XXIX
That night they spent in a caravanserai, because, after the brief delugeof rain, the ground was too damp for camping, when an invalid was of theparty. When they reached the place after sunset, the low square of thebuilding was a block of marble set in the dull gold of the desert,carved in dazzling white against a deep-blue evening sky. Like BenHalim's house, it was roughly fortified, with many loopholes in thewalls, for it had been built to serve the uses of less peaceful daysthan these. Within the strong gates, on one side were rooms for guests,each with its own door and window opening into the huge court. Onanother side of the square were the kitchens and dining-room, as well asliving-place for the Arab landlord and his hidden family; and oppositewas a roofed, open-fronted shelter for camels and other animals, theground yellow with sand and spilt fodder. Water overflowed from a smallwell, making a pool in the courtyard, in which ducks and geese waddled,quacking, turkey-cocks fought in quiet corners, barked at impotently byKabyle puppies. Tall, lean hounds or sloughis, kept to chase the desertgazelles, wandered near the kitchens, in the hope of bones, and camelsgobbled dismally as their tired drivers forced them to their knees, orthrust handfuls of date stones down their throats. There were sheep,too, and goats; and even a cow, the "perpetual mother" loved and valuedby Arabs.
M'Barka refused to "read the sand" that night, when Maieddine suggestedit. 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 astealthy stirring of animals in the dark, a gliding of ghostly ducks, abreathing of sheep and camels. And sometimes the wild braying of adonkey 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, theround blot of black shadow under one small tree was precious as a blackpearl. And there were flies. Victoria could not understand how theylived in the desert, miles from any house, miles from the tents ofnomads; where there was no vegetation, except an occasional scrubbytree, or a few of the desert gourds which the Arabs use to cure the biteof scorpions. But she had not seen the cages of bones, sometimesbleached like old ivory, sometimes of a dreadful red, which told ofwayside tragedies. Always when they had come in sight of a skeleton,Maieddine had found some excuse to make the girl look in anotherdirection; for he wanted her to love the desert, not to feel horror ofits relentlessness.
Now for the first time he had full credit for his cleverness as anorganizer. Never before had they been so remote from civilization. Whentravelling in the carriage, stopping each night at the house of somewell-to-do caid or adel, it had been comparatively easy to providesupplies; but to-day, when jellied chicken and cream-cheese, almondcakes and oranges appeared at luncheon, and some popular French mineralwater (almost cool because the bottles had been wrapped in wet blanket)fizzed in the glasses, Victoria said that Si Maieddine must have a tamedjinn for a slave.
"Wait till evening," he told her. "Then perhaps thou mayest seesomething to please thee." But he was delighted with her compliments,and made her drink water from the glass out of which he had drunk, thatshe might be sure of his good faith in all he had sworn to heryesterday. "They who drink water from the same cup have made an eternalpact together," he said. "I should not dare to be untrue, even if Iwould. And thou--I think that thou wilt be true to me."
"Why, certainly I will," answered Victoria, with the pretty Americanaccent which Stephen Knight had admired and smiled at the night he heardit first. "Thou art one of my very best friends."
Maieddine looked down into the glass and smiled, as if he were acrystal-gazer, and could see something under the bright surface, that noone else could see.
Night folded down over the desert, hot and velvety, like the wings of amother-bird covering her children; but before darkness fell, the tentsglimmered under the stars. There were two only, a large one for thewomen, and one very small for Maieddine. The Negroes would rollthemselves in their burnouses, and lie beside the animals. Butsleeping-time had not come yet; and it was the Soudanese who preparedthe evening meal.
One of them was a good cook, and for that reason Maieddine had beggedhim from the Agha. He made desert bread, by mixing farina with saltedwater, and baking it on a flat tin supported by stones over a fire ofdry twigs. When the thin loaf was crisply brown on top, the man took itoff the fire, and covered it up, on the tin, because it was to be eatenhot.
While Victoria waited for all to be got ready, she strolled a littleaway from the tents and the group of resting animals, having promisedMaieddine to avoid the tufts of alfa grass, for fear of vipers whichsometimes lurked among them. He would have liked to go with her, but theunfailing tact of the Arab told him that she wished to be alone with herthoughts, and he could only hope that they might be of him.
Here, it was no longer beautiful desert. They had passed the charmingregion of dayas, and were entering the grim world through which, longago, the ever harried M'Zabites had fled to find a refuge beyond thereach of greedy pursuers. Nevertheless the enchantment of the Sahara, inall its phases, had taken hold of Victoria. She did not now feel thatthe desert was a place where a tired soul might find oblivion, thoughonce she had imagined that it would be a land of forgetfulness. Arabssay, in talking idly to Europeans, that men forget their past in thedesert, but she doubted if they really forgot, in these vast spaceswhere there was so much time to think. She herself began to feel thatthe illimitable skies, where flamed sunsets and sunrises whose miraclesno eye saw, might teach her mysteries she had snatched at and lost, indreams. The immensity of the desert sent her soul straining towards theimmensity of the Beyond; and almost, in flashes elusive as the light ona bird's wing, she understood what eternity might mean. She felt thatthe last days of her childhood had been left behind, on the threshold ofthese mysterious spaces, this vastness into which she had plunged, asinto 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 haveknown 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 shewould have liked to count the days like the beads of a rosary. Shelooked forward to each one, as to the discovery of a beautiful thing newto the world and to her; for though the spaces surrounding her were widebeyond thinking, they were not empty. As ships, great and small, sailthe sea, so sailed the caravans of the nomad tribes in the desert whichsurges on unchecked to Egypt: nomads who come and go, north and south,east and west, under the burning sun and the throbbing stars, as Allahhas 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 themusic of the tom-tom and raita.
Victoria's gaze waded through the shadows that flow over the desert atevening, deep and blue and transparent as water. She searched thedistances for the lives that must be going on somewhere, perhaps not faraway, though she would never meet them. They, and she, were floatingspars in a great ocean; and it made the ocean more wonderful to knowthat the spars were there, each drifting according to its fate.
The girl drew into her lungs the strong air of the desert, born of thewinds which bring life or death to its children.
The scent of the wild thyme, which she could never again disentanglefrom thoughts of the Sahara, was very sweet, even insistent. She knewthat it was loved by nomad women; and she let pictures rise before hermind of gorgeous dark girls on camels, in plumed red bassourahs, goingfrom one desert city to another, to dance--cities teeming with life,which she would never see among these spaces that seemed empty as theworld before creation. She imagined the ghosts of these desert beautiescrowding round her in the dusk, bringing their fragrance with them, thewild thyme they had loved in life, crushed in their bosoms; patheticghosts, who had not learned to rise beyond what they had once desired,therefore compelled to haunt t
he desert, the only world which they hadknown. In the wind that came sighing to her ears from the dark ravinesof the terrible chebka, she seemed to hear battle-songs and groans ofdesert men who had fought and died ages ago, whose bones had crumbledunder her feet, perhaps, and whose descendants had not changed one whitin religion, custom, or thought, or even in dress.
Victoria was glad that Maieddine had let her have these desert thoughtsalone, for they made her feel at home in the strange world her fancypeopled; but the touch of the thyme-scented ghosts was cold. It was goodto turn back at last towards the tents, and see how the camp-firecrimsoned 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 desertmystery which they alone can tell; voices we can hear only by listeningclosely."
"That was the thought in my mind. How odd thou shouldst put it intowords."
"Dost thou think it odd? But I am a man of the desert. I held back, forthee to go alone and hear the voices, knowing they would teach thee tounderstand me and my people. I knew, too, that the spirits would bekind, and say nothing to frighten thee. Besides, thou didst not go tothem quite alone, for thine own white angel walked on thy right hand, asalways."
"Thou makest poetical speeches, Si Maieddine."
"It is no poetry to speak of thy white angel. We believe that each oneof 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 spittingto the left, to show despite of their black angels? But because thy soulis never soiled by sinful thoughts, there was no need for a black angel,and whilst thou wert still a child, Allah discharged him of hismission."
"And thou, Si Maieddine, dost thou think, truly, that a black angelwalks ever at thy left side?"
"I fear so." Maieddine glanced to the left, as if he could see a darkfigure writing on a slate. Things concerning Victoria must have beenwritten on that slate, plans he had made, of which neither his whiteangel nor hers would approve. But, he told himself, if they had to becarried out, she would be to blame, for driving him to extremes. "Whilstthou art near me," he said aloud, "my black angel lags behind, and ifthou wert to be with me forever, I----"
"Since that cannot be, thou must find a better way to keep him in thebackground," Victoria broke in lightly. But Si Maieddine's complimentswere oppressive. She wished it were not the Arab way to pay so many. Hehad been different at first; and feeling the change in him with a faintstirring of uneasiness, she hurried her steps to join M'Barka.
The invalid reclined on a rug of golden jackal skins, and rested a thinelbow on cushions of dyed leather, braided in intricate strips byTouareg women. Victoria sat beside her, Maieddine opposite, and Fafannwaited upon them as they ate.
After supper, while the Bedouin woman saw that everything was ready forher mistress and the Roumia, in their tent, M'Barka spread out herprecious sand from Mecca and the dunes round her own Touggourt. She hadit tied up in green silk, such as is used for the turbans of men whohave visited Mecca, lined with a very old Arab brocade, purple and gold,like the banners that drape the tombs of marabouts. She opened the bagcarefully, until it lay flat on the ground in front of her knees, thesand piled in the middle, as much perhaps as could have been heaped on asoup plate.
For a moment she sat gazing at the sand, her lips moving. She looked wanas old ivory in the dying firelight, and in the hollows of her immenseeyes seemed to dream the mysteries of all ages. "Take a handful ofsand," she said to Victoria. "Hold it over thine heart. Now, wish withthe whole force of thy soul."
Victoria wished to find Saidee safe, and to be able to help her, if sheneeded 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, orsaw a vision. She was as strange, as remote from modern womanhood as aCassandra. Presently she started, and began trailing her brown fingerslightly over the sand, pressing them down suddenly now and then, untilshe had made three long, wavy lines, the lower ones rather liketelegraphic dots and dashes.
"Lay the forefinger of thy left hand on any figure in these lines," shecommanded. "Now on another--yet again, for the third time. That is allthou 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 perfumeof sandalwood. Turning the yellow leaves of the book, covered with fineArab lettering, she read in a murmuring, indistinct voice, that soundedto Victoria like one of those desert voices of which Maieddine hadspoken. Also she measured spaces between the figures the girl hadtouched, 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 theworld. I see thee--alone, very helpless. Thou prayest. Allah sends theea 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, justwhere thou hast ceased to look for them, I see troubles anddisappointments, even dangers. That is the time, above all others, tolet thyself be guided by the man Allah has sent to be thy prop. He hasready 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 abarrier, high and fearful as a wall with sharp knives on top. For thineeyes it is impassable. Thine heart is sad; and thy words to him willpierce his soul with despair. But think again. Be true to thyself and tothy star. Speak another word, and throw down that high barrier, as thewall of Jericho was thrown down. Thou canst do it. All will depend onthe decision of a moment--thy whole future, the future of the man, andof 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. Ican still tell her a few little things, perhaps. Such things as theluckiest colours to wear, the best days to choose for journeys. But sheis different from most girls. I do not think she would care for suchhints."
"All colours are lucky. All days are good," said Victoria. "I thank theefor 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; butbecause of the "dark man." Any fortune-teller might introduce a dark maninto the picture of a fair girl's destiny; but the allusions were somarked that Victoria's vague unrestfulness became distress. She tried toencourage herself by thinking of Maieddine's dignified attitude, fromthe beginning of their acquaintance until now. And even now, he hadchanged only a little. He was too complimentary, that was all; and thedifference in his manner might arise from knowing her more intimately.Probably Lella M'Barka, like many elderly women of other and newercivilizations, was over-romantic; and the best thing was to prevent herfrom putting ridiculous ideas into Maieddine's head. Such ideas wouldspoil the rest of the journey for both.
"Remember all I have told thee, when the time comes," M'Barka warnedher.
"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 thyfuture better another time. Not now. It would not be wise. Besides, Ihave 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 handof Ourieda has touched it."
Always now, he spoke o
f Victoria, or to her, as "Rose" (Ourieda inArabic); but as M'Barka gave her that name also, the girl could hardlyobject.
"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, andmake thy wish."
Maieddine took it from the place Victoria had touched, and his wish wasthat, as the grains of sand mingled, so their destinies might mingleinseparably, 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 signswith 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 outthine 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 chanceis given thee----"
"What then?"
"Then--I cannot tell thee, what then. Thou must not ask. My eyes areclouded 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 andTouareg cushions which Maieddine had provided for her comfort. She badehim good night, and with all his old calm courtesy he kissed his handafter it had pressed hers. But there was a fire of anger or impatiencein his eyes.
Fafann was in the tent, waiting to put her mistress to bed, and to helpthe Roumia if necessary. The mattresses which had come rolled up on thebrown mule's back, had been made into luxurious looking beds, coveredwith bright-coloured, Arab-woven blankets, beautiful embroidered sheetsof linen, and cushions slipped into fine pillow-cases. Folding framesdraped with new mosquito nettings had been arranged to protect thesleepers' hands and faces; and there was a folding table on which stoodFrench gilt candlesticks and a glass basin and water-jug, ornamentedwith gilded flowers; just such a basin and jug as Victoria had seen inthe 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 wemanage 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 everythingone wants."
"The Lord Maieddine is the powerful djinn who has brought all thoucouldst possibly desire, without giving thee even the trouble to wishfor things," said Fafann, showing her white teeth, and glancing sidelongat the Roumia. "These are not all. Many of these things thou hast seenalready. Yet there are more." Eagerly she lifted from the ground, whichwas covered with rugs, a large green earthern jar. "It is full ofrosewater to bathe thy face, for the water of the desert here isbrackish, and harsh to the skin, because of saltpetre. The Sidi orderedenough rosewater to last till Ghardaia, in the M'Zab country. Then hewill get thee more."
"But it is for us both--for Lella M'Barka more than for me," protestedVictoria.
Fafann laughed. "My mistress no longer spends time in thinking of herskin. She prays much instead; and the Sidi has given her an amulet whichtouched the sacred Black Stone at Mecca. To her, that is worth all therest; and it is worth this great journey, which she takes with so muchpain. The rosewater, and the perfumes from Tunis, and the softeningcreams 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 LellaM'Barka than for me. She is his cousin."
"Hast thou never noticed the caravans, when they have passed us in thedesert, how it is always the young and beautiful women who rest in thebassourahs, 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 butone camel, he puts upon its back his treasure, the joy of his heart. Aman must be a man, so say even the women. And the Sidi is a man, as wellas a great lord. He is praised by all as a hunter, and for thestraightness of his aim with a gun. He rides, thou seest, as if he wereone with his horse, and as he gallops in the desert, so would he gallopto battle if need be, for he is brave as the Libyan lion, and strong asthe heroes of old legends. Yet there is nothing too small for him tobend his mind upon, if it be for thy pleasure and comfort. Thou shouldstbe proud, instead of denying that all the Sidi does is for thee. Mymistress 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 aRoumia, thou hast different feelings."
"Perhaps," answered Victoria humbly, for she was crushed by Fafann'sfierce eloquence. And for a moment her heart was heavy; but she wouldnot let herself feel a presentiment of trouble.
"What harm can happen to me?" she asked. "I haven't been guided so farfor nothing. Si Maieddine is an Arab, and his ways aren't like the waysof men I've known, that's all. My sister's husband was his friend--agreat friend, whom he loved. What he does is more for Cassim's sakethan mine."
Her cheeks were burning after the long day of sun, and because of herthoughts; yet she was not glad to bathe them with Si Maieddine'sfragrant offering of rosewater, some of which Fafann poured into theglass 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 amlike 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 thegreat house. Thou wert there, a guest. Thou wert happy, thy desiregranted, 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 knowledgecame to me suddenly that thou must not wait too long for thy wish--thewish 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 havethe 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 thouwouldst have my dead body finish the journey in the bassour, take me tomy tent."
Maieddine took her to the tent. And he asked no more questions. But allnight 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.