XXXVIII
There was no place for a guest in that part of the marabout's housewhich had been allotted to Saidee. She had her bedroom andreception-room, her roof terrace, and her garden court. On the groundfloor her negresses lived, and cooked for their mistress and themselves.She did not wish to have Victoria with her, night and day, and so shehad quietly directed Noura to make up a bed in the room which would havebeen her boudoir, if she had lived in Europe. When the sisters came downfrom the roof, the bed was ready.
In the old time Victoria had slept with her sister; and her greatesthappiness as a child had been the "bed-talks," when Saidee had whisperedher secret joys or troubles, and confided in the little girl as if shehad been a "grown-up."
Hardly a night had passed since their parting, that Victoria had notthought of those talks, and imagined herself again lying with her headon Saidee's arm, listening to stories of Saidee's life. She had taken itfor granted that she would be put in her sister's room, and seeing thebed made up, and her luggage unpacked in the room adjoining, was a blow.She knew that Saidee must have given orders, or these arrangements wouldnot have been made, and again she felt the dreadful sinking of the heartwhich had crushed her an hour ago. Saidee did not want her. Saidee wassorry she had come, and meant to keep her as far off as possible. Butthe girl encouraged herself once more. Saidee might think now that shewould rather have been left alone. But she was mistaken. By and by shewould 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 herdisappointment, and seemed to take the matter for granted, as if she hadexpected nothing else; but the talk on the roof had brought backsomething into Saidee's heart which she could not keep out, though shedid not wish to admit it there. She was sorry for Victoria, sorry forherself, and more miserable than ever. Her nerves were rasped by anintolerable irritation as she looked at the girl, and felt that herthoughts were being read. She had a hideous feeling, almost animpression, that her face had been lifted off like a mask, and that theworkings of her brain were open to her sister's eyes, like the exposedmechanism of a clock.
"Noura has brought some food for you," she went on hastily. "You musteat 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'reeating, perhaps?"
The girl looked at the woman, and saw that her nerves were racked; thatshe wanted to go, but did not wish her sister to guess.
"You've talked too much already," Victoria said. "The surprise of mycoming gave you a shock. Now you must rest and get over it, so you canbe 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 gentlyrefused help from Noura. Then Saidee went away, followed by the negress,who softly closed the door between the two rooms. Her mistress had nottold her to do this, but when it was done, she did not say, "Open thedoor." Saidee was glad that it was shut, because she felt that she couldthink more freely. She could not bear the idea that her thoughts andlife were open to the criticism of those young, blue eyes, which theyears since childhood had not clouded. Nevertheless, when Noura hadundressed her, and she was alone, she saw Victoria's eyes looking at hersweetly, sadly, with yearning, yet with no reproach. She saw them asclearly as she had seen a man's face, a few hours earlier; and now hiswas 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 throughthe lacelike open-work of stucco, above the shuttered windows, makingjewelled patterns on the wall--pink, green, and golden, according to thedifferent colours of the glass. There was just enough light to reflectthese patterns faintly in the mirrors set in the closed door, oppositewhich Saidee lay in bed; and to her imagination it was as if she couldsee through the door, into a lighted place beyond. She wondered ifVictoria had gone to bed; if she were sleeping, or if she were cryingsoftly--crying her heart out with bitter grief and disappointment shewould never confess.
Victoria had always been like that, even as a little girl. If Saidee didanything to hurt her, she made no moan. Sometimes Saidee had teased heron 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 makingherself wretched? Victoria ought to have come long, long ago, or not atall.
But the blue eyes would look at her, even when her own were shut; andalways there was the faint light in the mirror, which seemed to comethrough the door.
At last Saidee could not longer lie still. She had to get up and openthe door, to see what her sister was really doing. Very softly sheturned the handle, for she hoped that by this time Victoria was asleep;but as she pulled the door noiselessly towards her, and peeped into thenext room, she saw that one of the lamps was burning. Victoria had notyet gone to bed. She was kneeling beside it, saying her prayers, withher 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, notknowing that Saidee was looking at her.
A sharp pain shot through the woman's heart. How many times had shesoftly opened their bedroom door, coming home late after a dance, tofind her little sister praying, a small, childish form in a long whitenightgown, with quantities of curly red hair pouring over its shoulders!
Sometimes Victoria had gone to sleep on her knees, and Saidee had wakedher up with a kiss.
Just as she had looked then, so she looked now, except that the form inthe long, white nightgown was that of a young girl, not a child. But thethick waves of falling hair made it seem childish.
"She is praying for me," Saidee thought; and dared not close the doortightly, lest Victoria should hear. By and by it could be done, when thelight was out, and the girl dropped asleep.
Meanwhile, she tiptoed back to her bed, and sat on the edge of it, towait. At last the thread of light, fine as a red-gold hair, vanishedfrom the door; but as it disappeared a line of moonlight was drawn insilver 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 herthoughts on the present and future, yet unable to keep them from flyingback to the past, the long-ago past, which lately had seemed unreal, asif she had dreamed it; the past when she and Victoria had been all theworld to each other.
There was no sound in the next room, and when Saidee was weary of herstrained position, she crossed the floor on tiptoe again, to shut thedoor. But she could not resist a temptation to peep in.
It was as she had expected. Victoria had left the inlaid cedar-woodshutters wide open, and through the lattice of old wrought-iron,moonlight streamed. The room was bright with a silvery twilight, like amysterious dawn; but because the bed-linen and the embroidered silkcoverlet were white, the pale radiance focused round the girl, who layasleep in a halo of moonbeams.
"She looks like an angel," Saidee thought, and with a curious minglingof reluctance and eagerness, moved softly toward the bed, her littlevelvet slippers from Tunis making no sound on the thick rugs.
Very well the older woman remembered an engaging trick of the child's, away of sleeping with her cheek in her hand, and her hair spread out likea golden coverlet for the pillow. Just so she was lying now; and in themoonlight 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 hersister crept into their bedroom in the Paris flat, the night before thewedding, and Saidee had waked her by crying on her eyelids. Cassim'sunhappy wife recalled the clean, sweet,
warm smell of the child's hairwhen she had buried her face in it that last night together. It hadsmelled 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 shewas--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 planningto get rid of her.
Suddenly, it was as if the beating of Saidee's heart broke a tight bandof ice which had compressed it. A fountain of tears sprang from hereyes. 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 wasclose to hers. The girl said not a word, but wrapped her arms round hersister, drawing the bowed head on to her breast, and then she croonedlovingly over it, with little foolish mumblings, as she used to do inParis 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'sarms tightened. "Now we're truly together again. How I love you! Howhappy I am!"
"Don't--I don't deserve it," Saidee stammered. "Poor little Babe! I wascruel 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 andbeautiful--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 tobe. Everything's over with me. I'm old--old!"
"You're not to say such things," cried Victoria, horrified. "You weren'tjealous. You----"
"I was. I am now. But I want to confess. You must let me confess, ifyou're to help me."
"Dearest, tell me anything--everything you choose, but nothing you don'tchoose. And nothing you say can make me love you less--only more."
"There's a great deal to tell," Saidee said, heavily "And I'mtired--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 couldtalk, the way we used to talk."
Saidee staggered up from her knees, and the girl almost lifted her on tothe bed. Then she covered her with the thyme-scented linen sheet, andthe silk coverlet under which she herself lay. For a moment they werequite still, Saidee lying with her head on Victoria's arm. But at lastshe said, in a whisper, as if her lips were dry: "Did you know I wassorry you'd come?"
"I knew you thought you were sorry," the girl answered. "Yet I hopedthat you'd find out you weren't, really. I prayed for you to findout--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. Iwas 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 thinkhe 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 suddenlySaidee was angry with her for not speaking.
"If you're shocked, I won't go on," she said. "You can't help me bypreaching."
"I'm not shocked," the girl protested. "Only sorry--so sorry. And evenif I wanted to preach, I don't know how."
"There's nothing to be shocked about," Saidee said, her tears dry, hervoice hard as it had been at first. "I've seen him three times. I'vetalked with him just once. But we love each other. It's the first andonly 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 myfeet, in spite of myself."
"Then, dearest Saidee, don't let yourself be carried off your feet asecond time."
"Why not?" Saidee asked, sharply. "What incentive have I to be true toCassim?"
"I'm not thinking about Cassim. I'm thinking of you. All one's worldgoes 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 considerthat I'm Cassim's wife. I _thought_ myself married, but was I, when hehad a wife already? Would any lawyer, or even clergyman, say it was alegal marriage?"
"Perhaps not," Victoria admitted. "But----"
"Just wait, before you go on arguing," Saidee broke in hotly, "untilI've told you something you haven't heard yet. Cassim has another wifenow--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, broughtup to be a dancer. But Cassim saw her at Touggourt, where he'd gone onone of his mysterious visits. He doesn't dream that I know the wholehistory of the affair, but I do, and have known, since a few days afterthe creature was brought here as his bride. She's as ignorant and sillyas a kitten, and only a child in years. She told her 'love story' to oneof her negresses, who told Noura--who repeated it to me. Perhaps Ioughtn'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 awayfrom Touggourt. Being a great saint is very convenient. A marabout cando 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 canfly, if he wants to. He can even make French cannon useless, andwithdraw the bullets from French guns, in case of war, if the spirit ofAllah is with him. So by marrying a girl brought up for a dancer,daughter of generations of dancing women, he washes all disgrace fromher blood, and makes her a female saint, worthy to live eternally. Thebeautiful Miluda's a marabouta, if you please, and when her baby istaken out by the negress who nurses it, silly, bigoted people kneel andkiss its clothing."
"She has a baby!" murmured Victoria.
"Yes, only a girl, but better than nothing--and she hopes to be morefortunate 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 meif he chose. She little knows how desperately I wish he would. Shebelieves--Noura says--that he keeps me here only because I have nopeople to go to, and he's too kind-hearted to turn me out alone in theworld, when my youth's past. You see--she thinks me already old--attwenty-eight! Of course the real reason that Cassim shuts me up andwon't let me go, is because he knows I could ruin not only him, but thehopes of his people. Miluda doesn't dream that I'm of so much importancein his eyes. The only thing she's jealous of is the boy, Mohammed, who'sat school in the town of Oued Tolga, in charge of an uncle. Cassimguesses how Miluda hates the child, and I believe that's the reason hedaren't have him here. He's afraid something might happen, although theexcuse he makes is, that he wants his boy to learn French, and knowsomething of French ways. That pleases the Government--and as for theArabs, no doubt he tells them it's only a trick to keep French eyes shutto what's really going on, and to his secret plans. Now, do you stillsay I ought to consider myself married to Cassim, and refuse to take anyhappiness if I can get it?"
"The thing is, what would make you happy?" Victoria said, as if thinkingaloud.
"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 lifeto save me from this hateful prison, and carry me far away. Now, I'vetold you everything, exactly as it stands. That's why I was sorry youcame, just when I was almost ready to risk the step. I was sure you'd behorrified if you found out, and want to s
top me. Besides, if he shouldsee you--but I won't say that again. I know you wouldn't try to take himaway from me, even if you tried to take me from him. I don't know whyI've told you, instead of keeping the whole thing secret as I made up mymind 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 atfirst, I was so anxious for you to be out of the way of myhappiness--the chance of it--that the only thing I longed for was thatyou 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'sarm.
"I don't feel like that now," she said. "I peeped in and saw youpraying--perhaps for me--and you looked just as you used, when you werea little girl. Then, when I came in, and you were asleep, I--I couldn'tstand it. I broke down. I love you, dear little Babe. The ice is goneout of my heart. You've melted it. I'm a woman again; but just becauseI'm a woman, I won't give up my other love to please you or any one. Itell 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: "Willyou tell me something about this man?"
Saidee was surprised to receive encouragement. It was a joy to speak ofthe subject that occupied all her thoughts, and wonderful to have aconfidante.
"He's a captain in the Chasseurs d'Afrique," she said. "But he's notwith his regiment. He's an expert in making desert wells, and drainingmarshes. 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 wellhad to be sunk in the village, and he was superintending. I watched himfrom my roof, though it was too far off to see his face. I don't knowexactly what made me do it--I suppose it was Fate, for Cassim says weall have our fate hung round our necks--but when I went to the Moorishbath, between here and the village, I let my veil blow away from my faceas 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 intoeach other's eyes; and there was something in his that seemed to draw mysoul out of me. It was as if, in that instant, I told him with a lookthe whole tragedy of my life. And his soul sprang to mine. There wasnever anything like it. You can't imagine what I felt, Babe."
"Yes. I--think I can," Victoria whispered, but Saidee hardly heard, sodeeply 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, andthe sun was fierce as it beat down on the sand. He had been working, andhis face was pale from the heat. It had a haggard look under brownsunburn. But when our eyes met, a flush like a girl's rushed up to hisforehead. You never saw such a light in human eyes! They wereilluminated as if a fire from his heart was lit behind them. I knew hehad fallen in love with me--that something would happen: that my lifewould never be the same again.
"The next time I went to the bath, he was there; and though I held myveil, he looked at me with the same wonderful look, as if he could seethrough 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. Shealways comes to me when I go there. She's a great character--knowseverything that happens in every house, as if by magic; and loves totalk. But she can keep secrets. She is a match-maker for all theneighbourhood. When there's a young man of Oued Tolga, or of any villageround about, who wants a wife, she lets him know which girl who comesto the baths is the youngest and most beautiful. Or if a wife is in lovewith some one, Bakta contrives to bring letters from him, and smugglethem to the young woman while she's at the Moorish bath. Well, that dayshe gave me a letter--a beautiful letter.
"I didn't answer it; but next time I passed, I opened my veil and smiledto show that I thanked him. Because he had laid his life at my feet. Ifthere was anything he could do for me, he would do it, without hope ofreward, even if it meant death. Then Bakta gave me another letter. Icouldn't resist answering, and so it's gone on, until I seem to knowthis man, Honore Sabine, better than any one in the world; though we'veonly spoken together once."
"How did you manage it?" Victoria asked the question mechanically, forshe 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 astick as he walked, to disguise his height. Bakta waited--and we had nomore than ten minutes to say everything. Ten hours wouldn't have beenenough!--but we were in danger every instant, and he was afraid of whatmight happen to me, if we were spied upon. He begged me to go with himthen, but I dared not. I couldn't decide. Now he writes to me, and he'smaking a cypher, so that if the letters should be intercepted, no onecould read them. Then he hopes to arrange a way of escape if--if I sayI'll do what he asks."
"Which, of course, you won't," broke in Victoria. "You couldn't, eventhough it were only for his sake alone, if you really love him. You'd betoo unhappy afterwards, knowing that you'd ruined his career in thearmy."
"I'm more to him than a thousand careers!" Saidee flung herself awayfrom the girl's arm. "I see now," she went on angrily, "what you wereleading up to, when you pretended to sympathize. You were waiting for achance to try and persuade me that I'm a selfish wretch. I may beselfish, but--it's as much for his happiness as mine. It's just as Ithought it would be. You're puritanical. You'd rather see me die, or gomad 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 thespring of the door, and it will be harder than ever to open. But"--hervoice 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 achance. For heaven's sake do all you can to help, not to hinder. Don'tyou see, now that you're here, there are a hundred more reasons why Imust say 'yes' to Captain Sabine?"
"If I did see that, I'd want to die now, this minute," Victoriaanswered.
"How cruel you are! How cruel a girl can be to a woman. You pretend thatyou came to help me, and the one only thing you can do, you refuse todo. You say you want to get me away. I tell you that you can't--and youcan't get yourself away. Perhaps Honore can do what you can't, butyou'll try to prevent him."
"If I _could_ get you away, would you give him up--until you were freeto 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 useof 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 youlove me meanwhile. Oh, darling, don't be angry, will you? I can't bearit, if you are."
Saidee laid her head on the girl's arm once more, and they kissed eachother.