XLIII
Since the day when Victoria had called Stephen to her help, always shehad expected him. She had great faith, for, in her favourite way, shehad "made a picture of him," riding up and down among the dunes, withthe "knightly" look on his face which had first drawn her thoughts tohim. Always her pictures had materialized sooner or later, since she wasa little girl, and had first begun painting them with her mind, on agolden background.
She spent hours on the roof, with Saidee or alone, looking out over thedesert, through the field-glasses which Maieddine had sent to her. Veryoften Saidee would remain below, for Victoria's prayers were not herprayers, nor were Victoria's wishes her wishes. But invariably the olderwoman would come up to the roof just before sunset, to feed the dovesthat lived in the minaret.
At first Victoria had not known that her sister had any special reasonfor liking to feed the doves, but she was an observant, though not asophisticated 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 thosebirds, she could not help noticing, that Saidee devoted herself. Thefirst that appeared, arrived suddenly, while Victoria looked in anotherdirection. But when the girl saw one alight, she guessed it had comefrom a distance. It fluttered down heavily on the roof, as if tired, andSaidee hid it from Victoria by spreading out her skirt as she scatteredits food.
Then it was easy to understand how Saidee and Captain Sabine hadmanaged to exchange letters; but she could not bear to let her sisterknow by word or even look that she suspected the secret. If Saideewished to hide something from her she had a right to hide it. Only--itwas very sad.
For days neither of the sisters spoke of the pigeons, though they cameoften, 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, bythis time Saidee would have gone away, or tried to go away, with CaptainSabine; and though, since the night of her arrival, when Saidee hadopened her heart, they had been on terms of closest affection, there wasa dreadful doubt in Victoria's mind that the confidences were halfrepented. But when the girl had been rather more than a week in theZaouia, Saidee spoke out.
"I suppose you've guessed why I come up on the roof at sunset," shesaid.
"Yes," Victoria answered.
"I thought so, by your face. Babe, if you'd accused me of anything, orreproached me, I'd have brazened it out with you. But you've never saida word, and your eyes--I don't know what they've been like, unlessviolets after rain. They made me feel a beast--a thousand times worsethan I would if you'd put on an injured air. Last night I dreamed thatyou died of grief, and I buried you under the sand. But I was sorry, andtore all the sand away with my fingers till I found you again--and youwere alive after all. It seemed like an allegory. I'm going to dig youup again, you little loving thing!"
"That means you'll give me back your confidence, doesn't it?" Victoriaasked, 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 tohear. I've written to _him_ about you--our cypher's ready now--and saidthat 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'dpromised to wait for you to help me; and though I didn't see what youcould possibly do, still, your faith was contagious. I said that inspite 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 roundher sister. "Then I did come at the right time, after all."
"The right time to keep me from happiness in this world, perhaps. That'sthe 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 usedto 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 behappy 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'tconsent to marry the man to whom her people have promised her. I knowwhat they do. She----"
"Don't tell me about it. I'd hate to hear!" Victoria broke in, andcovered her ears with her hands. So Saidee said no more. But in blackhours of the night, when the girl could not sleep, dreadful imaginingscrept into her mind, and it was almost more than she could do to chasethem away by making her "good pictures." "I won't be afraid--I won't, Iwon't!" she would repeat to herself. "I've called him, and my thoughtsare stronger than the carrier pigeons. They fly faster and farther. Theytravel 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 theway."
So she looked for Stephen, searching the desert; and at last, oneafternoon long before sunset, she saw a man riding toward the Zaouiafrom 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 wasStephen 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 greathurry. He was far off, still.
She kept her eyes to Maieddine's glasses, and felt it a strange thingthat they should have come to her from him. It was almost as if he gaveher to Stephen, against his will. She was so happy that she seemed tohear the world singing. "I knew--I knew, through it all!" she toldherself, with a sob of joy in her throat. "It had to come right." Andshe thought that she could hear a voice saying: "It is love that hasbrought him. He loves you, as much as you love him."
To her mind, especially in this mood, it was not extraordinary that eachshould love the other after so short an acquaintance. She was even readyto believe of herself that, unconsciously, she had fallen in love withStephen the first time she met him on the Channel boat. He hadinterested her. She had remembered his face, and had been sorry to thinkthat she would never see it again. On the ship, going out fromMarseilles, she had been so glad when he came on deck that her heart hadbegun to beat quickly. She had scolded herself at the time, for beingsilly, and school-girlishly romantic; but now she realized that her soulhad known its mate. It could scarcely be real love, she fancied, thatwas not born in the first moment, when spirit spoke to spirit. And herlove could not have drawn a man hundreds of miles across the desert, ifit 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 everhappened 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, andheart, 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 mindwhat remained of the prophecy.
Almost, she had been foolish enough to be superstitious, and afraid ofMaieddine's influence upon her life, since that night; and of course shehad known that it was of Maieddine M'Barka had thought, whether shesincerely believed in her own predictions or no. Now, it pleasedVictoria to feel that, not only had she been foolish, but stupid. Shemight have been happy in her childish superstition, instead of unhappy,because the description of the man applied to Stephen as well as toMaieddine.
For the moment, she did not ask herself how Stephen Knight was going totake her and Saidee away from Maieddine and Cassim, for she was so surehe had not come across miles of desert in vain, that she took the restfor granted in her first joy. She was certain that Saidee's troubles andhers were over, and that by and by, like the prince and princess in thefairy stories, she and Stephen would be married and "live happily everafter." In these magic moments of rapture, while his face and figuregrew more clear to her eyes, it seemed to the girl that love andhappiness
were one, and that all obstacles had fallen down in the pathof her lover, like the walls of Jericho that crumbled at the blast ofthe trumpet.
When she had looked through the glass until she could distinctly seeStephen, and an Arab who rode at a short distance behind him, she calledher sister.
Saidee came up to the roof, almost at once, for there was a thrill ofexcitement in Victoria's voice that roused her curiosity.
She thought of Captain Sabine, and wondered if he were riding toward theZaouia. He had come, before his first encounter with her, to pay hisrespects to the marabout. That was long ago now, yet there might be areason, connected with her, for a second visit. But the moment she sawVictoria's face, even before she took the glasses the girl held out, sheguessed 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 soradiant!" 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 anEnglishman. 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 inAlgiers who hasn't any idea where I am, but I think he'll come here, andtake us both away.'"
"Are you engaged to each other?" Saidee asked, curiously, evenenviously.
"Oh no! But--but----"
"But what? Do you mean you will be--if you ever get away from thisplace?"
"I hope so," the girl answered bravely, with a deep blush. "He has neverasked me. We haven't known each other long--a very little while, onlysince the night I left London for Paris. Yet he's the first man I evercared about, and I think of him all the time. Perhaps he thinks of mein the same way."
"Of course he must, Babe, if he's really come to search for you," Saideesaid, 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 usedwhen she was a little child.
But Saidee's joy, caught from her sister's, died down suddenly, like aflame quenched with salt. "What good will it do you--or us--that he iscoming?" she asked bitterly. "He can ask for the marabout, and perhapssee him. Any traveller can do that. But he will be no nearer to us, thanif 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 aswe 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 heloved 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 hesuspects, though I don't see why he should. I might have meant some onein America."
"You may be pretty sure he suspects. People of the old, old races, likethe Arabs, have the most wonderful intuitions. They seem to _know_things without being told. I suppose they've kept nearer nature thanmore 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 dous 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 toOued Tolga. If only Maieddine hadn't got back! This man may have beenfollowing him, from Algiers. It looks like it, as Maieddine arrivedonly yesterday. Now, here's this Englishman! Could he have found out inany 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 SiMaieddine was being very kind to me--before I knew he cared--I made hima present of the African brooch you gave me in Paris. I hated to take somany favours of him, and give nothing in return; so I thought, as I wason 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. Knightsaw----"
"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 broochwhich 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," Saideesaid. "If he _could_ help us! I should feel rewarded for telling HonoreI wouldn't go with him; because some day I may be free, and then perhapsI 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 canrecognize him with the field-glass, but unless he has a glass too, hecan't see who you are--he can't see at all, because by the time he ridesnear enough, the ground dips down so that even our heads will be hiddenfrom 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. Cassimwill pretend not to know what he's talking about. And presently he'llhave to go away without finding out anything."
"He'll come back," said Victoria, firmly. But her eyes were not asbright 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 anaccident will happen to him. I hate to frighten you. But Arabs arejealous--and Maieddine's a true Arab. He looks upon you almost as hiswife now. In a week or two you will be, unless----"
"Yes. Unless--_unless_!" echoed Victoria. "Don't lose hope, Saidee, forI 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 theirfaces. 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 lookingup 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 wasnot theirs. And soon he would be descending the slope of the Zaouiahill. After that they would lose sight of each other, more and moresurely, the closer he came to the gates.
"If only you had something to throw him!" Saidee sighed. "What a pityyou 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'llthink of something."
"He's riding down the dip. In a minute it will be too late," Saideewarned her.
The girl lifted over her head the long string of amber beads she hadbought in the curiosity shop of Jeanne Soubise. Wrapping it in herhandkerchief, she began to tie the silken ends together.
Stephen was so close to the Zaouia now that they could no longer seehim.
"Throw--throw! He'll be at the gates."
Victoria threw the small but heavy parcel over the wall which hid thedwellers on the roof.
Where it fell, they could not see, and no sound came up from thesand-dune far below. Some beggar or servant of the Zaouia might havefound and snatched the packet, for all that they could tell.
For a time which seemed long, they waited, hoping that something wouldhappen. They did not speak at all. Each heard
her own heart beating, andimagined that she could hear the heart of the other.
At last there were steps on the stairs which led from Saidee's rooms tothe roof. Noura came up. "O twin stars, forgive me for darkening thebrightness of thy sky," she said, "but I have here a letter, given to meto 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 thenhanded the paper to Victoria.
A few lines were scrawled on it in English, in a very foreignhandwriting. The language, known to none in this house except themarabout, 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 godown 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," Saideeanswered, with a laugh.
They went down into the garden, and remained there alone. Nothinghappened except that, after a while, they heard a noise of pounding. Itseemed to come from above, in Saidee's rooms.
Listening intently, her eyes flashed, and a bright colour rushed to hercheeks.
"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 roomthat 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 roomswithout our seeing them pass through the garden?"
"I've always thought there was a sliding door at the back of one of mywall cupboards. There generally is one leading into the harem rooms inold houses like this. Thank goodness I've hidden my diaries in a newplace 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 ofsteps that led to the upper rooms which she and Saidee shared. Saideehad been right. The door of the outer room was locked. Standing at thetop 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.