CHAPTER V
Under the awning of the tent Diana was waiting for Gaston and thehorses, pulling on her thick riding-gloves nervously. She was wroughtup to the utmost pitch of excitement. Ahmed Ben Hassan had been awaysince the previous day and it was uncertain if he would return thatnight or the next. He had been vague as to how long he would beabsent. There had been a constant coming and going amongst hisfollowers--messengers arriving on exhausted horses at all hours of theday and night, and the Sheik himself had seemed unusually preoccupied.He had not condescended to give any reason for the special activity ofhis people and she had not asked him.
In the four weeks that had elapsed since she had promised him herobedience she had been very silent. The fear and hatred of him grewdaily. She had learned to stifle the wild fits of rage and the angrywords that leaped to her lips. She had learned to obey--a reluctantobedience given with compressed lips and defiant eyes, but given, andwith a silence that surprised even herself. Day after day she hadfollowed the usual routine, dumb unless he spoke to her; and with hisown attention occupied with matters beyond the four walls of his tenthe had not noticed or did not trouble to heed her silence. Lately hehad left her very much alone; she had ridden with him almost dailyuntil the last week, when he had announced curtly that in the meantimethe length of her rides must be curtailed and that Gaston wouldaccompany her. He had not offered any explanation, and she had notsought one. She had chosen to see in it merely another act of tyrannyimposed on her by the man whose arbitrary exercise of power over herand whose tacit possession of her galled her continually. And under thesullen submission a wild fury of revolt was raging. She searchedfeverishly for means of flight, and now the Sheik's absence seemed tohave given her the chance she had been waiting for. In the solitude ofthe previous night she had tossed impatiently from side to side of thebig couch, vainly trying to find some means of taking advantage of hercomparative freedom to effect her escape. Surely she could find someway of avoiding Gaston's vigilance. Excitement had kept her awake halfthe night, and in the morning she had had hard work to keep heragitation hidden and to appear as usual. She had even been afraid toorder the horses any earlier in her nervous terror lest the valetshould suspect there was any reason behind the simple request. Afterher _petit dejeuner_ she had paced the tent, unable to sit still,dreading lest any moment might bring the return of the Sheik andfrustrate her hopes. She looked back into the room with a shudder asher eyes travelled over the luxurious appointments and differentobjects that had become so curiously familiar in the last two months.The unexpected equipments and the man's own baffling personality wouldremain in her recollection always as an enigma that she would never beable to solve. So much had been so inexplicable in himself and in hismode of life. She drew a long breath and went out hastily into thesunshine.
The horses were waiting, and Gaston was standing ready to hold herstirrup. She fondled the beautiful grey horse's soft nose and pattedhis satiny neck with a hand that trembled a little. She loved the horseand to-day he should be the means of saving her. He responded to hercaresses, gentling her with slobbering mouth and whinnying softly. Withone last look at the big double tent and the rest of the camp behind itshe mounted and rode away without another backward glance. She had toexercise a rigid control over herself. She longed to put Silver Starinto a hand gallop at once and shake off Gaston, but she was still toonear the camp. She must be patient and put a certain number of milesbetween herself and the possibility of pursuit before she attemptedanything. Too early an endeavour would only bring the whole horde inwild chase at her heels. The thought of the promise she had given tothe man from whom she was flying came back to her. She had promisedobedience, but she had not promised that she would not try to escape,and, if she had, no promise wrung from her by fear was valid in heropinion.
She rode steadily forward at a slow, swinging canter, instinctivelysaving her horse, plan after plan passing through her brain to berejected as impracticable. Silver Star fretted continually at themoderate pace, tossing his head and catching at his bit. She took noheed of the time beyond the fact that it was passing quickly, and thatif anything was to be done it must be done as soon as possible. ButGaston, riding a few paces behind her, was very much alive to the hourand had looked several times at his watch. He ranged alongside of hernow with a murmured apology. "Pardon, Madame. It grows late," andsubmitted his wrist watch for her inspection.
Diana glanced mechanically at her own wrist and then remembered thatshe had broken her watch the day before. She pulled up, and tilting herhelmet back mopped her hot forehead, and, as she did so, a sharp breezesprang up, the curious wind that comes and goes so rapidly in thedesert. An idea flashed into her mind. It was a poor chance, but itmight succeed. She shot a glance at Gaston. He was looking in theopposite direction, and, raising her hand, she fluttered herhandkerchief a moment in the breeze and then let it go. The windcarried it some distance away. She gave a little cry and caught at thebridle of the valet's horse.
"Oh, Gaston, my handkerchief!" and pointed to where the morsel ofcambric lay white against a rock. With a comical exclamation of dismayhe slipped to the ground and started to run across the sand.
She waited until he had got well on his way, sitting tense with shiningeyes and thumping heart, then, snatching off her helmet, she brought itdown with a resounding smack on the hindquarters of the servant'shorse, stampeding it in the direction of the camp, and, wheeling SilverStar, headed for the north, deaf to Gaston's cries.
Wild with excitement and free to go his own pace at last her mountgalloped swiftly and the wind whistled past Diana's ears. To thepossible fate of the little Frenchman left on foot so far from theencampment she gave no heed. For the moment she did not even think ofhim, she had no thought for anybody but herself. Her ruse by its verysimplicity had succeeded. She was free and she did not care aboutanything else. She had no plans or ideas what she should do or whereshe should go beyond the fact that she would keep riding northward. Shehad vague hopes that she might fall in with friendly Arabs who, for apromised reward, would guide her to civilisation. Most of them couldspeak a little French, and for the rest her small stock of Arabic mustdo. She knew that she was mad to attempt to ride across the desertalone, but she did not mind. She was free. She was too excited to thinkcoherently. She laughed and shouted like a mad thing and her madnesscommunicated itself to the grey, who was going at racing speed. Dianaknew that he was out of control, that she could not stop him if shetried, but she did not want to try, the faster the better. In time hewould tire himself, but until then let him go as he pleased. She wasfast putting miles between herself and the camp that had been a prison,between herself and the brute who had dared to do what he had done. Atthe thought of the Sheik a sick feeling of fear ran through her. Ifanything should happen? If he should catch her again? She shuddered,and a cry burst from her lips, but she gripped herself at once. She wasidiotic, contemptible; it was impossible. It would be hours, perhapseven the next day, before the alarm was given; he would not know inwhat direction she had gone. She would have miles of start on one ofthe fleetest of his horses. She tried to put him out of her mind. Shehad escaped from him and his cruelty, it was a nightmare that was over.The effects would remain with her always, nothing would ever be thesame again, but the daily dread, the daily contamination would be gone,the helpless tortured feeling, the shame of submission that had filledher with an acute self-loathing that was as intense as her passionatehatred of the man who had forced her to endure his will. The memory ofit would live with her for ever. He had made her a vile thing. Hercheeks scorched with the thought and she shivered at the remembrance ofall that she had gone through. She had been down into the depths andshe would carry the scars all her life. The girl who had started out sotriumphantly from Biskra had become a woman through bitter knowledgeand humiliating experience.
The pace was less killing now. Silver Star had settled down into thesteady tireless gallop for which Ahmed Ben Hassan's horses were famous.The little breeze had died away a
s quickly as it had sprung up, and itwas very hot. Diana looked about her with glowing eyes. Everythingseemed different. From the first she had loved the desert, but back ofeverything and mingled with everything had been the feeling of fear,the continual restraint, the perpetual subservience to the whims of hercaptor which had dominated everything. But now the whole aspect waschanged. She loved the endless, undulating expanse stretching outbefore her, and as the grey topped each rise her interest grew keener.What might not be behind the next one? For an hour or more the groundrose and fell in monotonous succession, and then the desert grew levelagain and quite suddenly she could see for miles. About two miles awaya few palm trees showed clustering together, and Diana turned in theirdirection. They probably meant a well, and it was time she rested herhorse and herself. It was the tiniest little oasis, and she drew reinand dismounted with fears for the well she had hoped to find. But therewas one, very much silted up, and she set to work to clear it as wellas she could to procure enough for herself and Silver Star, who wasfrantically trying to get to the water. It was exhausting work, but shemanaged to satisfy the grey, and, having unloosed his girths, she flungherself down on the ground in a small patch of shade. She lit acigarette and lay flat on her back with her helmet over her eyes.
For the first time since she had shaken off Gaston she began to thinkseriously. What she had done was madness. She had no food for herselfor her horse, no water, and Heaven alone knew where the next well mightbe. She was alone in an uncivilised country among a savage people withno protection of any kind. She might fall in with friendly Arabs or shemight not. She might come across an encampment, or she might wander fordays and see no one, in which case death from hunger and thirst staredher in the face. What would she do when night came? With a sharp cryshe leaped to her feet. What was she to do? She looked all around thelittle oasis with startled eyes, at the few palm trees and clumps ofcamel thorn, the broken well and the grey horse still snuffing aboutits mouth. She felt frightened for the first time; she was alone andabout her was unending space, and she felt an atom, insignificant, theleast of all things. She looked up into the clear sky and the bluevastness appalled her.
Then the sudden panic to which she had given way subsided and hercourage rose with a bound. It was only midday, anything might happenbetween then and nightfall. Of one thing only she was sure, she did notrepent of what she had done. Behind her was Ahmed Ben Hassan and beforeher was possibly death, and death was preferable. She was quite calmagain and lay down in the patch of shade once more with a resolutedetermination to mind. Time to think of them when they came. For thenext hour or two she must rest and escape the intense heat. She rolledover on her face with her head in her arms and tried to sleep, but shewas too excited, and soon gave up the attempt. And in any case, sheargued with herself, she might sleep too long and lose precious time.She stretched luxuriously on the soft ground, thankful for the shadefrom the burning sun. The grey, tired of nosing round the well andblowing disdainfully at the thorn bushes, wandered over to her side andnuzzled her gently. She caught at his velvety nose and drew it downbeside her face. He was a very affectionate beast and gentler than mostof the other horses, and he pressed close up to her, whinnying softlyand looking at her with large expressive eyes. "I haven't anything togive you, poor old boy," she said regretfully, kissing his muzzle andthen pushing him away from her. She looked up again into the sky, adark speck sailed overhead, the slow heavy flight of a vulture. In afew hours he might be picking her bones! Merciful Heavens! Why did suchthoughts come into her head? Had she nothing left of the courage thathad once been second nature? If she let her nerves get the upper handshe might as well make no further effort, but lie down and die at once.With shaking fingers she took another cigarette; smoking would sootheher. Yet she hesitated before she lit it; there were only a few leftand her need might still be greater. But with a reckless laugh shesnapped the thin case to, and carefully scraped the evil-smellingsulphur match torn from a flat wood strip. She settled herselfcomfortably again full length. All around her were the innumerable tinynoises of the desert, the hum of countless insect life, the rustling ofthe sand and the occasional dry crackle of the camel thorns made by theslipping of a twig or the displacing of a branch, sounds that wouldhave been incomprehensible some weeks before. For a few minutes a sandspider attracted her attention and she watched his hurried painstakingoperations with wondering interest. Gradually a drowsy feeling stoleover her and she realised suddenly that the air was impregnated withthe scent of the tobacco that was always associated with the Sheik. Itwas one of his cigarettes that she was smoking. She had always beenpowerfully affected by the influence of smell, which inducedrecollection with her to an extraordinary degree, and now the uncommonpenetrating odour of the Arab's cigarettes brought back all that shehad been trying to put out of her mind. With a groan she flung it awayand buried her face in her arms. The past rose up, and rushed,uncontrolled, through her brain. Incidents crowded into herrecollection, memories of headlong gallops across the desert ridingbeside the man who, while she hated him, compelled her admiration,memories of him schooling the horses that he loved, sitting them like acentaur, memories of him amongst his men, memories more intimatelyconnected with herself, of his varying moods, his swift changes fromsavage cruelty to amazing gentleness, from brutal intolerance to suddenconsideration. There had even been times when he had interested herdespite herself, and she had forgotten the relationship in which theystood towards each other in listening to his deep, slow voice, till aword or a gesture brought back the fact vividly. Memories of momentswhen she had struggled against his caresses, and he had mocked herhelplessness with his great strength, when she had lain in his armspanting and exhausted, cold with fear and shrinking from his fiercekisses. She had feared him as she had never believed it possible tofear. His face rose before her clearly with all the expressions she hadlearned to know and dread. She tried to banish it, striving with allher might to put him from her mind, twisting this way and that,writhing on the soft sand as she struggled with the obsession that heldher. She saw him all the time plainly, as though he were there beforeher. Would he pursue her always, phantom-like? Would the recollectionof the handsome brown face haunt her for ever with its fierce eyes andcruel mouth? She buried her head deeper in her arms, but the visionpersisted until with a scream she started up with heaving chest andwild eyes, standing rigid, staring towards the south with a desperatefixedness that made her eyeballs ache. The sense of his presence hadbeen terribly real. She dropped on to the ground again with anhysterical laugh, and pushed the thick hair off her forehead wearily.Silver Star laying his muzzle suddenly on her shoulder made her startagain violently with heavy, beating heart. A frightened look wentacross her face. "I'm nervous," she muttered, looking round with alittle shiver. "I shall go mad if I stay here much longer." The littleoasis that she had hailed so joyfully had become utterly repugnant andshe was impatient to get away from it. She climbed eagerly into thesaddle, and, with the rapid motion, she regained her calm and herspirits rose quickly.
She shook off the feeling of apprehension that had taken hold of herand her nervous fears died away. A reckless feeling, like theexcitement of the morning, came over her, and she urged the grey onwith coaxing words, and responding to her voice, and hardly feeling herlight weight, he raced on untiringly. All around was silence and asolitude that was stupendous. The vast emptiness was awe-inspiring. Theafternoon was wearing away; already it was growing cooler. Diana hadseen no sign of human life since she had left Gaston hours before and alittle feeling of anxiety stirred faintly deep down in her heart.Traces of caravans she passed several times, and from the whiteningbones of dead camels she turned her head in aversion--they were toointimately suggestive. She had seen a few jackals, and once a hyenalumbered away clumsily among some rocks as she passed. She had got awayfrom the level desert, and was threading her way in and out of some lowhills, which she felt were taking her out of her right course. She wassteering by the setting sun, which had turned the sky into a glory
ofgolden crimson, but the intricate turnings amongst the rocky hills werebewildering. The low, narrow defile seemed hemming her in, menacing heron all sides, and she was beginning to despair of finding her way outof the labyrinth, when, on rounding a particularly sharp turn, therocks fell away suddenly and she rode out into open country. Shebreathed a sigh of relief and called out cheerily to the grey, but, asshe looked ahead, her voice died away, and she reined him in sharplywith a quickening heart-beat. Across the desert about a mile away shesaw a party of Arabs coming towards her. There were about fifty ofthem, the leader riding a big, black horse some little distance infront of his followers. In the clear atmosphere they seemed nearer thanthey were. It was not what she wished. She had hoped for an encampment,where there would be women or a caravan of traders whose constantcommunication with the towns would make them realise the importance ofguiding her to civilisation unharmed. This band of fighting men, forshe could see their rifles clearly, and their close and orderlyformation was anything but peaceful, filled her with the greatestmisgivings. Only the worst might be expected from the wild, lawlesstribesmen towards a woman alone amongst them. She had fled from onehideousness to another which would be ten times more horrible. Her faceblanched and she set her teeth in desperation. The human beings she hadprayed for were now a deadly menace, and she prayed as fervently thatthey might pass on and not notice her. Perhaps it was not too late,perhaps they had not yet seen her and she might still slip away andhide in the twisting turnings of the defile. She backed Silver Starfurther into the shadow of the rock, but as she did so she saw that shehad been seen. The leader turned in his saddle and raised his hand highabove his head, and with a wild shout and a great cloud of dust andsand his men checked their horses, dragging them back on to theirhaunches, while he galloped towards her alone. And at the same momentan icy hand clutched at Diana's heart and a moan burst from her lips.There was no mistaking him or the big black horse he rode. For a momentshe reeled with a sudden faintness, and then with a tremendous effortshe pulled herself together, dragging her horse's head round and urgedhim back along the track which she had just left, and behind her racedAhmed Ben Hassan, spurring the great, black stallion as he had neverdone before. With ashy face and wild, hunted eyes Diana crouchedforward on the grey's neck, saving him all she could and riding as shehad never ridden in her life. Utterly reckless, she urged the horse tohis utmost pace, regardless of the rough, dangerous track. Perhaps shecould still shake off her pursuer among the tortuous paths of thehills. Nothing mattered but that. Better even an ugly toss and a brokenneck than that he should take her again. Panic-stricken she wanted toshriek and clenched her teeth on her lips to keep back the scream thatrose in her throat. She dared not look behind, but straight aheadbefore her, riding with all her skill, hauling the grey round perilouscorners and bending lower and lower in the saddle to aid him. In herterror she had forgotten what a little distance the hills stretchedfrom where she had entered them, and blindly she turned into the trackby which she had come, leaving the main hills on her right hand andemerging on to the open desert on the south side of the range. Therewas nothing now but the sheer speed of her horse to save her, and howlong could she count on it? Then with a little glimmer of hope sheremembered that the Sheik was riding The Hawk, own brother to the grey,and she knew that neither had ever outpaced the other. She had riddenhard all day, but it was probable that Ahmed Ben Hassan had riddenharder; he never spared his horses, and his weight was considerablygreater than hers. Would it not be possible for Silver Star, carryingthe lighter burden, to outdistance The Hawk? It was a chance. She wouldtake it, but she would never give in. The perspiration was rolling downher face and her breath was coming laboriously. Suddenly, a few minutesafter she had left the hills behind, the Sheik's deep voice cameclearly across the space between them.
"If you do not stop I will shoot your horse. I give you one minute."
She swayed a little in the saddle, clutching the grey's neck to steadyherself and for a moment she closed her eyes, but she did not falterfor an instant. She would not stop; nothing on earth should make herstop now. Only, because she knew the man, she kicked her feet clear ofthe stirrups. He had said he would shoot and he would shoot, and if thegrey shied or swerved a hair's breadth she would probably receive thebullet that was meant for him. Better that! Yes, even better that!
Silver Star tore on headlong and the minute seemed a lifetime. Thenbefore even she heard the report he bounded in the air and fell with acrash. Diana was flung far forward and landed on some soft sand. For amoment she was stunned by the fall, then she staggered dizzily to herfeet and stumbled back to the prostrate horse. He was lashing outwildly with his heels, making desperate efforts to rise. And as shereached him the black horse dashed up alongside, stopping suddenly, andrearing straight up. The Sheik leaped to the ground and ran towardsher. He caught her wrist and flung her out of his way, and she laywhere she had fallen, every nerve in her body quivering. She was beatenand with the extinguishing of her last hope all her courage failed her.She gave way to sheer, overwhelming terror, utterly cowed. Everyfaculty was suspended, swallowed up in the one dominating force, thedread of his voice and the dread of the touch of his hands. She heard asecond report and knew that he had put Silver Star out of his misery,and then, in a few seconds, his voice beside her. She got upunsteadily, shrinking from him.
"Why are you here, and where is Gaston?"
In a stifled voice she told him everything. What did it matter? If shetried to be silent he would force her to speak.
He made no comment, and bringing The Hawk nearer tossed her up roughlyinto the saddle and swung up behind her, the black breaking at onceinto the usual headlong gallop. She made no kind of resistance, acomplete apathy seemed to have come over her. She did not look at thebody of Silver Star, she looked at nothing, clinging to the front ofthe saddle, and staring ahead of her unseeingly. She had dropped herhelmet when she fell and she had left it, thankful to be relieved ofthe pressure on her aching head. Her mental collapse had affected herphysically, and it needed a real effort of will-power to enable her tosit up right. Very soon they would join the horsemen, who were waitingfor them, and for her pride's sake she must concentrate all her energyto avoid betraying her weakness.
Ahmed Ben Hassan did not go back through the defile, he turned into alittle path that Diana had overlooked and which skirted the hills. Inabout half-an-hour the troop met them, riding slowly from the oppositedirection. She did not raise her eyes as they approached, but she heardYusef's clear tenor voice calling out to the Sheik, who answeredshortly as the men fell in behind him. Back over the ground that shehad traversed so differently. She knew that it had been madness fromthe first. She should have known that it could never succeed, that shecould never reach civilisation alone. She had been a fool ever toimagine that she could win through. The chance that had thrown heragain into the Sheik's power might just as easily have thrown her intothe hands of any other Arab. Luck had helped Ahmed Ben Hassan even asshe herself had unknowingly played into his hands when he had capturedher first. Fate was with him. It was useless to try and struggleagainst him any more. Her brain was a confused medley of thoughts thatshe was too tired to unravel, strange, conflicting ideas chasing wildlythrough her mind. She did not understand them, she did not try. Theeffort of thinking made her head ache agonisingly. She was conscious ofa great unrest, a dull aching in her heart and a terrible depressionthat was altogether apart from the fear she felt of the Sheik. She gaveup trying to think; she was concerned only with trying to keep herbalance.
She lifted her head for the first time and looked at the magnificentsky. The sun had almost set, going down in a ball of molten fire, andthe heavens on either side were a riot of gold and crimson and palestgreen, shading off into vivid blue that grew blacker and blacker as theglory of the sunset died away. The scattered palm trees and the far-offhills stood out in strong relief. It was a country of marvellousbeauty, and Diana's heart gave a sudden throb as she realised that shewas going back to it all.
She was drooping wearily, unable to situpright any longer, and once or twice she jolted heavily against theman who rode behind her. His nearness had ceased to revolt her; shethought of it with a dull feeling of wonder. She had even a sense ofrelief at the thought of the strength so close to her. Her eyes restedon his hands, showing brown and muscular under the folds of his whiterobes. She knew the power of the long, lean fingers that could, when heliked, be gentle enough. Her eyes filled with sudden tears, but sheblinked them back before they fell. She wanted desperately to cry. Awave of terrible loneliness went over her, a feeling of desolation, anda strange, incomprehensible yearning for what she did not know. As thesunset faded and it grew rapidly dusk a chill wind sprang up and sheshivered from time to time, drooping more and more with fatigue, attimes only half conscious. She had drifted into complete oblivion, whenshe was awakened with a jerk that threw her back violently against theSheik, but she was too tired to more than barely understand that theyhad stopped for something, and that there were palm trees near her. Shefelt herself lifted down and a cloak wrapped round her, and then sheremembered nothing more. She awoke slowly, shaking off a persistentdrowsiness by degrees. She was still tired, but the desperate wearinesswas gone, and she was conscious of a feeling of well-being andsecurity. The cool, night air blew in her face, dissipating hersleepiness. She became aware that night had fallen, and that they werestill steadily galloping southward. In a few moments she was wideawake, and found that she was lying across the saddle in front of theSheik, and that he was holding her in the crook of his arm. Her headwas resting just over his heart, and she could feel the regular beatbeneath her cheek. Wrapped warmly in the cloak and held securely by hisstrong arm at first she was content to give way only to the sensationof bodily rest. It was enough for the moment to lie with relaxedmuscles, to have to make no effort of any kind, to feel the soothingrush of the wind against her face, and the swift, easy gallop of TheHawk as he carried them on through the night. Them! With a start ofrecollection she realised fully whose arm was round her, and whosebreast her head was resting on. Her heart beat with sudden violence.What was the matter with her? Why did she not shrink from the pressureof his arm and the contact of his warm, strong body? What had happenedto her? Quite suddenly she knew--knew that she loved him, that she hadloved him for a long time, even when she thought she hated him and whenshe had fled from him. She knew now why his face had haunted her in thelittle oasis at midday--that it was love calling to her subconsciously.All the confusion of mind that had assailed her when they started onthe homeward journey, the conflicting thoughts and contrary emotions,were explained. But she knew herself at last and knew the love thatfilled her, an overwhelming, passionate love that almost frightened herwith its immensity and with the sudden hold it had laid upon her. Lovehad come to her at last who had scorned it so fiercely. The men who hadloved her had not had the power to touch her, she had given love to noone, she had thought that she could not love, that she was devoid ofall natural affection and that she would never know what love meant.But she knew now--a love of such complete surrender that she had neverconceived. Her heart was given for all time to the fierce desert manwho was so different from all other men whom she had met, a lawlesssavage who had taken her to satisfy a passing fancy and who had treatedher with merciless cruelty. He was a brute, but she loved him, lovedhim for his very brutality and superb animal strength. And he was anArab! A man of different race and colour, a native; Aubrey wouldindiscriminately class him as a "damned nigger." She did not care. Itmade no difference. A year ago, a few weeks even, she would haveshuddered with repulsion at the bare idea, the thought that a nativecould even touch her had been revolting, but all that was swept awayand was nothing in the face of the love that filled her heart socompletely. She did not care if he was an Arab, she did not care whathe was, he was the man she loved. She was deliriously, insanely happy.She was lying against his heart, and the clasp of his arm was joyunspeakable. She was utterly content; for the moment all life narroweddown to the immediate surroundings, and she wished childishly that theycould ride so for ever through eternity. The night was brilliant. Thestars blazed against the inky blackness of the sky, and the light ofthe full moon was startlingly clear and white. The discordant yellingof a pack of hunting jackals came from a little distance, breaking theperfect stillness. The men were riding in unusual silence, though a lowexclamation or the subdued jingle of accoutrements was heardoccasionally, once some one fired at a night creature that bounded outfrom almost under his horse's feet. But the Sheik flung a word ofsavage command over his shoulder and there were no more shots. Dianastirred slightly, moving her head so that she could see his faceshowing clearly in the bright moonlight, which threw some features intohigh relief and left the rest in dark shadow. She looked at him withquickening breath. He was peering intently ahead, his eyes flashing inthe cold light, his brows drawn together in the characteristic heavyscowl, and the firm chin, so near her face, was pushed out moredoggedly than usual.
He felt her move and glanced down. For a moment she looked straightinto his eyes, and then with a low, inarticulate murmur she hid herface against him. He did not speak, but he shifted her weight a little,drawing her closer into the curve of his arm.
It was very late when they reached the camp. Lights flashed up in thebig tent and on all sides, and they were surrounded by a crowd ofexcited tribesmen and servants. In spite of the hard day's work TheHawk started plunging and rearing, his invariable habit on stopping,which nothing could break, and at a word from the Sheik two men leapedto his head while he transferred Diana to Yusef's outstretched arms.She was stiff and giddy, and the young man helped her to the door ofthe tent, and then vanished again into the throng of men and horses.
Diana sank wearily on to the divan and covered her face with her hands.She was trembling with fatigue and apprehension. What would he do toher? She asked herself the question over and over again, with shaking,soundless lips, praying for courage, nerving herself to meet him. Atlast she heard his voice and, looking up, saw him standing in thedoorway. His back was turned, and he was giving orders to a number ofmen who stood near him, for she could hear their several voices; andshortly afterwards half-a-dozen small bands of men rode quickly away indifferent directions. For a few moments he stood talking to Yusef andthen came in. At the sight of him Diana shrank back among the softcushions, but he took no notice of her, and, lighting a cigarette,began walking up and down the tent. She dared not speak to him, theexpression on his face was terrible.
Two soft-footed Arab servants brought a hastily prepared supper. It wasa ghastly meal. He never spoke or showed in any way that he wasconscious of her presence. She had had nothing to eat all day, but thefood nearly choked her and she could hardly swallow it, but she forcedherself to eat a little. It seemed interminable until the servantsfinally withdrew, after bringing two little gold-cased cups of nativecoffee. She gulped it down with difficulty. The Sheik had resumed hisrestless pacing, smoking cigarette after cigarette in endlesssuccession. The monotonous tramp to and fro worked on Diana's nervesuntil she winced each time he passed her, and, huddled on the divan,she watched him continually, fascinated, fearful.
He never looked at her. From time to time he glanced at the watch onhis wrist and each time his face grew blacker. If he would only speak!His silence was worse than anything he could say. What was he going todo? He was capable of doing anything. The suspense was torture. Herhands grew clammy and she wrenched at the soft open collar of herriding-shirt with a feeling of suffocation.
Twice Yusef came to report, and the second time the Sheik came backslowly from the door where he had been speaking to him and stopped infront of Diana, looking at her strangely.
She flung out her hands instinctively, shrinking further back among thecushions, her eyes wavering under his. "What are you going to do tome?" she whispered involuntarily, with dry lips.
He looked at her without answering for a while, as if to prolong thetorture she was enduring, and a cruel look crept into his eyes. "
Thatdepends on what happens to Gaston," he said at length slowly.
"Gaston?" she repeated stupidly. She had forgotten the valet, in allthat had occurred since the morning she had forgotten his veryexistence.
"Yes--Gaston," he said sternly. "You do not seem to have thought ofwhat might happen to him."
She sat up slowly, a puzzled look coming into her face. "What couldhappen to him?" she asked wonderingly.
He dragged back the flap of the tent and pointed out into the darkness."Over there in the south-west, there is an old Sheik whose name isIbraheim Omair. His tribe and mine have been at feud for generations.Lately I have learned that he has been venturing nearer than he hasever before dared. He hates me. To capture my personal servant would bemore luck than he could have hoped for."
He dropped the flap and began walking up and down again. There was asinister tone in his voice that made Diana suddenly comprehend thelittle Frenchman's peril. Ahmed Ben Hassan was not the man to be easilyalarmed on any one's behalf. That he was anxious about Gaston wasapparent, and with her knowledge of him she understood his anxietyargued a very real danger. She had heard tales before she left Biskra,and since then she had been living in an Arab camp, and she knewsomething of the fiendish cruelty and callous indifference to sufferingof the Arabs. Ghastly mental pictures with appalling details crowdednow into her mind. She shuddered.
"What would they do to him?" she asked shakily, with a look of horror.
The Sheik paused beside her. He looked at her curiously and the crueltydeepened in his eyes. "Shall I tell you what they would do to him?" hesaid meaningly, with a terrible smile.
She gave a cry and flung her arms over her head, hiding her face. "Oh,do not! Do not!" she wailed.
He jerked the ash from his cigarette. "Bah!" he said contemptuously."You are squeamish."
She felt sick with the realisation of what could result to Gaston fromher action. She had had no personal feeling with regard to him. On thecontrary, she liked him--she had not thought of him, the man, when shehad stampeded his horse and left him on foot so far from camp. She hadlooked upon him only as a jailer, his master's deputy.
The near presence of this hostile Sheik explained many things she hadnot understood: Gaston's evident desire daring their ride not to gobeyond a certain distance, the special activity that had prevailed oflate amongst the Sheik's immediate followers, and the speed and silencethat had been maintained during the headlong gallop across the desertthat evening. She had known all along the Arab's obvious affection forhis French servant, and it was confirmed now by the anxiety that he didnot take the trouble to conceal--so unlike his usual completeindifference to suffering or danger.
She looked at him thoughtfully. There were still depths that she hadnot fathomed in his strange character. Would she ever arrive at even adistant understanding of his complex nature? There was a misty yearningin her eyes as they followed his tall figure up and down the tent. Hisfeet made no sound on the thick rugs, and he moved with the long,graceful stride that always reminded her of the walk of a wild animal.Her new-found love longed for expression as she watched him. If shecould only tell him! If she had only the right to go to him and in hisarms to kiss away the cruel lines from his mouth! But she had not. Shemust wait until she was called, until he should choose to notice thewoman whom he had taken for his pleasure, until the baser part of himhad need of her again. He was an Arab, and to him a woman was a slave,and as a slave she must give everything and ask for nothing.
And when he did turn to her again the joy she would feel in his embracewould be an agony for the love that was not there. His careless kisseswould scorch her and the strength of his arms would be a mockery. Butwould he ever turn to her again? If anything happened to Gaston--ifwhat he had suggested became a fact and the servant fell a victim tothe blood feud between the two tribes? She knew he would be terriblyavenged, and what would her part be? She wondered dully if he wouldkill her, and how. If the long, brown fingers with their steelystrength would choke the life out of her. Her hands went up to herthroat mechanically. He stopped near her to light a fresh cigarette,and she was trying to summon up courage to speak to him of Gaston whenthe covering of the doorway was flung open and Gaston himself stood inthe entrance.
"Monseigneur--" he stammered, and with his two hands outstretched, palmuppermost, he made an appealing gesture.
The Sheik's hand shot out and gripped the man's shoulder. "Gaston!_Enfin, mon ami!_" he said slowly, but there was a ring in his lowvoice that Diana had never heard before.
For a moment the two men stared at each other, and then Ahmed BenHassan gave a little laugh of great relief. "Praise be to Allah, theMerciful, the Compassionate," he murmured.
"To his name praise!" rejoined Gaston softly, then his eyes rovedaround the tent towards Diana, and there was no resentment in them, butonly anxiety.
"Madame is----" he hesitated, but the Sheik cut him short.
"Madame is quite safe," he said dryly, and pushed him gently towardsthe door with a few words in rapid Arabic. He stood some time afterGaston had gone to his own quarters looking out into the night, andwhen he came in, lingered unusually over closing the flap. Diana stoodhesitating. She was worn out and her long riding-boots felt like lead.She was afraid to go and afraid to stay. He seemed purposely ignoringher. The relief of Gaston's return was enormous, but she had still toreckon with him for her attempted flight. That he said no word about itat the moment meant nothing; she knew him too well for that. And therewas Silver Star, the finest of all his magnificent horses--she had yetto pay for his death. The strain that she had gone through since themorning was tremendous, she could not bear much more. His silenceaggravated her breaking nerves until she felt that her nerves would go.He had moved over to the writing-table and was tearing the wrapping offa box of cartridges preparatory to refilling the magazine of hisrevolver. The little operation seemed to take centuries. She started ateach separate click. She gripped her hands and passed her tongue overher dry lips. If he would not speak she must, she could endure it nolonger.
"I am sorry about Silver Star," she faltered, and even to herself hervoice sounded hoarse and strange. He did not answer, but only shruggedhis shoulders as he dropped the last cartridge into its place.
The gesture and his uncompromising attitude exasperated her. "You hadbetter have shot me," she said bitterly.
"Perhaps. You would have been easier replaced. There are plenty ofwomen, but Silver Star was almost unique," he retorted quickly, and shewinced at the cold brutality of his tone.
A little sad smile curved her lips. "Yet you shot your horse to get meback," she said in a barely audible voice.
He flung round with an oath. "You little fool! Do you know so little ofme yet? Do you think that I will let anything stand between me and whatI want? Do you think that by running away from me you will make me wantyou less? By Allah! I would have found you if you had got as far asFrance. What I have I keep, until I tire of it--and I have not tired ofyou yet." He jerked her to him, staring down at her passionately, andfor a moment his face was the face of a devil. "How shall I punishyou?" He felt the shudder he expected go through her and laughed as sheshrank in his arms and hid her face. He forced her head up withmerciless fingers. "What do you hate most?--my kisses?" and withanother mocking laugh he crushed his mouth to hers in a longsuffocating embrace.
Then he let her go suddenly, and, blind and dizzy, she reeled from himand staggered. He caught her as she swayed and swept her into his arms.Her head fell back against his shoulder and his face changed at thesight of her quivering features. He carried her into the adjoining roomand laid her on the couch, his hands lingering as he drew them fromher. For a moment he stood looking down with smouldering eyes on theslight, boyish figure lying on the bed, the ferocity dying out of hisface. "Take care you do not wake the devil in me again, _mabelle,"_ he said sombrely.
Alone Diana turned her face into the pillows with a moan of anguish.Back in the desert a few hours ago, under the shining stars, when thetr
uth had first come to her, she had thought that she was happy, butshe knew now that without his love she would never be happy. She hadtasted the bitterness of his loveless kisses and she knew that a worsebitterness was to come, and she writhed at the thought of what her lifewith him would be.
"I love him! I love him! And I want his love more than anything inHeaven and earth."