and make plenty of money. Dearest, I'm rich. Everything's +for you. You taught me to dance, and it's by dancing I've earned such a +lot--almost a fortune. So you see, it's yours. I've got enough to bribe +Cassim to let you go, if he likes money, and isn't kind to you. Because, +if he isn't kind, it must be a sign he doesn't love you, really." + +Saidee laughed, a very bitter laugh. "He does like money. And he doesn't +like me at all--any more." + +"Then--" Victoria's face brightened--"then he will take the ten thousand +dollars I've brought, and he'll let you go away with me." + +"Ten thousand dollars!" Saidee laughed again. "Do you know who +Cassim--as you call him--is?" + +The girl looked puzzled. "Who he is?" + +"I see you don't know. The secret's been kept from you, somehow, by his +friend who brought you here. You'll tell me how you came; but first I'll +answer your question. The Cassim ben Halim you knew, has been dead for +eight years." + +"They told me so in Algiers. But--do you mean--have you married again?" + +"I said the Cassim ben Halim you knew, is dead. The Cassim _I_ knew, and +know now, is alive--and one of the most important men in Africa, though +we live like this, buried among the desert dunes, out of the world--or +what you'd think the world." + +"My world is where you are," Victoria said. + +"Dear little Babe! Mine is a terrible world. You must get out of it as +soon as you can, or you'll never get out at all." + +"Never till I take you with me." + +"Don't say that! I must send you away. I _must_--no matter how hard it +may be to part from you," Saidee insisted. "You don't know what you're +talking about. How should you? I suppose you must have heard +_something_. You must anyhow suspect there's a secret?" + +"Yes, Si Maieddine told me that. He said, when I talked of my sister, +and how I was trying to find her, that he'd once known Cassim. I had to +agree not to ask questions,--and he would never say for certain whether +Cassim was dead or not, but he promised sacredly to bring me to the +place where my sister lived. His cousin Lella M'Barka Bent Djellab was +with us,--very ill and suffering, but brave. We started from Algiers, +and he made a mystery even of the way we came, though I found out the +names of some places we passed, like El Aghouat and Ghardaia----" + +Saidee's eyes widened with a sudden flash. "What, you came here by El +Aghouat and Ghardaia?" + +"Yes. Isn't that the best way?" + +"The best, if the longest is the best. I don't know much about North +Africa geographically. They've taken care I shouldn't know! But I--I've +lately found out from--a person who's made the journey, that one can get +here from Algiers in a week or eight days. Seventeen hours by train to +Biskra: Biskra to Touggourt two long days in a diligence, or carriage +with plenty of horses; Touggourt to Oued Tolga on camel or horse, or +mule, in three or four days going up and down among the great dunes. You +must have been weeks travelling." + +"We have. I----" + +"How very queer! What could Si Maieddine's reason have been? Rich Arabs +love going by train whenever they can. Men who come from far off to see +the marabout always do as much of the journey as possible by rail. I +hear things about all important pilgrims. Then why did Si Maieddine +bring you by El Aghouat and Ghardaia--especially when his cousin's an +invalid? It couldn't have been just because he didn't want you to be +seen, because, as you're dressed like an Arab girl no one could guess he +was travelling with a European." + +"His father lives near El Aghouat," Victoria reminded her sister. And +Maieddine had used this fact as one excuse, when he admitted that they +might have taken a shorter road. But in her heart the girl had guessed +why the longest way had been chosen. She did not wish to hide from +Saidee things which concerned herself, yet Maieddine's love was his +secret, not hers, therefore she had not meant to tell of it, and she was +angry with herself for blushing. She blushed more and more deeply, and +Saidee understood. + +"I see! He's in love with you. That's why he brought you here. How +_clever_ of him! How like an Arab!" + +For a moment Saidee was silent, thinking intently. It could not be +possible, Victoria told herself, that the idea pleased her sister. Yet +for an instant the white face lighted up, as if Saidee were relieved of +heavy anxiety. + +She drew Victoria closer, with an arm round her waist. "Tell me about +it," she said. "How you met him, and everything." + +The girl knew she would have to tell, since her sister had guessed, but +there were many other things which it seemed more important to say and +hear first. She longed to hear all, all about Saidee's existence, ever +since the letters had stopped; why they had stopped; and whether the +reason had anything to do with the mystery about Cassim. Saidee seemed +willing to wait, apparently, for details of Victoria's life, since she +wanted to begin with the time only a few weeks ago, when Maieddine had +come into it. But the girl would not believe that this meant +indifference. They must begin somewhere. Why should not Saidee be +curious to hear the end part first, and go back gradually? Saidee's +silence had been a torturing mystery for years, whereas about her, her +simple past, there was no mystery to clear up. + +"Yes," she agreed. "But you promised to tell me about yourself +and--and----" + +"I know. Oh, you shall hear the whole story. It will seem like a romance +to you, I suppose, because you haven't had to live it, day by day, year +by year. It's sordid reality to me--oh, _how_ sordid!--most of it. But +this about Maieddine changes everything. I must hear what's +happened--quickly--because I shall have to make a plan. It's very +important--dreadfully important. I'll explain, when you've told me more. +But there's time to order something for you to eat and drink, first, if +you're tired and hungry. You must be both, poor child--poor, pretty +child! You _are_ pretty--lovely. No wonder Maieddine--but what will you +have. Which among our horrid Eastern foods do you hate least?" + +"I don't hate any of them. But don't make me eat or drink now, please, +dearest. I couldn't. By and by. We rested and lunched this side of the +city. I don't feel as if I should ever be hungry again. I'm so----" +Victoria stopped. She could not say: "I am so happy," though she ought +to have been able to say that. What was she, then, if not happy? "I'm so +excited," she finished. + +Saidee stroked the girl's hand, softly. On hers she wore no ring, not +even a wedding ring, though Cassim had put one on her finger, European +fashion, when she was a bride. Victoria remembered it very well, among +the other rings he had given during the short engagement. Now all were +gone. But on the third finger of the left hand was the unmistakable mark +a ring leaves if worn for many years. The thought passed through +Victoria's mind that it could not be long since Saidee had ceased to +wear her wedding ring. + +"I don't want to be cruel, or frighten you, my poor Babe," she said, +"but--you've walked into a trap in coming here, and I've got to try and +save you. Thank heaven my husband's away, but we've no time to lose. +Tell me quickly about Maieddine. I've heard a good deal of him, from +Cassim, in old days; but tell me all that concerns him and you. Don't +skip anything, or I can't judge." + +Saidee's manner was feverishly emphatic, but she did not look at +Victoria. She watched her own hand moving back and forth, restlessly, +from the girl's finger-tips, up the slender, bare wrist, and down again. + +Victoria told how she had seen Maieddine on the boat, coming to Algiers; +how he had appeared later at the hotel, and offered to help her, +hinting, rather than saying, that he had been a friend of Cassim's, and +knew where to find Cassim's wife. Then she went on to the story of the +journey through the desert, praising Maieddine, and hesitating only when +she came to the evening of his confession and threat. But Saidee +questioned her, and she answered. + +"It came out all right, you see," she finished at last. "I knew it must, +even in those few minutes when I couldn't help feeling a little afraid, +because I seemed to be in his power. But of course I wasn't really. +God's power was over his, and he felt it. Things always _do_ come out +right, if you just _know_ they will." + +Saidee shivered a little, though her hand on Victoria's was hot. "I wish +I could think like that," she half whispered. "If I could, I----" + +"What, dearest?" + +"I should be brave, that's all. I've lost my spirit--lost faith, too--as +I've lost everything else. I used to be quite a good sort of girl; but +what can you expect after ten years shut up in a Mussulman harem? It's +something in my favour that they never succeeded in 'converting' me, as +they almost always do with a European woman when they've shut her +up--just by tiring her out. But they only made me sullen and stupid. I +don't believe in anything now. You talk about 'God's power.' He's never +helped me. I should think 'things came right' more because Maieddine +felt you couldn't get away from him, then and later, and because he +didn't want to offend the marabout, than because God troubled to +interfere. Besides, things _haven't_ come right. If it weren't for +Maieddine, I might smuggle you away somehow, before the marabout +arrives. But now, Maieddine will be watching us like a lynx--or like an +Arab. It's the same thing where women are concerned." + +"Why should the marabout care what I do?" asked Victoria. "He's nothing +to us, is he?--except that I suppose Cassim must have some high position +in his Zaouia." + +"A high position! I forgot, you couldn't know--since Maieddine hid +everything from you. An Arab man never trusts a woman to keep a secret, +no matter how much in love he may be. He was evidently afraid you'd tell +some one the great secret on the way. But now you're here, he won't care +what you find out, because he knows perfectly well that you can never +get away." + +Victoria started, and turned fully round to stare at her sister with +wide, bright eyes. "I can and I will get away!" she exclaimed. "With +you. Never without you, of course. That's why I came, as I said. To take +you away if you are unhappy. Not all the marabouts in Islam can keep +you, dearest, because they have no right over you--and this is the +twentieth century, not hundreds of years ago, in the dark ages." + +"Hundreds of years in the future, it will still be the dark ages in +Islam. And this marabout thinks he _has_ a right over me." + +"But if you know he hasn't?" + +"I'm beginning to know it--beginning to feel it, anyhow. To feel that +legally and morally I'm free. But law and morals can't break down +walls." + +"I believe they can. And if Cassim----" + +"My poor child, when Cassim ben Halim died--at a very convenient time +for himself--Sidi El Hadj Mohammed ben Abd-el-Kadr appeared to claim +this maraboutship, left vacant by the third marabout in the line, an +old, old man whose death happened a few weeks before Cassim's. This +present marabout was his next of kin--or so everybody believes. And +that's the way saintships pass on in Islam, just as titles and estates +do in other countries. Now do you begin to understand the mystery?" + +"Not quite. I----" + +"You heard in Algiers that Cassim had died in Constantinople?" + +"Yes. The Governor himself said so." + +"The Governor believes so. Every one believes--except a wretched +hump-backed idiot in Morocco, who sold his inheritance to save himself +trouble, because he didn't want to leave his home, or bother to be a +marabout. Perhaps he's dead by this time, in one way or another. I +shouldn't be surprised. If he is, Maieddine and Maieddine's father, and +a few other powerful friends of Cassim's, are the only ones left who +know the truth, even a part of it. And the great Sidi El Hadj Mohammed +himself." + +"Oh, Saidee--Cassim is the marabout!" + +"Sh! Now you know the secret that's kept me a prisoner in his house +long, long after he'd tired of me, and would have got rid of me if he'd +dared--and if he hadn't been afraid in his cruel, jealous way, that I +might find a little happiness in my own country. And worse still, it's +the secret that will keep you a prisoner, too, unless you make up your +mind to do the one thing which can possibly help you." + +"What thing?" Victoria could not believe that the answer which darted +into her mind was the one Saidee really meant to give. + +Saidee's lips opened, but with the girl's eyes gazing straight into +hers, it was harder to speak than she had thought. Out of them looked a +highly sensitive yet brave spirit, so true, so loving and loyal, that +disloyalty to it was a crime--even though another love demanded it. + +"I--I hate to tell you," she stammered. "Only, what can I do? If +Maieddine hadn't loved you--but if he hadn't, you wouldn't be here. And +being here, we--we must just face the facts. The man who calls himself +my husband--I can't think of him as being that any more--is like a king +in this country. He has even more power than most kings have nowadays. +He'll give you to Maieddine when he comes home, if Maieddine asks him, +as of course he will. Maieddine wouldn't have given you up, there in the +desert, if he hadn't been sure he could bribe the marabout to do exactly +what he wanted." + +"But why can't I bribe him?" Victoria persisted, hopefully. "If he's +truly tired of you, my money----" + +"He'd laugh at you for offering it, and say you might keep it for a +_dot_. He's too rich to be tempted with money, unless it was far more +than you or I have ever seen. From his oasis alone he has an income of +thousands and thousands of dollars; and presents--large ones and small +ones--come to him from all over North Africa--from France, even. All the +Faithful in the desert, for hundreds of miles around, give him their +first and best dates of the year, their first-born camels, their first +foals, and lambs, and mules, in return for his blessing on their palms +and flocks. He has wonderful rugs, and gold plate, and jewels, more than +he knows what to do with, though he's very charitable. He's obliged to +be, to keep up his reputation and the reputation of the Zaouia. +Everything depends on that--all his ambitions, which he thinks I hardly +know. But I do know. And that's why I know that Maieddine will be able +to bribe him. Not with money: with something Cassim wants and values far +more than money. You wouldn't understand what I mean unless I explained +a good many things, and it's hardly the time for explaining more now. +You must just take what I say for granted, until I can tell you +everything by and by. But there are enormous interests mixed up with the +marabout's ambitions--things which concern all Africa. Is it likely +he'll let you and me go free to tell secrets that would ruin him and his +hopes for ever?" + +"We wouldn't tell." + +"Didn't I say that an Arab never trusts a woman? He'd kill us sooner +than let us go. And you've learned nothing about Arab men if you think +Maieddine will give you up and see you walk out of his life after all +the trouble he's taken to get you tangled up in it. That's why we've got +to look facts in the face. You meant to help me, dear, but you can't. +You can only make me miserable, because you've spoiled your happiness +for my sake. Poor little Babe, you've wandered far, far out of the zone +of happiness, and you can never get back. All you can do is to make the +best of a bad bargain." + +"I asked you to explain that, but you haven't yet." + +"You must--promise Maieddine what he asks, before Cassim comes back from +South Oran." + +This was the thing Victoria had feared, but could not believe Saidee +would propose. She shrank a little, and Saidee saw it. "Don't +misunderstand," the elder woman pleaded in the soft voice which +pronounced English almost like a foreign language. "I tell you, we can't +choose what we _want_ to do, you and I. If you wait for Cassim to be +here, it will come to the same thing, but it will be fifty times worse, +because then you'll have the humiliation of being forced to do what you +might seem to do now of your own free will." + +"I can't be forced to marry Maieddine. Nothing could make me do it. He +knows that already, unless----" + +"Unless what? Why do you look horrified?" + +"There's one thing I forgot to tell you about our talk in the desert. I +promised him I would say 'yes' in case something happened--something I +thought then couldn't happen." + +"But you find now it could?" + +"Oh, no--no, I don't believe it could." + +"You'd better tell me what it is." + +"That you--I said, I would promise to marry him if _you wished_ it. He +asked me to promise that, and I did, at once." + +A slow colour crept over Saidee's face, up to her forehead. "You trusted +me," she murmured. + +"And I do now--with all my heart. Only you've lived here, out of the +world, alone and sad for so long, that you're afraid of things I'm not +afraid of." + +"I'm afraid because I know what cause there is for fear. But you're +right. My life has made me a coward. I can't help it." + +"Yes, you can--I've come to help you help it." + +"How little you understand! They'll use you against me, me against you. +If you knew I were being tortured, and you could save me by marrying +Maieddine, what would you do?" + +Victoria's hand trembled in her sister's, which closed on it nervously. +"I would marry him that very minute, of course. But such things don't +happen." + +"They do. That's exactly what will happen, unless you tell Maieddine +you've made up your mind to say 'yes'. You can explain that it's by my +advice. He'll understand. But he'll respect you, and won't be furious at +your resistance, and want to revenge himself on you in future, as he +will if you wait to be forced into consenting." + +Victoria sprang up and walked away, covering her face with her hands. +Her sister watched her as if fascinated, and felt sick as she saw how +the girl shuddered. It was like watching a trapped bird bleeding to +death. But she too was in the trap, she reminded herself. Really, there +was no way out, except through Maieddine. She said this over and over in +her mind. There was no other way out. It was not that she was cruel or +selfish. She was thinking of her sister's good. There was no doubt of +that, she told herself: no doubt whatever. + + + + +XXXVII + + +Victoria felt as if all her blood were beating in her brain. She could +not think, and dimly she was glad that Saidee did not speak again. She +could not have borne more of those hatefully specious arguments. + +For a moment she stood still, pressing her hands over her eyes, and +against her temples. Then, without turning, she walked almost blindly to +a window that opened upon Saidee's garden. The little court was a silver +cube of moonlight, so bright that everything white looked alive with a +strange, spiritual intelligence. The scent of the orange blossoms was +lusciously sweet. She shrank back, remembering the orange-court at the +Caid's house in Ouargla. It was there that Zorah had prophesied: "Never +wilt thou come this way again." + +"I'm tired, after all," the girl said dully, turning to Saidee, but +leaning against the window frame. "I didn't realize it before. The +perfume--won't let me think." + +"You look dreadfully white!" exclaimed Saidee. "Are you going to faint? +Lie down here on this divan. I'll send for something." + +"No, no. Don't send. And I won't faint. But I want to think. Can I go +out into the air--not where the orange blossoms are?" + +"I'll take you on to the roof," Saidee said. "It's my favourite +place--looking over the desert." + +She put her arm round Victoria, leading her to the stairway, and so to +the roof. + +"Are you better?" she asked, miserably. "What can I do for you?" + +"Let's not speak for a little while, please. I can think now. Soon I +shall be well. Don't be anxious about me, darling." + +Very gently she slipped away from Saidee's arm that clasped her waist; +and the softness of the young voice, which had been sharp with pain, +touched the elder woman. She knew that the girl was thinking more of +her, Saidee, than of herself. + +Victoria leaned on the white parapet, and looked down over the desert, +where the sand rippled in silvery lines and waves, like water in +moonlight. + +"The golden silence!" she thought. + +It was silver now, not golden; but she knew that this was the place of +her dream. On a white roof like this, she had seen Saidee stand with +eyes shaded from the sun in the west; waiting for her, calling for her, +or so she had believed. Poor Saidee! Poor, beautiful Saidee; changed in +soul, though so little changed in face! Could it be that she had never +called in spirit to her sister? + +Victoria bowed her head, and tears fell from her eyes upon her cold bare +arms, crossed on the white wall. + +Saidee did not want her. Saidee was sorry that she had come. Her coming +had only made things worse. + +"I wish--" the girl was on the point of saying to herself--"I wish I'd +never been born." But before the words shaped themselves fully in her +mind--terrible words, because she had felt the beauty and sacred meaning +of life--the desert spoke to her. + +"Saidee does want you," the spirit of the wind and the glimmering sands +seemed to say. "If she had not wanted you, do you think you would have +been shown this picture, with your sister in it, the picture which +brought you half across the world? She called once, long ago, and you +heard the call. You were allowed to hear it. Are you so weak as to +believe, just because you're hurt and suffering, that such messages +between hearts mean nothing? Saidee may not know that she wants you, but +she does, and needs you more than ever before. This is your hour of +temptation. You thought everything was going to be wonderfully easy, +almost too easy, and instead, it is difficult, that's all. But be brave +for Saidee and yourself, now and in days to come, for you are here only +just in time." + +The pure, strong wind blowing over the dunes was a tonic to Victoria's +soul, and she breathed it eagerly. Catching at the robe of faith, she +held the spirit fast, and it stayed with her. + +Suddenly she felt at peace, sure as a child that she would be taught +what to do next. There was her star, floating in the blue lake of the +sky, like a water lily, where millions of lesser lilies blossomed. + +"Dear star," she whispered, "thank you for coming. I needed you just +then." + +"Are you better?" asked Saidee in a choked voice. + +Victoria turned away from sky and desert to the drooping figure of the +woman, standing in a pool of shadow, dark as fear and treachery. + +"Yes, dearest one, I am well again, and I won't have to worry you any +more." The girl gently wound two protecting arms round her sister. + +"What have you decided to do?" + +Victoria could feel Saidee's heart beating against her own. + +"I've decided to pray about deciding, and then to decide. Whatever's +best for you, I will do, I promise." + +"And for yourself. Don't forget that I'm thinking of you. Don't believe +it's _all_ cowardice." + +"I don't believe anything but good of my Saidee." + +"I envy you, because you think you've got Someone to pray to. I've +nothing. I'm--alone in the dark." + +Victoria made her look up at the moon which flooded the night with a sea +of radiance. "There is no dark," she said. "We're together--in the +light." + +"How hopeful you are!" Saidee murmured. "I've left hope so far behind, +I've almost forgotten what it's like." + +"Maybe it's always been hovering just over your shoulder, only you +forgot to turn and see. It can't be gone, because I feel sure that truth +and knowledge and hope are all one." + +"I wonder if you'll still feel so when you've married a man of another +race--as I have?" + +Victoria did not answer. She had to conquer the little cold thrill of +superstitious fear which crept through her veins, as Saidee's words +reminded her of M'Barka's sand-divining. She had to find courage again +from "her star," before she could speak. + +"Forgive me, Babe!" said Saidee, stricken by the look in the lifted +eyes. "I wish I needn't remind you of anything horrid to-night--your +first night with me after all these years. But we have so little time. +What else can I do?" + +"I shall know by to-morrow what we are to do," Victoria said cheerfully. +"Because I shall take counsel of the night." + +"You're a very odd girl," the woman reflected aloud. "When you were a +tiny thing, you used to have the weirdest thoughts, and do the quaintest +things. I was sure you'd grow up to be absolutely different from any +other human being. And so you have, I think. Only an extraordinary sort +of girl could ever have made her way without help from Potterston, +Indiana, to Oued Tolga in North Africa." + +"I _had_ help--every minute. Saidee--did you think of me sometimes, when +you were standing here on this roof?" + +"Yes, of course I thought of you often--only not so often lately as at +first, because for a long time now I've been numb. I haven't thought +much or cared much about anything, or--or any one except----" + +"Except----" + +"Except--except myself, I'm afraid." Saidee's face was turned away from +Victoria's. She looked toward Oued Tolga, the city, whither the +carrier-pigeon had flown. + +"I wondered," she went on hastily, "what had become of you, and if you +were happy, and whether by this time you'd nearly forgotten me. You were +such a baby child when I left you!" + +"I won't believe you really wondered if I could forget. You, and +thoughts of you, have made my whole life. I was just living for the time +when I could earn money enough to search for you--and preparing for it, +of course, so as to be ready when it came." + +Saidee still looked toward Oued Tolga, where the white domes shimmered, +far away in the moonlight, like a mirage. Was love a mirage, too?--the +love that called for her over there, the love whose voice made the +strings of her heart vibrate, though she had thought them broken and +silent for ever. Victoria's arms round her felt strong and warm, yet +they were a barrier. She was afraid of the barrier, and afraid of the +girl's passionate loyalty. She did not deserve it, she knew, and she +would be more at ease--she could not say happier, because there was no +such word as happiness for her--without it. Somehow she could not bear +to talk of Victoria's struggle to come to her rescue. The thought of all +the girl had done made her feel unable to live up to it, or be grateful. +She did not want to be called upon to live up to any standard. She +wanted--if she wanted anything--simply to go on blindly, as fate led. +But she felt that near her fate hovered, like the carrier-pigeon; and +some terrible force within herself, which frightened her, seemed ready +to push away or destroy anything that might come between her and that +fate. She knew that she ought to question Victoria about the past years +of their separation, one side of her nature was eager to hear the story. +But the other side, which had gained strength lately, forced her to +dwell upon less intimate things. + +"I suppose Mrs. Ray managed to keep most of poor father's money?" she +said. + +"Mrs. Ray died when I was fourteen, and after that Mr. Potter lost +everything in speculation," the girl answered. + +"Everything of yours, too?" + +"Yes. But it didn't matter, except for the delay. My dancing--_your_ +dancing really, dearest, because if it hadn't been for you I shouldn't +have put my heart into it so--earned me all I needed." + +"I said you were extraordinary! But how queer it seems to hear those +names again. Mrs. Ray. Mr. Potter. They're like names in a dream. How +wretched I used to think myself, with Mrs. Ray in Paris, when she was so +jealous and cross! But a thousand times since, I've wished myself back +in those days. I was happy, really. I was free. Life was all before me." + +"Dearest! But surely you weren't miserable from the very first, +with--with Cassim?" + +"No-o. I suppose I wasn't. I was in love with him. It seemed very +interesting to be the wife of such a man. Even when I found that he +meant to make me lead the life of an Arab woman, shut up and veiled, I +liked him too well to mind much. He put it in such a romantic way, +telling me how he worshipped me, how mad with jealousy he was even to +think of other men seeing my face, and falling in love with it. He +thought every one must fall in love! All girls like men to be +jealous--till they find out how sordid jealousy can be. And I was so +young--a child. I felt as if I were living in a wonderful Eastern poem. +Cassim used to give me the most gorgeous presents, and our house in +Algiers was beautiful. My garden was a dream--and how he made love to me +in it! Besides, I was allowed to go out, veiled. It was rather fun being +veiled--in those days, I thought so. It made me feel mysterious, as if +life were a masquerade ball. And the Arab women Cassim let me know--a +very few, wives and sisters of his friends--envied me immensely. I loved +that--I was so silly. And they flattered me, asking about my life in +Europe. I was like a fairy princess among them, until--one day--a woman +told me a thing about Cassim. She told me because she was spiteful and +wanted to make me miserable, of course, for I found out afterwards she'd +been expressly forbidden to speak, on account of my 'prejudices'--they'd +all been forbidden. I wouldn't believe at first,--but it was true--the +others couldn't deny it. And to prove what she said, the woman took me +to see the boy, who was with his grandmother--an aunt of Maieddine's, +dead now." + +"The boy?" + +"Oh, I forgot. I haven't explained. The thing she told was, that Cassim +had a wife living when he married me." + +"Saidee!--how horrible! How horrible!" + +"Yes, it was horrible. It broke my heart." Saidee was tingling with +excitement now. Her stiff, miserable restraint was gone in the feverish +satisfaction of speaking out those things which for years had corroded +her mind, like verdigris. She had never been able to talk to anyone in +this way, and her only relief had been in putting her thoughts on paper. +Some of the books in her locked cupboard she had given to a friend, the +writer of to-day's letter, because she had seen him only for a few +minutes at a time, and had been able to say very little, on the one +occasion when they had spoken a few words to each other. She had wanted +him to know what a martyrdom her life had been. Involuntarily she talked +to her sister, now, as she would have talked to him, and his face rose +clearly before her eyes, more clearly almost than Victoria's, which her +own shadow darkened, and screened from the light of the moon as they +stood together, clasped in one another's arms. + +"Cassim thought it all right, of course," she went on. "A Mussulman may +have four wives at a time if he likes--though men of his rank don't, as +a rule, take more than one, because they must marry women of high birth, +who hate rivals in their own house. But he was too clever to give me a +hint of his real opinions in Paris. He knew I wouldn't have looked at +him again, if he had--even if he hadn't told me about the wife herself. +She had had this boy, and gone out of her mind afterwards, so she wasn't +living with Cassim--that was the excuse he made when I taxed him with +deceiving me. Her father and mother had taken her back. I don't know +surely whether she's living or dead, but I believe she's dead, and her +body buried beside the grave supposed to be Cassim's. Anyhow, the boy's +living, and he's the one thing on earth Cassim loves better than +himself." + +"When did you find out about--about all this?" Victoria asked, almost +whispering. + +"Eight months after we were married I heard about his wife. I think +Cassim was true to me, in his way, till that time. But we had an awful +scene. I told him I'd never live with him again as his wife, and I never +have. After that day, everything was different. No more happiness--not +even an Arab woman's idea of happiness. Cassim began to hate me, but +with the kind of hate that holds and won't let go. He wouldn't listen +when I begged him to set me free. Instead, he wouldn't let me go out at +all, or see anyone, or receive or send letters. He punished me by +flirting outrageously with a pretty woman, the wife of a French officer. +He took pains that I should hear everything, through my servants. But +his cruelty was visited on his own head, for soon there came a dreadful +scandal. The woman died suddenly of chloral poisoning, after a quarrel +with her husband on Cassim's account, and it was thought she'd taken too +much of the drug on purpose. The day after his wife's death, the officer +shot himself. I think he was a colonel; and every one knew that Cassim +was mixed up in the affair. He had to leave the army, and it seemed--he +thought so himself--that his career was ruined. He sold his place in +Algiers, and took me to a farm-house in the country where we lived for a +while, and he was so lonely and miserable he would have been glad to +make up, but how could I forgive him? He'd deceived me too horribly--and +besides, in my own eyes I wasn't his wife. Surely our marriage wouldn't +be considered legal in any country outside Islam, would it? Even you, a +child like you, must see that?" + +"I suppose so," Victoria answered, sadly. "But----" + +"There's no 'but.' I thought so then. I think so a hundred times more +now. My life's been a martyrdom. No one could blame me if--but I was +telling you about what happened after Algiers. There was a kind of armed +truce between us in the country, though we lived only like two +acquaintances under the same roof. For months he had nobody else to talk +to, so he used to talk with me--quite freely sometimes, about a plan +some powerful Arabs, friends of his--Maieddine and his father among +others--were making for him. It sounded like a fairy story, and I used +to think he must be going mad. But he wasn't. It was all true about the +plot that was being worked. He knew I couldn't betray him, so it was a +relief to his mind, in his nervous excitement, to confide in me." + +"Was it a plot against the French?" + +"Indirectly. That was one reason it appealed to Cassim. He'd been proud +of his position in the army, and being turned out, or forced to go--much +the same thing--made him hate France and everything French. He'd have +given his life for revenge, I'm sure. Probably that's why his friends +were so anxious to put him in a place of power, for they were men whose +watchword was 'Islam for Islam.' Their hope was--and is--to turn France +out of North Africa. You wouldn't believe how many there are who hope +and band themselves together for that. These friends of Cassim's +persuaded and bribed a wretched cripple--who was next of kin to the last +marabout, and ought to have inherited--to let Cassim take his place. +Secretly, of course. It was a very elaborate plot--it had to be. Three +or four rich, important men were in it, and it would have meant ruin if +they'd been found out. + +"Cassim would really have come next in succession if it hadn't been for +the hunchback, who lived in Morocco, just over the border. If he had any +conscience, I suppose that thought soothed it. He told me that the real +heir--the cripple--had epileptic fits, and couldn't live long, anyhow. +The way they worked their plan out was by Cassim's starting for a +pilgrimage to Mecca. I had to go away with him, because he was afraid to +leave me. I knew too much. And it was simpler to take me than to put me +out of the way." + +"Saidee--he would never have murdered you?" Victoria whispered. + +"He would if necessary--I'm sure of it. But it was safer not. Besides, +I'd often told him I wanted to die, so that was an incentive to keep me +alive. I didn't go to Mecca. I left the farm-house with Cassim, and he +took me to South Oran, where he is now. I had to stay in the care of a +marabouta, a terrible old woman, a bigot and a tyrant, a cousin of +Cassim's, on his mother's side, and a sister of the man who invented the +whole plot. The idea was that Cassim should seem to be drowned in the +Bosphorus, while staying at Constantinople with friends, after his +pilgrimage to Mecca. But luckily for him there was a big fire in the +hotel where he went to stop for the first night, so he just disappeared, +and a lot of trouble was saved. He told me about the adventure, when he +came to Oran. The next move was to Morocco. And from Morocco he +travelled here, in place of the cripple, when the last marabout died, +and the heir was called to his inheritance. That was nearly eight years +ago." + +"And he's never been found out?" + +"No. And he never will be. He's far too clever. Outwardly he's hand in +glove with the French. High officials and officers come here to consult +with him, because he's known to have immense influence all over the +South, and in the West, even in Morocco. He's masked, like a Touareg, +and the French believe it's because of a vow he made in Mecca. No one +but his most intimate friends, or his own people, have ever seen the +face of Sidi Mohammed since he inherited the maraboutship, and came to +Oued Tolga. He must hate wearing his mask, for he's as handsome as he +ever was, and just as vain. But it's worth the sacrifice. Not only is he +a great man, with everything--or nearly everything--he wants in the +world, but he looks forward to a glorious revenge against the French, +whose interests he pretends to serve." + +"How can he revenge himself? What power has he to do that?" the girl +asked. She had a strange impression that Saidee had forgotten her, that +all this talk of the past, and of the marabout, was for some one else of +whom her sister was thinking. + +"He has tremendous power," Saidee answered, almost angrily, as if she +resented the doubt. "All Islam is at his back. The French humour him, +and let him do whatever he likes, no matter how eccentric his ways may +be, because he's got them to believe he is trying to help the Government +in the wildest part of Algeria, the province of Oran--and with the +Touaregs in the farthest South; and that he promotes French interests in +Morocco. Really, he's at the head of every religious secret society in +North Africa, banded together to turn Christians out of Mussulman +countries. The French have no idea how many such secret societies exist, +and how rich and powerful they are. Their dear friend, the good, wise, +polite marabout assures them that rumours of that sort are nonsense. But +some day, when everything's ready--when Morocco and Oran and Algeria and +Tunisia will obey the signal, all together, then they'll have a +surprise--and Cassim ben Halim will be revenged." + +"It sounds like the weavings of a brain in a dream," Victoria said. + +"It will be a nightmare-dream, no matter how it ends;--maybe a nightmare +of blood, and war, and massacre. Haven't you ever heard, or read, how +the Mussulman people expect a saviour, the Moul Saa, as they call +him--the Man of the Hour, who will preach a Holy War, and lead it +himself, to victory?" + +"Yes, I've read that----" + +"Well, Cassim hopes to be the Moul Saa, and deliver Islam by the sword. +I suppose you wonder how I know such secrets, or whether I do really +know them at all. But I do. Some things Cassim told me himself, because +he was bursting with vanity, and simply had to speak. Other things I've +seen in writing--he would kill me if he found out. And still other +things I've guessed. Why, the boys here in the Zaouia are being brought +up for the 'great work,' as they call it. Not all of them--but the most +important ones among the older boys. They have separate classes. +Something secret and mysterious is taught them. There are boys from +Morocco and Oran, and sons of Touareg chiefs--all those who most hate +Christians. No other zaouia is like this. The place seethes with hidden +treachery and sedition. Now you can see where Si Maieddine's power over +Cassim comes in. The Agha, his father, is one of the few who helped make +Cassim what he is, but he's a cautious old man, the kind who wants to +run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. Si Maieddine's cautious too, +Cassim has said. He approves the doctrines of the secret societies, but +he's so ambitious that without a very strong incentive to turn against +them, in act he'd be true to the French. Well, now he has the incentive. +You." + +"I don't understand," said Victoria. Yet even as she spoke, she began to +understand. + +"He'll offer to give himself, and to influence the Agha and the Agha's +people--the Ouled-Sirren--if Cassim will grant his wish. And it's no use +saying that Cassim can't force you to marry any man. You told me +yourself, a little while ago, that if you saw harm coming to me----" + +"Oh don't--don't speak of that again, Saidee!" the girl cried, sharply. +"I've told you--yes--that I'll do anything--anything on earth to save +you pain, or more sorrow. But let's hope--let's pray." + +"There is no hope. I've forgotten how to pray," Saidee answered, "and +God has forgotten me." + + + + +XXXVIII + + +There was no place for a guest in that part of the marabout's house +which had been allotted to Saidee. She had her bedroom and +reception-room, her roof terrace, and her garden court. On the ground +floor her negresses lived, and cooked for their mistress and themselves. +She did not wish to have Victoria with her, night and day, and so she +had quietly directed Noura to make up a bed in the room which would have +been her boudoir, if she had lived in Europe. When the sisters came down +from the roof, the bed was ready. + +In the old time Victoria had slept with her sister; and her greatest +happiness as a child had been the "bed-talks," when Saidee had whispered +her secret joys or troubles, and confided in the little girl as if she +had been a "grown-up." + +Hardly a night had passed since their parting, that Victoria had not +thought of those talks, and imagined herself again lying with her head +on Saidee's arm, listening to stories of Saidee's life. She had taken it +for granted that she would be put in her sister's room, and seeing the +bed made up, and her luggage unpacked in the room adjoining, was a blow. +She knew that Saidee must have given orders, or these arrangements would +not have been made, and again she felt the dreadful sinking of the heart +which had crushed her an hour ago. Saidee did not want her. Saidee was +sorry she had come, and meant to keep her as far off as possible. But +the girl encouraged herself once more. Saidee might think now that she +would rather have been left alone. But she was mistaken. By and by she +would find out the truth, and know that they needed each other. + +"I thought you'd be more comfortable here, than crowded in with me," +Saidee explained, blushing faintly. + +"Yes, thank you, dear," said Victoria quietly. She did not show her +disappointment, and seemed to take the matter for granted, as if she had +expected nothing else; but the talk on the roof had brought back +something into Saidee's heart which she could not keep out, though she +did not wish to admit it there. She was sorry for Victoria, sorry for +herself, and more miserable than ever. Her nerves were rasped by an +intolerable irritation as she looked at the girl, and felt that her +thoughts were being read. She had a hideous feeling, almost an +impression, that her face had been lifted off like a mask, and that the +workings of her brain were open to her sister's eyes, like the exposed +mechanism of a clock. + +"Noura has brought some food for you," she went on hastily. "You must +eat a little, before you go to bed--to please me." + +"I will," Victoria assured her. "You mustn't worry about me at all." + +"You'll go to sleep, won't you?--or would you rather talk--while you're +eating, perhaps?" + +The girl looked at the woman, and saw that her nerves were racked; that +she wanted to go, but did not wish her sister to guess. + +"You've talked too much already," Victoria said. "The surprise of my +coming gave you a shock. Now you must rest and get over it, so you can +be strong for to-morrow. Then we'll make up our minds about everything." + +"There's only one way to make up our minds," Saidee insisted, dully. + +Victoria did not protest. She kissed her sister good-night, and gently +refused help from Noura. Then Saidee went away, followed by the negress, +who softly closed the door between the two rooms. Her mistress had not +told her to do this, but when it was done, she did not say, "Open the +door." Saidee was glad that it was shut, because she felt that she could +think more freely. She could not bear the idea that her thoughts and +life were open to the criticism of those young, blue eyes, which the +years since childhood had not clouded. Nevertheless, when Noura had +undressed her, and she was alone, she saw Victoria's eyes looking at her +sweetly, sadly, with yearning, yet with no reproach. She saw them as +clearly as she had seen a man's face, a few hours earlier; and now his +was dim, as Victoria's face had been dim when his was clear. + +It was dark in the room, except for the moon-rays which streamed through +the lacelike open-work of stucco, above the shuttered windows, making +jewelled patterns on the wall--pink, green, and golden, according to the +different colours of the glass. There was just enough light to reflect +these patterns faintly in the mirrors set in the closed door, opposite +which Saidee lay in bed; and to her imagination it was as if she could +see through the door, into a lighted place beyond. She wondered if +Victoria had gone to bed; if she were sleeping, or if she were crying +softly--crying her heart out with bitter grief and disappointment she +would never confess. + +Victoria had always been like that, even as a little girl. If Saidee did +anything to hurt her, she made no moan. Sometimes Saidee had teased her +on purpose, or tried to make her jealous, just for fun. + +As memories came crowding back, the woman buried her face in the pillow, +striving with all her might to shut them out. What was the use of making +herself wretched? Victoria ought to have come long, long ago, or not at +all. + +But the blue eyes would look at her, even when her own were shut; and +always there was the faint light in the mirror, which seemed to come +through the door. + +At last Saidee could not longer lie still. She had to get up and open +the door, to see what her sister was really doing. Very softly she +turned the handle, for she hoped that by this time Victoria was asleep; +but as she pulled the door noiselessly towards her, and peeped into the +next room, she saw that one of the lamps was burning. Victoria had not +yet gone to bed. She was kneeling beside it, saying her prayers, with +her back towards the door. + +So absorbed was she in praying, and so little noise had Saidee made, +that the girl heard nothing. She remained motionless on her knees, not +knowing that Saidee was looking at her. + +A sharp pain shot through the woman's heart. How many times had she +softly opened their bedroom door, coming home late after a dance, to +find her little sister praying, a small, childish form in a long white +nightgown, with quantities of curly red hair pouring over its shoulders! + +Sometimes Victoria had gone to sleep on her knees, and Saidee had waked +her up with a kiss. + +Just as she had looked then, so she looked now, except that the form in +the long, white nightgown was that of a young girl, not a child. But the +thick waves of falling hair made it seem childish. + +"She is praying for me," Saidee thought; and dared not close the door +tightly, lest Victoria should hear. By and by it could be done, when the +light was out, and the girl dropped asleep. + +Meanwhile, she tiptoed back to her bed, and sat on the edge of it, to +wait. At last the thread of light, fine as a red-gold hair, vanished +from the door; but as it disappeared a line of moonlight was drawn in +silver along the crack. Victoria must have left her windows wide open, +or there would not have been light enough to paint this gleaming streak. + +Saidee sat on her bed for nearly half an hour, trying to concentrate her +thoughts on the present and future, yet unable to keep them from flying +back to the past, the long-ago past, which lately had seemed unreal, as +if she had dreamed it; the past when she and Victoria had been all the +world to each other. + +There was no sound in the next room, and when Saidee was weary of her +strained position, she crossed the floor on tiptoe again, to shut the +door. But she could not resist a temptation to peep in. + +It was as she had expected. Victoria had left the inlaid cedar-wood +shutters wide open, and through the lattice of old wrought-iron, +moonlight streamed. The room was bright with a silvery twilight, like a +mysterious dawn; but because the bed-linen and the embroidered silk +coverlet were white, the pale radiance focused round the girl, who lay +asleep in a halo of moonbeams. + +"She looks like an angel," Saidee thought, and with a curious mingling +of reluctance and eagerness, moved softly toward the bed, her little +velvet slippers from Tunis making no sound on the thick rugs. + +Very well the older woman remembered an engaging trick of the child's, a +way of sleeping with her cheek in her hand, and her hair spread out like +a golden coverlet for the pillow. Just so she was lying now; and in the +moonlight her face was a child's face, the face of the dear, little, +loving child of ten years ago. Like this Victoria had lain when her +sister crept into their bedroom in the Paris flat, the night before the +wedding, and Saidee had waked her by crying on her eyelids. Cassim's +unhappy wife recalled the clean, sweet, warm smell of the child's hair +when she had buried her face in it that last night together. It had +smelled like grape-leaves in the hot sun. + +"If you don't come back to me, I'll follow you all across the world," +the little girl had said. Now, she had kept her promise. Here she +was--and the sister to whom she had come, after a thousand sacrifices, +was wishing her back again at the other end of the world, was planning +to get rid of her. + +Suddenly, it was as if the beating of Saidee's heart broke a tight band +of ice which had compressed it. A fountain of tears sprang from her +eyes. She fell on her knees beside the bed, crying bitterly. + +"Childie, childie, comfort me, forgive me!" she sobbed. + +Victoria woke instantly. She opened her eyes, and Saidee's wet face was +close to hers. The girl said not a word, but wrapped her arms round her +sister, drawing the bowed head on to her breast, and then she crooned +lovingly over it, with little foolish mumblings, as she used to do in +Paris when Mrs. Ray's unkindness had made Saidee cry. + +"Can you forgive me?" the woman faltered, between sobs. + +"Darling, as if there were anything to forgive!" The clasp of the girl's +arms tightened. "Now we're truly together again. How I love you! How +happy I am!" + +"Don't--I don't deserve it," Saidee stammered. "Poor little Babe! I was +cruel to you. And you'd come so far." + +"You weren't cruel!" Victoria contradicted her, almost fiercely. + +"I was. I was jealous--jealous of you. You're so young and +beautiful--just what I was ten years ago, only better and prettier. +You're what I can never be again--what I'd give the next ten years to +be. Everything's over with me. I'm old--old!" + +"You're not to say such things," cried Victoria, horrified. "You weren't +jealous. You----" + +"I was. I am now. But I want to confess. You must let me confess, if +you're to help me." + +"Dearest, tell me anything--everything you choose, but nothing you don't +choose. And nothing you say can make me love you less--only more." + +"There's a great deal to tell," Saidee said, heavily "And I'm +tired--sick at heart. But I can't rest now, till I've told you." + +"Wouldn't you come into bed?" pleaded Victoria humbly. "Then we could +talk, the way we used to talk." + +Saidee staggered up from her knees, and the girl almost lifted her on to +the bed. Then she covered her with the thyme-scented linen sheet, and +the silk coverlet under which she herself lay. For a moment they were +quite still, Saidee lying with her head on Victoria's arm. But at last +she said, in a whisper, as if her lips were dry: "Did you know I was +sorry you'd come?" + +"I knew you thought you were sorry," the girl answered. "Yet I hoped +that you'd find out you weren't, really. I prayed for you to find +out--soon." + +"Did you guess why I was sorry?" + +"Not--quite." + +"I told you I--that it was for your sake." + +"Yes." + +"Didn't you believe it?" + +"I--felt there was something else, beside." + +"There was!" Saidee confessed. "You know now--at least you know part. I +was jealous. I am still--but I'm ashamed of myself. I'm sick with shame. +And I do love you!" + +"Of course--of course you do, darling." + +"But--there's somebody else I love. A man. And I couldn't bear to think +he might see you, because you're so much younger and fresher than I." + +"You mean--Cassim?" + +"No. Not Cassim." + +Silence fell between the two. Victoria did not speak; and suddenly +Saidee was angry with her for not speaking. + +"If you're shocked, I won't go on," she said. "You can't help me by +preaching." + +"I'm not shocked," the girl protested. "Only sorry--so sorry. And even +if I wanted to preach, I don't know how." + +"There's nothing to be shocked about," Saidee said, her tears dry, her +voice hard as it had been at first. "I've seen him three times. I've +talked with him just once. But we love each other. It's the first and +only real love of my life. I was too young to know, when I met Cassim. +That was a fascination. I was in love with romance. He carried me off my +feet, in spite of myself." + +"Then, dearest Saidee, don't let yourself be carried off your feet a +second time." + +"Why not?" Saidee asked, sharply. "What incentive have I to be true to +Cassim?" + +"I'm not thinking about Cassim. I'm thinking of you. All one's world +goes to pieces so, if one isn't true to oneself." + +"_He_ says I can't be true to myself if I stay here. He doesn't consider +that I'm Cassim's wife. I _thought_ myself married, but was I, when he +had a wife already? Would any lawyer, or even clergyman, say it was a +legal marriage?" + +"Perhaps not," Victoria admitted. "But----" + +"Just wait, before you go on arguing," Saidee broke in hotly, "until +I've told you something you haven't heard yet. Cassim has another wife +now--a lawful wife, according to his views, and the views of his people. +He's had her for a year. She's a girl of the Ouled Nail tribe, brought +up to be a dancer. But Cassim saw her at Touggourt, where he'd gone on +one of his mysterious visits. He doesn't dream that I know the whole +history of the affair, but I do, and have known, since a few days after +the creature was brought here as his bride. She's as ignorant and silly +as a kitten, and only a child in years. She told her 'love story' to one +of her negresses, who told Noura--who repeated it to me. Perhaps I +oughtn't to have listened, but why not?" + +Victoria did not answer. The clouds round Saidee and herself were dark, +but she was trying to see the blue beyond, and find the way into it, +with her sister. + +"She's barely sixteen now, and she's been here a year," Saidee went on. +"She hadn't begun to dance yet, when Cassim saw her, and took her away +from Touggourt. Being a great saint is very convenient. A marabout can +do what he likes, you know. Mussulmans are forbidden to touch alcohol, +but if a marabout drinks wine, it turns to milk in his throat. He can +fly, if he wants to. He can even make French cannon useless, and +withdraw the bullets from French guns, in case of war, if the spirit of +Allah is with him. So by marrying a girl brought up for a dancer, +daughter of generations of dancing women, he washes all disgrace from +her blood, and makes her a female saint, worthy to live eternally. The +beautiful Miluda's a marabouta, if you please, and when her baby is +taken out by the negress who nurses it, silly, bigoted people kneel and +kiss its clothing." + +"She has a baby!" murmured Victoria. + +"Yes, only a girl, but better than nothing--and she hopes to be more +fortunate next time. She isn't jealous of me, because I've no children, +not even a girl, and because for that reason Cassim could repudiate me +if he chose. She little knows how desperately I wish he would. She +believes--Noura says--that he keeps me here only because I have no +people to go to, and he's too kind-hearted to turn me out alone in the +world, when my youth's past. You see--she thinks me already old--at +twenty-eight! Of course the real reason that Cassim shuts me up and +won't let me go, is because he knows I could ruin not only him, but the +hopes of his people. Miluda doesn't dream that I'm of so much importance +in his eyes. The only thing she's jealous of is the boy, Mohammed, who's +at school in the town of Oued Tolga, in charge of an uncle. Cassim +guesses how Miluda hates the child, and I believe that's the reason he +daren't have him here. He's afraid something might happen, although the +excuse he makes is, that he wants his boy to learn French, and know +something of French ways. That pleases the Government--and as for the +Arabs, no doubt he tells them it's only a trick to keep French eyes shut +to what's really going on, and to his secret plans. Now, do you still +say I ought to consider myself married to Cassim, and refuse to take any +happiness if I can get it?" + +"The thing is, what would make you happy?" Victoria said, as if thinking +aloud. + +"Love, and life. All that women in Europe have, and take for granted," +Saidee answered passionately. + +"How could it come to you?" the girl asked. + +"I would go to it, and find it with the man who's ready to risk his life +to save me from this hateful prison, and carry me far away. Now, I've +told you everything, exactly as it stands. That's why I was sorry you +came, just when I was almost ready to risk the step. I was sure you'd be +horrified if you found out, and want to stop me. Besides, if he should +see you--but I won't say that again. I know you wouldn't try to take him +away from me, even if you tried to take me from him. I don't know why +I've told you, instead of keeping the whole thing secret as I made up my +mind to do at first. Nothing's changed. I can't save you from Maieddine, +but--there's one difference. I _would_ save you if I could. Just at +first, I was so anxious for you to be out of the way of my +happiness--the chance of it--that the only thing I longed for was that +you should be gone." + +Victoria choked back a sob that rose in her throat, but Saidee felt, +rather than heard it, as she lay with her burning head on the girl's +arm. + +"I don't feel like that now," she said. "I peeped in and saw you +praying--perhaps for me--and you looked just as you used, when you were +a little girl. Then, when I came in, and you were asleep, I--I couldn't +stand it. I broke down. I love you, dear little Babe. The ice is gone +out of my heart. You've melted it. I'm a woman again; but just because +I'm a woman, I won't give up my other love to please you or any one. I +tell you that, honestly." + +Victoria made no reply for a moment, though Saidee waited defiantly, +expecting a protest or an argument. Then, at last, the girl said: "Will +you tell me something about this man?" + +Saidee was surprised to receive encouragement. It was a joy to speak of +the subject that occupied all her thoughts, and wonderful to have a +confidante. + +"He's a captain in the Chasseurs d'Afrique," she said. "But he's not +with his regiment. He's an expert in making desert wells, and draining +marshes. That's the business which has brought him to the far South, +now. He's living at Oued Tolga--the town, I mean; not the Zaouia. A well +had to be sunk in the village, and he was superintending. I watched him +from my roof, though it was too far off to see his face. I don't know +exactly what made me do it--I suppose it was Fate, for Cassim says we +all have our fate hung round our necks--but when I went to the Moorish +bath, between here and the village, I let my veil blow away from my face +as I passed close to him and his party of workers. No one else saw, +except he. It was only for a second or two, but we looked straight into +each other's eyes; and there was something in his that seemed to draw my +soul out of me. It was as if, in that instant, I told him with a look +the whole tragedy of my life. And his soul sprang to mine. There was +never anything like it. You can't imagine what I felt, Babe." + +"Yes. I--think I can," Victoria whispered, but Saidee hardly heard, so +deeply was she absorbed in the one sweet memory of many years. + +"It was in the morning," the elder woman went on, "but it was hot, and +the sun was fierce as it beat down on the sand. He had been working, and +his face was pale from the heat. It had a haggard look under brown +sunburn. But when our eyes met, a flush like a girl's rushed up to his +forehead. You never saw such a light in human eyes! They were +illuminated as if a fire from his heart was lit behind them. I knew he +had fallen in love with me--that something would happen: that my life +would never be the same again. + +"The next time I went to the bath, he was there; and though I held my +veil, he looked at me with the same wonderful look, as if he could see +through it. I felt that he longed to speak, but of course he could not. +It would have meant my ruin. + +"In the baths, there's an old woman named Bakta--an attendant. She +always comes to me when I go there. She's a great character--knows +everything that happens in every house, as if by magic; and loves to +talk. But she can keep secrets. She is a match-maker for all the +neighbourhood. When there's a young man of Oued Tolga, or of any village +round about, who wants a wife, she lets him know which girl who comes +to the baths is the youngest and most beautiful. Or if a wife is in love +with some one, Bakta contrives to bring letters from him, and smuggle +them to the young woman while she's at the Moorish bath. Well, that day +she gave me a letter--a beautiful letter. + +"I didn't answer it; but next time I passed, I opened my veil and smiled +to show that I thanked him. Because he had laid his life at my feet. If +there was anything he could do for me, he would do it, without hope of +reward, even if it meant death. Then Bakta gave me another letter. I +couldn't resist answering, and so it's gone on, until I seem to know +this man, Honore Sabine, better than any one in the world; though we've +only spoken together once." + +"How did you manage it?" Victoria asked the question mechanically, for +she felt that Saidee expected it of her. + +"Bakta managed, and Noura helped. He came dressed like an Arab woman, +and pretended to be old and lame, so that he could crouch down and use a +stick as he walked, to disguise his height. Bakta waited--and we had no +more than ten minutes to say everything. Ten hours wouldn't have been +enough!--but we were in danger every instant, and he was afraid of what +might happen to me, if we were spied upon. He begged me to go with him +then, but I dared not. I couldn't decide. Now he writes to me, and he's +making a cypher, so that if the letters should be intercepted, no one +could read them. Then he hopes to arrange a way of escape if--if I say +I'll do what he asks." + +"Which, of course, you won't," broke in Victoria. "You couldn't, even +though it were only for his sake alone, if you really love him. You'd be +too unhappy afterwards, knowing that you'd ruined his career in the +army." + +"I'm more to him than a thousand careers!" Saidee flung herself away +from the girl's arm. "I see now," she went on angrily, "what you were +leading up to, when you pretended to sympathize. You were waiting for a +chance to try and persuade me that I'm a selfish wretch. I may be +selfish, but--it's as much for his happiness as mine. It's just as I +thought it would be. You're puritanical. You'd rather see me die, or go +mad in this prison, than have me do a thing that's unconventional, +according to your schoolgirl ideas." + +"I came to take you out of prison," said Victoria. + +"And you fell into it yourself!" Saidee retorted quickly. "You broke the +spring of the door, and it will be harder than ever to open. But"--her +voice changed from reproach to persuasion--"Honore might save us both. +If only you wouldn't try to stop my going with him, you might go too. +Then you wouldn't have to marry Maieddine. There's a chance--just a +chance. For heaven's sake do all you can to help, not to hinder. Don't +you see, now that you're here, there are a hundred more reasons why I +must say 'yes' to Captain Sabine?" + +"If I did see that, I'd want to die now, this minute," Victoria +answered. + +"How cruel you are! How cruel a girl can be to a woman. You pretend that +you came to help me, and the one only thing you can do, you refuse to +do. You say you want to get me away. I tell you that you can't--and you +can't get yourself away. Perhaps Honore can do what you can't, but +you'll try to prevent him." + +"If I _could_ get you away, would you give him up--until you were free +to go to him without spoiling both your lives?" + +"What do you mean?" Saidee asked. + +"Please answer my question." + +Saidee thought for a moment. "Yes. I would do that. But what's the use +of talking about it? You! A poor little mouse caught in a trap!" + +"A mouse once gnawed a net, and set free a whole lion," said Victoria. +"Give me a chance to think, that's all I ask, except--except--that you +love me meanwhile. Oh, darling, don't be angry, will you? I can't bear +it, if you are." + +Saidee laid her head on the girl's arm once more, and they kissed each +other. + + + + +XXXIX + + +Maieddine did not try to see Victoria, or send her any message. + +In spite of M'Barka's vision in the sand, and his own superstition, he +was sure now that nothing could come between him and his wish. The girl +was safe in the marabout's house, to which he had brought her, and it +was impossible for her to get away without his help, even if she were +willing to go, and leave the sister whom she had come so far to find. +Maieddine knew what he could offer the marabout, and knew that the +marabout would willingly pay even a higher price than he meant to ask. + +He lived in the guest-house, and had news sometimes from his cousin +Lella M'Barka in her distant quarters. She was tired, but not ill, and +the two sisters were very kind to her. + +So three days passed, and the doves circled and moaned round the minaret +of the Zaouia mosque, and were fed at sunset on the white roof, by hands +hidden from all eyes save eyes of birds. + +On the third day there was great excitement at Oued Tolga. The marabout, +Sidi El Hadj Mohammed ben Abd el Kadr, came home, and was met on the way +by many people from the town and the Zaouia. + +His procession was watched by women on many roofs--with reverent +interest by some; with joy by one woman who was his wife; with fear and +despair by another, who had counted on his absence for a few days +longer. And Victoria stood beside her sister, looking out over the +golden silence towards the desert city of Oued Tolga, with a pair of +modern field-glasses sent to her by Si Maieddine. + +Maieddine himself went out to meet the marabout, riding El Biod, and +conscious of unseen eyes that must be upon him. He was a notable figure +among the hundreds which poured out of town, and villages, and Zaouia, +in honour of the great man's return; the noblest of all the desert men +in floating white burnouses, who rode or walked, with the sun turning +their dark faces to bronze, their eyes to gleaming jewels. But even +Maieddine himself became insignificant as the procession from the Zaouia +was joined by that from the city,--the glittering line in the midst of +which Sidi El Hadj Mohammed sat high on the back of a grey mehari. + +From very far off Victoria saw the meeting, looking through the glasses +sent by Maieddine, those which he had given her once before, bidding her +see how the distant dunes leaped forward. + +Then as she watched, and the procession came nearer, rising and falling +among the golden sand-billows, she could plainly make out the majestic +form of the marabout. The sun blazed on the silver cross of his saddle, +and the spear-heads of the banners which waved around him; but he was +dressed with severe simplicity, in a mantle of green silk, with the +green turban to which he had earned the right by visiting Mecca. The +long white veil of many folds, which can be worn only by a descendant of +the Prophet, flowed over the green cloak; and the face below the eyes +was hidden completely by a mask of thin black woollen stuff, such as has +been named "nun's veiling" in Europe. He was tall, and no longer +slender, as Victoria remembered Cassim ben Halim to have been ten years +ago; but all the more because of his increasing bulk, was his bearing +majestic as he rode on the grey mehari, towering above the crowd. Even +the Agha, Si Maieddine's father, had less dignity than that of this +great saint of the southern desert, returning like a king to his people, +after carrying through a triumphant mission. + +"If only he had been a few days later!" Saidee thought. + +And Victoria felt an oppressive sense of the man's power, wrapping round +her and her sister like a heavy cloak. But she looked above and beyond +him, into the gold, and with all the strength of her spirit she sent out +a call to Stephen Knight. + +"I love you. Come to me. Save my sister and me. God, send him to us. He +said he would come, no matter how far. Now is the time. Let him come." + +The silence of the golden sea was broken by cries of welcome to the +marabout, praises of Allah and the Prophet who had brought him safely +back, shouts of men, and wailing "you-yous" of women, shrill voices of +children, and neighing of horses. + +Up the side of the Zaouia hill, lame beggars crawled out of the river +bed, each hurrying to pass the others--hideous deformities, legless, +noseless, humpbacked, twisted into strange shapes like brown pots +rejected by the potter, groaning, whining, eager for the marabout's +blessing, a supper, and a few coins. Those who could afford a copper or +two were carried through the shallow water on the backs of half-naked, +sweating Negroes from the village; but those who had nothing except +their faith to support them, hobbled or crept over the stones, wetting +their scanty rags; laughed at by black and brown children who feared to +follow, because of the djinn who lived in a cave of evil yellow stones, +guarding a hidden spring which gushed into the river. + +On Miluda's roof there was music, which could be heard from another +roof, nearer the minaret where the doves wheeled and moaned; and perhaps +the marabout himself could hear it, as he approached the Zaouia; but +though it called him with a song of love and welcome, he did not answer +the call at once. First he took Maieddine into his private reception +room, where he received only the guests whom he most delighted to +honour. + +There, though the ceiling and walls were decorated in Arab fashion, with +the words, El Afia el Bakia, "eternal health," inscribed in lettering of +gold and red, opposite the door, all the furniture was French, gilded, +and covered with brocade of scarlet and gold. The curtains draped over +the inlaid cedar-wood shutters of the windows were of the same brocade, +and the beautiful old rugs from Turkey and Persia could not soften its +crudeness. The larger reception room from which this opened had still +more violent decorations, for there the scarlet mingled with vivid blue, +and there were curiosities enough to stock a museum--presents sent to +the marabout from friends and admirers all over the world. There were +first editions of rare books, illuminated missals, dinner services of +silver and gold, Dresden and Sevres, and even Royal Worcester; splendid +crystal cases of spoons and jewellery; watches old and new; weapons of +many countries, and an astonishing array of clocks, all ticking, and +pointing to different hours. But the inner room, which only the intimate +friends of Sidi Mohammed ever saw, was littered with no such incongruous +collection. On the walls were a few fine pictures by well-known French +artists of the most modern school, mostly representing nude women; for +though the Prophet forbade the fashioning of graven images, he made no +mention of painting. There were comfortable divans, and little tables, +on which were displayed boxes of cigars and cigarettes, and egg-shell +coffee-cups in filigree gold standards. + +In this room, behind shut doors, Maieddine told his errand, not +forgetting to enumerate in detail the great things he could do for the +Cause, if his wish were granted. He did not speak much of Victoria, or +his love for her, but he knew that the marabout must reckon her beauty +by the price he was prepared to pay; and he gave the saint little time +to picture her fascinations. Nor did Sidi Mohammed talk of the girl, or +of her relationship to one placed near him; and his face (which he +unmasked with a sigh of relief when he and his friend were alone) did +not change as he listened, or asked questions about the services +Maieddine would render the Cause. At first he seemed to doubt the +possibility of keeping such promises, some of which depended upon the +Agha; but Maieddine's enthusiasm inspired him with increasing +confidence. He spoke freely of the great work that was being done by the +important societies of which he was the head; of what he had +accomplished in Oran, and had still to accomplish; of the arms and +ammunition smuggled into the Zaouia and many other places, from France +and Morocco, brought by the "silent camels" in rolls of carpets and +boxes of dates. But, he added, this was only a beginning. Years must +pass before all was ready, and many more men, working heart and soul, +night and day, were needed. If Maieddine could help, well and good. But +would the Agha yield to his influence? + +"Not the Agha," Maieddine answered, "but the Agha's people. They are my +people, too, and they look to me as their future head. My father is old. +There is nothing I cannot make the Ouled-Sirren do, nowhere I cannot bid +them go, if I lead." + +"And wilt thou lead in the right way? If I give thee thy desire, wilt +thou not forget, when it is already thine?" the marabout asked. "When a +man wears a jewel on his finger, it does not always glitter so brightly +as when he saw and coveted it first." + +"Not always. But in each man's life there is one jewel, supreme above +others, to possess which he eats the heart, and which, when it is his, +becomes the star of his life, to be worshipped forever. Once he has seen +the jewel, the man knows that there is nothing more glorious for him +this side heaven; that it is for him the All of joy, though to others, +perhaps, it might not seem as bright. And there is nothing he would not +do to have and to keep it." + +The marabout looked intently at Maieddine, searching his mind to the +depths; and the face of each man was lit by an inner flame, which gave +nobility to his expression. Each was passionately sincere in his way, +though the way of one was not the way of the other. + +In his love Maieddine was true, according to the light his religion and +the unchanging customs of his race had given him. He intended no wrong +to Victoria, and as he was sure that his love was an honour for her, he +saw no shame in taking her against what she mistakenly believed to be +her wish. Her confession of love for another man had shocked him at +first, but now he had come to feel that it had been but a stroke of +diplomacy on her part, and he valued her more than ever for her +subtlety. Though he realized dimly that with years his passion for her +might cool, it burned so hotly now that the world was only a frame for +the picture of her beauty. And he was sure that never in time to come +could he forget the thrill of this great passion, or grudge the price he +now offered and meant to pay. + +Cassim ben Halim had begun his crusade under the name and banner of the +marabout, in the fierce hope of revenge against the power which broke +him, and with an entirely selfish wish for personal aggrandizement. But +as the years went on, he had converted himself to the fanaticism he +professed. Sidi El Hadj Mohammed ben Abd el Kadr had created an ideal +and was true to it. Still a selfish sensualist on one side of his +nature, there was another side capable of high courage and +self-sacrifice for the one cause which now seemed worth a sacrifice. To +the triumph of Islam over usurpers he was ready to devote his life, or +give his life; but having no mercy upon himself if it came to a question +between self and the Cause, he had still less mercy upon others, with +one exception; his son. Unconsciously, he put the little boy above all +things, all aims, all people. But as for Saidee's sister, the child he +remembered, who had been foolish enough and irritating enough to find +her way to Oued Tolga, he felt towards her, in listening to the story of +her coming, as an ardent student might feel towards a persistent midge +which disturbed his studies. If the girl could be used as a pawn in his +great game, she had a certain importance, otherwise none--except that +her midge-like buzzings must not annoy him, or reach ears at a +distance. + +Both men were naturally schemers, and loved scheming for its own sake, +but never had either pitted his wits against the other with less +intention of hiding his real mind. Each was in earnest, utterly sincere, +therefore not ignoble; and the bargain was struck between the two with +no deliberate villainy on either side. The marabout promised his wife's +sister to Maieddine with as little hesitation as a patriarch of Israel, +three thousand years ago, would have promised a lamb for the sacrificial +altar. He stipulated only that before the marriage Maieddine should +prove, not his willingness, but his ability to bring his father's people +into the field. + +"Go to the douar," he said, "and talk with the chief men. Then bring +back letters from them, or send if thou wilt, and the girl shall be thy +wife. I shall indeed be gratified by the connection between thine +illustrious family and mine." + +Maieddine had expected this, though he had hoped that his eloquence +might persuade the marabout to a more impulsive agreement. "I will do +what thou askest," he answered, "though it means delay, and delay is +hard to bear. When I passed through the douar, my father's chief caids +were on the point of leaving for Algiers, to do honour to the Governor +by showing themselves at the yearly ball. They will have started before +I can reach the douar again, by the fastest travelling, for as thou +knowest, I should be some days on the way." + +"Go then to Algiers, and meet them. That is best, and will be quicker, +since journeying alone, thou canst easily arrive at Touggourt in three +days from here. In two more, by taking a carriage and relays of horses, +thou canst be at Biskra; and after that, there remains but the seventeen +hours of train travelling." + +"How well thou keepest track of all progress, though things were +different when thou wast last in the north," Maieddine said. + +"It is my business to know all that goes on in my own country, north, +south, east, and west. When wilt thou start?" + +"To-night." + +"Thou art indeed in earnest! Thou wilt of course pay thine own respects +to the Governor? I will send him a gift by thee, since there is no +reason he should not know that we have met. The mission on which thou +wert ostensibly travelling brought thee to the south." + +"I will take thy gift and messages with pleasure." Maieddine said. "It +was expected that I should return for the ball, and present myself in +place of my father, who is too old now for such long journeys; but I +intended to make my health an excuse for absence. I should have pleaded +a touch of the sun, and a fever caught in the marshes while carrying out +the mission. Indeed, it is true that I am subject to fever. However, I +will go, since thou desirest. The ball, which was delayed, is now fixed +for a week from to-morrow. I will show myself for some moments, and the +rest of the night I can devote to a talk with the caids. I know what the +result will be. And a fortnight from to-morrow thou wilt see me here +again with the letters." + +"I believe thou wilt not fail," the marabout answered. "And neither will +I fail thee." + + + + +XL + + +On the night of the Governor's ball, it was four weeks to the day since +Stephen Knight and Nevill Caird had inquired for Victoria Ray at the +Hotel de la Kasbah, and found her gone. + +For rather more than a fortnight, they had searched for her quietly +without applying to the police; but when at the end of that time, no +letter had come, or news of any kind, the police were called into +consultation. Several supposed clues had been followed, and had led to +nothing; but Nevill persuaded Stephen to hope something from the ball. +If any caids of the south knew that Roumis had a secret reason for +questioning them, they would pretend to know nothing, or give misleading +answers; but if they were drawn on to describe their own part of the +country, and the facilities for travelling through it, news of those who +had lately passed that way might be inadvertently given. + +Stephen was no longer in doubt about his feelings for Victoria. He knew +that he had loved her ever since the day when she came to Nevill's +house, and they talked together in the lily garden. He knew that the one +thing worth living for was to find her; but he expected no happiness +from seeing her again, rather the contrary. Margot would soon be coming +back to England from Canada, and he planned to meet her, and keep all +his promises. Only, he must be sure first that Victoria Ray was safe. He +had made up his mind by this time that, if necessary, Margot would have +to wait for him. He would not leave Algeria until Victoria had been +found. It did not matter whether this decision were right or wrong, he +would stick to it. Then, he would atone by doing as well as he could by +Margot. She should have no cause of complaint against him in the future, +so far as his love for Victoria was concerned; but he did not mean to +try and kill it. Love for such a girl was too sacred to kill, even +though it meant unhappiness for him. Stephen meant to guard it always in +his heart, like a lamp to light him over the dark places; and there +would be many dark places he knew in a life lived with Margot. + +Through many anxious days he looked forward to the Governor's ball, +pinning his faith to Nevill's predictions; but when the moment came, his +excitement fell like the wind at sunset. It did not seem possible that, +after weeks of suspense, he should have news now, or ever. He went with +Nevill to the summer palace, feeling dull and depressed. But perhaps the +depression was partly the effect of a letter from Margot Lorenzi in +Canada, received that morning. She said that she was longing to see him, +and "hurrying all she knew," to escape from her friends, and get back to +"dear London, and her darling White Knight." + +"I'm an ass to expect anything from coming here," he thought, as he saw +the entrance gates of the palace park blazing with green lights in a +trellis of verdure. The drive and all the paths that wound through the +park were bordered with tiny lamps, and Chinese lanterns hung from the +trees. There was sure to be a crush, and it seemed absurd to hope that +even Nevill's cajoleries could draw serious information from Arab guests +in such a scene as this. + +The two young men went into the palace, passing through a big veranda +where French officers were playing bridge, and on into a charming court, +where Turkish coffee was being served. Up from this court a staircase +led to the room where the Governor was receiving, and at each turn of +the stairs stood a Spahi in full dress uniform, with a long white haick. +Nevill was going on ahead, meaning to introduce Stephen to the Governor +before beginning his search for acquaintances among the Arab chiefs who +grouped together over the coffee cups. But, turning to speak to Stephen, +who had been close behind at starting, he found that somehow they had +been swept apart. He stepped aside to wait for his friend, and let the +crowd troop past him up the wide staircase. Among the first to go by was +an extremely handsome Arab wearing a scarlet cloak heavy with gold +embroidery, thrown over a velvet coat so thickly encrusted with gold +that its pale-blue colour showed only here and there. He held his +turbaned head proudly, and, glancing at Caird as he passed, seemed not +to see him, but rather to see through him something more interesting +beyond. + +Nevill still waited for his friend, but fully two minutes had gone +before Stephen appeared. "Did you see that fellow in the red cloak?" he +asked. "That was the Arab of the ship." + +"Si Maieddine----" + +"Yes. Did you notice a queer brooch that held his cloak together? A +wheel-like thing, set with jewels?" + +"No. He hadn't it on. His cloak was hanging open." + +"By Jove! You're sure?" + +"Certain. I saw the whole breast of his coat." + +"That settles it, then. He did recognize me. Hang it, I wish he hadn't." + +"I don't know what's in your mind exactly. But I suppose you'll tell +me." + +"Rather. But no time now. We mustn't lose sight of him if we can help +it. I wanted to follow him up, on the instant, but didn't dare, for I +hoped he'd think I hadn't spotted him. He can't be sure, anyhow, for I +had the presence of mind not to stare. Let's go up now. He was on his +way to pay his respects to the Governor, I suppose. He can't have +slipped away yet." + +"It would seem not," Nevill assented, thoughtfully. + +But a few minutes later, it seemed that he had. And Nevill was not +surprised, for in the last nine years he had learned never to wonder at +the quick-witted diplomacy of Arabs. Si Maieddine had made short work +of his compliments to the Governor, and had passed out of sight by the +time that Stephen Knight and Nevill Caird escaped from the line of +Europeans and gorgeous Arabs pressing towards their host. It was not +certain, however, that he had left the palace. His haste to get on might +be only a coincidence, Nevill pointed out. "Frenchified Arabs" like Si +Maieddine, he said, were passionately fond of dancing with European +women, and very likely Maieddine was anxious to secure a waltz with some +Frenchwomen of his acquaintance. + +The two Englishmen went on as quickly as they could, without seeming to +hurry, and looked for Maieddine in the gaily decorated ball-room where a +great number of Europeans and a few Arabs were dancing. Maieddine would +have been easy to find there, for his high-held head in its white turban +must have towered above most other heads, even those of the tallest +French officers; but he was not to be seen, and Nevill guided Stephen +out of the ball-room into a great court decorated with palms and +banners, and jewelled with hundreds of coloured lights that turned the +fountain into a spouting rainbow. + +Pretty women sat talking with officers in uniforms, and watching the +dancers as they strolled out arm in arm, to walk slowly round the +flower-decked fountain. Behind the chatting Europeans stood many Arab +chiefs of different degree, bach aghas, aghas, caids and adels, looking +on silently, or talking together in low voices; and compared with these +stately, dark men in their magnificent costumes blazing with jewels and +medals, the smartest French officers were reduced to insignificance. +There were many handsome men, but Si Maieddine was not among them. + +"We've been told that he's _persona grata_ here," Nevill reminded +Stephen, "and there are lots of places where he may be in the palace, +that we can't get to. He's perhaps hob-nobbing with some pal, having a +private confab, and maybe he'll turn up at supper." + +"He doesn't look like a man to care about food, I will say that for +him," answered Stephen. "He's taken the alarm, and sneaked off without +giving me time to track him. I'll bet anything that's the fact. Hiding +the brooch is a proof he saw me, I'm afraid. Smart of him! He thought my +friend would be somewhere about, and he'd better get rid of damaging +evidence." + +"You haven't explained the brooch, yet." + +"I forgot. It's one _she_ wore on the boat--and that day at your +house--Miss Ray, I mean. She told me about it; said it had been a +present from Ben Halim to her sister, who gave it to her." + +"Sure you couldn't mistake it? There's a strong family likeness in Arab +jewellery." + +"I'm sure. And even if I hadn't been at first, I should be now, from +that chap's whisking it off the instant he set eyes on me. His having it +proves a lot. As she wore the thing at your house, he must have got it +somehow after we saw her. Jove, Nevill, I'd like to choke him!" + +"If you did, he couldn't tell what he knows." + +"I'm going to find out somehow. Come along, no use wasting time here +now, trying to get vague information out of Arab chiefs. We can learn +more by seeing where this brute lives, than by catechizing a hundred +caids." + +"It's too late for him to get away from Algiers to-night by train, +anyhow," said Nevill. "Nothing goes anywhere in particular. And look +here, Legs, if he's really onto us, he won't have made himself scarce +without leaving some pal he can trust, to see what we're up to." + +"There were two men close behind who might have been with him," Stephen +remembered aloud. + +"Would you recognize them?" + +"I--think so. One of the two, anyhow. Very dark, hook-nosed, middle-aged +chap, pitted with smallpox." + +"Then you may be sure he's chosen the less noticeable one. No good our +trying to find Maieddine himself, if he's left the palace; though I +hope, by putting our heads and Roslin's together, that among the three +of us we shall pick him up later. But if he's left somebody here to keep +an eye on us, our best course is to keep an eye on that somebody. +They'll have to communicate." + +"You're right," Stephen admitted. "I'm vague about the face, but I'll +force myself to recognize it. That's the sort of thing Miss Ray would +do. She's got some quaint theory about controlling your subconscious +self. Now I'll take a leaf out of her book. By Jove--there's one of the +men now. Don't look yet. He doesn't seem to notice us, but who knows? +He's standing by the door, under a palm. Let's go back into the +ball-room, and see if he follows." + +But to "see if he followed" was more easily said than done. The Arab, a +melancholy and grizzled but dignified caid of the south, contrived to +lose himself in a crowd of returning dancers, and it was not until later +that the friends saw him in the ball-room, talking to a French officer +and having not at all the air of one who spied or followed. Whether he +remained because they remained was hard to say, for the scene was +amusing and many Arabs watched it; but he showed no sign of +restlessness, and it began to seem laughable to Nevill that, if he +waited for them, they would be forced to wait for him. Eventually they +made a pretence of eating supper. The caid was at the buffet with an +Arab acquaintance. The Englishmen lingered so long, that in the end he +walked away; yet they were at his beck and call. They must go after him, +if he went before them, and it was irritating to see that, when he had +taken respectful leave of his host, the sad-faced caid proceeded quietly +out of the palace as if he had nothing to conceal. Perhaps he had +nothing or else, suspecting the game, he was forcing the hand of the +enemy. Stephen and Nevill had to follow, if they would keep him in +sight; and though they walked as far behind as possible, passing out of +the brilliantly lighted park, they could not be sure that he did not +guess they were after him. + +They had walked the short distance from Djenan el Djouad to the +Governor's summer palace; and now, outside the gates, the caid turned to +the left, which was their way home also. This was lucky, because, if the +man were on the alert, and knew where Nevill lived, he would have no +reason to suppose they took this direction on his account. + +But he had not gone a quarter of a mile when he stopped, and rang at a +gate in a high white wall. + +"Djenan el Taleb," mumbled Nevill. "Perhaps Si Maieddine's visiting +there--or else this old beggar is." + +"Is it an Arab's house?" Stephen wanted to know. + +"Was once--long ago as pirate days. Now a Frenchman owns it--Monsieur de +Mora--friend of the Governor's. Always puts up several chiefs at the +time of the ball." + +The gate opened to let the caid in and was shut again. + +"Hurrah!--just thought of a plan," exclaimed Nevill. "I don't think De +Mora can have got home yet from the palace. I saw him having supper. +Suppose I dart back, flutter gracefully round him, babble 'tile talk' a +bit--he's a tile expert after my own heart--then casually ask what Arabs +he's got staying with him. If Maieddine's in his house it can't be a +secret--incidentally I may find out where the fellow comes from and +where he's going." + +"Good!" said Stephen. "I'll hang about in the shadow of some tree and +glue my eye to this gate. Is there any other way out?" + +"There is; but not one a visitor would be likely to take, especially if +he didn't want to be seen. It opens into a street where a lot of people +might be standing to peer into the palace grounds and hear the music. +Now run along, Legs, and find a comfortable shadow. I'm off." + +He was gone three-quarters of an hour, but nothing happened meanwhile. +Nobody went in at the gate, or came out, and the time dragged for +Stephen. He thought of a hundred dangers that might be threatening +Victoria, and it seemed that Caird would never come. But at last he saw +the boyish figure, hurrying along under the light of a street-lamp. + +"Couldn't find De Mora at first--then had to work slowly up to the +subject," Nevill panted. "But it's all right. Maieddine _is_ stopping +with him--leaves to-morrow or day after; supposed to have come from El +Aghouat, and to be going back there. But that isn't to say either +supposition's true." + +"We must find out where he's going--have him watched," said Stephen. + +"Yes. Only, the trouble is, if he's on to the game, it's just what he'll +expect. But I've been thinking how we may be able to bluff--make him +think it was his guilty conscience tricked him to imagine our interest +in his movements. You know I'm giving a dinner to-morrow night to a few +people?" + +"Yes. Lady MacGregor told me." + +"Well, a Mademoiselle Vizet, a niece of De Mora's, is coming, so that +gave me a chance to mention the dinner to her uncle. Maieddine can +easily hear about it, if he chooses to inquire what's going on at my +house. And I said something else to De Mora, for the benefit of the same +gentleman. I hope you'll approve." + +"Sure to. What was it?" + +"That I was sorry my friend, Mr. Knight, had got news which would call +him away from Algiers before the dinner. I said you'd be going on board +the _Charles Quex_ to-morrow when she leaves for Marseilles." + +"But Maieddine can find out----" + +"That's just what we want. He can find out that your ticket's taken, if +we do take it. He can see you go on board if he likes to watch or send a +spy. But he mustn't see you sneaking off again with the Arab porters who +carry luggage. If you think anything of the plan, you'll have to stand +the price of a berth, and let some luggage you can do without, go to +Marseilles. I'll see you off, and stop on board till the last minute. +You'll be in your cabin, putting on the clothes I wear sometimes when I +want some fun in the old town--striped wool burnous, hood over your +head, full white trousers--good 'props,' look a lot the worse for +wear--white stockings like my Kabyle servants have; and you can rub a +bit of brown grease-paint on your legs where the socks leave off. That's +what I do. Scheme sounds complicated; but so is an Arab's brain. You've +got to match it. What do you say?" + +"I say 'done!'" Stephen answered. + +"Thought you would. Some fellows'd think it too sensational; but you +can't be too sensational with Arabs, if you want to beat 'em. This ought +to put Maieddine off the scent. If he's watching, and sees you--as he +thinks--steam calmly out of Algiers harbour, and if he knows I'm +entertaining people at my house, he won't see why he need go on +bothering himself with extra precautions." + +"Right. But suppose he's off to-morrow morning--or even to-night." + +"Then we needn't bother about the boat business. For we shall know if he +goes. Either you or I must now look up Roslin. Perhaps it had better be +I, because I can run into Djenan el Djouad first, and send my man +Saunders to watch De Mora's other gate, and make assurance doubly sure." + +"You're a brick, Wings," said Stephen. + + + + +XLI + + +Lady MacGregor had sat up in order to hear the news, and was delighted +with Nevill's plan, especially the part which concerned Stephen, and his +proposed adventure on the _Charles Quex_. Even to hear about it, made +her feel young again, she said. Nothing ever happened to her or to +Nevill when they were alone, and they ought to be thankful to Stephen +for stirring them up. Not one of the three had more than two hours' +sleep that night, but according to her nephew, Lady MacGregor looked +sweet sixteen when she appeared at an unusually early hour next morning. +"No breakfast in bed for me to-day, or for days to come," said she. +"I'll have my hands full every instant getting through what I've got to +do, I can tell you. Hamish and Angus are worried about my health, but I +say to them they needn't grudge me a new interest in life. It's very +good for me." + +"Why, what have you got to do?" ventured Nevill, who was ready to go +with Stephen and buy a berth on board the _Charles Quex_ the moment the +office opened. + +Lady MacGregor looked at him mysteriously. "Being men, I suppose neither +of you _would_ guess," she replied. "But you shall both know after +Stephen's adventure is over. I hope you'll like the idea. But if you +don't I'm sorry to say it won't make any difference." + +The so-called "adventure" had less of excitement in it than had been in +the planning. It was faithfully carried out according to Nevill's first +suggestion, with a few added details, but Stephen felt incredibly +foolish, rather like a Guy Fawkes mummer, or a masked and bedizened +guest arriving by mistake the night after the ball. So far as he could +see, no one was watching. All his trouble seemed to be for nothing, and +he felt that he had made a fool of himself, even when it was over, and +he had changed into civilized clothing, in a room in the old town, taken +by Adolphe Roslin, the detective. It was arranged for Stephen to wait +there, until Roslin could give him news of Si Maieddine's movements, +lest the Arab should be subtle enough to suspect a trick, after all. + +Toward evening the news came. Maieddine had taken a ticket for Biskra, +and a sleeping berth in the train which would leave at nine o'clock. +Nevertheless, Roslin had a man watching Monsieur de Mora's house, in +case the buying of the ticket were a "bluff," or Si Maieddine should +change his plans at the last minute. + +Nevill had come in, all excitement, having bought cheap "antique" +jewellery in a shop downstairs, by way of an excuse to enter the house. +He was with Stephen when Roslin arrived, and they consulted together as +to what should be done next. + +"Roslin must buy me a ticket for Biskra, of course," said Stephen. "I'll +hang about the station in an overcoat with my collar turned up and a cap +over my eyes. If Maieddine gets into the train I'll get in too, at a +respectful distance of course, and keep an eye open to see what he does +at each stop." + +"There's a change of trains, to-morrow morning," remarked Nevill. +"There'll be your difficulty, because after you're out of one train you +have to wait for the other. Easy to hide in Algiers station, and make a +dash for the end of the train when you're sure of your man. But in a +little open, road-side halting-place, in broad daylight, you'll have to +be sharp if you don't want him to spot you. Naturally he'll keep his +eyes as wide open, all along the line, as you will, even though he does +think you're on the way to Marseilles." + +"If you're working up to a burnous and painted legs for me again, my +dear chap, it's no good," Stephen returned with the calmness of +desperation. "I've done with that sort of nonsense; but I won't trust +myself out of the train till I see the Arab's back. Then I'll make a +bolt for it and dodge him, till the new train's run along the platform +and he's safely in it." + +"Monsieur has confidence in himself as a detective," smiled Roslin. + +Knight could have given a sarcastic answer, since the young man from +Marseilles had not made much progress with the seemingly simple case put +into his hands a month ago. But both he and Nevill had come to think +that the case was not simple, and they were lenient with Roslin. "I hope +I'm not conceited," Stephen defended himself, "but I do feel that I can +at least keep my end up against this nigger, anyhow till the game's +played out so far that he can't stop it." + +"And till I'm in it with you," Nevill finished. "By the way, that +reminds me. Some one else intends to play the game with us, whether we +like or not." + +"Who?" asked Stephen, surprised and half defiant. + +"My aunt. That's the mystery she was hinting at. You know how +unnaturally quiet she was while we arranged that you should look after +Maieddine, on your own, till the dinner-party was over, anyhow, and I +could get off, on a wire from you--wherever you might be?" + +"Yes. She seemed interested." + +"And busy. Her 'great work' was getting herself ready to follow you with +me, in the car." + +"Magnificent!" said Stephen. "And like her. Hurrah for Lady MacGregor!" + +"I'm glad you take it that way. I wasn't sure you would, which might +have made things awkward for me; because when my aunt wants to do a +thing, you know by this time as well as I do, it's as good as done." + +"But it's splendid--if she can stand the racket. Of course her idea is, +that if we find Miss Ray she oughtn't to come back alone with us, +perhaps a long way, from some outlandish hole." + +"You've got it. That's her argument. Or rather, her mandate. And I +believe she's quite able to stand the racket. Her state of mind is such, +that if she looked sixteen in the morning, this afternoon she's gone +back to fifteen." + +"Wonderful old lady! But she's so fragile--and has nervous +headaches----" + +"She won't have any in my motor car." + +"But Hamish and Angus. Can she get on without them?" + +"She intends to have them follow her by train, with luggage. She says +she has a 'feeling in her bones' that they'll come in handy, either for +cooking or fighting. And by Jove, she may be right. She often is. If you +go to Biskra and wire when you get there, I'll start at once--_we'll_ +start, I mean. And if Maieddine goes on anywhere else, and you follow to +keep him in sight, I'll probably catch you up with the car, because the +railway line ends at Biskra, you know; and beyond, there are only horses +or camels." + +"Can motors go farther?" + +"They can to Touggourt--with 'deeficulty,' as the noble twins would +say." + +"Maieddine may take a car." + +"Not likely. Though there's just a chance he might get some European +friend with a motor to give him a lift. In that case, you'd be rather +stuck." + +"Motor cars leave tracks," said Stephen. + +"Especially in the desert, where they are quite conspicuous," Nevill +agreed. "My aunt will be enchanted with your opinion of her and her +plan--but not surprised. She thinks you've twice my sense and knowledge +of the world." + +Nevill usually enjoyed his own dinner-parties, for he was a born host, +and knew that guests were happy in his house. That night, however, was +an exception. He was absent-minded, and pulled his moustache, and saw +beautiful things in the air over people's heads, so often that not only +Lady MacGregor but Angus and Hamish glared at him threateningly. He then +did his best to atone; nevertheless, for once he was delighted when +every one had gone. At last he was able to read for the second time a +letter from Roslin, sent in while dinner was in progress. There had been +only time for a glance at it, by begging his friends' indulgence for an +instant, while he bolted the news that Stephen had followed Maieddine to +Biskra. Now, Nevill and Lady MacGregor both hugely enjoyed the details +given by Roslin from the report of an employe; how cleverly Monsieur had +kept out of sight, though the Arab had walked up and down the platform, +with two friends, looking about keenly. How, when Maieddine was safely +housed in his compartment, his companions looking up to his window for a +last word, Monsieur Knight had whisked himself into a second-class +compartment at the other end of the train. + +Next day, about four o'clock, a telegram was brought to Djenan el +Djouad. It came from Biskra, and said: "Arrived here. Not spotted. He +went house of French commandant with no attempt at concealment. Am +waiting. Will wire again soon as have news. Perhaps better not start +till you hear." + +An hour and a half later a second blue envelope was put into Nevill's +hand. + +"He and an officer leave for Touggourt in private carriage three horses +relays ordered. Have interviewed livery stable. They start at five will +travel all night. I follow." + +"Probably some officer was going on military business, and Maieddine's +asked for a lift," Nevill said to Lady MacGregor. "Well, it's too late +for us to get away now; but we'll be off as early as you like to-morrow +morning." + +"If I weren't going, would you start to-day?" his aunt inquired. + +"Yes, I suppose so. But----" + +"Then please give orders for the car. I'm ready to leave at five +minutes' notice, and I can go on as long as you can. I'm looking forward +to the trip." + +"But I've often offered to take you to Biskra." + +"That's different. Now I've got an incentive." + + + + +XLII + + +Just as he came in sight of the great chott between Biskra and +Touggourt, Stephen heard a sound which struck him strangely in the +silence of the desert. It was the distant teuf-teuf of a powerful motor +car, labouring heavily through deep sand. + +Stephen was travelling in a carriage, which he had hired in Biskra, and +was keeping as close as he dared to the vehicle in front, shared by +Maieddine and a French officer. But he never let himself come within +sight or sound of it. Now, as he began to hear the far-off panting of a +motor, he saw nothing ahead but the vast saltpetre lake, which, viewed +from the hill his three horses had just climbed, shimmered blue and +silver, like a magic sea, reaching to the end of the world. There were +white lines like long ruffles of foam on the edges of azure waves, +struck still by enchantment while breaking on an unseen shore; and far +off, along a mystic horizon, little islands floated on the gleaming +flood. Stephen could hardly believe that there was no water, and that +his horses could travel the blue depths without wetting their feet. + +It was just as he was thinking thus, and wondering if Victoria had +passed this way, when the strange sound came to his ears, out of the +distance. "Stop," he said in French to his Arab driver. "I think friends +of mine will be in that car." He was right. A few minutes later Nevill +and Lady MacGregor waved to him, as he stood on the top of a low +sand-dune. + +Lady MacGregor was more fairylike than ever in a little motoring bonnet +made for a young girl, but singularly becoming to her. They had had a +glorious journey, she said. She supposed some people would consider +that she had endured hardships, but they were not worth speaking of. She +had been rather bumped about on the ghastly desert tracks since Biskra, +but though she was not quite sure if all her bones were whole, she did +not feel in the least tired; and even if she did, the memory of the +Gorge of El Kantara would alone be enough to make up for it. + +"Anything new?" asked Nevill. + +"Nothing," Stephen answered, "except that the driver of the carriage +ahead let drop at the last bordj that he'd been hired by the French +officer, who was taking Maieddine with him." + +"Just what we thought," Lady MacGregor broke in. + +"And the carriage will bring the Frenchman back, later. Maieddine's +going on. But I haven't found out where." + +"H'm! I was in hopes we were close to our journey's end at Touggourt," +said Nevill. "The car can't get farther, I'm afraid. The big dunes begin +there." + +"Whatever Maieddine does, we can follow his example. I mean, I can," +Stephen amended. + +"So can Nevill. I'm no spoil-sport," snapped the old lady, in her +childlike voice. "I know what I can do and what I can't. I draw the line +at camels! Angus and Hamish will take care of me, and I'll wait for you +at Touggourt. I can amuse myself in the market-place, and looking at the +Ouled Nails, till you find Miss Ray, or----" + +"There won't be an 'or,' Lady MacGregor. We must find her. And we must +bring her to you," said Stephen. + +He had slept in the carriage the night before, a little on the Biskra +side of Chegga, because Maieddine and the French officer had rested at +Chegga. Nevill and Lady MacGregor had started from Biskra at five +o'clock that morning, having arrived there the evening before. It was +now ten, and they could make Touggourt that night. But they wished +Maieddine to reach there first, so they stopped by the chott, and +lunched from a smartly fitted picnic-basket Lady MacGregor had brought. +Stephen paid his Arab coachman, told him he might go back, and +transferred a small suitcase--his only luggage--from the carriage to the +car. They gave Maieddine two hours' grace, and having started on, always +slowed up whenever Nevill's field-glasses showed a slowly trotting +vehicle on the far horizon. The road, which was hardly a road, far +exceeded in roughness the desert track Stephen had wondered at on the +way from Msila to Bou-Saada; but Lady MacGregor had the courage, he told +her, of a Joan of Arc. + +They bumped steadily along, through the heat of the day, protected from +the blazing sun by the raised hood, but they were thankful when, after +the dinner-halt, darkness began to fall. Talking over ways and means, +they decided not to drive into Touggourt, where an automobile would be a +conspicuous object since few motors risked springs and tyres by coming +so far into the desert. The chauffeur should be sent into the town while +the passengers sat in the car a mile away. + +Eventually Paul was instructed to demand oil for his small lamps, by way +of an excuse for having tramped into town. He was to find out what had +become of the two men who must have arrived about an hour before, in a +carriage. + +While the chauffeur was gone, Lady MacGregor played Patience and +insisted on teaching Stephen and Nevill two new games. She said that it +would be good discipline for their souls; and so perhaps it was. But +Stephen never ceased calculating how long Paul ought to be away. Twenty +minutes to walk a mile--or thirty minutes in desert sand; forty minutes +to make inquiries; surely it needn't take longer! And thirty minutes +back. But an hour and a half dragged on, before there was any sign of +the absentee; then at last, Stephen's eye, roving wistfully from the +cards, saw a moving spark at about the right height above the ground to +be a cigarette. + +A few yards away from the car, the spark vanished decorously, and Paul +was recognizable, in the light of the inside electric lamp, the only +illumination they allowed themselves, lest the stranded car prove +attractive to neighbouring nomads. + +The French officer was at the hotel for the night; the Arab was dining +with him, but instead of resting, would go on with his horse and a Negro +servant who, it seemed, had been waiting for several days, since their +master had passed through Touggourt on the way to Algiers. + +"Then he didn't come from El Aghouat," said Nevill. "Where is he going? +Did you find out that?" + +"Not for certain. But an Arab servant who talks French, says he believes +they're bound for a place called Oued Tolga," Paul replied, delighted +with the confidence reposed in him, and with the whole adventure. + +"That means three days in the dunes for us!" said Nevill. "Aunt +Charlotte, you can practice Patience, in Touggourt." + +"I shall invent a new game, and call it Hope," returned Lady MacGregor. +"Or if it's a good one, I'll name it Victoria Ray, which is better than +Miss Millikens. It will just be done in time to teach that poor child +when you bring her back to me." + +"Hope wouldn't be a bad name for the game we've all been playing, and +have got to go on playing," mumbled Nevill. "We'll give Maieddine just +time to turn his back on Touggourt, before we show our noses there. Then +you and I, Legs, will engage horses and a guide." + +"You deserve your name, Wings," said Stephen. And he wondered how +Josette Soubise could hold out against Caird. He wondered also what she +thought of this quest; for her sister Jeanne was in the secret. No doubt +she had written Josette more fully than Nevill had, even if he had dared +to write at all. And if, as long ago as the visit to Tlemcen, she had +been slightly depressed by her friend's interest in another girl, she +must by this time see the affair in a more serious light. Stephen was +cruel enough to hope that she was unhappy. He had heard women say that +no cure for a woman's obstinacy was as sure as jealousy. + +When they arrived at the hotel, and ordered all in the same breath, a +room for a lady, two horses and a guide, only the first demand could be +granted. It would be impossible, said the landlady and her son, to +produce horses on the instant. There were some to be had, it was true, +but they had come in after a hard day's work, and must have several +hours' rest. The gentlemen might get off at dawn, if they wished, but +not before. + +"After all, it doesn't much matter," Nevill said to Stephen. "Even an +Arab must have some sleep. We'll have ours now, and catch up with +Maieddine while he's taking his. Don't worry. Suppose the worst--that he +isn't really going to Oued Tolga. We shall get on his track, with an +Arab guide to pilot us. There are several stopping places where we can +inquire. He'll be seen passing them, even if he goes by." + +"But you say Arabs never betray each other to white men." + +"This won't be a question of betrayal. Watch and see how ingenuous, as +well as ingenious, I'll be in all my inquiries." + +"I never heard of Oued Tolga," Stephen said, half to himself. + +"Don't confess that to an Arab. It would be like telling a Frenchman +you'd never heard of Bordeaux. It's a desert city, bigger than +Touggourt, I believe, and--by Jove, yes, there's a tremendously +important Zaouia of the same name. Great marabout hangs out there--kind +of Mussulman pope of the desert. I hope to goodness----" + +"What?" Stephen asked, as Nevill broke off suddenly. + +"Oh, nothing to fash yourself about, as the twins would say. Only--it +would be awkward if she's there. Harder to get her out. However--time to +cross the stile when we come to it." + +But Stephen crossed a great many stiles with his mind before that +darkest hour before the dawn, when he was called to get ready for the +last stage of the journey. + +Lady MacGregor was up to see them off, and never had her cap been more +elaborate, or her hair been dressed more daintily. + +"You'll wire me from the end of the world, won't you?" she asked +briskly. "Paul and I (and Hamish and Angus if necessary) will be ready +to rush you all three back to civilization the instant you arrive with +Miss Ray. Give her my love. Tell her I've brought clothes for her. They +mayn't be what she'd choose, but I dare say she won't be sorry to see +them. And by the way, if there are telegrams--you know I told the +servants to send them on from home--shall I wire them on to Oued Tolga?" + +"No. We're tramps, with no address," laughed Nevill. "Anything that +comes can wait till we get back." + +Stephen could not have told why, for he was not thinking of Margot, but +suddenly he was convinced that a telegram from her was on the way, +fixing the exact date when she might be expected in England. + + + + +XLIII + + +Since the day when Victoria had called Stephen to her help, always she +had expected him. She had great faith, for, in her favourite way, she +had "made a picture of him," riding up and down among the dunes, with +the "knightly" look on his face which had first drawn her thoughts to +him. Always her pictures had materialized sooner or later, since she was +a little girl, and had first begun painting them with her mind, on a +golden background. + +She spent hours on the roof, with Saidee or alone, looking out over the +desert, through the field-glasses which Maieddine had sent to her. Very +often Saidee would remain below, for Victoria's prayers were not her +prayers, nor were Victoria's wishes her wishes. But invariably the older +woman would come up to the roof just before sunset, to feed the doves +that lived in the minaret. + +At first Victoria had not known that her sister had any special reason +for liking to feed the doves, but she was an observant, though not a +sophisticated girl; and when she had lived with Saidee for a few days, +she saw birds of a different colour among the doves. It was to those +birds, she could not help noticing, that Saidee devoted herself. The +first that appeared, arrived suddenly, while Victoria looked in another +direction. But when the girl saw one alight, she guessed it had come +from a distance. It fluttered down heavily on the roof, as if tired, and +Saidee hid it from Victoria by spreading out her skirt as she scattered +its food. + +Then it was easy to understand how Saidee and Captain Sabine had +managed to exchange letters; but she could not bear to let her sister +know by word or even look that she suspected the secret. If Saidee +wished to hide something from her she had a right to hide it. Only--it +was very sad. + +For days neither of the sisters spoke of the pigeons, though they came +often, and the girl could not tell what plans might be in the making, +unknown to her. She feared that, if she had not come to Oued Tolga, by +this time Saidee would have gone away, or tried to go away, with Captain +Sabine; and though, since the night of her arrival, when Saidee had +opened her heart, they had been on terms of closest affection, there was +a dreadful doubt in Victoria's mind that the confidences were half +repented. But when the girl had been rather more than a week in the +Zaouia, Saidee spoke out. + +"I suppose you've guessed why I come up on the roof at sunset," she +said. + +"Yes," Victoria answered. + +"I thought so, by your face. Babe, if you'd accused me of anything, or +reproached me, I'd have brazened it out with you. But you've never said +a word, and your eyes--I don't know what they've been like, unless +violets after rain. They made me feel a beast--a thousand times worse +than I would if you'd put on an injured air. Last night I dreamed that +you died of grief, and I buried you under the sand. But I was sorry, and +tore all the sand away with my fingers till I found you again--and you +were alive after all. It seemed like an allegory. I'm going to dig you +up again, you little loving thing!" + +"That means you'll give me back your confidence, doesn't it?" Victoria +asked, smiling in a way that would have bewitched a man who loved her. + +"Yes; and something else. I'm going to tell you a thing you'll like to +hear. I've written to _him_ about you--our cypher's ready now--and said +that you'd had the most curious effect on me. I'd tried to resist you, +but I couldn't, not even to please him--or myself. I told him I'd +promised to wait for you to help me; and though I didn't see what you +could possibly do, still, your faith was contagious. I said that in +spite of myself I felt some vague stirrings of hope now and then. There! +does that please you?" + +"Oh Saidee, I _am_ so happy!" cried the girl, flinging both arms round +her sister. "Then I did come at the right time, after all." + +"The right time to keep me from happiness in this world, perhaps. That's +the way I feel about it sometimes. But I can't be sorry you're here, +Babe, as I was at first. You're too sweet--too like the child who used +to be my one comfort." + +"I could almost die of happiness, when you say that!" Victoria answered, +with tears in her voice. + +"What a baby you are! I'm sure you haven't much more than I have, to be +happy about. Cassim has promised Maieddine that you shall marry him, +whether you say 'yes' or 'no'. And it's horrible when an Arab girl won't +consent to marry the man to whom her people have promised her. I know +what they do. She----" + +"Don't tell me about it. I'd hate to hear!" Victoria broke in, and +covered her ears with her hands. So Saidee said no more. But in black +hours of the night, when the girl could not sleep, dreadful imaginings +crept into her mind, and it was almost more than she could do to chase +them away by making her "good pictures." "I won't be afraid--I won't, I +won't!" she would repeat to herself. "I've called him, and my thoughts +are stronger than the carrier pigeons. They fly faster and farther. They +travel like the light, so they must have got to him long ago; and he +_said_ he'd come, no matter when or where. By this time he is on the +way." + +So she looked for Stephen, searching the desert; and at last, one +afternoon long before sunset, she saw a man riding toward the Zaouia +from the direction of the city, far away. She could not see his face, +but he seemed to be tall and slim; and his clothes were European. + +"Thank God!" she said to herself. For she did not doubt that it was +Stephen Knight. + +Soon she would call Saidee; but she must have a little time to herself, +for silent rejoicing, before she tried to explain. There was no great +hurry. He was far off, still. + +She kept her eyes to Maieddine's glasses, and felt it a strange thing +that they should have come to her from him. It was almost as if he gave +her to Stephen, against his will. She was so happy that she seemed to +hear the world singing. "I knew--I knew, through it all!" she told +herself, with a sob of joy in her throat. "It had to come right." And +she thought that she could hear a voice saying: "It is love that has +brought him. He loves you, as much as you love him." + +To her mind, especially in this mood, it was not extraordinary that each +should love the other after so short an acquaintance. She was even ready +to believe of herself that, unconsciously, she had fallen in love with +Stephen the first time she met him on the Channel boat. He had +interested her. She had remembered his face, and had been sorry to think +that she would never see it again. On the ship, going out from +Marseilles, she had been so glad when he came on deck that her heart had +begun to beat quickly. She had scolded herself at the time, for being +silly, and school-girlishly romantic; but now she realized that her soul +had known its mate. It could scarcely be real love, she fancied, that +was not born in the first moment, when spirit spoke to spirit. And her +love could not have drawn a man hundreds of miles across the desert, if +it had not met and clasped hands with his love for her. + +"Oh, how happy I am!" she thought. "And the glory of it is, that it's +_not_ strange--only wonderful. The most wonderful thing that ever +happened or could happen." + +Then she remembered the sand-divining, and how M'Barka had said that +"her wish was far from her, but that Allah would send a strong man, +young and dark, of another country than her own; a man whose brain, and +heart, and arm would be at her service, and in whom she might trust." +Victoria recalled these words, and did not try to bring back to her mind +what remained of the prophecy. + +Almost, she had been foolish enough to be superstitious, and afraid of +Maieddine's influence upon her life, since that night; and of course she +had known that it was of Maieddine M'Barka had thought, whether she +sincerely believed in her own predictions or no. Now, it pleased +Victoria to feel that, not only had she been foolish, but stupid. She +might have been happy in her childish superstition, instead of unhappy, +because the description of the man applied to Stephen as well as to +Maieddine. + +For the moment, she did not ask herself how Stephen Knight was going to +take her and Saidee away from Maieddine and Cassim, for she was so sure +he had not come across miles of desert in vain, that she took the rest +for granted in her first joy. She was certain that Saidee's troubles and +hers were over, and that by and by, like the prince and princess in the +fairy stories, she and Stephen would be married and "live happily ever +after." In these magic moments of rapture, while his face and figure +grew more clear to her eyes, it seemed to the girl that love and +happiness were one, and that all obstacles had fallen down in the path +of her lover, like the walls of Jericho that crumbled at the blast of +the trumpet. + +When she had looked through the glass until she could distinctly see +Stephen, and an Arab who rode at a short distance behind him, she called +her sister. + +Saidee came up to the roof, almost at once, for there was a thrill of +excitement in Victoria's voice that roused her curiosity. + +She thought of Captain Sabine, and wondered if he were riding toward the +Zaouia. He had come, before his first encounter with her, to pay his +respects to the marabout. That was long ago now, yet there might be a +reason, connected with her, for a second visit. But the moment she saw +Victoria's face, even before she took the glasses the girl held out, she +guessed that, though there was news, it was not of Captain Sabine. + +"You might have been to heaven and back since I saw you; you're so +radiant!" she said. + +"I have been to heaven. But I haven't come back. I'm there now," +Victoria answered. "Look--and tell me what you see." + +Saidee put the glasses to her eyes. "I see a man in European clothes," +she said. "I can see that he's young. I should think he's a gentleman, +and good looking----" + +"Oh, he is!" broke in Victoria, childishly. + +"Do you know him?" + +"I've been praying and longing for him to find me, and save us. He's an +Englishman. His name is Stephen Knight. He promised to come if I called, +and I have. Oh, _how_ I've called, day and night, night and day!" + +"You never told me." + +"I waited. Somehow I--couldn't speak of him, even to you." + +"I've told _you_ everything." + +"But I had nothing to tell, really--nothing I could have put into words. +And you might only have laughed if I'd said 'There's a man I know in +Algiers who hasn't any idea where I am, but I think he'll come here, and +take us both away.'" + +"Are you engaged to each other?" Saidee asked, curiously, even +enviously. + +"Oh no! But--but----" + +"But what? Do you mean you will be--if you ever get away from this +place?" + +"I hope so," the girl answered bravely, with a deep blush. "He has never +asked me. We haven't known each other long--a very little while, only +since the night I left London for Paris. Yet he's the first man I ever +cared about, and I think of him all the time. Perhaps he thinks of me +in the same way." + +"Of course he must, Babe, if he's really come to search for you," Saidee +said, looking at her young sister affectionately. + +"Thank you a hundred times for saying that, dearest! I do _hope_ so!" +Victoria exclaimed, hugging the elder woman impulsively, as she used +when she was a little child. + +But Saidee's joy, caught from her sister's, died down suddenly, like a +flame quenched with salt. "What good will it do you--or us--that he is +coming?" she asked bitterly. "He can ask for the marabout, and perhaps +see him. Any traveller can do that. But he will be no nearer to us, than +if we were dead and in our graves. Does Maieddine know about him?" + +"They saw each other on the ship, coming to Algiers--and again just as +we landed." + +"But has Maieddine any idea that you care about each other?" + +"I had to tell him one day in the desert (the day Si Maieddine said he +loved me, and I promised to consent if _you_ put my hand in his) +that--that there was a man I loved. But I didn't say who. Perhaps he +suspects, though I don't see why he should. I might have meant some one +in America." + +"You may be pretty sure he suspects. People of the old, old races, like +the Arabs, have the most wonderful intuitions. They seem to _know_ +things without being told. I suppose they've kept nearer nature than +more civilized peoples." + +"If he does suspect, I can't help it." + +"No. Only it's still more sure that your Englishman won't be able to do +us any good. Not that he could, anyhow." + +"But Si Maieddine's been very ill since he came back, M'Barka says. Mr. +Knight will ask for the marabout." + +"Maieddine will hear of him. Not five Europeans in five years come to +Oued Tolga. If only Maieddine hadn't got back! This man may have been +following him, from Algiers. It looks like it, as Maieddine arrived +only yesterday. Now, here's this Englishman! Could he have found out in +any way, that you were acquainted with Maieddine?" + +"I don't know, but he might have guessed," said Victoria. "I wonder----" + +"What? Have you thought of something?" + +"It's just an idea. You know, I told you that on the journey, when Si +Maieddine was being very kind to me--before I knew he cared--I made him +a present of the African brooch you gave me in Paris. I hated to take so +many favours of him, and give nothing in return; so I thought, as I was +on my way to you and would soon see you, I might part with that brooch, +which he admired. If Si Maieddine wore it in Algiers, and Mr. Knight +saw----" + +"Would he be likely to recognize it, do you think?" + +"He noticed it on the boat, and I told him you gave it to me." + +"If he would come all the way from Algiers on the strength of a brooch +which might have been yours, and you _might_ have given to Maieddine, +then he's a man who knows what he wants, and deserves to get it," Saidee +said. "If he _could_ help us! I should feel rewarded for telling Honore +I wouldn't go with him; because some day I may be free, and then perhaps +I shall be glad I waited----" + +"You will be glad. Whatever happens, you'll be glad," Victoria insisted. + +"Maybe. But now--what are we to do? We can see him, and you can +recognize him with the field-glass, but unless he has a glass too, he +can't see who you are--he can't see at all, because by the time he rides +near enough, the ground dips down so that even our heads will be hidden +from him by the wall round the roof. And he'll be hidden from us, too. +If he asks for you, he'll be answered only by stares of surprise. Cassim +will pretend not to know what he's talking about. And presently he'll +have to go away without finding out anything." + +"He'll come back," said Victoria, firmly. But her eyes were not as +bright with the certainty of happiness as they had been. + +"What if he does? Or it may be that he'll try to come back, and an +accident will happen to him. I hate to frighten you. But Arabs are +jealous--and Maieddine's a true Arab. He looks upon you almost as his +wife now. In a week or two you will be, unless----" + +"Yes. Unless--_unless_!" echoed Victoria. "Don't lose hope, Saidee, for +I shan't. Let's think of something to do. He's near enough now, maybe, +to notice if we wave our handkerchiefs." + +"Many women on roofs in Africa wave to men who will never see their +faces. He won't know who waves." + +"He will _feel_. Besides, he's searching for me. At this very minute, +perhaps, he's thinking of the golden silence I talked about, and looking +up to the white roofs." + +Instantly they began to wave their handkerchiefs of embroidered silk, +such as Arab ladies use. But there came no answering signal. Evidently, +if the rider were looking at a white roof, he had chosen one which was +not theirs. And soon he would be descending the slope of the Zaouia +hill. After that they would lose sight of each other, more and more +surely, the closer he came to the gates. + +"If only you had something to throw him!" Saidee sighed. "What a pity +you gave the brooch to Maieddine. He might have recognized that." + +"It isn't a pity if he traced me by it," said Victoria. "But wait. I'll +think of something." + +"He's riding down the dip. In a minute it will be too late," Saidee +warned her. + +The girl lifted over her head the long string of amber beads she had +bought in the curiosity shop of Jeanne Soubise. Wrapping it in her +handkerchief, she began to tie the silken ends together. + +Stephen was so close to the Zaouia now that they could no longer see +him. + +"Throw--throw! He'll be at the gates." + +Victoria threw the small but heavy parcel over the wall which hid the +dwellers on the roof. + +Where it fell, they could not see, and no sound came up from the +sand-dune far below. Some beggar or servant of the Zaouia might have +found and snatched the packet, for all that they could tell. + +For a time which seemed long, they waited, hoping that something would +happen. They did not speak at all. Each heard her own heart beating, and +imagined that she could hear the heart of the other. + +At last there were steps on the stairs which led from Saidee's rooms to +the roof. Noura came up. "O twin stars, forgive me for darkening the +brightness of thy sky," she said, "but I have here a letter, given to me +to put into the hands of Lella Saida." + +She held out a folded bit of paper, that had no envelope. + +Saidee, pale and large-eyed, took it in silence. She read, and then +handed the paper to Victoria. + +A few lines were scrawled on it in English, in a very foreign +handwriting. The language, known to none in this house except the +marabout, Maieddine, Saidee and Victoria, was as safe as a cypher, +therefore no envelope had been needed. + +"Descend into thy garden immediately, and bring with thee thy sister," +the letter said. And it was signed "Thy husband, Mohammed." + +"What can it mean?" asked Victoria, giving back the paper to Saidee. + +"I don't know. But we shall soon see--for we must obey. If we didn't go +down of our own accord, we'd soon be forced to go." + +"Perhaps Cassim will let me talk to Mr. Knight," said the girl. + +"He is more likely to throw you to his lion, in the court," Saidee +answered, with a laugh. + +They went down into the garden, and remained there alone. Nothing +happened except that, after a while, they heard a noise of pounding. It +seemed to come from above, in Saidee's rooms. + +Listening intently, her eyes flashed, and a bright colour rushed to her +cheeks. + +"Now I know why we were told to come into the garden!" she exclaimed, +her voice quivering with anger. "They're nailing up the door of my room +that leads to the roof!" + +"Saidee!" To Victoria the thing seemed too monstrous to believe. + +"Cassim threatened to do it once before--a long time ago--but he didn't. +Now he has. That's his answer to your Mr. Knight." + +"Perhaps you're wrong. How could any one have got into your rooms +without our seeing them pass through the garden?" + +"I've always thought there was a sliding door at the back of one of my +wall cupboards. There generally is one leading into the harem rooms in +old houses like this. Thank goodness I've hidden my diaries in a new +place lately!" + +"Let's go up and make sure," whispered Victoria. + +Still the pounding went on. + +"They'll have locked us out." + +"We can try." + +Victoria went ahead, running quickly up the steep, narrow flight of +steps that led to the upper rooms which she and Saidee shared. Saidee +had been right. The door of the outer room was locked. Standing at the +top of the stairs, the pounding sounded much louder than before. + +Saidee laughed faintly and bitterly. + +"They're determined to make a good job of it," she said. + + + + +XLIV + + +Stephen rode back with his Arab companion, to the desert city where +Nevill waited. He had gone to the Zaouia alone with the guide, because +Nevill had thought it well, in case of emergencies, that he should be +able to say: "I have a friend in Oued Tolga who knows where I am, and is +expecting me." Now he was coming away, thwarted for the moment, but far +from hopeless. + +It is a four hours' ride among the dunes, between the Zaouia and the +town, for the sand is heavy and the distance is about seventeen miles. +The red wine of sunset was drained from the cups of the sand-hollows, +and the shadows were cool when Stephen saw the minaret of the town +mosque and the crown of an old watch-tower, pointing up like a thumb and +finger of a buried hand. Soon after, he passed through the belt of black +tents which at all seasons encircles Oued Tolga as a girdle encircles +the waist of an Ouled Nail, and so he rode into the strange city. The +houses were crowded together, two with one wall between, like Siamese +twins, and they had the pale yellow-brown colour of honeycomb, in the +evening light. The roughness of the old, old bricks, made of baked sand, +gave an effect of many little cells; so that the honeycomb effect was +intensified; and the sand which flowed in small rippling waves round the +city, and through streets narrow and broad, was of the same honey-yellow +as the houses, except that it glittered with gypsum under the kindling +stars. Among the bubbly domes, and low square towers, vague in the +dimming light, bunches of palms in hidden gardens nodded over crumbling +walls, like dark plumes on the crowns of the dancing-women. + +In the market-place was the little hotel, newly built; the only French +thing in Oued Tolga, except the military barracks, the Bureau Arabe, and +a gurgling artesian well which a French officer had lately completed. +But before Stephen could reach the market-place and the hotel, he had to +pass through the quarter of the dancing-girls. + +It was a narrow street, which had low houses on either side, with a +balcony for every mean window. Dark women leaned their elbows on the +palm-wood railings, and looked down, smoking cigarettes, and calling +across to each other. Other girls sat in lighted doorways below, each +with a candle guttering on a steep step of her bare staircase; and in +the street walked silent men with black or brown faces, whose white +burnouses flowed round their tall figures like blowing clouds. Among +them were a few soldiers, whose uniforms glowed red in the twilight, +like the cigarette ends pulsing between the painted lips of the Ouled +Nails. All that quarter reeked with the sweet, wicked smell of the East; +and in the Moorish cafe at the far end, the dancing-music had begun to +throb and whine, mingling cries of love and death, with the passion of +both. But there was no dancing yet, for the audience was not large +enough. The brilliant spiders crouched in their webs, awaiting more +flies; for caravans were coming in across that desert sea which poured +its yellow billows into the narrow street; and in the market-place, +camel-drivers only just arrived were cooking their suppers. They would +all come a little later into this quarter to drink many cups of coffee, +and to spend their money on the dancers. + +As Stephen went by on horseback, the girls on the balconies and in the +doorways looked at him steadily without smiling, but their eyes sparkled +under their golden crowns, or scarlet headkerchiefs and glittering +veils. Behind him and his guide, followed a procession of boys and old +men, with donkeys loaded with dead palm-branches from the neighbouring +oasis, and the dry fronds made a loud swishing sound; but the dancers +paid no attention, and appeared to look through the old men and children +as if they did not exist. + +In the market-place were the tired camels, kneeling down, looking +gloomily at their masters busy cooking supper on the sand. Negro sellers +of fruit and fly-embroidered lumps of meat, or brilliant-coloured +pottery, and cheap, bright stuffs, were rolling up their wares for the +night, in red and purple rags or tattered matting. Beggars lingered, +hoping for a stray dried date, or a coin before crawling off to secret +dens; and two deformed dwarfs in enormous turbans and blue coats, +claimed power as marabouts, chanting their own praises and the praises +of Allah, in high, cracked voices. + +As Stephen rode to the hotel, and stopped in front of the arcade which +shaded the ground floor, Nevill and another man sprang up from chairs +pushed back against the white house-wall. + +"By Jove, Legs, I'm glad to see you!" Nevill exclaimed, heartily, "What +news?" + +"Nothing very great so far, I'm sorry to say. Much as we expected," +Stephen answered. And as he spoke, he glanced at the stranger, as if +surprised that Nevill should speak out before him. The man wore the +smart uniform of the Chasseurs d'Afrique. He was quite young, not over +thirty-four, and had a keen, brave face, as Stephen could see by the +crude light of a lamp that was fixed in the wall. But the large grey +eyes, somewhat pale in contrast with deep sunburn, were the eyes of a +poet rather than those of a born soldier. + +"I must introduce you and Captain Sabine to each other," Nevill went on, +in French, as Stephen got off his horse and it was led away by the Arab. +"He's staying at the hotel. He and I've been talking about the Zaouia +and--the marabout. The upshot of our conversation will astonish you. I +feel sure, when you hear it, you will think we can talk freely about our +business to Captain Sabine." + +Stephen said something polite and vague. He was interested, of course, +but would have preferred to tell his adventure to Nevill alone. + +"Monsieur Caird and I made acquaintance, and have been chatting all the +afternoon," volunteered Sabine. "To begin with, we find we have many +friends in common, in Algiers. Also he knows relations of mine, who have +spoken of me to him, so it is almost as if we had known each other +longer. He tells me that you and he are searching for a young lady who +has disappeared. That you have followed here a man who must know where +she is; that in the city, you lost track of the man but heard he had +gone on to the Zaouia; that this made you hope the young lady was there +with her sister, whose husband might perhaps have some position under +the marabout." + +"I told him these things, because I thought, as Captain Sabine's been +sinking an artesian well near the Zaouia, he might have seen Miss Ray, +if she were there. No such luck. He hasn't seen her; however, he's given +me a piece of information which makes it just about as sure she _is_ +there, as if he had. You shall have it from him. But first let me ask +you one question. Did you get any news of her?" + +"No. I heard nothing." + +"Does that mean you saw----" + +"No. I'll tell you later. But anyhow, I went into the Zaouia, almost +certain she was there, and that she'd seen me coming. That was a good +start, because of course I'd had very little to go on. There was only a +vague hope. I asked for the marabout, and they made me send a +visiting-card--quaint in the desert. Then they kept me moving about a +while, and insisted on showing me the mosque. At last they took me to a +hideous reception room, with a lot of good and vile things in it, mixed +up together. The marabout came in, wearing the black mask we'd heard +about--a fellow with a splendid bearing, and fine eyes that looked at me +very hard over the mask. They were never off my face. We complimented +each other in French. Then I said I was looking for a Miss Ray, an +American girl who had disappeared from Algiers, and had been traced to +the Zaouia, where I had reason to believe she was staying with a +relative from her own country, a lady married to some member of his +staff. I couldn't give him the best reason I had for being sure she +_was_ there, as you'll see when I tell you what it was. But he said +gravely that no European lady was married to any one in the Zaouia; that +no American or any other foreign person, male or female, was there. In +the guest-house were one or two Arab ladies, he admitted, who had come +to be cured of maladies by virtue of his power; but no one else. His +denial showed me that he was in the plot to hide Miss Ray. That was one +thing I wanted to know; so I saw that the best thing for her, would be +for me to pretend to be satisfied. If it hadn't been for what happened +before I got to the Zaouia gates, I should almost have been taken in by +him, perhaps, he had such an air of noble, impeccable sincerity. But +just as I dipped down into a kind of hollow, on the Zaouia side of the +river, something was thrown from somewhere. Unluckily I couldn't be sure +where. I'd been looking up at the roofs behind the walls, but I must +have had my eyes on the wrong one, if this thing fell from a roof, as I +believe it did. It was a little bundle, done up in a handkerchief, and I +saw it only as it touched the ground, about a dozen yards in front. Then +I hurried on, you may be sure, hoping it was meant for me, to grab the +thing before any one else could appear and lay hands on it." + +"Well?" + +"Luckily I'd outridden the guide. I made him think afterward that I'd +jumped off my horse to pick up the whip, which I dropped for a blind, in +case of spying eyes. Tied up in the silk handkerchief--an Arab-looking +handkerchief--was a string of amber beads. Do you remember the beads +Miss Ray bought of Miss Soubise, and wore to your house?" + +"I remember she had a handsome string of old prayer-beads." + +"Is this the one?" Stephen took the handkerchief and its contents from +his pocket, and Nevill examined the large, round lumps of gleaming +amber, which were somewhat irregular in shape. Captain Sabine looked on +with interest. + +"I can't be sure," Nevill said reluctantly. + +"Well, I can," Stephen answered with confidence. "She showed it to me, +in your garden. I remember a fly in the biggest bead, which was clear, +with a brown spot, and a clouded bead on either side of it. I had the +necklace in my hand. Besides, even if I weren't as certain as I am, who +would throw a string of amber beads at my feet, if it weren't some one +trying to attract my attention, in the only way possible? It was as much +as to say, 'I know you've come looking for me. If you're told I'm not +here, it's false.' I was a good long way from the gates; but much nearer +to a lot of white roofs grouped behind the high wall of the Zaouia, than +I would have been in riding on, closer to the gates. Unfortunately there +are high parapets to screen any one standing on the roofs. And anyhow, +by the time the beads were thrown, I was too low down in the hollow to +see even a waved hand or handkerchief. Still, with that necklace in my +pocket, I knew pretty well what I was about, in talking with the +marabout." + +"You thought you did," said Nevill. "But you'd have known a lot more if +only you could have made Captain Sabine's acquaintance before you +started." + +Stephen looked questioningly at the Frenchman. + +"Perhaps it would be better to speak in English," suggested Sabine. "I +have not much, but I get on. And the kitchen windows are not far away. +Our good landlord and his wife do not cook with their ears. I was +telling your friend that the marabout himself has a European wife--who +is said to be a great beauty. These things get out. I have heard that +she has red hair and skin as white as cream. That is also the +description which Mr. Caird gave me of the young lady seeking a sister. +It makes one put two and two together, does it not?" + +"By Jove!" exclaimed Stephen. He and Nevill looked at each other, but +Nevill raised his eyebrows slightly. He had not thought it best, at +present, to give the mystery of Cassim ben Halim, as he now deciphered +it, into a French officer's keeping. It was a secret in which France +would be deeply, perhaps inconveniently, interested. A little later, the +interference of the French might be welcome, but it would be just as +well not to bring it in prematurely, or separately from their own +personal interests. "I wish to heaven," Stephen went on, "I'd known this +when I was talking to the fellow! And yet--I'm not sure it would have +made much difference. We were deadly polite to each other, but I hinted +in a veiled way that, if he were concealing any secret from me, the +French authorities might have something to say to him. I was obsequious +about the great power of Islam in general, and his in particular, but I +suggested that France was the upper dog just now. Maybe his guilty +conscience made him think I knew more than I did. I hope he expects to +have the whole power of France down on him, as well as the United +States, which I waved over his head, Miss Ray being an American. Of +course I remembered your advice, Nevill, and was tactful--for her sake, +for fear anything should be visited on her. I didn't say I thought he +was hiding her in the Zaouia. I put it as if I wanted his help in +finding her. But naturally he expects me back again; and we must make +our plans to storm the fortress and reduce it to subjection. There isn't +an hour to waste, either, since this necklace, and Captain Sabine's +knowledge, have proved to us that she's there. Too bad we didn't know it +earlier, as we might have done something decisive in the beginning. But +now we do know, with Captain Sabine's good will and introduction we may +get the military element here to lend a hand in the negotiations. A +European girl can't be shut up with impunity, I should think, even in +this part of the world. And the marabout has every reason not to get in +the bad books of the French." + +"He is in their very best books at present," said Sabine. "He is +thought much of. The peace of the southern desert is largely in his +hands. My country would not be easily persuaded to offend him. It might +be said in his defence that he is not compelled to tell strangers if he +has a European wife, and her sister arrives to pay her a visit. Arab +ideas are peculiar; and we have to respect them." + +"I think my friend and I must talk the whole matter over," said Stephen, +"and then, perhaps, we can make up our minds to a plan of action we +couldn't have taken if it weren't for what you've told us--about the +marabout and his European wife." + +"I am glad if I have helped," Sabine answered. "And"--rather +wistfully--"I should like to help further." + + + + +XLV + + +"Oh Lella Saida, there is a message, of which I hardly dare to speak," +whispered Noura to her mistress, when she brought supper for the two +sisters, the night when the way to the roof had been closed up. + +"Tell me what it is, and do not be foolish," Saidee said sharply. Her +nerves were keyed to the breaking point, and she had no patience left. +It was almost a pleasure to visit her misery upon some one else. She +hated everybody and everything, because all hope was gone now. The door +to the roof was nailed shut; and she and Victoria were buried alive. + +"But one sends the message who must not be named; and it is not even for +thee, lady. It is for the Little Rose, thy sister." + +"If thou dost not speak out instantly, I will strike thee!" Saidee +exclaimed, on the verge of hysterical tears. + +"And if I speak, still thou wilt strike! Be this upon thine own head, my +mistress. The Ouled Nail has dared send her woman, saying that if the +Little Rose will visit her house after supper, it will be for the good +of all concerned, since she has a thing to tell of great importance. At +first I would have refused even to take the message, but her woman, +Hadda, is my cousin, and she feared to go back without some answer. The +Ouled Nail is a demon when in a temper, and she would thrust pins into +Hadda's arms and thighs." + +Saidee blushed with anger, disgustful words tingling on her tongue; but +she remained silent, her lips parted. + +"Of course I won't go," said Victoria, shocked. The very existence of +Miluda was to her a dreadful mystery upon which she could not bear to +let her mind dwell. + +"I'm not sure," Saidee murmured. "Let me think. This means something +very curious, I can't think what. But I should like to know. It can't +make things worse for us if you accept her invitation. It may make them +better. Will you go and see what the creature wants?" + +"Oh, Saidee, how can I?" + +"Because I ask it," Saidee answered, the girl's opposition deciding her +doubts. "She can't eat you." + +"It isn't that I'm afraid----" + +"I know! It's because of your loyalty to me. But if I send you, Babe, +you needn't mind. It will be for my sake." + +"Hadda is waiting for an answer," Noura hinted. + +"My sister will go. Is the woman ready to take her?" + +"I will find out, lady." + +In a moment the negress came back. "Hadda will lead the Little Rose to +her mistress. She is glad that it is to be now, and not later." + +"Be very careful what you say, and forget nothing that _she_ says," was +Saidee's last advice. And it sounded very Eastern to Victoria. + +She hated her errand, but undertook it without further protest, since it +was for Saidee's sake. + +Hadda was old and ugly. She and Noura had been born in the quarter of +the freed Negroes, in the village across the river, and knew nothing of +any world beyond; yet all the wiliness and wisdom of female things, +since Eve--woman, cat and snake--glittered under their slanting eyelids. + +Victoria had not been out of her sister's rooms and garden, except to +visit M'Barka in the women's guest-house, since the night when Maieddine +brought her to the Zaouia; and when she had time to think of her bodily +needs, she realized that she longed desperately for exercise. Physically +it was a relief to walk even the short distance between Saidee's house +and Miluda's; but her cheeks tingled with some emotion she could hardly +understand when she saw that the Ouled Nail's garden-court was larger +and more beautiful than Saidee's. + +Miluda, however, was not waiting for her in the garden. The girl was +escorted upstairs, perhaps to show her how much more important was the +favourite wife of the marabout than a mere Roumia, an unmarried maiden. + +A meal had been cleared away, in a room larger and better furnished than +Saidee's and on the floor stood a large copper incense-burner, a thin +blue smoke filtering through the perforations, clouding the atmosphere +and loading it with heavy perfume. Behind the mist Victoria saw a divan, +spread with trailing folds of purple velvet, stamped with gold; and +something lay curled up on a huge tiger-skin, flung over pillows. + +As the blue incense wreaths floated aside the curled thing on the tiger +skin moved, and the light from a copper lamp like Saidee's, streamed +through huge coloured lumps of glass, into a pair of brilliant eyes. A +delicate brown hand, ringed on each finger, waved away the smoke of a +cigarette it held, and Victoria saw a small face, which was like the +face of a perfectly beautiful doll. Never had she imagined anything so +utterly pagan; yet the creature was childlike, even innocent in its +expression, as a baby tigress might be innocent. + +Having sat up, the little heathen goddess squatted in her shrine, only +bestirring herself to show the Roumia how beautiful she was, and what +wonderful jewellery she had. She thought, that without doubt, the girl +would run back jealously to the sister (whom Miluda despised) to pour +out floods of description. She herself had heard much of Lella Saida, +and supposed that unfortunate woman had as eagerly collected information +about her; but it was especially piquant that further details of +enviable magnificence should be carried back by the forlorn wife's +sister. + +The Ouled Nail tinkled at the slightest movement, even with the heaving +of her bosom, as she breathed, making music with many necklaces, and +long earrings that clinked against them. Dozens of old silver cases, +tubes, and little jewelled boxes containing holy relics; hairs of +Mohammed's beard; a bit of web spun by the sacred spider which saved his +life; moles' feet blessed by marabouts, and texts from the Koran; all +these hung over Miluda's breast, on chains of turquoise and amber beads. +They rattled metallically, and her bracelets and anklets tinkled. Some +luscious perfume hung about her, intoxicatingly sweet. A thick, braided +clump of hair was looped on each side of the small face painted white as +ivory, and her eyes, under lashes half an inch long, were bright and +unhuman as those of an untamed gazelle. + +"Wilt thou sit down?" she asked, waving the hand with the cigarette +towards a French chair, upholstered in red brocade. "The Sidi gave me +that seat because I asked for it. He gives me all I ask for." + +"I will stand," answered Victoria. + +"Oh, it is true, then, thou speakest Arab! I had heard so. I have heard +much of thee and of thy youth and beauty. I see that my women did not +lie. But perhaps thou art not as young as I am, though I have been a +wife for a year, and have borne a beautiful babe. I am not yet sixteen." + +Victoria did not answer, and the Ouled Nail gazed at her unwinkingly, as +a child gazes. + +"Thou hast travelled much, even more than the marabout himself, hast +thou not?" she inquired, graciously. "I have heard that thou hast been +to England. Are there many Arab villages there, and is it true that the +King was deposed when the Sultan, the head of our faith, lost his +throne?" + +"There are no Arab villages, and the King still reigns," said Victoria. +"But I think thou didst not send for me to ask these questions?" + +"Thou art right. Yet there is no harm in asking them. I sent for thee, +for three reasons. One is, that I wished to see thee, to know if indeed +thou wert as beautiful as I; another is, that I had a thing to give +thee, and before I tell thee my third reason, thou shalt have the gift." + +She fumbled in the tawny folds of the tiger-skin on which she lay, and +presently held out a bracelet, made of flexible squares of gold, like +scales, jewelled with different stones. + +"It is thy wedding present from me," she said. "I wish to give it, +because it is not long since I myself was married, and because we are +both young. Besides, Si Maieddine is a good friend of the marabout. I +have heard that he is brave and handsome, all that a young girl can most +desire in a husband." + +"I am not going to marry Si Maieddine," said Victoria. "I thank thee; +but thou must keep thy gift for his bride when he finds one." + +"He has found her in thee. The marriage will be a week from to-morrow, +if Allah wills, and he will take thee away to his home. The marabout +himself has told me this, though he does not know that I have sent for +thee, and that thou art with me now." + +"Allah does not will," said the girl. + +"Perhaps not, since thy bridegroom-to-be lies ill with marsh fever, so +Hadda has told me. He came back from Algiers with the sickness heavy +upon him, caught in the saltpetre marshes that stretch between Biskra +and Touggourt. I know those marshes, for I was in Biskra with my mother +when she danced there; but she was careful, and we did not lie at night +in the dangerous regions where the great mosquitoes are. Men are never +careful, though they do not like to be ill, and thy bridegroom is +fretting. But he will be better in a few days if he takes the draughts +which the marabout has blessed for him; and if the wedding is not in a +week, it will be a few days later. It is in Allah's hands." + +"I tell thee, it will be never," Victoria persisted. "And I believe thou +but sayest these things to torture me." + +"Dost thou not love Si Maieddine?" Miluda asked innocently. + +"Not at all." + +"Then it must be that thou lovest some other man. Dost thou, Roumia?" + +"Thou hast no right to ask such questions." + +"Be not angry, Roumia, for we are coming now to the great reason why I +sent for thee. It is to help thee. I wish to know whether there is a man +of thine own people thou preferest to Si Maieddine." + +"Why shouldst thou wish to help me? Thou hast never seen me till now." + +"I will speak the truth with thee," said Miluda, "because thy face +pleases me, though I prefer my own. Thine is pure and good, like the +face of the white angel that is ever at our right hand; and even if I +should speak falsely, I think thou wouldst not be deceived. Before I saw +thee, I did not care whether thou wert happy or sad. It was nothing to +me; but I saw a way of getting thee and thy sister out of my husband's +house, and for a long time I have wished thy sister gone. Not that I am +jealous of her. I have not seen her face, but I know she is already old, +and if she were not friendless in our land, the Sidi would have put her +away at the time of my marriage to him, since long ago he has ceased to +care whether she lives or dies. But his heart is great, and he has kept +her under his roof for kindness' sake, though she has given him no +child, and is no longer a wife to him. I alone fill his life." + +She paused, hoping perhaps that Victoria would answer; but the girl was +silent, biting her lip, her eyes cast down. So Miluda talked on, more +quietly. + +"There is a wise woman in the city, who brings me perfumes and silks +which have come to Oued Tolga by caravan from Tunis. She has told me +that thy sister has ill-wished me, and that I shall never have a boy--a +real child--while Lella Saida breathes the same air with me. That is the +reason I want her to be gone. I will not help thee to go, unless thou +takest her with thee." + +"I will never, never leave this place unless we go together," Victoria +answered, deeply interested and excited now. + +"That is well. And if she loves thee also, she would not go alone; so my +wish is to do what I can for both." + +"What canst thou do?" the girl asked. + +"I will tell thee. But first there is something to make clear. I was on +my roof to-day, when a young Roumi rode up to the Zaouia on the road +from Oued Tolga. He looked towards the roofs, and I wondered. From mine, +I cannot see much of thy sister's roof, but I watched, and I saw an arm +outstretched, to throw a packet. Then I said to myself that he had come +for thee. And later I was sure, because my women told me that while he +talked with the marabout, the door which leads to thy sister's roof was +nailed up hastily, by command of the master. Some order must have gone +from him, unknown to the Roumi, while the two men were together. I could +coax nothing of the story from the Sidi when he came to me, but he was +vexed, and his brows drew together over eyes which for the first time +did not seem to look at me with pleasure." + +"Thou hast guessed aright," Victoria admitted, thankful that Miluda's +suspicions concerned her affairs only, and not Saidee's. "The man who +came here was my friend. I care for him more than for any one in the +world, except my sister; and if I cannot marry him, I will die rather +than marry Si Maieddine or any other." + +"Then, unless I help thee, thou wilt have to die, for nothing which thou +alone, or thy sister can do, will open the gates for thee to go out, +except as Si Maieddine's wife." + +"Then help me," said Victoria, boldly, "and thou wilt be rid of us both +forever." + +"It is with our wits we must work, not with our hands," replied the +Ouled Nail. "The power of the marabout is great. He has many men to +serve him, and the gates are strong, while women are very, very weak. +Yet I have seen into the master's heart, and I can give thee a key which +will unlock the gates. Only it had better be done soon, for when Si +Maieddine is well, he will fight for thee; and if thou goest forth free, +he will follow, and take thee in the dunes." + +Victoria shivered, for the picture was vivid before her eyes, as Miluda +painted it. "Give me the key," she said in a low voice. + +"The key of the master's heart is his son," the other answered, in a +tone that kept down anger and humiliation. "Even me he would sacrifice +to his boy. I know it well, and I hate the child. I pray for one of my +own, for because the Sidi loves me, and did not love the boy's mother, +he would care ten thousand times more for a child of mine. The wise +woman says so, and I believe it. When thy sister is gone, I shall have a +boy, and nothing left to wish for on earth. Send a message to thy lover, +saying that the marabout's only son is at school in Oued Tolga, the +city. Tell him to steal the child and hide it, making a bargain with the +marabout that he shall have it safely back, if he will let thee and thy +sister go; otherwise he shall never see it again." + +"That would be a cruel thing to do, and my sister could not consent," +said Victoria, "even if we were able to send a message." + +"Hadda would send the message. A friend from the village is coming to +see her, and the master has no suspicion of me at present, as he has of +thee. We could send a letter, and Hadda would manage everything. But +there is not much time, for now while my husband is with Si Maieddine, +treating him for his fever, is our only chance, to-night. We have +perhaps an hour in which to decide and arrange everything. After that, +his coming may be announced to me. And no harm would happen to the +child. The master would suffer in his mind for a short time, till he +decided to make terms, that is all. As for me, have no fear of my +betraying thee. Thou needst but revenge thyself by letting the master +know how I plotted for the stealing of his boy, for him to put me out of +his heart and house forever. Then I should have to kill myself with a +knife, or with poison; and I am young and happy, and do not desire to +die yet. Go now, and tell thy sister what I have said. Let her answer +for thee, for she knows this land and the people of it, and she is wiser +than thou." + +Without another word or look at the beautiful pagan face, Victoria went +out of the room, and found Hadda waiting to hurry her away. + + + + +XLVI + + +It was after one o'clock when Stephen and Nevill bade each other good +night, after a stroll out of the town into the desert. They had built up +plans and torn them down again, and no satisfactory decision had been +reached, for both feared that, if they attempted to threaten the +marabout with their knowledge of his past, he would defy them to do +their worst. Without Saidee and Victoria, they could bring forward no +definite and visible proof that the great marabout, Sidi El Hadj +Mohammed Abd el Kadr, and the disgraced Captain Cassim ben Halim were +one. And the supreme difficulty was to produce Saidee and Victoria as +witnesses. It was not even certain, if the marabout were threatened and +thought himself in danger, that he might not cause the sisters to +disappear. That thought prevented the two men from coming easily to any +decision. Sabine had not told them that he knew Saidee, or that he had +actually heard of the girl's arrival in the Zaouia. He longed to tell +and join with them in their quest; but it would have seemed a disloyalty +to the woman he loved. It needed a still greater incentive to make him +speak out; while as for the Englishmen, though they would gladly have +taken his advice, they hesitated to give away the secret of Saidee Ray's +husband to a representative of Ben Halim's stern judge, France. + +Various plans for action had been discussed, yet Stephen and Nevill both +felt that all were subject to modification. Each had the hope that the +silent hours would bring inspiration, and so they parted at last. But +Stephen had not been in his room ten minutes when there came a gentle +tap at his door. He thought that it must be Nevill, returning to +announce the birth of a new idea; but in the dark corridor stood a +shadowy Arab, he who did most of the work in the hotel outside the +kitchen. + +"A person has come with a letter for Monsieur," the man mumbled in bad +French, his voice so sleepy as to be almost inarticulate. "He would not +give it to me, the foolish one. He insists on putting it into the hand +of Monsieur. No doubt it is a pourboire he wants. He has followed me to +the head of the stairs, and he has no French." + +"Where does he come from?" asked Stephen. + +"He will not say. But he is a Negro whom I have never seen in the city." + +"Call him," Stephen said. And in a moment a thin young Negro, dusted all +over with sand, came into the square of light made by the open door. His +legs were bare, and over his body he appeared to have no other garment +but a ragged, striped gandourah. In a purple-black hand he held a folded +piece of paper, and Stephen's heart jumped at sight of his own name +written in a clear handwriting. It was not unlike Victoria's but it was +not hers. + +"The man says he cannot take a letter back," explained the Arab servant. +"But if Monsieur will choose a word to answer, he will repeat it over +and over until he has it by heart. Then he will pass it on in the same +way." + +Stephen was reading his letter and scarcely heard. It was Victoria's +sister who wrote. She signed herself at the bottom of the bit of +paper--a leaf torn from a copy book--"Saidee Ray," as though she had +never been married. She had evidently written in great haste, but the +thing she proposed was clearly set forth, as if in desperation. Victoria +did not approve, she said, and hoped some other plan might be found; but +in Saidee's opinion there was no other plan which offered any real +chance of success. In their situation, they could not afford to stick at +trifles, and neither could Mr. Knight, if he wished to save Victoria +from being married against her will to an Arab. There was no time to +lose if anything were to be done; and if Mr. Knight were willing to take +the way suggested, would he say the word "yes," very distinctly, to the +messenger, as it would not be safe to try and smuggle a letter into the +Zaouia. + +It was a strange, even a detestable plot, which Saidee suggested; yet +when Stephen had turned it over in his mind for a moment he said the +word "yes" with the utmost distinctness. The sand-covered Negro imitated +him several times, and having achieved success, was given more money +than he had ever seen in his life. He would not tell the Arab, who +escorted him downstairs again, whence he had come, but it was a long +distance and he had walked. He must return on foot, and if he were to be +back by early morning, he ought to get off at once. Stephen made no +effort to keep him, though he would have liked Saidee's messenger to be +seen by Caird. + +Nevill had not begun to undress, when Stephen knocked at his door. He +was about to begin one of his occasional letters to Josette, with his +writing materials arranged abjectly round one tallow candle, on a +washhand stand. + +"That beast of a Cassim! He's going to try and marry the poor child off +to his friend Maieddine!" Nevill growled, reading the letter. "Stick at +trifles indeed! I should think not. This is Providential--just when we +couldn't quite make up our minds what to do next." + +"You're not complimentary to Providence," said Stephen. "Seems to me a +horrid sort of thing to do, though I'm not prepared to say I won't do +it. _She_ doesn't approve, her sister says, you see----" + +"Who knows the man better, his wife or the girl?" + +"That goes without saying. Well, I'm swallowing my scruples as fast as I +can get them down, though they're a lump in my throat. However, we +wouldn't hurt the little chap, and if the father adores him, as she +says, we'd have Ben Halim pretty well under our thumbs, to squeeze him +as we chose. Knowing his secret as we do, he wouldn't dare apply to the +French for help, for fear we'd give him away. We must make it clear that +we well know who he is, and that if he squeals, the fat's in the fire!" + +"That's the right spirit. We'll make him shake in his boots for fear we +give not only the secret, but the boy, over to the tender mercies of the +authorities. For it's perfectly true that if the Government knew what a +trick had been played on them, they'd oust the false marabout in favour +of the rightful man, whoever he may be, clap the usurper into prison, +and make the child a kind of--er--ward in chancery, or whatever the +equivalent is in France. Oh, I can tell you, my boy, this idea is the +inspiration of a genius! The man will see we're making no idle threat, +that we can't carry out. He'll have to hand over the ladies, or he'll +spend some of his best years in prison, and never see his beloved boy +again." + +"First we've got to catch our hare. But there Sabine could help us, if +we called him in." + +"Yes. And we couldn't do better than have him with us, I think, Legs, +now we've come to this turn in the road." + +"I agree so far. Still, let's keep Ben Halim's secret to ourselves. We +must have it to play with. I believe Sabine's a man to trust; but he's a +French officer; and a plot of that sort he might feel it his duty to +make known." + +"All right. We'll keep back that part of the business. It isn't +necessary to give it away. But otherwise Sabine's the man for us. He's a +romantic sort of chap, not unlike me in that; it's what appealed to me +in him the minute we began to draw each other out. He'll snap at an +adventure to help a pretty girl even though he's never seen her; and he +knows the marabout's boy and the guardian-uncle. He was talking to me +about them this afternoon. Let's go and rout him out. I bet he'll have a +plan to propose." + +"Rather cheek, to rouse him up in the middle of the night. We might +wait till morning, since I don't see that we can do anything useful +before." + +"He only got in from seeing some friend in barracks, about one. He +doesn't look like a sleepy-head. Besides, if I'm not mistaken, I smell +his cigarettes. He's probably lying on his bed, reading a novel." + +But Sabine was reading something to him far more interesting than any +novel written by the greatest genius of all ages; a collection of +Saidee's letters, which he invariably read through, from first to last, +every night before even trying to sleep. + +The chance to be in the game of rescue was new life to him. He grudged +Saidee's handwriting to another man, even though he felt that, somehow, +she had hoped that he would see it, and that he would work with the +others. He laughed at the idea that the adventure would be more +dangerous for him as a French officer, if anything leaked out, than for +two travelling Englishmen. + +"I would give my soul to be in this!" he exclaimed, before he knew what +he was saying, or what meaning might be read into his words. But both +faces spoke surprise. He was abashed, yet eager. The impulse of his +excitement led him on, and he began stammering out the story he had not +meant to tell. + +"I can't say the things you ought to know, without the things that no +one ought to know," he explained in his halting English, plunging back +now and then inadvertently into fluent French. "It is wrong not to +confess that all the time I know that young lady is there--in the +Zaouia. But there is a reason I feel it not right to confess. Now it +will be different because of this letter that has come. You must hear +all and you can judge me." + +So the story was poured out: the romance of that wonderful day when, +while he worked at the desert well in the hot sun, a lady went by, with +her servants, to the Moorish baths. How her veil had fallen aside, and +he had seen her face--oh, but the face of a houri, an angel. Yet so +sad--tragedy in the beautiful eyes. In all his life he had not seen such +beauty or felt his heart so stirred. Through an attendant at the baths +he had found out that the lovely lady was the wife of the marabout, a +Roumia, said not to be happy. From that moment he would have sacrificed +his hopes of heaven to set her free. He had written--he had laid his +life at her feet. She had answered. He had written again. Then the +sister had arrived. He had been told in a letter of her coming. At first +he had thought it impossible to confide a secret concerning +another--that other a woman--even to her sister's friends. But now there +was no other way. They must all work together. Some day he hoped that +the dear prisoner would be free to give herself to him as his wife. Till +then, she was sacred, even in his thoughts. Even her sister could find +no fault with his love. And would the new friends shake his hand wishing +him joy in future. + +So all three shook hands with great heartiness; and perhaps Sabine would +have become still more expansive had he not been brought up to credit +Englishmen stolid fellows at best with a favourite motto: "Deeds, not +words." + +As Sabine told his story, Stephen's brain had been busily weaving. He +did not like the thing they had to do, but if it must be done, the only +hope lay in doing it well and thoroughly. Sabine's acquaintance with the +boy and his guardian would be a great help. + +"I've been thinking how we can best carry out this business," he said, +when the pact of friendship had been sealed by clasp of hands. "We can't +afford to have any row or scandal. It must somehow be managed without +noise, for the sake of--the ladies, most of all, and next, for the sake +of Captain Sabine. As a Frenchman and an officer, it would certainly be +a lot worse for him than for us, if we landed him in any mess with the +authorities." + +"I care nothing for myself." Sabine broke in, hotly. + +"All the more reason for us to keep our heads cool if we can, and look +after you. We must get the boy to go away of his own accord." + +"That is more easy to propose than to do," said Sabine, with a shrug of +the shoulders. + +"Well, an idea has come into my head. There may be something in it--if +you can help us work it. We couldn't do it without you. Do you know the +child and his uncle so well that it wouldn't seem queer to invite them +to the hotel for a meal--say luncheon to-morrow, or rather to-day--for +it's morning now?" + +"Yes, I could do that. And they would come. It would be an amusement for +them. Life is dull here," Sabine eagerly replied. + +"Good. Does the child speak French?" + +"A little. He is learning in the school." + +"That's lucky, for I don't know a dozen words of Arab, and even my +friend Caird can't be eloquent in it. Wings, do you think you could work +up the boy to a wild desire for a tour in a motor-car?" + +"I would bet on myself to do that. I could make him a motor fiend, +between the _hors d'oeuvres_ and fruit." + +"Our great stumbling block, then, is the uncle. I suppose he's a sort of +watch-dog, who couldn't be persuaded to leave the boy alone a minute?" + +"I am not sure of that," said Sabine. "It is true he is a watch-dog; but +I could throw him a bone I think would tempt him to desert his post--if +he had no suspicion of a trap. What you want, I begin to see, is to get +him out of the way, so that Monsieur Caird could induce the little +Mohammed to go away willingly?" + +"Yes." + +"_Eh bien!_ It is as good as done. I see the way. Hassan ben Saad, the +respectable uncle, has a secret weakness which I have found out. He has +lost his head for the prettiest and youngest dancer in the quarter of +the Ouled Nails. She is a great favourite, Nedjma, and she will not +look at him. He is too old and dry. Besides, he has no money except what +the marabout gives him as guardian to the boy at school. Hassan sends +Nedjma such presents as he can afford, and she laughs at them with the +other girls, though she keeps them, of course. To please me, she will +write a letter to Ben Saad, telling him that if he comes to her at once, +without waiting a moment, he may find her heart soft for him. This +letter shall be brought to our table, at the hotel, while Hassan +finishes his _dejeuner_ with us. He will make a thousand apologies and +tell a thousand lies, saying it is a call of business. Probably he will +pretend that it concerns the marabout, of whom he boasts always as his +relative. Then he will go, in a great hurry, leaving the child, because +we will kindly invite him to do so; and he will promise to return soon +for his nephew. But Nedjma will be so sweet that he will not return +soon. He will be a long time away--hours. He will forget the boy, and +everything but his hope that at last Nedjma will love him. Does that +plan of mine fit in with yours, Monsieur?" + +"Perfectly," said Knight. "What do you think, Wings?" + +"As you do. You're both geniuses. And I'll try to keep my end up by +fascinating the child. He shall be mine, body and soul, by the end of +lunch. When he finds that we're leaving Oued Tolga, instantly, and that +he must be sent ignominiously home, he shall be ready to howl with +grief. Then I'll ask him suddenly, how he'd like to go on a little trip, +just far enough to meet my motor-car, and have a ride in it. He'll say +yes, like a shot, if he's a normal boy. And if the uncle's away, it will +be nobody's business even if they see the marabout's son having a ride +behind me on my horse, as he might with his own father. Trust me to lure +the imp on with us afterward, step by step, in a dream of happiness. I +was always a born lurer--except when I wanted a thing or person for +myself." + +"You say, lure him on with 'us'" Stephen cut in. "But it will have to +be you alone. I must stay at this end of the line, and when the time +comes, give the marabout our ultimatum. The delay will be almost +intolerable, but of course the only thing is to lie low until you're so +far on the way to Touggourt with the child, that a rescue scheme would +be no good. Touggourt's a bit on the outskirts of the marabout's zone of +influence, let's hope. Besides, he wouldn't dare attack you there, in +the shadow of the French barracks. It's his business to help keep peace +in the desert, and knowing what we know of his past, I think with the +child out of his reach he'll be pretty well at our mercy." + +"When Hassan ben Saad finds the boy gone, he will be very sick," said +Sabine. "But I shall be polite and sympathetic, and will give him good +advice. He is in deadly awe of the marabout, and I will say that, if the +child's father hears what has happened, there will be no +forgiveness--nothing but ruin. Waiting is the game to play, I will +counsel Hassan. I shall remind him that, being Friday, no questions will +be asked at school till Monday, and I shall raise his hopes that little +Mohammed will be back soon after that, if not before. At worst, I will +say, he can pretend the child is shut up in the house with a cough. I +shall assure him that Monsieur Caird is a man of honour and great +riches; that no harm can come to little Mohammed in his care. I will +explain how the boy pleaded to go, and make Hassan happy with the +expectation that in a few days Monsieur Caird is coming back to fetch +his friend; that certainly Mohammed will be with him, safe and sound; +and that, if he would not lose his position, he must say nothing of what +has happened to any one who might tell the marabout." + +"Do you think you can persuade him to keep a still tongue in his head +till it suits us to have him speak, or write a letter for me to take?" +asked Stephen. + +"I am sure of it. Hassan is a coward, and you have but to look him in +the face to see he has no self-reliance. He must lean on some one else. +He shall lean on me. And Nedjma shall console him, so that time will +pass, and he shall hardly know how it is going. He will speak when we +want him to speak or write, not before." + +The three men talked on in Stephen's room till dawn, deciding details +which cropped up for instant settlement. At last it was arranged--taking +the success of their plan for granted--that Stephen should wait a day +and a half after the departure of Nevill's little caravan. By that time, +it should have got half-way to Touggourt; but there was one bordj where +it would come in touch with the telegraph. Stephen would then start for +the Zaouia, for an interview with the marabout, who, no doubt, was +already wondering why he did not follow up his first attempt by a +second. He would hire or buy in the city a racing camel fitted with a +bassour large enough for two, and this he would take with him to the +Zaouia, ready to bring away both sisters. No allusion to Saidee would be +made in words. The "ultimatum" would concern Victoria only, as the elder +sister was wife to the marabout, and no outsider could assume to have +jurisdiction over her. But as it was certain that Victoria would not +stir without Saidee, a demand for one was equivalent to a demand for the +other. + +This part of the plan was to be subject to modification, in case Stephen +saw Victoria, and she proposed any course of action concerning her +sister. As for Sabine, having helped to make the plot he was to hold +himself ready at Oued Tolga, the city, for Stephen's return from the +Zaouia. And the rest was on the knees of the gods. + + + + +XLVII + + +For the second time Stephen entered by the great gates of the Zaouia. +The lounging Negro, who had let him in before, stared at the grey mehari +with the red-curtained bassour, whose imposing height dwarfed the +Roumi's horse. No doubt the man wondered why it was there, since only +women or invalids travelled in a bassour;--and his eyes dwelt with +interest on the two Arabs from the town of Oued Tolga. Perhaps he +thought that they would satisfy his curiosity, when the visitor had gone +inside. But Stephen thought differently. The Arabs would tell nothing, +because they knew nothing which could explain the mystery. + +The Negro had no French, and either did not understand or pretended not +to understand the Roumi's request to see the marabout. This looked +ominous, because Stephen had been let in without difficulty the first +time; and the Negro seemed intelligent enough to be stupid in accordance +with instructions. Great insistance, however, and the production of +documents (ordinary letters, but effective to impress the uneducated +intelligence) persuaded the big gate-keeper to send for an interpreter. + +Stephen waited with outward patience, though a loud voice seemed crying +in his ears, "What will happen next? What will the end be--success, or a +sudden fluke that will mean failure?" He barred his mind against +misgivings, but he had hoped for some sign of life when he rode in sight +of the white roofs; and there had been no sign. + +For many minutes he waited; and then came an old man who had showed him +to the marabout's reception room on his first visit. Stephen was glad +to see this person, because he could speak a little French, and because +he had a mild air, as if he might easily be browbeaten. + +"I must see Sidi Mohammed on important business," Stephen said. + +The old man was greatly grieved, but Sidi Mohammed was indisposed and +not able to speak with any one. Would Monsieur care to visit the mosque +again, and would he drink coffee? + +So this was the game! Stephen was not surprised. His face flushed and +his jaw squared. He would not drink coffee, and he would not give +himself the pleasure of seeing the mosque; but would trouble the +interpreter with a message to the marabout; and would await an answer. +Then Stephen wrote on one of his visiting cards, in English. "I have +important news of your son, which you would regret not hearing. And it +can be told to no one but yourself." + +In less than ten minutes the messenger came back. The marabout, though +not well, would receive Monsieur. Stephen was led through the remembered +labyrinth of covered passages, dim and cool, though outside the desert +sand flamed under the afternoon sun; and as he walked he was aware of +softly padding footsteps behind him. Once, he turned his head quickly, +and saw that he was followed by a group of three tall Negroes. They +looked away when they met his eyes, as if they were on his heels by +accident; but he guessed that they had been told to watch him, and took +the caution as a compliment. Yet he realized that he ran some risk in +coming to this place on such an errand as his. Already the marabout +looked upon him as an enemy, no doubt; and it was not impossible that +news of the boy's disappearance had by this time reached the Zaouia, in +spite of his guardian's selfish cowardice. If so, and if the father +connected the kidnapping of his son with to-day's visitor, he might let +his desire for revenge overcome prudence. To prove his power by +murdering an Englishman, his guest, would do the desert potentate more +harm than good in the end; yet men of mighty passions do not always stop +to think of consequences, and Stephen was not blind to his own danger. +If the marabout lost his temper, not a man in the Zaouia but would be +ready to obey a word or gesture, and short work might be made of +Victoria Ray's only champion. However, Stephen counted a good deal on +Ben Halim's caution, and on the fact that his presence in the Zaouia was +known outside. He meant to acquaint his host with that fact as a preface +to their conversation. + +"The marabout will come presently," the mild interpreter announced, when +he had brought Stephen once more to the reception room adjoining the +mosque. So saying, he bowed himself away, and shut the door; but Stephen +opened it almost instantly, to look out. It was as he expected. The tall +Negroes stood lazily on guard. They scarcely showed surprise at being +caught, yet their fixed stare was somewhat strained. + +"I wonder if there's to be a signal?" thought Stephen. + +It was very still in the reception-room of Sidi Mohammed. The young man +sat down opposite the door of that inner room from which the marabout +had come to greet him the other day, but he did not turn his back fully +upon the door behind which were the watchers. Minutes passed on. Nothing +happened, and there was no sound. Stephen grew impatient. He knew, from +what he had heard of the great Zaouia, that manifold and strenuous lives +were being lived all around him in this enormous hive, which was +university, hospice, mosque, and walled village in one. Yet there was no +hum of men talking, of women chatting over their work, or children +laughing at play. The silence was so profound that it was emphasized to +his ears by the droning of a fly in one of the high, iron-barred +windows; and in spite of himself he started when it was suddenly and +ferociously broken by a melancholy roar like the thunderous yawn of a +bored lion. But still the marabout did not appear. Evidently he intended +to show the persistent Roumi that he was not to be intimidated or +browbeaten, or else he did not really mean to come at all. + +The thought that perhaps, while he waited, he had been quietly made a +prisoner, brought Stephen to his feet. He was on the point of trying the +inner door, when it opened, and the masked marabout stood looking at +him, with keen eyes which the black veil seemed to darken and make +sinister. + +Without speaking, the Arab closed, but did not latch, the door behind +him; and standing still he spoke in the deep voice that was slightly +muffled by the thin band of woollen stuff over the lower part of his +face. + +"Thou hast sent me an urgent summons to hear tidings of my son," he said +in his correct, measured French. "What canst thou know, which I do not +know already?" + +"I began to think you were not very desirous to hear my news," replied +Stephen, "as I have been compelled to wait so long that my friends in +Oued Tolga will be wondering what detains me in the Zaouia, or whether +any accident has befallen me." + +"As thou wert doubtless informed, I am not well, and was not prepared to +receive guests. I have made an exception in thy favour, because of the +message thou sent. Pray, do not keep me in suspense, if harm has come to +my son." Sidi Mohammed did not invite his guest to sit down. + +"No harm has come to the boy," Stephen reassured him. "He is in good +hands." + +"In charge of his uncle, whom I have appointed his guardian," the +marabout broke in. + +"He doesn't know anything yet," Stephen said to himself, quickly. Then, +aloud: "At present, he is not in charge of his uncle, but is with a +friend of mine. He will be sent back safe and well to Oued Tolga, when +you have discovered the whereabouts of Miss Ray--the young lady of whom +you knew nothing the other day--and when you have produced her. I know +now, with absolute certainty, that she is here in the Zaouia. When she +leaves it, with me and the escort I have brought, to join her friends, +you will see your son again, but not before; and never unless Miss Ray +is given up." + +The marabout's dark hands clenched themselves, and he took a step +forward, but stopped and stood still, tall and rigid, within +arm's-length of the Englishman. + +"Thou darest to come here and threaten me!" he said. "Thou art a fool. +If thou and thy friends have stolen my child, all will be punished, not +by me, but by the power which is set above me to rule this +land--France." + +"We have no fear of such punishment, or any other," Stephen answered. +"We have 'dared' to take the boy; and I have dared, as you say, to come +here and threaten, but not idly. We have not only your son, but your +secret, in our possession; and if Miss Ray is not allowed to go, or if +anything happens to me, you will never see your boy again, because +France herself will come between you and him. You will be sent to prison +as a fraudulent pretender, and the boy will become a ward of the nation. +He will no longer have a father." + +The dark eyes blazed above the mask, though still the marabout did not +move. "Thou art a liar and a madman," he said. "I do not understand thy +ravings, for they have no meaning." + +"They will have a fatal meaning for Cassim ben Halim if they reach the +ears of the French authorities, who believe him dead," said Stephen, +quietly. "Ben Halim was only a disgraced officer, not a criminal, until +he conspired against the Government, and stole a great position which +belonged to another man. Since then, prison doors are open for him if +his plottings are found out." + +Unwittingly Stephen chose words which were as daggers in the breast of +the Arab. Although made without knowledge of the secret work to which +the marabout had vowed himself and all that was his, the young man's +threat sounded like a hint so terrible in its meaning that Ben Halim's +heart turned suddenly to water. He saw himself exposed, defeated, hand +and foot in the enemy's power. How this Roumi had wormed out the hidden +truth he could not conceive; but he realized on the instant that the +situation was desperate, and his brain seemed to him to become a +delicate and intricate piece of mechanism, moving with oiled wheels. All +the genius of a great soldier and a great diplomat were needed at one +and the same time, and if he could not call such inspiration to his aid +he was lost. He had been tempted for one volcanic second to stab Stephen +with the dagger which he always carried under his burnous and +embroidered vest, but a lightning-flash of reason bade him hold his +hand. There were other ways--there must be other ways. Fortunately +Maieddine had not been told of the Roumi's presence in the Zaouia, and +need not learn anything concerning him or his proposals until the time +came when a friend could be of use and not a hindrance. Even in this +moment, when he saw before his eyes a fiery picture of ruin, Ben Halim +realized that Maieddine's passion for Victoria Ray might be utilized by +and by, for the second time. + +Not once did the dark eyes falter or turn from the enemy's, and Stephen +could not help admiring the Arab's splendid self-control. It was +impossible to feel contempt for Ben Halim, even for Ben Halim trapped. +Stephen had talked with an air of cool indifference, his hands in his +pockets, but in one pocket was a revolver, and he kept his fingers on it +as the marabout stood facing him silently after the ultimatum. + +"I have listened to the end," the Arab said at last, "because I wished +to hear what strange folly thou hadst got in thy brain. But now, when +thou hast finished apparently, I cannot make head or tail of thy +accusations. Of a man named Cassim ben Halim I may have heard, but he is +dead. Thou canst hardly believe in truth that he and I are one; but even +if thou dost believe it, I care little, for if thou wert unwise enough +to go with such a story to my masters and friends the French, they +could bring a hundred proofs that thy tale was false, and they would +laugh thee to scorn. I have no fear of anything thou canst do against +me; but if it is true that thou and thy friend have stolen my son, +rather than harm should come to him who is my all on earth, I may be +weak enough to treat with thee." + +"I have brought proof that the boy is gone," returned Stephen. For the +moment, he tacitly accepted the attitude which the marabout chose to +take up. "Let the fellow save his face by pretending to yield entirely +for the boy's sake," he said to himself. "What can it matter so long as +he does yield?" + +In the pocket with the revolver was a letter which Sabine had induced +Hassan ben Saad to write, and now Stephen produced it. The writing was +in Arabic, of course; but Sabine, who knew the language well, had +translated every word for him before he started from Oued Tolga. Stephen +knew, therefore, that the boy's uncle, without confessing how he had +strayed from duty, admitted that, "by an incredible misfortune," the +young Mohammed had been enticed away from him. He feared, Hassan ben +Saad added, to make a disturbance, as an influential friend--Captain +Sabine--advised him to inform the marabout of what had happened before +taking public action which the child's father might disapprove. + +The Arab frowned as he read on, not wholly because of his anger with the +boy's guardian, though that burned in his heart, hot as a new-kindled +fire, and could be extinguished only by revenge. + +"This Captain Sabine," he said slowly, "I know slightly. He called upon +me at a time when he made a well in the neighbourhood. Was it he who put +into thine head these ridiculous notions concerning a dead man? I warn +thee to answer truly if thou wouldst gain anything from me." + +"My countrymen don't, as a rule, transact business by telling +diplomatic lies," said Stephen smiling, as he felt that he could now +afford to smile. "Captain Sabine did not put the notion into my head." + +"Hast thou spoken of it to him?" + +Stephen shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I do not see that I'm called +upon to answer that question. All I will say is, you need have no fear +of Captain Sabine or of any one else, once Miss Ray is safely out of +this place." + +The marabout turned this answer over quickly in his mind. He knew that, +if Sabine or any Frenchman suspected his identity and his plans for the +future, he was irretrievably lost. No private consideration would induce +a French officer to spare him, if aware that he hoped eventually to +overthrow the rule of France in North Africa. This being the case (and +believing that Knight had learned of the plot), he reflected that Sabine +could not have been taken into the secret, otherwise the Englishman dare +not make promises. He saw too, that it would have been impolitic for +Knight to take Sabine into his confidence. A Frenchman in the secret +would have ruined this _coup d'etat_; and, beginning to respect Stephen +as an enemy, he decided that he was too clever to be in real partnership +with the officer. Ben Halim's growing conviction was that his wife, +Saidee, had told Victoria all she knew and all she suspected, and that +the girl had somehow contrived to smuggle a letter out of the Zaouia to +her English lover. + +The distrust and dislike he had long felt for Saidee suddenly burst into +a flame of hatred. He longed to crush under his foot the face he had +once loved, to grind out its beauty with a spurred heel. And he hated +the girl, too, though he could not punish her as he could punish Saidee, +for he must have Maieddine's help presently, and Maieddine would insist +that she should be protected, whatever might happen to others. But he +was beginning to see light ahead, if he might take it for granted that +his secret was suspected by no more than four persons--Saidee, +Victoria, and the two Englishmen who were acting for the girl. + +"I see by this letter from my brother-in-law that it is even as thou +sayest; thou and thy friend together have committed the cruel wrong of +which thou boastest," Ben Halim said at last. "A father robbed of his +one son is as a stag pinned to earth with a spear through his heart. He +is in the hands of the hunter, his courage ebbing with his life-blood. +Had this thing been done when thou wert here before, I should have been +powerless to pay the tribute, for the lady over whom thou claimst a +right was not within my gates. Now, I admit, she has come. If she wish +to go with thee, she is free to do so. But I will send with her men of +my own, to travel by her side, and refuse to surrender her until my +child is given into their hands." + +"That is easy to arrange," Stephen agreed. "I will telegraph to my +friend, who is by this time--as you can see by your letter--two days' +journey away or more. He will return with your son, and an escort, but +only a certain distance. I will meet him at some place appointed, and we +will hand the boy over to your men." + +"It will be better that the exchange should be made here," said the +marabout. + +"I can see why it might be so from your point of view, but that view is +not ours. You have too much power here, and frankly, I don't trust you. +You'll admit that I'd be a fool if I did! The meeting must be at some +distance from your Zaouia." + +The marabout raised his eyebrows superciliously. They said--"So thou art +afraid!" But Stephen was not to be taunted into an imprudence where +Victoria's safety was at stake. + +"Those are our terms," he repeated. + +"Very well, I accept," said the Arab. "Thou mayest send a message to the +lady, inviting her to leave my house with thee; and I assure thee, that +in any case I would have no wish to keep her, other than the desire of +hospitality. Thou canst take her at once, if she will go; and passing +through the city, with her and my men, thou canst send thy telegram. +Appoint as a meeting place the Bordj of Toudja, one day's march from the +town of Oued Tolga. When my men have the child in their keeping, thou +wilt be free to go in peace with the girl and thy friend." + +"I should be glad if thou wouldst send for her, and let me talk with her +here," Stephen suggested. + +"No, that cannot be," the marabout answered decidedly. "When she is out +of my house, I wash my hands of her; but while she is under my roof it +would be shameful that she should speak, even in my presence, with a +strange man." + +Stephen was ready to concede a point, if he could get his wish in +another way. "Give me paper, then, and I will write to the lady," he +said. "There will be an answer, and it must be brought to me quickly, +for already I have stopped longer than I expected, and Captain Sabine, +who knows I have come to call upon you and fetch a friend, may be +anxious." + +He spoke his last words with a certain emphasis, knowing that Ben Halim +would understand the scarcely veiled threat. + +The marabout went into the next room, and got some French writing paper. +Stephen wrote a hasty note, begging Victoria to leave the Zaouia under +his care. He would take her, he said, to Lady MacGregor, who had come to +Touggourt on purpose to be at hand if wanted. He wrote in English, but +because he was sure that Ben Halim knew the language, he said nothing to +Victoria about her sister. Only he mentioned, as if carelessly, that he +had brought a good camel with a comfortable bassour large enough for +two. + +When the letter was in an envelope, addressed to Miss Ray, the marabout +took it from Stephen and handed it to somebody outside the door, no +doubt one of the three watchers. There were mumbled instructions in +Arabic, and ten minutes later an answer came back. Stephen could have +shouted for joy at sight of Victoria's handwriting. There were only a +few lines, in pencil, but he knew that he would keep them always, with +her first letter. + +"Oh, how glad I am that you're here!" she wrote. "By and by I hope to +thank you--but of course I can't come without my sister. She is +wretched, and wants to leave the man who seems to her no longer a +husband, but she thinks he will not want to let her go. Tell him that it +must be both of us, or neither. Or if you feel it would be better, give +him this to read, and ask him to send an answer." + +Stephen guessed why the girl had written in French. She had fancied that +the marabout would not choose to admit his knowledge of English, and he +admired the quickness of her wit in a sudden emergency. + +As he handed the letter to the Arab, Stephen would have given a great +deal to see the face under the black mask. He could read nothing of the +man's mind through the downcast eyelids, with their long black fringe of +close-set lashes. And he knew that Ben Halim must have finished the +short letter at least sixty seconds before he chose to look up from the +paper. + +"It is best," the marabout said slowly, "that the two sisters go +together. A man of Islam has the right to repudiate a woman who gives +him no children, but I have been merciful. Now an opportunity has come +to rid myself of a burden, without turning adrift one who is helpless +and friendless. For my son's sake I have granted thy request; for my own +sake I grant the girl's request: but both, only on one condition--that +thou swearest in the name of thy God, and upon the head of thy father, +never to breathe with thy lips, or put with thy hand upon paper, the +malicious story about me, at which thou hast to-day hinted; that thou +enforce upon the two sisters the same silence, which, before going, they +must promise me to guard for ever. Though there is no foundation for the +wicked fabrication, and no persons of intelligence who know me would +believe it, even if I had no proof, still for a man who holds a place of +spiritual eminence, evil gossip is a disgrace." + +"I promise for myself, for my friend, and for both the ladies, silence +on that subject, so long as we may live. I swear before my God, and on +the head of my dead father, that I will keep my word, if you keep yours +to me," said Stephen, who knew only half the secret. Yet he was +astonished at gaining his point so easily. He had expected more trouble. +Nevertheless, he did not see how the marabout could manage to play him +false, if he wanted to get his boy and hide the truth about himself. + +"I am content," said the Arab. "And thou shouldst be content, since thou +hast driven a successful bargain, and it is as if the contract between +us were signed in my heart's blood. Now, I will leave thee. When the +ladies are ready, thou shalt be called by one of the men who will be of +their escort. It is not necessary that thou and I meet again, since we +have, I hope, finished our business together, once and for ever." + + * * * * * * * + +"Why is it that he lets me go, without even trying to make me swear +never to tell what I know?" Saidee asked Victoria, while all in haste +and in confusion they put together a few things for the long journey. +Saidee packed the little volumes of her diary, with trembling fingers, +and looked a frightened question at her sister. + +"I'm thankful that he doesn't ask us," Victoria answered, "for we +couldn't promise not to tell, unless he would vow never to do the +dreadful things you say he plans--lead a great rising, and massacre the +French. Even to escape, one couldn't make a promise which might cost +thousands of lives." + +"We could perhaps evade a promise, yet seem to do what he asked," said +Saidee, who had learned subtle ways in a school of subtlety. "I'm +terrified that he _doesn't_ ask. Why isn't he afraid to let us go, +without any assurances?" + +"He knows that because you've been his wife, we wouldn't betray him +unless we were forced to, in order to prevent massacres," Victoria tried +to reassure her sister. "And perhaps for the sake of getting his boy +back, he's willing to renounce all his horrible plans." + +"Perhaps--since he worships the child," Saidee half agreed. "Yet--it +doesn't seem like Cassim to be so easily cowed, and to give up the whole +ambition of his life, with scarcely a struggle, even for his child." + +"You said, when you told me how you had written to Mr. Knight, that +Cassim would be forced to yield, if they took the boy, and so the end +would justify the means." + +"Yes. It was a great card to play. But--but I expected him to make me +take a solemn oath never to tell what I know." + +"Don't let's think of it," said Victoria. "Let's just be thankful that +we're going, and get ready as quickly as we can, lest he should change +his mind at the last moment." + +"Or lest Maieddine should find out," Saidee added. "But, if Cassim +really means us to go, he won't let Maieddine find out. He will thank +Allah and the Prophet for sending the fever that keeps Maieddine in his +bedroom." + +"Poor Maieddine!" Victoria half whispered. In her heart lurked kindness +for the man who had so desperately loved her, even though love had +driven him to the verge of treachery. "I hope he'll forget all about me +and be happy," she said. And then, because she was happy herself, and +the future seemed bright, she forgot Maieddine, and thought only of +another. + + + + +XLVIII + + +"That must be the bordj of Toudja, at last," Victoria said, looking out +between the curtains of her bassour. "Aren't you thankful, Saidee? +You'll feel happier and freer, when Cassim's men have gone back to the +Zaouia, and our ransom has been paid by the return of the little boy. +That volume of your life will be closed for ever and ever, and you can +begin the next." + +Saidee was silent. She did not want to think that the volume was closed +for ever, because in it there was one chapter which, unless it could be +added to the new volume, would leave the rest of the book without +interest for her. Half involuntarily she touched the basket which Honore +Sabine had given her when they parted in the desert city of Oued Tolga +early that morning. In the basket were two carrier pigeons. She had +promised to send one from the Bordj of Toudja, and another at the end of +the next day's journey. After that she would be within reach of the +telegraph. Her reason told her it was well that Sabine was not with her +now, yet she wished for him, and could not be glad of his absence. +Perhaps she would never see him again. Who could tell? It would have +been unwise for Sabine, as an officer and as a man, to leave his duty to +travel with her: she could see that, yet she was secretly angry with +Victoria, because Victoria, happy herself, seemed to have little +sympathy with her sister's hopes. The girl did not like to talk about +Sabine, or discuss any connection he might possibly have with Saidee's +future; and because Victoria was silent on that subject, Saidee revenged +herself by being reticent on others. Victoria guessed the reason, and +her heart yearned over Saidee; but this was something of which they +could not talk. Some day, perhaps, Saidee would understand, and they +would be drawn together again more closely than before. + +"There's Toudja," Stephen said, as the girl looked out again from the +bassour. Whenever he saw her face, framed thus by the dark red curtains, +his heart beat, as if her beauty were new to him, seen that instant for +the first time. This was the flood-tide of his life, now when they +travelled through the desert together, he and she, and she depended upon +his help and protection. For to-day, and the few more days until the +desert journey should come to an end at Biskra, the tide would be at +flood: then it would ebb, never to rise again, because at Algiers they +must part, she to go her way, he to go his; and his way would lead him +to Margot Lorenzi. After Algiers there would be no more happiness for +him, and he did not hope for it; but, right or wrong, he was living +passionately in every moment now. + +Victoria smiled down from the high bassour at the dark, sunburnt face of +the rider. How different it was from the dark face of another rider who +had looked up at her, between her curtains, when she had passed that way +before! There was only one point of resemblance between the two: the +light of love in the eyes. Victoria could not help recognizing that +likeness. She could not help being sure that Stephen loved her, and the +thought made her feel safe, as well as happy. There had been a sense of +danger in the knowledge of Maieddine's love. + +"The tower in the bordj is ruined," she said, looking across the waving +sea of dunes to a tall black object like the crooked finger of a giant +pointing up out of the gold into the blue. "It wasn't so when I passed +before." + +"No," Stephen answered, welcoming any excuse for talk with her. "But it +was when we came from Touggourt. Sabine told me there'd been a +tremendous storm in the south just before we left Algiers, and the +heliograph tower at Toudja was struck by lightning. They'll build it up +again soon, for all these heliograph stations are supposed to be kept +in order, in case of any revolt; for the first thing a rebellious tribe +does is to cut the telegraph wires. If that happened, the only way of +communication would be by heliograph; and Sabine says that from +Touggourt to Tombouctou this chain of towers has been arranged always on +elevations, so that signals can be seen across great stretches of +desert; and inside the walls of a bordj whenever possible, for defence. +But the South is so contented and peaceful now, I don't suppose the +Government will get out of breath in its hurry to restore the damage +here." + +At the sound of Sabine's name Saidee had instantly roused to attention, +and as Stephen spoke calmly of the peace and content in the South, she +smiled. Then suddenly her face grew eager. + +"Did the marabout appoint Toudja as the place to make the exchange, or +was it you?" she asked, over Victoria's shoulder. + +"The marabout," said Stephen. "I fell in with the idea because I'd +already made objections to several, and I could see none to Toudja. It's +a day's journey farther north than the Zaouia, and I remembered the +bordj being kept by two Frenchmen, who would be of use if----" He +checked himself, not wishing to hint that it might be necessary to guard +against treason. "If we had to stop for the night," he amended, "no +doubt the bordj would be better kept than some others. And we shall have +to stop, you know, because my friend, Caird, can't arrive from Touggourt +with the boy till late, at best." + +"Did--the marabout seem bent on making this bordj the rendezvous?" +Saidee asked. + +Stephen's eyes met hers in a quick, involuntary glance, then turned to +the ruined tower. He saw it against the northern sky as they came from +the south, and, blackened by the lightning, it accentuated the +desolation of the dunes. In itself, it looked sinister as a broken +gibbet. "If the marabout had a strong preference for the place, he +didn't betray it," was the only answer he could make. "Have you a +special reason for asking?" + +"No," Saidee echoed. "No special reason." + +But Stephen and Victoria both guessed what was in her mind. As they +looked at the tower all three thought of the Arabs who formed their +caravan. There were six, sent out from the Zaouia to take back the +little Mohammed. They belonged body and soul to the marabout. At the +town of Oued Tolga, Stephen had added a third to his escort of two; but +though they were good guides, brave, upstanding fellows, he knew they +would turn from him if there were any question between Roumis and men of +their own religion. If an accident had happened to the child on the way +back from Touggourt, or if any other difficulty arose, in which their +interest clashed with his, he would have nine Arabs against him. He and +Caird, with the two Highlanders, if they came, would be alone, no matter +how large might be Nevill's Arab escort. Stephen hardly knew why these +thoughts pressed upon him suddenly, with new insistence, as he saw the +tower rise dark against the sky, jagged as if it had been hacked with a +huge, dull knife. He had known from the first what risks they ran. +Nevill and he and Sabine had talked them all over, and decided that, on +the whole, there was no great danger of treachery from the marabout, who +stood to lose too much, to gain too little, by breaking faith. As for +Maieddine, he was ill with fever, so the sisters said, and Saidee and +Victoria believed that he had been kept in ignorance of the marabout's +bargain. Altogether, circumstances seemed to have combined in their +favour. Ben Halim's wife was naturally suspicious and fearful, after her +long martyrdom, but there was no new reason for uneasiness. Only, +Stephen reminded himself, he must not neglect the slightest wavering of +the weather-vane. And in every shadow he must look for a sign. + +They had not made a hurried march from the desert city, for Stephen and +Sabine had calculated the hour at which Nevill might have received the +summons, and the time he would take on the return journey. It was +possible, Lady MacGregor being what she was, that she might have rewired +the telegram to a certain bordj, the only telegraph station between +Touggourt and Oued Tolga. If she had done this, and the message had +caught Nevill, many hours would be saved. Instead of getting to the +bordj about midnight, tired out with a long, quick march, he might be +expected before dark. Even so, Stephen would be well ahead, for, as the +caravan came to the gate of the bordj, it was only six o'clock, blazing +afternoon still, and hot as midday, with the fierce, golden heat of the +desert towards the end of May. + +The big iron gates were wide open, and nothing stirred in the quadrangle +inside; but as Stephen rode in, one of the Frenchmen he remembered +slouched out of a room where the wooden shutters of the window were +closed for coolness. His face was red, and he yawned as he came forward, +rubbing his eyes as if he had been asleep. But he welcomed Stephen +politely, and seeing that a good profit might be expected from so large +a party, he roused himself to look pleased. + +"I must have a room for two ladies," said Stephen, "and I am expecting a +friend with a small caravan, to arrive from the north. However, six of +my Arabs will go back when he comes. You must do the best you can for +us, but nothing is of any importance compared to the ladies' comfort." + +"Certainly, I will do my best," the keeper of the bordj assured him. +"But as you see, our accommodation is humble. It is strained when we +have four or five officers for the night, and though I and my brother +have been in this God-forsaken place--worse luck!--for nine years, we +have never yet had to put up ladies. Unfortunately, too, my brother is +away, gone to Touggourt to buy stores, and I have only one Arab to help +me. Still, though I have forgotten many useful things in this +banishment, I have not forgotten how to cook, as more than one French +officer could tell you." + +"One has told me," said Stephen. "Captain Sabine, of the Chasseurs +d'Afrique." + +"Ah, ce beau sabreur! He stopped with me on his way to Oued Tolga, for +the well-making. If he has recommended me, I shall be on my mettle, +Monsieur." + +The heavy face brightened; but there were bags under the bloodshot eyes, +and the man's breath reeked of alcohol. Stephen was sorry the brother +was away. He had been the more alert and prepossessing of the two. + +As they talked, the quadrangle of the bordj--which was but an inferior +caravanserai--had waked to animation. The landlord's one Arab servant +had appeared, like a rat out of a hole, to help the new arrivals with +their horses and camels. The caravans had filed in, and the marabout's +men and Stephen's guides had dismounted. + +None of these had seen the place since the visitation of the storm, and +one or two from the Zaouia had perhaps never been so far north before, +yet they looked at the broken tower with grave interest rather than +curiosity. Stephen wondered whether they had been primed with knowledge +before starting, or if their lack of emotion were but Arab stoicism. + +As usual in a caravanserai or large bordj, all round the square +courtyard were series of rooms: a few along one wall for the +accommodation of French officers and rich Arabs, furnished with +elementary European comforts; opposite, a dining-room and kitchen; to +the left, the quarters of the two landlords and their servants; along +the fourth wall, on either side of the great iron gate, sheds for +animals, untidily littered with straw and refuse, infested with flies. +Further disorder was added by the debris from the broken +heliograph-tower which had been only partially cleared away since the +storm. Other towers there were, also; three of them, all very low and +squat, jutting out from each corner of the high, flat-topped wall, and +loopholed as usual, so that men stationed inside could defend against an +escalade. These small towers were intact, though the roof of one was +covered with rubbish from the ruined shell rising above; and looking up +at this, Stephen saw that much had fallen away since he passed with +Nevill, going to Oued Tolga. One entire wall had been sliced off, +leaving the inside of the tower, with the upper chamber, visible from +below. It was like looking into a half-dissected body, and the effect +was depressing. + +"If we should be raided by Arabs now," said the landlord, laughing, as +he saw Stephen glance at the tower, "we should have to pray for help: +there would be no other means of getting it." + +"You don't seem to worry much," replied Stephen. + +"No, for the Arabs in these parts are sheep nowadays," said the +Frenchman. "Like sheep, they might follow a leader; but where is the +leader? It is different among the Touaregs, where I spent some time +before I came here. They are warriors by nature, but even they are quiet +of late." + +"Do you ever see any here?" Stephen asked. + +"A few occasionally, going to Touggourt, but seldom. They are +formidable-looking fellows, in their indigo-coloured masks, which stain +their skin blue, but they are tractable enough if one does not offend +them." + +There was only one room which could be made passably habitable for +Saidee and Victoria, and they went into it, out of the hot sun, as soon +as it could be prepared. The little luggage they had brought went with +them, and the basket containing the two carrier pigeons. Saidee fed the +birds, and scribbled a few words on a scrap of paper, to tell Sabine +that they had arrived safely at Toudja. On second thoughts, she added a +postscript, while Victoria unpacked what they needed for the night. +"_He_ chose the rendezvous," Saidee wrote. "I suppose I'm too +superstitious, but I can't help wondering if his choice had anything to +do with the ruined tower? Don't be anxious, though. You will probably +receive another line to-morrow night, to say that we've reached the next +stage, and all's well." + +"I suppose you think I'm doing wrong to write to him?" she said to +Victoria, as she took one of the pigeons out of its basket. + +"No," the girl answered. "Why shouldn't you write to say you're safe? +He's your friend, and you're going far away." + +Saidee almost wished that Victoria had scolded her. Without speaking +again, she began to fasten her letter under the bird's wing, but gave a +little cry, for there was blood on her fingers. "Oh, he's hurt himself +somehow!" she exclaimed. "He won't be able to fly, I'm afraid. What +shall I do? I must send the other one. And yet--if I do, there'll be +nothing for to-morrow." + +"Won't you wait until after Mr. Caird has come, and you can tell about +the little boy?" Victoria suggested. + +"He mayn't arrive till very late, and--I promised Captain Sabine that he +should hear to-night." + +"But think how quickly a pigeon flies! Surely it can go in less than +half the time we would take, riding up and down among the dunes." + +"Oh, much less than half! Captain Sabine said that from the bordj of +Toudja the pigeon would come to him in an hour and a half, or two at +most." + +"Then wait a little longer. Somehow I feel you'll be glad if you do." + +Saidee looked quickly at the girl. "You make me superstitious," she +said. + +"Why?" + +"With your 'feelings' about things. They're almost always right. I'm +afraid of them. I shouldn't dare send the pigeon now, for fear----" + +"For fear of what?" + +"I hardly know. I told you that you made me superstitious." + +Stephen stood between the open gates of the bordj, looking north, whence +Nevill should come. The desert was empty, a great, waving stretch of +gold, but a caravan might be engulfed among the dunes. Any moment +horses or camels might come in sight; and he was not anxious about +Nevill or the boy. It was impossible that they could have been cut off +by an attacking party from the Zaouia. Captain Sabine and he, Stephen, +had kept too keen a watch for that to happen, for the Zaouia lay south +of Oued Tolga the city. + +Others besides himself were searching the sea of sand. One of his own +guides was standing outside the gates, talking with two of the +marabout's men, and looking into the distance. But rather oddly, it +seemed to him, their faces were turned southward, until the guide said +something to the others. Then, slowly, they faced towards the north. +Stephen remembered how he had told himself to neglect no sign. Had he +just seen a sign? + +For some moments he did not look at the Arabs. Then, glancing quickly at +the group, he saw that the head man sent by the marabout was talking +emphatically to the guide from Oued Tolga, the city. Again, their eyes +flashed to the Roumi, before he had time to turn away, and without +hesitation the head man from the Zaouia came a few steps towards him. +"Sidi, we see horses," he said, in broken French. "The caravan thou dost +expect is there," and he pointed. + +Stephen had very good eyesight, but he saw nothing, and said so. + +"We Arabs are used to looking across great distances," the man answered. +"Keep thy gaze steadily upon the spot where I point, and presently thou +wilt see." + +It was as he prophesied. Out of a blot of shadow among the tawny dunes +crawled some dark specks, which might have been particles of the shadow +itself. They moved, and gradually increased in size. By and by Stephen +could count seven separate specks. It must be Nevill and the boy, and +Stephen wondered if he had added two more Arabs to the pair who had gone +back with him from Oued Tolga, towards Touggourt. + +"Hurrah for Lady MacGregor!" the watcher said under his breath. "She +wired on my telegram, and caught him before he'd passed the last +station. I might have known she would, the glorious old darling!" He +hurried inside the bordj to knock at the ladies' door, and tell the +news. "They're in sight!" he cried. "Would you like to come outside the +gate and look?" + +Instantly the door opened, and the sisters appeared. Victoria looked +flushed and happy, but Saidee was pale, almost haggard in comparison +with the younger girl. Both were in Arab dress still, having nothing +else, even if they had wished to change; and as she came out, Saidee +mechanically drew the long blue folds of her veil closely over her face. +Custom had made this a habit which it would be hard to break. + +All three went out together, and the Arabs, standing in a group, turned +at the sound of their voices. Again they had been looking southward. +Stephen looked also, but the dazzle of the declining sun was in his +eyes. + +"Don't seem to notice anything," said Saidee in a low voice. + +"What is there to notice?" he asked in the same tone. + +"A big caravan coming from the south. Can't you see it?" + +"No. I see nothing." + +"You haven't stared at the desert for eight years, as I have. There must +be eighteen or twenty men." + +"Do you think they're from the Zaouia?" asked Victoria. + +"Who can tell? We can't know till they're very close, and then----" + +"Nevill Caird will get here first," Stephen said, half to himself. "You +can see five horses and two camels plainly now. They're travelling +fast." + +"Those Arabs have seen the others," Saidee murmured. "But they don't +want us to know they're thinking about them." + +"Even if men are coming from the Zaouia," said Stephen, "it may easily +be that they've only been sent as an extra escort for the boy, owing to +his father's anxiety." + +"Yes, it may be only that," Saidee admitted. "Still, I'm glad----" She +did not finish her sentence. But she was thinking about the carrier +pigeon, and Victoria's advice. + +All three looked northward, watching the seven figures on horseback, in +the far distance; but now and then, when they could hope to do so +without being noticed by the Arabs, they stole a hasty glance in the +other direction. "The caravan has stopped," Saidee declared at last. "In +the shadow of a big dune." + +"I see, now," said Stephen. + +"And I," added Victoria. + +"Perhaps after all, it's just an ordinary caravan," Saidee said more +hopefully. "Many nomads come north at this time of year. They may be +making their camp now. Anyway, its certain they haven't moved for some +time." + +And still they had not moved, when Nevill Caird was close enough to the +bordj for a shout of greeting to be heard. + +"There are two of the strangest-looking creatures with him!" cried +Saidee. "What can they be--on camels!" + +"Why," exclaimed Victoria, "it's those men in kilts, who waited on the +table at Mr. Caird's house!" + +"Hurrah for Lady MacGregor again!" laughed Stephen. "It's the twins, +Angus and Hamish." He pulled off his panama hat and waved it, shouting to +his friend in joy. "We're a regiment!" he exclaimed gaily. + + + + +XLIX + + +The boy Mohammed was proud and very happy. He had not been in a +motor-car, for he had not got to Touggourt; but it was glorious to have +travelled far north, almost out of the dunes, and not only to have seen +giant women in short skirts with bare legs, but not to be afraid of +them, as the grown-up Arabs were. The giant women were Hamish and Angus, +and it was a great thing to know them, and to be able to explain them to +his father's men from the Zaouia. + +He was a handsome little fellow, with a face no darker than old ivory, +and heavily lashed, expressive eyes, like those which looked over the +marabout's mask. His dress was that of a miniature man; a white silk +burnous, embroidered with gold, over a pale blue vest, stitched in many +colours; a splendid red cloak, whose embroidery of stiff gold stood out +like a bas-relief; a turban and chechia of thin white muslin; and +red-legged boots finer than those of the Spahis. Though he was but +eleven years old, and had travelled hard for days, he sat his horse with +a princely air, worthy the son of a desert potentate; and like a prince +he received the homage of the marabout's men who rushed to him with +guttural cries, kissing the toes of his boots, in their short stirrups, +and fighting for an end of his cloak to touch with their lips. He did +not know that he had been "kidnapped." His impression was that he had +deigned to favour a rather agreeable Roumi with his company. Now he was +returning to his own people, and would bid his Roumi friend good-bye +with the cordiality of one gentleman to another, though with a certain +royal condescension fitted to the difference in their positions. + +Nevill was in wild spirits, though pale with heat and fatigue. He had +nothing to say of himself, but much of his aunt and of the boy Mohammed. +"Ripping little chap," he exclaimed, when Saidee had gone indoors. "You +never saw such pluck. He'd die sooner than admit he was tired. I shall +be quite sorry to part from him. He was jolly good company, a sort of +living book of Arab history. And what do you say to our surprise,--the +twins? My aunt sent them off at the same time with the telegram, but of +course they put in an appearance much later. They caught me up this +morning, riding like devils on racing camels, with one guide. No horses +could be got big enough for them. They've frightened every Arab they've +met--but they're used to that and vain of it. They've got rifles--and +bagpipes too, for all I know. They're capable of them." + +"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, Wings," said Stephen, "and +only a little less glad to see those big fellows with their brave +faces." Then he mentioned to Nevill the apparition of that mysterious +caravan which had appeared, and vanished. Also he described the +behaviour of the Zaouia men when they had looked south, instead of +north. + +"Oh, that's all right, I'll bet," exclaimed Nevill, exuberant with the +joy of success, and in the hope of coolness, food and rest. "Might have +been any old caravan, on its own business--nothing to do with us. That's +the most likely thing. But if the marabout's mixed up with it, I should +say it's only because he couldn't bear to stop at home and wait in +suspense, and I don't blame him, now I've made acquaintance with the +kid. He'd be too proud to parade his anxiety under our noses, but would +lurk in the distance, out of our sight, he probably flatters himself, to +welcome his son, and take him back to Oued Tolga. Not unnatural--and in +spite of all, I can't help being a little sorry for the man. We've +humiliated and got the better of him, because we happen to have his +secret. It's a bit like draining a chap's blood, and then challenging +him to fight. He's got all he can expect now, in receiving the child +back and if I can judge him by myself, he'll be so happy, that he'll be +only too thankful to see our backs for the last time." + +"He might feel safer to stick a knife in them." + +"Oh, lord, I'm too hot to worry!" laughed Nevill. "Let's bid the boy +Godspeed, or the Mussulman equivalent, which is a lot more elaborate, +and then turn our thoughts to a bath of sorts and a dinner of sorts. I +think Providence has been good to us so far, and we can afford to trust +It. I'm sure Miss Ray would agree with me there." And Nevill glanced +with kind blue eyes toward the shut door behind which Victoria had +disappeared with her sister. + +When at last the little Mohammed had been despatched with great ceremony +of politeness, as well as a present of Stephen's gold watch, the two +Englishmen watched him fade out of sight with his cavalcade of men from +the Zaouia, and saw that nothing moved in the southern distance. + +"All's right with the world, and now for a wash and food!" cried Nevill, +turning in with a sigh of relief at the gate of the bordj. "But oh, by +the way--Hamish has got a letter for you--or is it Angus? Anyhow, it's +from my fairy aunt, which I would envy you, if she hadn't sent me on +something better--a post-card from Tlemcen. My tyrant goddess thinks +letters likely to give undue encouragement, but once in a while she +sheds the light of a post-card on me. Small favours thankfully +received--from that source!" + +Inside the courtyard, the Highlanders were watching the three Arabs who +had travelled with them and their master, attending to the horses and +camels. These newcomers were being shown the ropes by the one servant of +the bordj, Stephen's men helping with grave good-nature. They all seemed +very friendly together, as is the way of Arabs, unless they inhabit +rival districts. + +Hamish had the letter, and gave it to Stephen, who retired a few steps +to read it, and Nevill, seeing that the twins left all work to the +Arabs, ordered them to put his luggage into the musty-smelling room +which he was to share with Stephen, and to get him some kind of bath, if +it were only a tin pan. + +Stephen did not listen to these directions, nor did he hear or see +anything that went on in the courtyard, for the next ten minutes. There +was, indeed, a short and characteristic letter from Lady MacGregor, but +it was only to say that she had finished and named the new game of +Patience for Victoria Ray, and that, after all, she enclosed him a +telegram, forwarded from Algiers to Touggourt. "I know Nevill told me +that everything could wait till you got back," she explained, "but as I +am sending the twins, they might as well take this. It may be of +importance; and I'm afraid by the time you get it, the news will be +several days old already." + +He guessed, before he looked, whence the telegram came; and he dreaded +to make sure. For an instant, he was tempted to put the folded bit of +paper in his pocket, unread until Touggourt, or even Biskra. "Why +shouldn't I keep these few days unspoiled by thoughts of what's to come, +since they're the only happy days I shall ever have?" he asked himself. +But it would be weak to put off the evil moment, and he would not yield. +He opened the telegram. + + "Sailing on Virginian. Hope you can meet me Liverpool May 22nd. + Love and longing. Margot." + +To-day was the 25th. + + * * * * * * * + +When he looked up, the courtyard was empty, and quiet, save for the +quacking of two or three forlorn ducks. Nevill had gone inside, and the +Highlanders were waiting upon him, no doubt--for Nevill liked a good +deal of waiting upon. The Arabs had left the animals peacefully feeding, +and had disappeared into the kitchen, or perhaps to have a last look at +the vanishing escort of the marabout's sacred son. + +Stephen was suddenly conscious of fatigue, and a depression as of great +weariness. He envied Nevill, whose boyish laugh he heard. The girl +Nevill loved had refused to marry him, but she smiled when she saw him, +and sent him post-cards when he was absent. There was hope for Nevill. +For him there was none; although--and it was as if a fierce hand seized +and wrenched his heart--sometimes it had seemed, in the last few hours, +that in Victoria Ray's smile for him there was the same lovely, +mysterious light which made the eyes of Josette Soubise wonderful when +she looked at Nevill. If it were not for Margot--but there was no use +thinking of that. He could not ask Margot to set him free, after all +that had passed, and even if he should ask, she would refuse. Shuddering +disgustfully, the thought of a new family scandal shot through his mind: +a breach-of-promise case begun by Margot against him, if he tried to +escape. It was the sort of thing she would do, he could not help +recognizing. Another _cause celebre_, more vulgar than the fight for his +brother's title! How Victoria would turn in shocked revulsion from the +hero of such a coarse tragi-comedy. But he would never be that hero. He +would keep his word and stick to Margot. When he should come to the +desert telegraph station between Toudja and Touggourt, he would wire to +the Carlton, where she thought of returning, and explain as well as he +could that, not expecting her quite yet, he had stayed on in Africa, but +would see her as soon as possible. + +"Better hurry up and get ready for dinner!" shouted Nevill, through a +crack of their bedroom door. "I warn you, I'm starving!" + +By this time the Highlanders were out in the courtyard again--two +gigantic figures, grotesque and even fearful in the eyes of Arabs; but +there were no Arabs to stare at them now. All had gone about their +business in one direction or other. + +Stephen said nothing to his friend about the enclosure in Lady +MacGregor's letter, mentioning merely the new game of cards named in +honour of Miss Ray, at which they both laughed. And it seemed rather +odd to Stephen just then, to hear himself laugh. + +The quick-falling twilight had now given sudden coolness and peace to +the desert. The flies had ceased their persecutions. The whole air was +blue as the light seen through a pale star-sapphire, for the western sky +was veiled with a film of cloud floating up out of the sunset like the +smoke of its fire, and there was no glow of red. + +As the two friends made themselves ready for dinner, and talked of such +adventures as each had just passed through, they heard the voice of the +landlord, impatiently calling, "Abdallah! Abdallah!" + +There was no reply, and again he roared the name of his servant, from +the kitchen and from the courtyard, into which he rushed with a huge +ladle in his hand; then from farther off, outside the gate, which +remained wide open. Still there came no answer; and presently Stephen, +looking from his bedroom, saw the Frenchman, hot and red-faced, slowly +crossing the courtyard, mumbling to himself. + +Nevill had not quite finished his toilet, for he had a kind of boyish +vanity, and wished to show how well and smart he could look after the +long, tiresome journey. But Stephen was ready, and he stepped out, +closing the door behind him. + +"Can't you find your servant?" he asked the keeper of the bordj. + +"No," said the man, adding some epithets singularly unflattering to the +absent one and his ancestors. "He has vanished as if his father, the +devil, had dragged him down to hell." + +"Where are the others?" inquired Stephen. "My men and my friend's men? +Are they still standing outside the gates, watching the boy and his +caravan?" + +"I saw them nowhere," returned the Frenchman. "It is bad enough to keep +one Arab in order. I do not run after others. Would that the whole +nation might die like flies in a frost! I hate them. What am I to do +for my dinner, and ladies in the bordj for the first time? It is just my +luck. I cannot leave the kitchen, and that brute Abdallah has not laid +the table! When I catch him I will wring his neck as if he were a hen." + +He trotted back to the kitchen, swearing, and an instant later he was +visible through the open door, drinking something out of a bottle. + +Stephen went to the door of the third and last guest-room of the bordj. +It was larger than the others, and had no furniture except a number of +thick blue and red rugs spread one on top of the other, on the floor. +This was the place where those who paid least were accommodated, eight +or ten at a time if necessary; and it was expected that Hamish and Angus +would have to share the room with the Arab guides of both parties. + +Stephen looked in at the twins, as they scornfully inspected their +quarters. + +"Where are the Arabs?" he asked, as he had asked the landlord. + +"We dinna ken whaur they've ta'en theirsel's," replied Angus. "All we +ken is, we wull not lie in the hoose wi' 'em. Her leddyship wadna expect +it, whateffer. We prefair t' sleep in th' open." + +Stephen retired from the argument, and mounted a steep, rough stairway, +close to the gate, which led to the flat top of the wall, and had +formerly been connected by a platform with the ruined heliograph tower. +The wall was perhaps two feet thick, and though the top was rough and +somewhat broken, it was easy to walk upon it. Once it had been defended +by a row of nails and bits of glass, but most of these were gone. It was +an ancient bordj, and many years of peace had passed since it was built +in the old days of raids and razzias. + +Stephen looked out over the desert, through the blue veil of twilight, +but could see no sign of life anywhere. Then, coming down, he mounted +into each squat tower in turn, and peered out, so that he might spy in +all directions, but there was nothing to spy save the shadowy dunes, +more than ever like waves of the sea, in this violet light. He was not +reassured, however, by the appearance of a vast peace and emptiness. +Behind those billowing dunes that surged away toward the horizon, north, +south, east, and west, there was hiding-place for an army. + +As he came down from the last of the four towers, his friend sauntered +out from his bedroom. "I hope the missing Abdallah's turned up, and +dinner's ready," said Nevill gaily. + +Then Stephen told him what had happened, and Nevill's cheerful face +settled into gravity. + +"Looks as if they'd got a tip from the marabout's men," he said slowly. + +"It can be nothing else," Stephen agreed. + +"I blame myself for calling the twins inside to help me," said Nevill. +"If I'd left them to moon about the courtyard, they'd have seen those +sneaks creeping away, and reported." + +"They wouldn't have thought it strange that the Arabs stood outside, +watching the boy go. You're not to blame, because you didn't see the sly +look in my fellows' faces. I had the sign, and neglected it, in spite of +my resolutions. But after all, if we're in for trouble, I don't know +that it isn't as well those cowards have taken French leave. If they'd +stayed, we'd only have had an enemy inside the gates, as well as out. +And that reminds me, we must have the gates shut at once. Thank heaven +we brought those French army rifles and plenty of cartridges from +Algiers, when we didn't know what we might be in for. Now we _do_ know; +and all are likely to come handy. Also our revolvers." + +"Thank heaven and my aunt for the twins, too," said Nevill. "They might +be better servants, but I'll bet on them as fighters. And perhaps you +noticed the rifles her 'leddyship' provided them with at Touggourt?" + +"I saw the muzzles glitter as they rode along on camel-back," Stephen +answered. "I was glad even then, but now----" He did not need to finish +the sentence. "We'd better have a word with our host," he said. + +To reach the dining-room, where the landlord was busy, furiously +clattering dishes, they had to pass the door of the room occupied by the +sisters. It was half open, and as they went by, Victoria came out. + +"Please tell me things," she said. "I'm sure you're anxious. When we +heard the landlord call his servant and nobody answered, Saidee was +afraid there was something wrong. You know, from the first she thought +that her--that Cassim didn't mean to keep his word. Have the Arabs all +gone?" + +Nevill was silent, to let Stephen take the responsibility. He was not +sure whether or no his friend meant to try and hide their anxiety from +the women. But Stephen answered frankly. "Yes, they've gone. It may be +that nothing will happen, but we're going to shut the gates at once, and +make every possible preparation." + +"In case of an attack?" + +"Yes. But we have a good place for defence here. It would be something +to worry about if we were out in the open desert." + +"There are five men, counting your Highlanders," said Victoria, turning +to Nevill. "I think they are brave, and I know well already what you +both are." Her eyes flashed to Stephen's with a beautiful look, all for +him. "And Saidee and I aren't cowards. Our greatest grief is that we've +brought you into this danger. It's for our sakes. If it weren't for us, +you'd be safe and happy in Algiers." + +Both men laughed. "We'd rather be here, thank you," said Stephen. "If +you're not frightened, that's all we want. We're as safe as in a fort, +and shall enjoy the adventure, if we have any." + +"It's like you to say that," Victoria answered. "But there's no use +pretending, is there? Cassim will bring a good many men, and Si +Maieddine will be with them, I think. They couldn't afford to try, and +fail. If they come, they'll have to--make thorough work." + +"Yet, on the other hand, they wouldn't want to take too many into their +secret," Stephen tried to reassure her. + +"Well, we may soon know," she said. "But what I came out to say, is +this. My sister has two carrier pigeons with her. One has hurt its wing +and is no use. But the other is well, and--he comes from Oued Tolga. Not +the Zaouia, but the city. We've been thinking, she and I, since the Arab +servant didn't answer, that it would be a good thing to send a letter +to--to Captain Sabine, telling him we expected an attack." + +"It would be rather a sell if he got the message, and acted on it--and +then nothing happened after all," suggested Nevill. + +"I think we'll send the message," said Stephen. "It would be different +if we were all men here, but----" + +Victoria turned, and ran back to the open door. + +"The pigeon shall go in five minutes," she called over her shoulder. + +Stephen and Nevill went to the dining-room. + +The landlord was there, drunk, talking to himself. He had broken a dish, +and was kicking the fragments under the table. He laughed at first when +the two Englishmen tried to impress upon him the gravity of the +situation; at last, however, they made him understand that this was no +joke, but deadly earnest. They helped him close and bar the heavy iron +gates; and as they looked about for material with which to build up a +barrier if necessary, they saw the sisters come to the door. Saidee had +a pigeon in her hands, and opening them suddenly, she let it go. It +rose, fluttered, circling in the air, and flew southward. Victoria ran +up the dilapidated stairway by the gate, to see it go, but already the +tiny form was muffled from sight in the blue folds of the twilight. + +"In less than two hours it will be at Oued Tolga," the girl cried, +coming down the steep steps. + +At that instant, far away, there was the dry bark of a gun. + +They looked at each other, and said nothing, but the same doubt was in +the minds of all. + +It might be that the message would never reach Oued Tolga. + +Then another thought flashed into Stephen's brain. He asked himself +whether it would be possible to climb up into the broken tower. If he +could reach the top, he might be able to call for help if they should be +hard-pressed; for some years before he had, more for amusement than +anything else, taken a commission in a volunteer battalion and among +many other things which he considered more or less useless, had learned +signalling. He had not entirely forgotten the accomplishment, and it +might serve him very well now, only--and he looked up critically at the +jagged wall--it would be difficult to get into that upper chamber, a +shell of which remained. In any case, he would not think of so extreme a +measure, until he was sure that, if he gave an alarm, it would not be a +false one. + +"Let's have dinner," said Nevill. "If we have fighting to do, I vote we +start with ammunition in our stomachs as well as in our pockets." + +Saidee had gone part way up the steps, and was looking over the wall. + +"I see something dark, that moves," she said. "It's far away, but I am +sure. My eyes haven't been trained in the desert for nothing. It's a +caravan--quite a big caravan, and it's coming this way. That's where the +shot came from. If they killed the pigeon, or winged it, we're all lost. +It would only be childish to hope. We must look our fate in the face. +The men will be killed, and I, too. Victoria will be saved, but I think +she'd rather die with the rest of us, for Maieddine will take her." + +"It's never childish to hope, it seems to me," said Nevill. "This little +fort of ours isn't to be conquered in an hour, or many hours, I assure +you." + +"And we have no intention of letting you be killed, or Miss Ray carried +off, or of dying ourselves, at the hands of a few Arabs," Knight added. +"Have confidence." + +"In our star," Victoria half whispered, looking at Stephen. They both +remembered, and their eyes spoke, in a language they had never used +before. + +In England, Margot Lorenzi was wondering why Stephen Knight had not come +to meet her, and angrily making up her mind that she would find out the +reason. + + + + +L + + +Somehow, they all contrived to take a little food, three watching from +the wall-towers while the others ate; and Saidee prepared strong, +delicious coffee, such as had never been tasted in the bordj of Toudja. + +When they had dined after a fashion, each making a five-minute meal, +there was still time to arrange the defence, for the attacking party--if +such it were--could not reach the bordj in less than an hour, marching +as fast as horses and camels could travel among the dunes. + +The landlord was drunk. There was no disguising that, but though he was +past planning, he was not past fighting. He had a French army rifle and +bayonet. Each of the five men had a revolver, and there was another in +the bordj, belonging to the absent brother. This Saidee asked for, and +it was given her. There were plenty of cartridges for each weapon, +enough at all events to last out a hot fight of several hours. After +that--but it was best not to send thoughts too far ahead. + +The Frenchman had served long ago in the Chasseurs d'Afrique, and had +risen, he said, to the rank of sergeant; but the fumes of absinthe +clouded his brain, and he could only swagger and boast of old exploits +as a soldier, crying from time to time "Vive l'entente cordiale," and +assuring the Englishmen that they could trust him to the death. It was +Stephen who, by virtue of his amateur soldiering experience, had to take +the lead. He posted the Highlanders in opposite watch-towers, placing +Nevill in one which commanded the two rear walls of the bordj. The next +step was the building of bonfires, one at each corner of the roof, so +that when the time for fighting came, the defenders might confound the +enemy by lighting the surrounding desert, making a surprise impossible. +Old barrels were broken up, therefore, and saturated with oil. The +spiked double gates of iron, though apparently strong, Stephen judged +incapable of holding out long against battering rams, but he knew heavy +baulks of wood to be rare in the desert, far from the palms of the +oases. What he feared most was gunpowder; and though he was ignorant of +the marabout's secret ambitions and warlike preparations, he thought it +not improbable that a store of gunpowder might be kept in the Zaouia. +True, the French Government forbade Arabs to have more than a small +supply in their possession; but the marabout was greatly trusted, and +was perhaps allowed to deal out a certain amount of the coveted treasure +for "powder play" on religious fete days. To prevent the bordj falling +into the hands of the Arabs if the gate were blown down, Stephen and his +small force built up at the further corner of the yard, in front of the +dining-room door, a barrier of mangers, barrels, wooden troughs, iron +bedsteads and mattresses from the guest-rooms. Also they reinforced the +gates against pressure from the outside, using the shafts of an old cart +to make struts, which they secured against the side walls or frame of +the gateway. These formed buttresses of considerable strength; and the +landlord, instead of grumbling at the damage which might be done to his +bordj, and the danger which threatened himself, was maudlin with delight +at the prospect of killing a few detested Arabs. + +"I don't know what your quarrel's about, unless it's the ladies," he +said, breathing vengeance and absinthe, "but whatever it is, I'll make +it mine, whether you compensate me or not. Depend upon me, _mon +capitaine_. Depend on an old soldier." + +But Stephen dared not depend upon him to man one of the watch-towers. +Eye and hand were too unsteady to do good service in picking off +escaladers. The ex-soldier was brave enough for any feat, however, and +was delighted when the Englishman suggested, rather than gave orders, +that his should be the duty of lighting the bonfires. That done, he was +to take his stand in the courtyard, and shoot any man who escaped the +rifles in the wall-towers. + +It was agreed among all five men that the gate was to be held as long as +possible; that if it fell, a second stand should be made behind the +crescent-shaped barricade outside the dining-room door; that, should +this defence fall also, all must retreat into the dining-room, where the +two sisters must remain throughout the attack; and this would be the +last stand. + +Everything being settled, and the watch-towers well supplied with food +for the rifles, Stephen went to call Saidee and Victoria, who were in +their almost dismantled room. The bedstead, washstand, chairs and table +had ceased to be furniture, and had become part of the barricade. + +"Let me carry your things into the dining-room now," he said. "And your +bed covering. We can make up a sort of couch there, for you may as well +be comfortable if you can. And you know, it's on the cards that all our +fuss is in vain. Nothing whatever may happen." + +They obeyed, without objection; but Saidee's look as she laid a pair of +Arab blankets over Stephen's arm, told how little rest she expected. She +gathered up a few things of her own, however, to take from the bedroom +to the dining-room, and as she walked ahead, Stephen asked Victoria if, +in the handbag she had brought from the Zaouia there was a mirror. + +"Yes," she answered. "There's quite a good-sized one, which I used to +have on my dressing-table in the theatre. How far away that time seems +now!" + +"Will you lend the mirror to me--or do you value it too much to risk +having it smashed?" + +"Of course I'll lend it. But----" she looked up at him anxiously, in +the blue star-dusk. "What are you going to do?" + +"Nothing particular, unless we've reason to believe that an attack will +be made; that is, if a lot of Arabs come near the bordj. In that case, I +want to try and get up into the tower, and do some signalling--for fear +the shot we heard hit your sister's messenger. I used to be rather a +nailer at that sort of thing, when I played at soldiering a few years +ago." + +"But no one could climb the tower now!" the girl exclaimed. + +"I don't know. I almost flatter myself that I could. I've done the Dent +Blanche twice, and a Welsh mountain or two. To be sure, I must be my own +guide now, but I think I can bring it off all right. I've been searching +about for a mirror and reflector, in case I try the experiment; for the +heliographing apparatus was spoilt in the general wreckage of things by +the storm. I've got a reflector off a lamp in the kitchen, but couldn't +find a looking-glass anywhere, and I saw there was only a broken bit in +your room. My one hope was in you." + +As he said this, he felt that the words meant a great deal more than he +wished her to understand. + +"I hate being afraid of things," said Victoria. "But I am afraid to have +you go up in the tower. It's only a shell, that looks as if it might +blow down in another storm. It could fall with you, even if you got up +safely to the signalling place. And besides, if Cassim's men were near, +they might see you and shoot. Oh, I don't think I could bear to have you +go!" + +"You care--a little--what becomes of me?" Stephen had stammered before +he had time to forbid himself the question. + +"I care a great deal--what becomes of you." + +"Thank you for telling me that," he said, warmly. "I--" but he knew he +must not go on. "I shan't be in danger," he finished. "I'll be up and +back before any one gets near enough to see what I'm at, and pot at me." + +As he spoke, the sound of a strange, wild singing came to them, with the +desert wind that blew from the south. + +"That's a Touareg song," exclaimed Saidee, turning. "It isn't Arab. I've +heard Touaregs sing it, coming to the Zaouia." + +"Madame is right," said the landlord. "I, too, have heard Touaregs sing +it, in their own country, and also when they have passed here, in small +bands. Perhaps we have deceived ourselves. Perhaps we are not to enjoy +the pleasure of a fight. I feared it was too good to be true." + +"I can see a caravan," cried Nevill, from his cell in a wall-tower. +"There seem to be a lot of men." + +"Would they come like that, if they wanted to fight?" asked the girl. +"Wouldn't they spread out, and hope to surprise us?" + +"They'll either try to rush the gate, or else they'll pretend to be a +peaceful caravan," said Stephen. + +"I see! Get the landlord to let their leaders in, and then.... That's +why they sing the Touareg song, perhaps, to put us off our guard." + +"Into the dining-room, both of you, and have courage! Whatever happens, +don't come out. Will you give me the mirror?" + +"Must you go?" + +"Yes. Be quick, please." + +On the threshold of the dining-room Victoria opened her bag, and gave +him a mirror framed in silver. It had been a present from an +enthusiastic millionairess in New York, who admired her dancing. That +seemed very odd now. The girl's hand trembled as for an instant it +touched Stephen's. He pressed her fingers, and was gone. + +"Babe, I think this will be the last night of my life," said Saidee, +standing behind the girl, in the doorway, and pressing against her. +"Cassim will kill me, when he kills the men, because I know his secret +and because he hates me. If I could only have had a little happiness! I +don't want to die. I'm afraid. And it's horrible to be killed." + +"I love being alive, but I want to know what happens next," said +Victoria. "Sometimes I want it so much, that I almost long to die. And +probably one feels brave when the minute comes. One always does, when +the great things arrive. Besides, we're sure it must be glorious as soon +as we're out of our bodies. Don't you know, when you're going to jump +into a cold bath, you shiver and hesitate a little, though you know +perfectly well it will be splendid in an instant. Thinking of death's +rather like that." + +"You haven't got to think of it for yourself to-night. Maieddine +will----" + +"No," the girl broke in. "I won't go with Maieddine." + +"If they take this place--as they must, if they've brought many men, +you'll have to go, unless----" + +"Yes; 'unless.' That's what I mean. But don't ask me any more. I--I +can't think of ourselves now." + +"You're thinking of some one you love better than you do me." + +"Oh, no, not better. Only----" Victoria's voice broke. The two clung to +each other. Saidee could feel how the girl's heart was beating, and how +the sobs rose in her throat, and were choked back. + +Victoria watched the tower, that looked like a jagged black tear in the +star-strewn blue fabric of the sky. And she listened. It seemed as if +her very soul were listening. + +The wild Touareg chant was louder now, but she hardly heard it, because +her ears strained for some sound which the singing might cover: the +sound of rubble crumbling under a foot that climbed and sought a +holding-place. + +From far away came the barking of Kabyle dogs, in distant camps of +nomads. In stalls of the bordj, where the animals rested, a horse +stamped now and then, or a camel grunted. Each slightest noise made +Victoria start and tremble. She could be brave for herself, but it was +harder to be brave for one she loved, in great danger. + +"They'll be here in ten minutes," shouted Nevill. "Legs, where are you?" + +There was no answer; but Victoria thought she heard the patter of +falling sand. At least, the ruin stood firm so far. By this time Stephen +might have nearly reached the top. He had told her not to leave the +dining-room, and she had not meant to disobey; but she had made no +promise, and she could bear her suspense no longer. Where she stood, she +could not see into the shell of the broken tower. She must see! + +Running out, she darted across the courtyard, pausing near the +Frenchman, Pierre Rostafel, who wandered unsteadily up and down the +quadrangle, his torch of alfa grass ready in his hand. He did not know +that one of the Englishmen was trying to climb the tower, and would not +for an instant have believed that any human being could reach the upper +chamber, if suddenly a light had not flashed out, at the top, seventy +feet above his head. + +Dazed already with absinthe, fantastic ideas beat stupidly upon his +brain, like bats that blunder against a lamp and extinguish it with +foolish, flapping wings. He thought that somehow the enemy must have +stolen a march upon the defenders: that the hated Arabs had got into the +tower, from a ladder raised outside the wall, and that soon they would +be pouring down in a swarm. Before he knew what he was doing, he had +stumbled up the stairs on to the flat wall by the gate. Scrambling along +with his torch, he got on to the bordj roof, and lit bonfire after +bonfire, though Victoria called on him to stop, crying that it was too +soon--that the men outside would shoot and kill him who would save them +all. + +The sweet silence of the starry evening was crashed upon with lights and +jarring sounds. + +Stephen, who had climbed the tower with a lantern and a kitchen +lamp-reflector slung in a table-cover, on his back, had just got his +makeshift apparatus in order, and standing on a narrow shelf of floor +which overhung a well-like abyss, had begun his signalling to the +northward. + +Too late he realized that, for all the need of haste, he ought to have +waited long enough to warn the drunken Frenchman what he meant to do. If +he had, this contretemps would not have happened. His telegraphic +flashes, long and short, must have told the enemy what was going on in +the tower, but they could not have seen him standing there, exposed like +a target to their fire, if Rostafel had not lit the bonfires. + +Suddenly a chorus of yells broke out, strange yells that sprang from +savage hearts; and one sidewise glance down showed Stephen the desert +illuminated with red fire. He went on with his work, not stopping to +count the men on horses and camels who rode fast towards the bordj, +though not yet at the foot of that swelling sand hill on which it stood. +But a picture--of uplifted dark faces and pointing rifles--was stamped +upon his brain in that one swift look, clear as an impression of a seal +in hot wax. He had even time to see that those faces were half enveloped +in masks such as he had noticed in photographs of Touaregs, yet he was +sure that the twenty or thirty men were not Touaregs. When close to the +bordj all flung themselves from their animals, which were led away, +while the riders took cover by throwing themselves flat on the sand. +Then they began shooting, but he looked no more. He was determined to +keep on signalling till he got an answer or was shot dead. + +There were others, however, who looked and saw the faces, and the rifles +aimed at the broken tower. The bonfires which showed the figure in the +ruined heliographing-room, to the enemy, also showed the enemy to the +watchers in the wall-towers, on opposite sides of the gates. + +The Highlanders open fire. Their skill as marksmen, gained in the glens +and mountains of Sutherlandshire, was equally effective on different +game, in the desert of the Sahara. One shot brought a white mehari to +its knees. Another caused a masked man in a striped gandourah to wring +his hand and squeal. + +The whole order of things was changed by the sudden flashes from the +height of the dark ruin, and the lighting of the bonfires on the bordj +roof. + +Two of the masked men riding on a little in advance of the other twenty +had planned, as Stephen guessed, to demand admittance to the bordj, +declaring themselves leaders of a Touareg caravan on its way to +Touggourt. If they could have induced an unsuspecting landlord to open +the gates, so much the better for them. If not, a parley would have +given the band time to act upon instructions already understood. But +Cassim ben Halim, an old soldier, and Maieddine, whose soul was in this +venture, were not the men to meet an emergency unprepared. They had +calculated on a check, and were ready for surprises. + +It was Maieddine's camel that went down, shot in the neck. He had been +keeping El Biod in reserve, when the splendid stallion might be needed +for two to ride away in haste--his master and a woman. As the mehari +fell, Maieddine escaped from the saddle and alighted on his feet, his +blue Touareg veil disarranged by the shock. His face uncovered, he +bounded up the slope with the bullets of Angus and Hamish pattering +around him in the sand. + +"She's bewitched, whateffer!" the twins mumbled, each in his +watch-tower, as the tall figure sailed on like a war-cloud, untouched. +And they wished for silver bullets, to break the charm woven round the +"fanatic" by a wicked spirit. + +Over Maieddine's head his leader was shooting at Stephen in the tower, +while Hamish returned his fire, leaving the running man to Angus. But +suddenly Angus wheeled after a shot, to yell through the tower door into +the courtyard. "Oot o' the way, wimmen! He's putten gunpowder to the +gate if I canna stop him." Then, he wheeled into place, and was +entranced to see that the next bullet found its billet under the Arab's +turban. In the orange light of the bonfires, Angus could see a spout of +crimson gush down the bronze forehead and over the glittering eyes. But +the wounded Arab did not fall back an inch or drop a burden which he +carried carefully. Now he was sheltering behind the high, jutting +gate-post. In another minute it would be too late to save the gate. + +But Angus did not think of Victoria. Nor did Victoria stop to think of +herself. Something seemed to say in her heart, "Maieddine won't let them +blow up the gate, if it means your death, and so, maybe, you can save +them all." + +This was not a thought, since she had no time for thought. It was but a +murmur in her brain, as she ran up the steep stairway close to the gate, +and climbed on to the wall. + +Maieddine, streaming with blood, was sheltering in the narrow angle of +the gate-post where the firing from the towers struck the wall instead +of his body. He had suspended a cylinder of gunpowder against the gate, +and, his hands full of powder to sprinkle a trail, he was ready to make +a dash for life when a voice cried his name. + +Victoria stood on the high white wall of the bordj, just above the gate, +on the side where he had hung the gunpowder. A few seconds more--his +soul sickened at the thought. He forgot his own danger, in thinking of +hers, and how he might have destroyed her, blotting out the light of his +own life. + +"Maieddine!" she called, before she knew who had been ready to lay the +fuse, and that, instead of crying to a man in the distance, she spoke to +one at her feet. He stared up at her through a haze of blood. In the red +light of the fire, she was more beautiful even than when she had danced +in his father's tent, and he had told himself that if need be he would +throw away the world for her. She recognized him as she looked down, and +started back with an impulse to escape, he seemed so near and so +formidable. But she feared that, if the gate were blown up, the ruined +tower might be shaken down by the explosion. She must stay, and save +the gate, until Stephen had reached the ground. + +"Thou!" exclaimed Maieddine. "Come to me, heart of my life, thou who art +mine forever, and thy friends shall be spared, I promise thee." + +"I am not thine, nor ever can be," Victoria answered him. "Go thou, or +thou wilt be shot with many bullets. They fire at thee and I cannot stop +them. I do not wish to see thee die." + +"Thou knowest that while thou art on the wall I cannot do what I came to +do," Maieddine said. "If they kill me here, my death will be on thy +head, for I will not go without thee. Yet if thou hidest from me, I will +blow up the gate." + +Victoria did not answer, but looked at the ruined tower. One of its +walls and part of another stood firm, and she could not see Stephen in +the heliographing-chamber at the top. But through a crack between the +adobe bricks she caught a gleam of light, which moved. It was Stephen's +lantern, she knew. He was still there. Farther down, the crack widened. +On his way back, he would see her, if she were still on the wall above +the gate. She wished that he need not learn she was there, lest he lose +his nerve in making that terrible descent. But every one else knew that +she was trying to save the gate, and that while she remained, the fuse +would not be lighted. Saidee, who had come out from the dining-room into +the courtyard, could see her on the wall, and Rostafel was babbling that +she was "une petite lionne, une merveille de courage et de finesse." The +Highlanders knew, too, and were doing their best to rid her of +Maieddine, but, perhaps because of the superstition which made them +doubt the power of their bullets against a charmed life, they could not +kill him, though his cloak was pierced, and his face burned by a bullet +which had grazed his cheek. Suddenly, however, to the girl's surprise +and joy, Maieddine turned and ran like a deer toward the firing line of +the Arabs. Then, as the bullets of Hamish and Angus spattered round +him, he wheeled again abruptly and came back towards the bordj as if +borne on by a whirlwind. With a run, he threw himself towards the gate, +and leaping up caught at the spikes for handhold. He grasped them +firmly, though his fingers bled, got a knee on the wall, and freeing a +hand snatched at Victoria's dress. + + + + +LI + + +Saidee, down in the courtyard, shrieked as she saw her sister's danger. +"Fire!--wound him--make him fall!" she screamed to Rostafel. But to fire +would be at risk of the girl's life, and the Frenchman danced about +aimlessly, yelling to the men in the watch-towers. + +In the tower, Stephen heard a woman's cry and thought the voice was +Victoria's. His work was done. He had signalled for help, and, though +this apparatus was a battered stable lantern, a kitchen-lamp reflector, +and a hand-mirror, he had got an answer. Away to the north, a man whom +perhaps he would never see, had flashed him back a message. He could not +understand all, for it is easier to send than to receive signals; but +there was something about soldiers at Bordj Azzouz, changing garrison, +and Stephen believed that they meant marching to the rescue. Now, his +left arm wounded, his head cut, and eyes half blinded with a rain of +rubble brought down by an Arab bullet, he had made part of the descent +when Saidee screamed her high-pitched scream of terror. + +He was still far above the remnant of stairway, broken off thirty feet +above ground level. But, knowing that the descent would be more +difficult than the climb, he had torn into strips the stout tablecloth +which had wrapped his heliographing apparatus. Knotting the lengths +together, he had fastened one end round a horn of shattered adobe, and +tied the other in a slip-noose under his arms. Now, he was thankful for +this precaution. Instead of picking his way, from foothold to foothold, +at the sound of the cry he lowered himself rapidly, like a man who goes +down a well on the chain of a bucket, and dropped on a pile of bricks +which blocked the corkscrew steps. In a second he was free of the +stretched rope, and, half running, half falling down the rubbish-blocked +stairway, he found himself, giddy and panting, at the bottom. A rush +took him across the courtyard to the gate; snatching Rostafel's rifle +and springing up the wall stairway, a bullet from Maieddine's revolver +struck him in the shoulder. For the space of a heart-beat his brain was +in confusion. He knew that the Arab had a knee on the wall, and that he +had pulled Victoria to him by her dress, which was smeared with blood. +But he did not know whether the blood was the girl's or Maieddine's, and +the doubt, and her danger, and the rage of his wound drove him mad. It +was not a sane man who crashed down Rostafel's rifle on Maieddine's +head, and laughed as he struck. The Arab dropped over the wall and fell +on the ground outside the gate, like a dead man, his body rolling a +little way down the slope. There it lay still, in a crumpled heap, but +the marabout and two of his men made a dash to the rescue, dragging the +limp form out of rifle range. It was a heroic act, and the Highlanders +admired it while they fired at the heroes. One fell, to rise no more, +and already two masked corpses had fallen from the wall into the +courtyard, daring climbers shot by Rostafel as they tried to drop. +Sickened by the sight of blood, dazed by shots and the sharp "ping" of +bullets, frenzied with horror at the sight of Victoria struggling in the +grasp of Maieddine, Saidee sank down unconscious as Stephen beat the +Arab off the wall. + +"Darling, precious one, for God's sake say you're not hurt!" he +stammered, as he caught Victoria in his arms, holding her against his +heart, as he carried her down. He was still a madman, mad with fear for +her, and love for her--love made terrible by the dread of loss. It was +new life to hold her so, to know that she was safe, to bow his forehead +on her hair. There was no Margot or any other woman in existence. Only +this girl and he, created for each other, alone in the world. + +Victoria clung to him thankfully, sure of his love already, and glad of +his words. + +"No, my dearest, I'm not hurt," she answered. "But you--you are +wounded!" + +"I don't know. If I am, I don't feel it," said Stephen. "Nothing matters +except you." + +"I saw him shoot you. I--I thought you were killed. Put me down. I want +to look at you." + +She struggled in his arms, as they reached the foot of the stairs, and +gently he put her down. But her nerves had suffered more than she knew. +Strength failed her, and she reached out to him for help. Then he put +his arm round her again, supporting her against his wounded shoulder. So +they looked at each other, in the light of the bonfires, their hearts in +their eyes. + +"There's blood in your hair and on your face," she said. "Oh, and on +your coat. Maieddine shot you." + +"It's nothing," he said. "I feel no pain. Nothing but rapture that +you're safe. I thought the blood on your dress might be----" + +"It was his, not mine. His hands were bleeding. Oh, poor Maieddine--I +can't help pitying him. What if he is killed?" + +"Don't think of him. If he's dead, I killed him, not you, and I don't +repent. I'd do it again. He deserved to die." + +"He tried to kill you!" + +"I don't mean for that reason. But come, darling. You must go into the +house, I have to take my turn in the fighting now----" + +"You've done more than any one else!" she cried, proudly. + +"No, it was little enough. And there's the wall to defend. I--but look, +your sister's fainting." + +"My Saidee! And I didn't see her lying there!" The girl fell on her +knees beside the white bundle on the ground. "Oh, help me get her into +the house." + +"I'll carry her." + +But Victoria would help him. Together they lifted Saidee, and Stephen +carried her across the courtyard, making a detour to avoid passing the +two dead Arabs. But Victoria saw, and, shuddering, was speechless. + +"This time you'll promise to stay indoors!" Stephen said, when he had +laid Saidee on the pile of blankets in a corner of the room. + +"Yes--yes--I promise!" + +The girl gave him both hands. He kissed them, and then, without turning, +went out and shut the door. It was only at this moment that he +remembered Margot, remembered her with anguish, because of the echo of +Victoria's voice in his ears as she named him her "dearest." + +As Stephen came from behind the barricade which screened the dining-room +from the courtyard, he found Rostafel shooting right and left at men who +tried to climb the rear wall, having been missed by Nevill's fire. +Rostafel had recovered the rifle snatched by Stephen in his stampede to +the stairway, and, sobered by the fight, was making good use of it. +Stephen had now armed himself with his own, left for safety behind the +barrier while he signalled in the tower; and together the two men had +hot work in the quadrangle. Here and there an escalader escaped the fire +from the watch-towers, and hung half over the wall, but dropped alive +into the courtyard, only to be bayoneted by the Frenchman. The +signalling-tower gave little shelter against the enemy, as most of the +outer wall had fallen above the height of twenty feet from the ground; +but, as without it only three sides of the quadrangle could be fully +defended, once again Stephen scrambled up the choked and broken +stairway. Screening himself as best he could behind a jagged ledge of +adobe, he fired through a crack at three or four Arabs who made a human +ladder for a comrade to mount the wall. The man at the top fell. The +next mounted, to be shot by Nevill from a watch-tower. The bullet +pierced the fellow's leg, which was what Nevill wished, for he, who +hated to rob even an insect of its life, aimed now invariably at arms or +legs, never at any vital part. "All we want," he thought half guiltily, +"is to disable the poor brutes. They must obey the marabout. We've no +spite against 'em!" + +But every one knew that it was a question of moments only before some +Arab, quicker or luckier than the rest, would succeed in firing the +trail of gunpowder already laid. The gate would be blown up. Then would +follow a rush of the enemy and the second stand of the defenders behind +the barricade. Last of all, the retreat to the dining-room. + +Among the first precautions Stephen had taken was that of locking the +doors of all rooms except the dining-room, and pulling out the keys, so +that, when the enemy got into the quadrangle, they would find themselves +forced to stay in the open, or take shelter in the watch-towers vacated +by the defenders. From the doorways of these, they could not do much +harm to the men behind the barricade. But there was one thing they might +do, against which Stephen had not guarded. The idea flashed into his +head now, too late. There were the stalls where the animals were tied. +The Arabs could use the beasts for a living barricade, firing over their +backs. Stephen grudged this advantage, and was puzzling his brain how to +prevent the enemy from taking it, when a great light blazed into the +sky, followed by the roar of an explosion. + +The tower shook, and Stephen was thrown off his feet. For half a second +he was dazed, but came to himself in the act of tumbling down stairs, +still grasping his rifle. + +A huge hole yawned where the gate had stood. The iron had shrivelled and +curled like so much cardboard, and the gap was filled with circling +wreaths of smoke and a crowd of Arabs. Mad with fear, the camels and +horses tethered in the stables of the bordj broke their halters and +plunged wildly about the courtyard, looming like strange monsters in +the red light and belching smoke. As if to serve the defenders, they +galloped toward the gate, cannoning against each other in the struggle +to escape, and thus checked the first rush of the enemy. Nearly all were +shot down by the Arabs, but a few moments were gained for the Europeans. +Firing as he ran, Stephen made a dash for the barricade, where he found +Rostafel, and as the enemy swarmed into the quadrangle, pouring over +dead and dying camels, the two Highlanders burst with yells like the +slogans of their fighting ancestors, out from the watch-towers nearest +the gateway. + +The sudden apparition of these gigantic twin figures, bare-legged, +dressed in kilts, appalled the Arabs. Some, who had got farthest into +the courtyard, were taken in the rear by Angus and Hamish; and as the +Highlanders laid about them with clubbed rifles, the superstitious +Easterners wavered. Imagining themselves assailed by giant women with +the strength of devils, they fell back dismayed, and for some wild +seconds the twins were masters of the quadrangle. They broke heads with +crushing blows, and smashed ribs with trampling feet, yelling their +fearsome yells which seemed the cries of death and war. But it was the +triumph of a moment only, and then the Arabs--save those who would fight +no more--rallied round their leader, a tall, stout man with a majestic +presence. Once he had got his men in hand--thirteen or fourteen he had +left--the open courtyard was too hot a place even for the Highland men. +They retreated, shoulder to shoulder, towards the barricade, and soon +were firing viciously from behind its shelter. If they lived through +this night, never again, it would seem, could they be satisfied with the +daily round of preparing an old lady's bath, and pressing upon her +dishes which she did not want. And yet--their mistress was an +exceptional old lady. + +Now, all the towers were vacant, except the one defended by Nevill, and +it had been agreed from the first that he was to stick to his post +until time for the last stand. The reason of this was that the door of +his tower was screened by the barricade, and the two rear walls of the +bordj (meeting in a triangle at this corner) must be defended while the +barricade was held. These walls unguarded, the enemy could climb them +from outside and fire down on the backs of the Europeans, behind the +barrier. Those who attempted to climb from the courtyard (the +gate-stairway being destroyed by the explosion) must face the fire of +the defenders, who could also see and protect themselves against any one +mounting the wall to pass over the scattered debris of the ruined +signal-tower. Thus every contingency was provided for, as well as might +be by five men, against three times their number; and the Europeans +meant to make a stubborn fight before that last resort--the dining-room. +Nevertheless, it occurred to Stephen that perhaps, after all, he need +not greatly repent the confession of love he had made to Victoria. He +had had no right to speak, but if there were to be no future for either +in this world, fate need not grudge him an hour's happiness. And he was +conscious of a sudden lightness of spirit, as of an exile nearing home. + +The Arabs, sheltering behind the camels and horses they had shot, fired +continuously in the hope of destroying a weak part of the barricade or +killing some one behind it. Gradually they formed of the dead animals a +barricade of their own, and now that the bonfires were dying it was +difficult for the Europeans to touch the enemy behind cover. Consulting +together, however, and calculating how many dead each might put to his +credit, the defenders agreed that they must have killed or disabled more +than a dozen. The marabout, whose figure in one flashing glimpse Stephen +fancied he recognized, was still apparently unhurt. It was he who seemed +to be conducting operations, but of Si Maieddine nothing had been seen +since his unconscious or dead body was dragged down the slope by his +friends. Precisely how many Arabs remained to fight, the Europeans were +not sure, but they believed that over a dozen were left, counting the +leader. + +By and by the dying fires flickered out, leaving only a dull red glow on +the roofs. The pale light of the stars seemed dim after the blaze which +had lit the quadrangle, and in the semi-darkness, when each side watched +the other as a cat spies at a rat-hole, the siege grew wearisome. Yet +the Europeans felt that each moment's respite meant sixty seconds of new +hope for them. Ammunition was running low, and soon they must fall back +upon the small supply kept by Rostafel, which had already been placed in +the dining-room; but matters were not quite desperate, since each minute +brought the soldiers from Bordj Azzouz nearer, even if the carrier +pigeon had failed. + +"Why do they not blow us up?" asked the Frenchman, sober now, and +extremely pessimistic. "They could do it. Or is it the women they are +after?" + +Stephen was not inclined to be confidential. "No doubt they have their +own reasons," he answered. "What they are, can't matter to us." + +"It matters that they are concocting some plan, and that we do not know +what it is," said Rostafel. + +"To get on to the roof over our heads is what they'd like best, no +doubt," said Stephen. "But my friend in the tower here is saving us from +that at the back, and they can't do much in front of our noses." + +"I am not sure they cannot. They will think of something," grumbled the +landlord. "We are in a bad situation. I do not believe any of us will +see to-morrow. I only hope my brother will have the spirit to revenge +me. But even that is not my luck." + +He was right. The Arabs had thought of something--"a something" which +they must have prepared before their start. Suddenly, behind the mound +of dead animals arose a fitful light, and while the Europeans wondered +at its meaning, a shower of burning projectiles flew through the air at +the barricade. All four fired a volley in answer, hoping to wing the +throwers, but the Arab scheme was a success. Tins of blazing pitch were +rolling about the courtyard, close to the barrier, but before falling +they had struck the piled mattresses and furniture, splashing fire and +trickles of flame poured over the old bedticking, and upholstered chairs +from the dining-room. At the same instant Nevill called from the door of +his tower: "More cartridges, quick! I'm all out, and there are two chaps +trying to shin up the wall. Maieddine's not dead. He's there, directing +'em." + +Stephen gave Nevill his own rifle, just reloaded. "Fetch the cartridges +stored in the dining-room," he said to Rostafel, "while we beat the fire +out with our coats." But there was no need for the Frenchman to leave +his post. "Here are the cartridges," said Victoria's voice, surprising +them. She had been at the door, which she held ajar, and behind this +screen had heard and seen all that passed. As Stephen took the box of +cartridges, she caught up the large pail of water which early in the +evening had been placed in the dining-room in case of need. "Take this +and put out the fire," she cried to Hamish, who snatched the bucket +without a word, and dashed its contents over the barricade. + +Then she went back to Saidee, who sat on the blankets in a far corner, +shivering with cold, though the night was hot, and the room, with its +barred wooden shutters, close almost beyond bearing. They had kept but +one tallow candle lighted, that Victoria might more safely peep out from +time to time, to see how the fight was going. + +"What if our men are all killed," Saidee whispered, as the girl stole +back to her, "and nobody's left to defend us? Cassim and Maieddine will +open the door, over their dead bodies, and then--then----" + +"You have a revolver," said Victoria, almost angrily. "Not for them, I +don't mean that. Only--they mustn't take us. But I'm not afraid. Our +men are brave, and splendid. They have no thought of giving up. And if +Captain Sabine got our message, he'll be here by dawn." + +"Don't forget the shot we heard." + +"No. But the pigeon isn't our only hope. The signals!" + +"Who knows if an answer came?" + +"I know, because I know Stephen. He wouldn't have come down alive unless +he'd got an answer." + +Saidee said no more, and they sat together in silence, Victoria holding +her sister's icy hand in hers, which was scarcely warmer, though it +tingled with the throbbing of many tiny pulses. So they listened to the +firing outside, until suddenly it sounded different to Victoria's ears. +She straightened herself with a start, listening even more intensely. + +"What's the matter? What do you hear?" Saidee stammered, dry-lipped. + +"I'm not sure. But--I think they've used up all the cartridges I took +them. And there are no more." + +"But they're firing still." + +"With their revolvers." + +"God help us, then! It can't last long," the older woman whispered, and +covered her face with her hands. + +Victoria did not stop for words of comfort. She jumped up from the couch +of blankets and ran to the door, which Stephen had shut. It must be kept +wide open, now, in case the defenders were obliged to rush in for the +last stand. She pressed close to it, convulsively grasping the handle +with her cold fingers. + +Then the end came soon, for the enemy had not been slow to detect the +difference between rifle and revolver shots. They knew, even before +Victoria guessed, exactly what had happened. It was the event they had +been awaiting. With a rush, the dozen men dashed over the mound of +carcasses and charged the burning barricade. + +"Quick, Wings," shouted Stephen, defending the way his friend must take. +The distance was short from the door of the watch-tower to the door of +the dining-room, but it was just too long for safety. As Nevill ran +across, an Arab close to the barricade shot him in the side, and he +would have fallen if Stephen had not caught him round the waist, and +flung him to Hamish, who carried him to shelter. + +A second more, and they were all in the dining-room. Stephen and Angus +had barred the heavy door, and already Hamish and Rostafel were firing +through the two round ventilating holes in the window shutters. There +were two more such holes in the door, and Stephen took one, Angus the +other. But the enemy had already sheltered on the other side of the +barricade, which would now serve them as well as it had served the +Europeans. The water dashed on to the flames had not extinguished all, +but the wet mattresses and furniture burned slowly, and the Arabs began +beating out the fire with their gandourahs. + +Again there was a deadlock. For the moment neither side could harm the +other: but there was little doubt in the minds of the besieged as to the +next move of the besiegers. The Arabs were at last free to climb the +wall, beyond reach of the loopholes in door or window, and could make a +hole in the roof of the dining-room. It would take them some time, but +they could do it, and meanwhile the seven prisoners were almost as +helpless as trapped rats. + +Of the five men, not one was unwounded, and Stephen began to fear that +Nevill was badly hurt. He could not breathe without pain, and though he +tried to laugh, he was deadly pale in the wan candlelight. "Don't mind +me. I'm all right," he said when Victoria and Saidee began tearing up +their Arab veils for bandages. "Not worth the bother!" But the sisters +would not listen, and Victoria told him with pretended cheerfulness what +a good nurse she was; how she had learned "first aid" at the school at +Potterston, and taken a prize for efficiency. + +In spite of his protest, Nevill was made to lie down on the blankets in +the corner, while the two sisters played doctor; and as the firing of +the Arabs slackened, Stephen left the twins to guard door and window, +while he and Rostafel built a screen to serve when the breaking of the +roof should begin. The only furniture left in the dining-room consisted +of one large table (which Stephen had not added to the barricade because +he had thought of this contingency) and in addition a rough unpainted +cupboard, fastened to the wall. They tore off the doors of this +cupboard, and with them and the table made a kind of penthouse to +protect the corner where Nevill lay. + +"Now," said Stephen, "if they dig a hole in the roof they'll find----" + +"Flag o' truce, sir," announced Hamish at the door. And Stephen +remembered that for three minutes at least there had been no firing. As +he worked at the screen, he had hardly noticed the silence. + +He hurried to join Hamish at the door, and, peeping out, saw a tall man, +with a bloodstained bandage wrapped round his head, advancing from the +other side of the barricade, with a white handkerchief hanging from the +barrel of his rifle. It was Maieddine, and somehow Stephen was glad that +the Arab's death did not lie at his door. His anger had cooled, now, and +he wondered at the murderous rage which had passed. + +As Maieddine came forward, fearlessly, he limped in spite of an effort +to hide the fact that he was almost disabled. + +"I have to say that, if the ladies are given up to us, no harm shall +come to them or to the others," he announced in French, in a clear, loud +voice. "We will take the women with us, and leave the men to go their +own way. We will even provide them with animals in place of those we +have killed, that they may ride to the north." + +"Do not believe him!" cried Saidee. "Traitors once, they'll be traitors +again. If Victoria and I should consent to go with them, to save all +your lives, they wouldn't spare you really. As soon as we were in their +hands, they'd burn the house or blow it up." + +"There can be no question of our allowing you to go, in any case," said +Stephen. "Our answer is," he replied to Maieddine, "that the ladies +prefer to remain with us, and we expect to be able to protect them." + +"Then all will die together, except one, who is my promised wife," +returned the Arab. "Tell that one that by coming with me she can save +her sister, whom she once seemed to love more than herself, more than +all the world. If she stays, not only will her eyes behold the death of +the men who failed to guard her, but the death of her sister. One who +has a right to decide the lady's fate, has decided that she must die in +punishment of her obstinacy, unless she gives herself up." + +"Tell Si Maieddine that before he or the marabout can come near us, we +shall be dead," Victoria said, in a low voice. "I know Saidee and I can +trust you," she went on, "to shoot us both straight through the heart +rather than they should take us. That's what you wish, too, isn't it, +Saidee?" + +"Yes--yes, if I have courage or heart enough to wish anything," her +sister faltered. + +But Stephen could not or would not give that message to Maieddine. "Go," +he said, the fire of his old rage flaming again. "Go, you Arab dog!" + +Forgetting the flag of truce in his fury at the insult, Maieddine lifted +his rifle and fired; then, remembering that he had sinned against a code +of honour he respected, he stood still, waiting for an answering shot, +as if he and his rival were engaged in a strange duel. But Stephen did +not shoot, and with a quick word forbade the others to fire. Then +Maieddine moved away slowly and was lost to sight behind the barricade. + +As he disappeared, a candle which Victoria had placed near Nevill's +couch on the floor, flickered and dropped its wick in a pool of grease. +There was only one other left, and the lamp had been forgotten in the +kitchen: but already the early dawn was drinking the starlight. It was +three o'clock, and soon it would be day. + +For some minutes there was no more firing. Stillness had fallen in the +quadrangle. There was no sound except the faint moaning of some wounded +animal that lived and suffered. Then came a pounding on the roof, not in +one, but in two or three places. It was as if men worked furiously, with +pickaxes; and somehow Stephen was sure that Maieddine, despite his +wounds, was among them. He would wish to be the first to see Victoria's +face, to save her from death, perhaps, and keep her for himself. Still, +Stephen was glad he had not killed the Arab, and he felt, though they +said nothing of it to each other, that Victoria, too, was glad. + +They must have help soon now, if it were to come in time. The knocking +on the roof was loud. + +"How long before they can break through?" Victoria asked, leaving Nevill +to come to Stephen, who guarded the door. + +"Well, there are several layers of thick adobe," he said, cheerfully. + +"Will it be ten minutes?" + +"Oh, more than that. Much more than that," Stephen assured her. + +"Please tell me what you truly think. I have a reason for asking. Will +it be half an hour?" + +"At least that," he said, with a tone of grave sincerity which she no +longer doubted. + +"Half an hour. And then----" + +"Even then we can keep you safe for a little while, behind the screen. +And help may come." + +"Have you given up hope, in your heart?" + +"No. One doesn't give up hope." + +"I feel the same. I never give up hope. And yet--we may have to die, all +of us, and for myself, I'm not afraid, only very solemn, for death must +be wonderful. But for you--to have you give your life for ours----" + +"I would give it joyfully, a hundred times for you." + +"I know. And I for you. That's one thing I wanted to tell you, in +case--we never have a chance to speak to each other again. That, and +just this beside: one reason I'm not afraid, is because I'm with you. If +I die, or live, I shall be with you. And whichever it's to be, I shall +find it sweet. One will be the same as the other, really, for death's +only a new life." + +"And I have something to tell you," Stephen said. "I worship you, and to +have known you, has made it worth while to have existed, though I +haven't always been happy. Why, just this moment alone is worth all the +rest of my life. So come what may, I have lived." + +The pounding on the roof grew louder. The sound of the picks with which +the men worked could be heard more clearly. They were rapidly getting +through those layers of adobe, of whose thickness Stephen had spoken. + +"It won't be half an hour now," Victoria murmured, looking up. + +"No. Promise me you'll go to your sister and Nevill Caird behind the +screen, when I tell you." + +"I promise, if----" + +The pounding ceased. In the courtyard there was a certain confusion--the +sound of running feet, and murmur of excited voices, though eyes that +looked through the holes in the door and window could not see past the +barricade. + +Then, suddenly, the pounding began again, more furiously than ever. It +was as if demons had taken the place of men. + +"It is Maieddine, I'm sure!" cried Victoria. "I seem to know what is in +his mind. Something has made him desperate." + +"There's a chance for us," said Stephen. "What I believe has happened, +is this. They must have stationed a sentinel or two outside the bordj in +case of surprise. The raised voices we heard, and the stopping of the +work on the roof for a minute, may have meant that a sentinel ran in +with news--good news for us, bad news for the Arabs." + +"But--would they have begun to work again, if soldiers were coming?" + +"Yes, if help were so far off that the Arabs might hope to reach us +before it came, and get away in time. Ben Halim's one hope is to make an +end of--some of us. It was well enough to disguise the whole band as +Touaregs, in case they were seen by nomads, or the landlord here should +escape, and tell of the attack. But he'd risk anything to silence us +men, and----" + +"He cares nothing for Saidee's life or mine. It's only Maieddine who +cares," the girl broke in. "I suppose they've horses and meharis waiting +for them outside the bordj?" + +"Yes. Probably they're being got ready now. The animals have had a +night's rest." + +As he spoke, the first bit of ceiling fell in, rough plaster dropping +with a patter like rain on the hard clay floor. + +Saidee cried out faintly in her corner, where Nevill had fallen into +semi-unconsciousness behind the screen. Rostafel grumbled a "sapriste!" +under his breath, but the Highlanders were silent. + +Down poured more plaster, and put out the last candle. Though a faint +dawn-light stole through the holes in door and window, the room was dim, +almost dark, and with the smell of gunpowder mingled the stench of hot +tallow. + +"Go now, dearest, to your sister," Stephen said to the girl, in a low +voice that was for her alone. + +"You will come?" + +"Yes. Soon. But the door and window must be guarded. We can't have them +breaking in two ways at once." + +"Give me your hand," she said. + +He took one of hers, instead, but she raised his to her lips and kissed +it. Then she went back to her sister, and the two clung together in +silence, listening to the patter of broken adobe on the floor. At first +it was but as a heavy shower of rain; then it increased in violence +like the rattle of hail. They could hear men speaking on the roof, and a +gleam of daylight silvered a crack, as Stephen looked up, a finger on +the trigger of his revolver. + +"Five minutes more," were the words which repeated themselves in his +mind, like the ticking of a watch. "Four minutes. Three. Can I keep my +promise to her, when the time comes!" + +A shout broke the question short, like a snapped thread. + +He remembered the voice of the marabout, and knew that the sisters must +recognize it also. + +"What does he say?" Stephen called across the room to Victoria, speaking +loudly to be heard over voices which answered the summons, whatever it +might be. + +"He's ordering Maieddine to come down from the roof. He says five +seconds' delay and it will be too late--they'll both be ruined. I can't +hear what Maieddine answers. But he goes on working still--he won't +obey." + +"Fool--traitor! For thy sentimental folly wilt thou sacrifice thy +people's future and ruin my son and me?" Cassim shouted, as the girl +stood still to listen. "Thou canst never have her now. Stay, and thou +canst do naught but kill thyself. Come, and we may all be saved. I +command thee, in the name of Allah and His Prophet, that thou obey me." + +The pounding stopped. There was a rushing, sliding sound on the roof. +Then all was quiet above and in the courtyard. + +Saidee broke into hysterical sobbing, crying that they were rescued, +that Honore Sabine was on his way to save them. And Victoria thought +that Stephen would come to her, but he did not. They were to live, not +to die, and the barrier that had been broken down was raised again. + + * * * * * * * + +"What if it's only a trap?" Saidee asked, as Stephen opened the door. +"What if they're behind the barricade, watching?" + +"Listen! Don't you hear shots?" Victoria cried. + +"Yes. There are shots--far away," Stephen answered. "That settles it. +There's no ambush. Either Sabine or the soldiers marching from Azzouz +are after them. They didn't go an instant too soon to save their skins." + +"And ours," murmured Nevill, roused from his stupor. "Queer, how natural +it seems that we should be all right after all." Then his mind wandered +a little, leading him back to a feverish dream. "Ask Sabine, when he +comes--if he's got a letter for me--from Josette." + +Stephen opened the door, and let in the fresh air and morning light, but +the sight in the quadrangle was too ugly for the eyes of women. "Don't +come out!" he called sharply over his shoulder as he turned past the +barricade, with Rostafel at his back. + +The courtyard was hideous as a slaughter-house. Only the sky of rose and +gold reminded him of the world's beauty and the glory of morning, after +that dark nightmare which wrapped his spirit like the choking folds of a +black snake. + +Outside the broken gate, in the desert, there were more traces of the +night's work; blood-stains in the sand, and in a shadowy hollow here and +there a huddled form which seemed a denser shadow. But it would not move +when other shadows crept away before the sun. + +Far in the distance, as Stephen strained his eyes through the +brightening dawn, he saw flying figures of men on camels and horses; and +sounds of shooting came faintly to his ears. At last it ceased +altogether. Some of the figures had vanished. Others halted. Then it +seemed to Stephen that these last were coming back, towards the bordj. +They were riding fast, and all together, as if under discipline. +Soldiers, certainly: but were they from the north or south? Stephen +could not tell; but as his eyes searched the horizon, the doubt was +solved. Another party of men were riding southward, toward Toudja, from +the north. + +"It's Sabine who has chased the Arabs. The others are just too late," he +thought. And he saw that the rescuers from Oued Tolga must reach the +bordj half an hour in advance of the men from Azzouz. + +He was anxious to know what news Sabine had, and the eagerness he felt +to hear details soothed the pain and shame which weighed upon his heart. + +"How am I to explain--to beg her forgiveness?" was the question that +asked itself in his mind; but he had no answer to give. Only this he +could see: after last night, he was hers, if she would take him. But he +believed that she would send him away, that she would despise him when +she had heard the whole story of his entanglement. She would say that he +belonged to the other woman, not to her. And though he was sure she +would not reproach him, he thought there were some words, some looks +which, if she could not forget, it would be hard for even her sweet +nature to forgive. + +He went back to the dining-room with the news of what he had seen. And +as there was no longer any need of protection for the women, the +Highlanders came out with him and Rostafel. All four stood at the gate +of the bordj as the party of twelve soldiers rode up, on tired horses; +but Stephen was in advance, and it was he who answered Sabine's first +breathless question. + +"She's safe. They're both safe, thank God. So are we all, except poor +Caird, who's damaged a good deal worse than any of us. But not +dangerously, I hope." + +"I brought our surgeon," said Sabine, eagerly. "He wanted to be in this +with me. I had to ask for the command, because you know I'm on special +duty at Tolga. But I had no trouble with Major Duprez when I told him +how friends of mine were attacked by Arab robbers, and how I had got the +message." + +"So that's what you told him?" + +"Yes. I didn't want a scandal in the Zaouia, for _her_ sake. Nobody +knows that the marabout is for anything in this business. But, of +course, if you've killed him----" + +"We haven't. He's got clear away. Unless your men have nabbed him and +his friend Maieddine." + +"Not we. I'm not sure I cared to--unless we could kill him. But we did +honestly try--to do both. There were six we chased----" + +"Only six. Then we must have polished off more than we thought." + +"We can find out later how many. But the last six didn't get off without +a scratch, I assure you. They must have had a sentinel watching. We saw +no one, but as we were hoping to surprise the bordj these six men, who +looked from a distance like Touaregs, rushed out, mounted horses and +camels and dashed away, striking westward." + +"They dared not go north. I'd been signalling----" + +"From the broken tower?" + +"Yes. As you came, you must have sighted the men from Azzouz. But tell +me the rest." + +"There's little to tell, and I want your news more than you can want +mine. The Arabs' animals were fresh, and ours tired, for I'd given them +no rest. The brutes had a good start of us and made the best of it, but +at first I thought we were gaining. We got within gunshot, and fired +after them. Two at least were hit. We came on traces of fresh blood +afterward, but the birds themselves were flown. In any case, it was to +bring help I came, not to make captures. Do you think _she_ would like +me to see her now?" + +"Come with me and try, before the other rescue party arrives. I'm glad +the surgeon's with you. I'm worried about Caird, and we're all a bit +dilapidated. How we're to get him and the ladies away from this place, I +don't know. Our animals are dead or dying." + +"You will probably find that the enemy has been generous in spite of +himself and left you some--all that couldn't be taken away. Strange how +those men looked like Touaregs! You are sure of what they really were?" + +"Sure. But since no one else knows, why should the secret leak out? +Better for the ladies if the Touareg disguise should hide the truth, as +it was meant to do." + +"Why not indeed? Since we weren't lucky enough to rid his wife--and the +world of the marabout." + +"Then we're agreed: unless something happens to change our minds, we +were attacked by Touaregs." + +Sabine smiled grimly. "Duprez bet," he answered, "that I should find +they were not Arabs, but Touaregs. He will enjoy saying 'I told you +so.'" + + * * * * * * * + +That night, and for many nights to come, there was wailing in the +Zaouia. The marabout had gone out to meet his son, who had been away +from school on a pilgrimage, and returning at dark, to avoid the great +heat of the day, had been bitten by a viper. Thus, at least, pronounced +the learned Arab physician. It was of the viper bite he died, so it was +said, and no one outside the Zaouia knew of the great man's death until +days afterwards, when he was already buried. Even in the Zaouia it was +not known by many that he had gone away or returned from a journey, or +that he lay ill. In spite of this secrecy and mystery, however, there +was no gossip, but only wild wailing, of mourners who refused to be +comforted. And if certain persons, to the number of twenty or more, were +missing from their places in the Zaouia, nothing was said, after Si +Maieddine had talked with the holy men of the mosque. If these missing +ones were away, and even if they should never come back, it was because +they were needed to carry out the marabout's wishes, at a vast distance. +But now, the dearest wishes of Sidi Mohammed would never be fulfilled. +That poignant knowledge was a knife in every man's heart; for men of +ripe age or wisdom in the Zaouia knew what these wishes were, and how +some day they were to have come true through blood and fire. + +All were sad, though no tongue spoke of any other reason for sadness, +except the inestimable loss of the Saint. And sadder than the saddest +was Si Maieddine, who seemed to have lost his youth. + + + + +LII + + +It is a long cry from the bordj of Toudja among the dunes of the +southern desert, to Algiers, yet Nevill begged that he might be taken +home. "You know why," he said to Stephen, and his eyes explained, if +Stephen needed explanations. Nevill thought there might be some chance +of seeing Josette in Algiers, if he were dying. But the army surgeon +from Oued Tolga pronounced it unsafe to take him so far. + +Yet away from Toudja he must go, since it was impossible to care for him +properly there, and the bullet which had wounded him was still in his +side. + +Fortunately the enemy had left plenty of camels. They had untethered +all, hoping that the animals might wander away, too far to be caught by +the Europeans, but more than were needed remained in the neighbourhood +of Toudja, and Rostafel took possession of half a dozen good meharis, +which would help recoup him for his losses in the bordj. Not one animal +had any mark upon it which could identify the attackers, and saddles and +accoutrements were of Touareg make. The dead men, too, were impossible +to identify, and it was not likely that much trouble would be taken in +prosecuting inquiries. Among those whose duty it is to govern Algeria, +there is a proverb which, for various good reasons, has come to be much +esteemed: "Let sleeping dogs lie." + +Not a man of the five who defended the bordj but had at least one wound +to show for his night's work. Always, however, it is those who attack, +in a short siege, who suffer most; and the Europeans were not proud of +the many corpses they had to their credit. There was some patching for +the surgeon to do for all, but Nevill's was the only serious case. The +French doctor, De Vigne, did not try to hide the truth from the wounded +man's friend; there was danger. The best thing would have been to get +Nevill to Algiers, but since that was impossible, he must travel in a +bassour, by easy stages, to Touggourt. Instead of two days' journey they +must make it three, or more if necessary, and he--De Vigne--would go +with them to put his patient into the hands of the army surgeon at +Touggourt. + +They had only the one bassour; that in which Saidee and Victoria had +come to Toudja from Oued Tolga, but Nevill was delirious more often than +not, and had no idea that a sacrifice was being made for him. Blankets, +and two of the mattresses least damaged by fire in the barricade, were +fastened on to camels for the ladies, after the fashion in use for +Bedouin women of the poorest class, or Ouled Nails who have not yet made +their fortune as dancers; and so the journey began again. + +There was never a time during the three days it lasted, for Stephen to +confess to Victoria. Possibly she did not wish him to take advantage of +a situation created as if by accident at Toudja. Or perhaps she thought, +now that the common danger which had drawn them together, was over, it +would be best to wait until anxiety for Nevill had passed, before +talking of their own affairs. + +At Azzouz, where they passed a night full of suffering for Nevill, they +had news of the marabout's death. It came by telegraph to the operator, +just before the party was ready to start on; yet Saidee was sure that +Sabine had caused it to be sent just at that time. He had been obliged +to march back with his men--the penalty of commanding the force for +which he had asked; but a letter would surely come to Touggourt, and +Saidee could imagine all that it would say. She had no regrets for Ben +Halim, and said frankly to Victoria that it was difficult not to be +indecently glad of her freedom. At last she had waked up from a black +dream of horror, and now that it was over, it hardly seemed real. "I +shall forget," she said. "I shall put my whole soul to forgetting +everything that's happened to me in the last ten years, and every one +I've known in the south--except one. But to have met him and to have him +love me, I'd live it all over again--all." + +She kept Victoria with her continually, and in the physical weakness and +nervous excitement which followed the strain she had gone through, she +seemed to have forgotten her interest in Victoria's affairs. She did not +know that her sister and Stephen had talked of love, for at Toudja after +the fight began she had thought of nothing but the danger they shared. + +Altogether, everything combined to delay explanations between Stephen +and Victoria. He tried to regret this, yet could not be as sorry as he +was repentant. It was not quite heaven, but it was almost paradise to +have her near him, though they had a chance for only a few words +occasionally, within earshot of Saidee, or De Vigne, or the twins, who +watched over Nevill like two well-trained nurses. She loved him, since a +word from her meant more than vows from other women. Nothing had +happened yet to disturb her love, so these few days belonged to Stephen. +He could not feel that he had stolen them. At Touggourt he would find a +time and place to speak, and then it would be over forever. But one joy +he had, which never could have come to him, if it had not been for the +peril at Toudja. They knew each other's hearts. Nothing could change +that. One day, no doubt, she would learn to care for some other man, but +perhaps never quite in the same way she had cared for him, because +Stephen was sure that this was her first love. And though she might be +happy in another love--he tried to hope it, but did not succeed +sincerely--he would always have it to remember, until the day of his +death, that once she had loved him. + +As far out from Touggourt as Temacin, Lady MacGregor came to meet them, +in a ramshackle carriage, filled with rugs and pillows in case Nevill +wished to change. But he was not in a state to wish for anything, and De +Vigne decided for him. He was to go on in the bassour, to the villa +which had been let to Lady MacGregor by an officer of the garrison. It +was there the little Mohammed was to have been kept and guarded by the +Highlanders, if the great scheme had not been suddenly changed in some +of its details. Now, the child had inherited his father's high place. +Already the news had reached the marabout of Temacin, and flashed on to +Touggourt. But no one suspected that the viper which had bitten the +Saint had taken the form of a French bullet. Perhaps, had all been known +to the Government, it would have seemed poetical justice that the arch +plotter had met his death thus. But his plots had died with him; and if +Islam mourned because the Moul Saa they hoped for had been snatched from +them, they mourned in secret. For above other sects and nations, Islam +knows how to be silent. + +When they were settled in the villa near the oasis (Saidee and Victoria +too, for they needed no urging to wait till it was known whether Nevill +Caird would live or die) Lady MacGregor said with her usual briskness to +Stephen: "Of course I've telegraphed to that _creature_." + +Stephen looked at her blankly. + +"That hard-hearted little beast, Josette Soubise," the fairy aunt +explained. + +Stephen could hardly help laughing, though he had seldom felt less +merry. But that the tiny Lady MacGregor should refer to tall Josette, +who was nearly twice her height, as a "little beast," struck him as +somewhat funny. Besides, her toy-terrier snappishness was comic. + +"I've nothing _against_ the girl," Lady MacGregor felt it right to go +on, "except that she's an idiot to bite off her nose to spite her own +face--and Nevill's too. I don't approve of her at all as a wife for him, +you must understand. Nevill could marry a _princess_, and she's nothing +but a little school-teacher with a dimple or two, whose mother and +father were less than _nobody_. Still, as Nevill wants her, she might +have the grace to show appreciation of the honour, by not spoiling his +life. He's never been the same since he went and fell in love with her, +and she refused him." + +"You've telegraphed to Tlemcen that Nevill is ill?" Stephen ventured. + +"I've telegraphed to the creature that she'd better come here at once, +if she wants to see him alive," replied Lady MacGregor. "I suppose she +loves him in her French-Algerian way, and she must have saved up enough +money for the fare. Anyhow, if Nevill doesn't live, I happen to know +he's left her nearly everything, except what the poor boy imagines I +ought to have. That's pouring coals of fire on her head!" + +"Don't think of his not living!" exclaimed Stephen. + +"Honestly I believe he won't live unless that idiot of a girl comes and +purrs and promises to marry him, deathbed or no deathbed." + +Again Stephen smiled faintly. "You're a matchmaker, Lady MacGregor," he +said. "You are one of the most subtle persons I ever saw." + +The old lady took this as a compliment. "I haven't lived among Arabs, +goodness knows how many years, for nothing," she retorted. "I +telegraphed for her about five minutes after you wired from Azzouz. In +fact, my telegram went back by the boy who brought yours." + +"She may be here day after to-morrow, if she started at once," Stephen +reflected aloud. + +"She did, and she will," said Lady MacGregor, drily. + +"You've heard?" + +"The day I wired." + +"You have quite a nice way of breaking things to people, you dear little +ladyship," said Stephen. And for some reason which he could not in the +least understand, this speech caused Nevill's aunt to break into tears. + +That evening, the two surgeons extracted the bullet from Nevill's side. +Afterwards, he was extremely weak, and took as little interest as +possible in things, until Stephen was allowed to speak to him for a +moment. + +Most men, if told that they had just sixty seconds to spend at the +bedside of a dear friend, would have been at a loss what to say in a +space of time so small yet valuable. But Stephen knew what he wished to +say, and said it, as soon as Nevill let him speak; but Nevill began +first. + +"Maybe--going to--deserve name of Wings," he muttered. "Shouldn't +wonder. Don't care much." + +"Is there any one thing in this world you want above everything else?" +asked Stephen. + +"Yes. Sight of--Josette. One thing I--can't have." + +"Yes, you can," said Stephen quietly. "She's coming. She started the +minute she heard you were ill, and she'll be in Touggourt day after +to-morrow." + +"You're not--pulling my leg?" + +"To do that would be very injurious. But I thought good news would be +better than medicine." + +"Thank you, Legs. You're a great doctor," was all that Nevill answered. +But his temperature began to go down within the hour. + +"He'll get the girl, of course," remarked Lady MacGregor, when Stephen +told her. "That is, if he lives." + +"He will live, with this hope to buoy him up," said Stephen. "And she +can't hold out against him for a minute when she sees him as he is. +Indeed, I rather fancy she's been in a mood to change her mind this last +month." + +"Why this last month?" + +"Oh, I think she misunderstood Nevill's interest in Miss Ray, and that +helped her to understand herself. When she finds out that it's for her +he still cares, not some one else, she'll do anything he asks." +Afterwards it proved that he was right. + +The day after the arrival at Touggourt, the house in its garden near +the oasis was very quiet. The Arab servants, whom Lady MacGregor had +taken with the place, moved silently, and for Nevill's sake voices were +lowered. There was a brooding stillness of summer heat over the one +little patch of flowery peace and perfumed shade in the midst of the +fierce golden desert. Yet to the five members of the oddly assembled +family it was as if the atmosphere tingled with electricity. There was a +curious, even oppressive sense of suspense, of waiting for something to +happen. + +They did not speak of this feeling, yet they could see it in each +other's eyes, if they dare to look. + +It was with them as with people who wait to hear a clock begin striking +an hour which will bring news of some great change in their lives, for +good or evil. + +The tension increased as the day went on; still, no one had said to +another, "What is there so strange about to-day? Do you feel it? Is it +only our imagination--a reaction after strain, or is it that a +presentiment of something to happen hangs over us?" + +Stephen had not yet had any talk with Victoria. They had seen each other +alone for scarcely more than a moment since the night at Toudja; but now +that Nevill was better, and the surgeons said that if all went well, +danger was past, it seemed to Stephen that the hour had come. + +After they had lunched in the dim, cool dining-room, and Lady MacGregor +had proposed a siesta for all sensible people, Stephen stopped the girl +on her way upstairs as she followed her sister. + +"May I talk to you for a little while this afternoon?" he asked. + +Voice and eyes were wistful, and Victoria wondered why, because she was +so happy that she felt as if life had been set to music. She had hoped +that he would be happy too, when Nevill's danger was over, and he had +time to think of himself--perhaps, too, of her. + +"Yes," she said, "let's talk in the garden, when it's cooler. I love +being in gardens, don't you? Everything that happens seems more +beautiful." + +Stephen remembered how lovely he had thought her in the lily garden at +Algiers. He was almost glad that they were not to have this talk there; +for the memory of it was too perfect to mar with sadness. + +"I'm going to put Saidee to sleep," she went on. "You may laugh, but +truly I can. When I was a little girl, she used to like me to stroke her +hair if her head ached, and she would always fall asleep. And once she's +asleep I shan't dare move, or she'll wake up. She has such happy dreams +now, and they're sure to come true. Shall I come to you about half-past +five?" + +"I'll be waiting," said Stephen. + +It was the usual garden of a villa in the neighbourhood of a desert +town, but Stephen had never seen one like it, except that of the Caid, +in Bou-Saada. There were the rounded paths of hard sand, the colour of +pinkish gold in the dappling shadows of date palms and magnolias, and +there were rills of running water that whispered and gurgled as they +bathed the dark roots of the trees. No grass grew in the garden, and the +flowers were not planted in beds or borders. Plants and trees sprang out +of the sand, and such flowers as there were--roses, and pomegranate +blossoms, hibiscus, and passion flowers--climbed, and rambled, and +pushed, and hung in heavy drapery, as best they could without attention +or guidance. But one of the principal paths led to a kind of arbour, or +temple, where long ago palms had been planted in a ring, and had formed +a high green dome, through which, even at noon, the light filtered as if +through a dome of emerald. Underneath, the pavement of gold was hard and +smooth, and in the centre whispered a tiny fountain ornamented with old +Algerian tiles. It trickled rather than played, but its delicate music +was soothing and sweet as a murmured lullaby; and from the shaded seat +beside it there was a glimpse between tree trunks of the burning desert +gold. + +On this wooden seat by the fountain Stephen waited for Victoria, and +saw her coming to him, along the straight path that led to the round +point. She wore a white dress which Lady MacGregor had brought her, and +as she walked, the embroidery of light and shadow made it look like lace +of a lovely pattern. She stopped on the way, and, gathering a red rose +with a long stem, slipped it into her belt. It looked like a spot of +blood over her heart, as if a sword had been driven in and drawn out. +Stephen could not bear to see it there. It was like a symbol of the +wound that he was waiting to inflict. + +She came to him smiling, looking very young, like a child who expects +happiness. + +"Have I kept you waiting long?" she asked. Her blue eyes, with the +shadow of the trees darkening them, had a wonderful colour, almost +purple. A desperate longing to take her in his arms swept over Stephen +like a wave. He drew in his breath sharply and shut his teeth. He could +not answer. Hardly knowing what he did, he held out his hands, and very +quietly and sweetly she laid hers in them. + +"Don't trust me--don't be kind to me," he said, crushing her hands for +an instant, then putting them away. + +She looked up in surprise, as he stood by the fountain, very tall and +pale, and suddenly rather grim, it seemed to her, his expression out of +tune with the peace of the garden and the mood in which she had come. + +"What is the matter?" she asked, simply. + +"Everything. I hardly know how to begin to tell you. Yet I must. Perhaps +you'll think I shouldn't have waited till now. But there's been no +chance--at least, I----" + +"No, there's been no chance for us to talk, or even to think very much +about ourselves," Victoria tried to reassure him. "Begin just as you +like. Whatever you say, whatever you have to tell, I won't +misunderstand." + +"First of all, then," Stephen said, "you know I love you. Only you don't +know how much. I couldn't tell you that, any more than I could tell how +much water there is in the ocean. I didn't know myself that it was +possible to love like this, and such a love might turn the world into +heaven. But because I am what I am, and because I've done what I have +done, it's making mine hell. Wait--you said you wouldn't misunderstand! +The man who loves you ought to offer some sort of spiritual gold and +diamonds, but I've got only a life half spoiled to offer you, if you'll +take it. And before I can even ask you to take it, I'll have to explain +how it's spoiled." + +Victoria did not speak, but still looked at him with that look of an +expectant, anxious child, which made him long to snatch her up and turn +his back forever on the world where there was a Margot Lorenzi, and +gossiping people, and newspapers. + +But he had to go on. "There's a woman," he said, "who--perhaps she cares +for me--I don't know. Anyhow, she'd suffered through our family. I felt +sorry for her. I--I suppose I admired her. She's handsome--or people +think so. I can hardly tell how it came about, but I--asked her to marry +me, and she said yes. That was--late last winter--or the beginning of +spring. Then she had to go to Canada, where she'd been brought up--her +father died in England, a few months ago, and her mother, when she was a +child; but she had friends she wanted to see, before--before she +married. So she went, and I came to Algiers, to visit Nevill. Good +heavens, how banal it sounds! How--how different from the way I feel! +There aren't words--I don't see how to make you understand, without +being a cad. But I must tell you that I didn't love her, even at first. +It was a wish--a foolish, mistaken wish, I see now--and I saw long ago, +the moment it was too late--to make up for things. She was unhappy, +and--no, I give it up! I can't explain. But it doesn't change things +between us--you and me. I'm yours, body and soul. If you can forgive me +for--for trying to make you care, when I had no right--if, after knowing +the truth, you'll take me as I am, I----" + +"Do you mean, you'd break off your engagement?" + +Perhaps it was partly the effect of the green shadows, but the girl +looked very pale. Except for her eyes and hair, and the red rose that +was like a wound over her heart, there was no colour about her. + +"Yes, I would. And I believe it would be right to break it," Stephen +said, forcefully. "It's abominable to marry some one you don't love, and +a crime if you love some one else." + +"But you must have cared for her once," said Victoria. + +"Oh, cared! I cared in a way, as a man cares for a pretty woman who's +had very hard luck. You see--her father made a fight for a title that's +in our family, and claimed the right to it. He lost his case, and his +money was spent. Then he killed himself, and his daughter was left +alone, without a penny and hardly any friends----" + +"Poor, poor girl! I don't wonder you were sorry for her--so sorry that +you thought your pity was love. You couldn't throw her over now, you +know in your heart you couldn't. It would be cruel." + +"I thought I couldn't, till I met you," Stephen answered frankly. "Since +then, I've thought--no, I haven't exactly thought. I've only felt. That +night at Toudja, I knew it would be worse than death to have to keep my +word to her. I wouldn't have been sorry if they'd killed me then, after +you said--that is, after I had the memory of a moment or two of +happiness to take to the next world." + +"Ah, that's because I let you see I loved you," Victoria explained +softly, and a little shyly. "I told you I wouldn't misunderstand, and I +don't. Just for a minute I was hurt--my heart felt sick, because I +couldn't bear to think--to think less highly of you. But it was only for +a minute. Then I began to understand--so well! And I think you are even +better than I thought before--more generous, and chivalrous. You were +sorry for _her_ in those days of her trouble, and then you were engaged, +and you meant to marry her and make her happy. But at Toudja I showed +you what was in my heart--even now I'm not ashamed that I did, because +I knew you cared for me." + +"I worshipped you, only less than I do now," Stephen broke in. "Every +day I love you more--and will to the end of my life. You can't send me +away. You can't send me to another woman." + +"I can, for my sake and yours both, because if I kept you, feeling that +I was wronging some one, neither of us could be happy. But I want you to +know I understand that you have _me_ to be sorry for now, as well as +her, and that you're torn between us both, hardly seeing which way +honour lies. I'm sure you would have kept true to her, if you hadn't +hated to make me unhappy. And instead of needing to forgive you, I will +ask you to forgive me, for making things harder." + +"You've given me the only real happiness I've ever known since I was a +boy," Stephen said. + +"If that's true--and it must be, since you say it--neither of us is to +be pitied. I shall be happy always because you loved me enough to be +made happy by my love. And you must be happy because you've done right, +and made me love you more. I don't think there'll be any harm in our not +trying to forget, do you?" + +"I could as easily forget to breathe." + +"So could I. Ever since the first night I met you, you have seemed +different to me from any other man I ever knew, except an ideal man who +used to live in the back of my mind. Soon, that man and you grew to be +one. You wouldn't have me separate you from him, would you?" + +"If you mean that you'll separate me from your ideal unless I marry +Margot Lorenzi, then divide me from that cold perfection forever. I'm +not cold, and I'm far from perfect. But I can't feel it a decent thing +for a man to marry one woman, promising to love and cherish her, if his +whole being belongs to another. Even you can't----" + +"I used to believe it wrong to marry a person one didn't love," +Victoria broke in, quickly. "But it's so different when one talks of an +imaginary case. This poor girl loves you?" + +"I suppose she thinks she does." + +"She's poor?" + +"Yes." + +"And she depends upon you." + +"Of course she counts on me. I always expected to keep my word." + +"And now you'd break it--for me! Oh, no, I couldn't let you do it. Were +you--does she expect to be married soon?" + +Stephen's face grew red, as if it had been struck. "Yes," he answered, +in a low voice. + +"Would you mind--telling me how soon?" + +"As soon as she gets back from Canada." + +Victoria's bosom rose and fell quickly. + +"Oh!--and when----" + +"At once. Almost at once." + +"She's coming back immediately?" + +"Yes. I--I'm afraid she's in England now." + +"How dreadful! Poor girl, hoping to see you--to have you meet her, +maybe, and--you're here. You're planning to break her heart. It breaks +mine to think of it. I _couldn't_ have you fail." + +"For God's sake don't send me away from you. I can't go. I won't." + +"Yes, if I beg you to go. And I do. You must stand by this poor girl, +alone in the world except for you. I see from what you tell me, that she +needs you and appeals to your chivalry by lacking everything except what +comes from you. It can't be wrong to protect her, after giving your +promise, even though you mayn't love her in the way you once thought you +did: but it _would_ be wrong to abandon her now----" + +A rustling in the long path made Stephen turn. Some one was coming. It +was Margot Lorenzi. + +He could not believe that it was really she, and stared stupidly, +thinking the figure he saw an optical illusion. + +She had on a grey travelling dress, and a grey hat trimmed with black +ribbon, which, Stephen noted idly, was powdered with dust. Her black +hair was dusty, too, and her face slightly flushed with heat, +nevertheless she was beautiful, with the luscious beauty of those women +who make a strong physical appeal to men. + +Behind her was an Arab servant, whom she had passed in her eagerness. He +looked somewhat troubled, but seeing Stephen he threw up his hands in +apology, throwing off all responsibility. Then he turned and went back +towards the house. + +Margot, too, had seen Stephen. Her eyes flashed from him to the figure +of the girl, which she saw in profile. She did not speak, but walked +faster; and Victoria, realizing that their talk was to be interrupted by +somebody, looked round, expecting Lady MacGregor or Saidee. + +"It is Miss Lorenzi," Stephen said, in a low voice. "I don't know +how--or why--she has come here. But for your sake--it will be better if +you go now, at once, and let me talk to her." + +There was another path by which Victoria could reach the house. She +might have gone, thinking that Stephen knew best, and that she had no +more right than wish to stay, but the tall young woman in grey began to +walk very fast, when she saw that the girl with Stephen was going. + +"Be kind enough to stop where you are, Miss Ray. I know you must be Miss +Ray," Margot called out in a loud, sharp voice. She spoke as if Victoria +were an inferior, whom she had a right to command. + +Surprised and hurt by the tone, the girl hesitated, looking from the +newcomer to Stephen. + +At first glance and at a little distance, she had thought the young +woman perfectly beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful creature she had +ever seen--even more glorious than Saidee. But when Miss Lorenzi came +nearer, undisguisedly angry and excited, the best part of her beauty was +gone, wiped away, as a face in a picture may be smeared before the paint +is dry. Her features were faultless, her hair and eyes magnificent. Her +dress was pretty, and exquisitely made, if too elaborate for desert +travelling; her figure charming, though some day it would be too stout; +yet in spite of all she looked common and cruel. The thought that +Stephen Knight had doomed himself to marry this woman made Victoria +shiver, as if she had heard him condemned to imprisonment for life. + +She had thought before seeing Miss Lorenzi that she understood the +situation, and how it had come about. She had said to Stephen, "I +understand." Now, it seemed to her that she had boasted in a silly, +childish way. She had not understood. She had not begun to understand. + +Suddenly the girl felt very old and experienced, and miserably wise in +the ways of the world. It was as if in some other incarnation she had +known women like this, and their influence over men: how, if they tried, +they could beguile chivalrous men into being sorry for them, and doing +almost anything which they wished to be done. + +A little while ago Victoria had been thinking and speaking of Margot +Lorenzi as "poor girl," and urging Stephen to be true to her for his own +sake as well as hers. But now, in a moment, everything had changed. A +strange flash of soul-lightning had shown her the real Margot, unworthy +of Stephen at her best, crushing to his individuality and aspirations at +her worst. Victoria did not know what to think, what to do. In place of +the sad and lonely girl she had pictured, here stood a woman already +selfish and heartless, who might become cruel and terrible. No one had +ever looked at Victoria Ray as Miss Lorenzi was looking now, not even +Miluda, the Ouled Nail, who had stared her out of countenance, curiously +and maliciously at the same time. + +"I have heard a great deal about Miss Ray in Algiers," Margot went on. +"And I think--you will _both_ understand why I made this long, tiresome +journey to Touggourt." + +"There is no reason why Miss Ray should understand," said Stephen +quickly. "It can't concern her in the least. On your own account it +would have been better if you had waited for me in London. But it's too +late to think of that now. I will go with you into the house." + +"No," Margot answered. "Not yet. And you're not to put on such a tone +with me--as if I'd done something wrong. I haven't! We're engaged, and I +have a perfect right to come here, and find out what you've been doing +while I was at the other side of the world. You promised to meet me at +Liverpool--and instead, you were here--with _her_. You never even sent +me word. Yet you're surprised that I came on to Algiers. Of course, when +I was _there_, I heard everything--or what I didn't hear, I guessed. You +hadn't bothered to hide your tracks. I don't suppose you so much as +thought of me--poor me, who went to Canada for your sake really. Yes! +I'll tell you why I went now. I was afraid if I didn't go, a man who was +in love with me there--he's in love with me now and always will be, for +that matter!--would come and kill you. He used to threaten that he'd +shoot any one I might marry, if I dared throw him over; and he's the +kind who keeps his word. So I didn't want to throw him over. I went +myself, and stayed in his mother's house, and argued and pleaded with +him, till he'd promised to be good and let me be happy. So you see--the +journey was for you--to save you. I didn't want to see him again for +myself, though _his_ is real love. You're cold as ice. I don't believe +you know what love is. But all the same I can't be jilted by you--for +another woman. I won't have it, Stephen--after all I've gone through. If +you try to break your solemn word to me, I'll sue you. There'll be +another case that will drag your name before the public again, and not +only yours----" + +"Be still, Margot," said Stephen. + +She grew deadly pale. "I will not be still," she panted. "I _will_ have +justice. No one shall take you away from me." + +"No one wishes to take me away," Stephen flung at her hotly. "Miss Ray +has just refused me. You've spared me the trouble of taking her +advice----" + +"What was it?" Margot looked suddenly anxious, and at the same time +self-assertive. + +"That I should go at once to England--and to you." + +Victoria took a step forward, then paused, pale and trembling. "Oh, +Stephen!" she cried. "I take back that advice. I--I've changed my mind. +You can't--you can't do it. You would be so miserable that she'd be +wretched, too. I see now, it's not right to urge people to do things, +especially when--one only _thinks_ one understands. She doesn't love you +really. I feel almost sure she cares more for some one else, if--if it +were not for things you have, which she wants. If you're rich, as I +suppose you must be, don't make this sacrifice, which would crush your +soul, but give her half of all you have in the world, so that she can be +happy in her own way, and set you free gladly." + +As Victoria said these things, she remembered M'Barka, and the prophecy +of the sand; a sudden decision to be made in an instant, which would +change her whole life. + +"I'll gladly give Miss Lorenzi more than half my money," said Stephen. +"I should be happy to think she had it. But even if you begged me to +marry her, Victoria, I would not now. It's gone beyond that. Her ways +and mine must be separate forever." + +Margot's face grew eager, and her eyes flamed. + +"What I want and insist on," she said, "is that I must have my rights. +After all I've hoped for and expected, I _won't_ be thrown over, and go +back to the old, dull life of turning and twisting every shilling. If +you'll settle thirty thousand pounds on me, you are free, so far as I +care. I wouldn't marry a man who hated me, when there's one who adores +me as if I were a saint--and I like him better than ever I did you--a +lot better. I realize that more than I did before." + +The suggestion of Margot Lorenzi as a saint might have made a looker-on +smile, but Victoria and Stephen passed it by, scarcely hearing. + +"If I give you thirty thousand pounds, it will leave me a poor man," he +said. + +"Oh, _do_ give her the money and be a poor man," Victoria implored. "I +shall be so happy if we are poor--a thousand times happier than she +could be with millions." + +Stephen caught the hand that half unconsciously the girl held out to +him, and pressed it hard. "If you will go back to your hotel now," he +said to Margot, in a quiet voice, "I will call on you there almost at +once, and we can settle our business affairs. I promise that you shall +be satisfied." + +Margot looked at them both for a few seconds, without speaking. "I'll +go, and send a telegram to Montreal which will make somebody there +happier than any other man in Canada," she answered. "And I'll expect +you in an hour." + +When she had gone, they forgot her. + +"Do you really mean, when you say we--_we_ shall be happy poor, that +you'll marry me in spite of all?" Stephen asked. + +"Oh, yes, if you want me still," Victoria said. + +"Does a man want Heaven!" He took her in his arms and held her close, +closer than he had held her the night at Toudja, when he had thought +that death might soon part them. "You've brought me up out of the +depths." + +"Not I," the girl said. "Your star." + +"Your star. You gave me half yours." + +"Now I give it to you all," she told him. "And all myself, too. Oh, +isn't it wonderful to be so happy--in the light of our star--and to +know that the others we love will be happy, too--my Saidee, and your Mr. +Caird----" + +"Yes," Stephen answered. "But just at this moment I can't think much +about any one except ourselves, not even your sister and my best friend. +You fill the universe for me." + +"It's filled with love--and it _is_ love," said Victoria. "The music is +sweeter for us, though, because we know it's sweet for others. I +_couldn't_ let her spoil your life, Stephen." + +"My life!" he echoed. "I didn't know what life was or might be till this +moment. Now I know." + +"Now we both know," she finished. + + + + +THE END + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES + + +Page and line numbers in these notes refer to the original printed text. + +Obvious punctuation corrections have been applied silently where +applicable. + +As much as possible, the original spelling in the book has been +preserved. The authors commonly use different hyphenation for several +words throughout (for example, "note-book" on page 283, line 9, as +opposed to "notebook" on page 285, line 16). There are mixes of English, +American, and French spelling. The spelling of some names that appear +only once or twice is ambiguous (for example, "Cheikh" on page 55, line +27, and "Cheik" on page 143, line 5). In cases like these, the text has +been left as in the printed version. + +The following appear to be typographical errors and have been corrected +in this text. + +Page 40, line 20: "Christo" (Cristo). + +Page 62, line 1: "dribge" (bridge). + +Page 77, line 4: "hautes" (hauts). + +Page 92, line 20: "filagree" (filigree). + +Page 99, line 9: "ecole" (ecole). + +Page 184, line 8: "khol" (kohl). + +Page 217, line 1: "Michelet" (Michelet). + +Page 235, line 16: "Neville's" (Nevill's). + +Page 235, line 34: "Neville" (Nevill). + +Page 425, line 26: "massage" (message). + +Page 430, line 11: "usuper" (usurper). + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Silence, by +C. N. Williamson and A. M. 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