CHAPTER XXII
THE HEART OF MAX
Max had resigned himself days ago to Juan Garcia's desertion from theLegion, since the girl must be saved. But he was far from happy abouthis own position. The danger was that the day when he was due to reporthimself at Sidi-bel-Abbes would come and he would be absent. His letterof explanation ought to have arrived by that time, but it might beconsidered the trick of a deserter. And even when he appeared, the newsof Garcia's desertion from his caravan must be told. The loss of a manwould be a black mark against him, and he would probably forfeit thestripe on which he had been congratulated by the colonel.
There was consolation in the thought of seeing Sanda again, and thecertainty that she would "stand up" for him; but he did not realize justhow much that consolation would mean, until, after the delay of a dayand a half, word came that Mademoiselle DeLisle was ready to leave herfriend. The caravan had been assembled and waiting for the last hour,and Max knew that the bride must have gone to her husband's tent. Themusic had been wilder than before, the women's cries of joy louder andmore triumphant; and while he had been examining the trappings ofSanda's camel a procession had gone by carrying aloft several big boxesdraped with brocade and cloth-of-gold: the bride's luggage on its way toher new home. The feasting in the _tente sultane_ would continue allthat night, as on other nights; but Ourieda and Tahar would be leftquietly in the tent of the bridegroom, alone until after dawn, whenTahar would steal away and the girl's women friends would rush in towish her joy. That would be the hour, Max told himself, when all wouldbe found out, and the chase would begin. He had seen Manoeel once sincethe last details of the plot to rescue Ourieda had been settled. He knewthat Manoeel had sent a letter to her through Sanda, to whom it had beengiven; but he was not sure if Sanda had been warned of the part shewould have to play.
It was of this, more than the personality of Sanda herself, that hethought, as he waited, expecting her to come out from the Agha's tent.But instead, she came from another direction, and he did not recognizethe slim figure in Arab dress until the well-remembered voice spokethrough the white veil:
"It is--my Soldier St. George!" Sanda cried in English, and a thrill ranthrough the young man's blood. He forgot all about himself, his risksand his perplexities, and nothing seemed to matter except that SandaDeLisle had come back into his life--the girl whose long, soft hairbrushed his face in dreams, the girl who had saved his belief inwomanhood and raised up for him, in his black need, a new ideal.
A tall negro woman, whose forehead was a strip of ebony, whose eyes werebeads of jet above her snowy veil, accompanied Mademoiselle DeLisle, andthe two had arrived from the bridegroom's tent, where doubtless Sandahad been bidding the bride good-bye. Max realized that her attendantwould be shocked if he should offer to shake hands with the girl, so heonly bowed, and answered hastily in English that he was glad--glad tosee her again--glad to have the honour of being her guide. Khadra wasbrought forward, and Sanda spoke a few words to her in Arabic. Then thegirl was helped into her bassourah, luggage being brought out by eunuchsfrom the Agha's tent and packed in to balance the other side. Only whenthe Roumia had retired behind the blue and red and purple curtains didBen Raana appear to wish his friend's daughter and messenger theblessing of Allah on their journey. The caravan started, and it was notuntil after the _douar_, with its green _daya_ and background of trees,was dim in the distance that Sanda's curtains parted. Max, riding theonly horse in the party, saw the trembling of the rainbow-colouredstuff, and glanced up, expectant. He found that his heart and all hispulses were hammering, and as the girl's gold-brown head appeared, herveil thrown off, something seemed to leap in his breast, something thatgave a bound like that of a great fish on a hook. She looked down andsmiled at him rather sadly, yet more sweetly it seemed to Max than anyother woman had ever smiled. He had not realized or remembered howbeautiful she was. Why, it was the most exquisite face in the world! Anangel's face, yet the face of a human girl. He adored it as a man mayadore an angel, and he loved it as a man loves a woman. A great andirresistible tide of love rushed over him. What a fool, what a young,simple fool he had been to think that he had ever loved BillieBrookton! That seemed hundreds of years ago, in another incarnation,when he had been undeveloped, when his soul had been asleep. His soulwas awake now! Something had awakened it; life in the Legion, perhaps,for that had begun to show him his own capabilities; or else loveitself, which had been waiting to say: "I am here, now and forever."
Max was almost afraid to look at Sanda lest she should read through hiseyes the words written on his heart. But then he remembered in a flashher love for Stanton, which would blind her to such feelings in othermen. He felt sick for an instant in his hopelessness. Wherever heturned, whatever he did, happiness seemed never to be for him.
"You don't know how glad I am to see you!" the girl explained. "I'vethought of you so often and--" she was going to add impulsively--"anddreamed about you, too!" but she remembered the Arab saying whichOurieda had told her: that when a woman dreams of a man, that is the manshe loves. It was a silly saying, and untrue; yet she kept back thewords in a queer sort of loyalty to Stanton--Stanton, who neitherthought nor dreamed of her.
"I was so thankful when I heard my father had sent for me," she quicklywent on. "I heard about it only through _that letter_--you know the oneI mean."
"Yes, I know," said Max. "I felt they didn't mean to tell you till thelast minute, though I could see no reason why. I--I was more than gladand proud to be the one to come."
He was not hoping unselfishly that Colonel DeLisle mightn't have told inhis letter how the great march and the expected fight had beensacrificed for her sake. He was not hoping this, because in his suddenawakening to love he had forgotten the march. He was thinking of Sandaand the wild happiness that would turn to pain in memory of being withher for days in the desert. If, when he reached Sidi-bel-Abbes, he wereblamed for the delay, and punished by losing his stripe, or even byprison, it would be nothing, or almost a joy, because he would besuffering for her.
"It was only to-day they gave me father's letter, which you brought,"Sanda was saying. "It was short, written in a hurry, in answer to one Isent begging him to take me away. Yet he mentioned one thing: that hedidn't order you, but only asked if you were willing, to come. And hetold me what you answered. I can never thank you, but I do appreciateit--_all_!"
"It was my selfishness," answered Max. "I said that the colonel wasgiving me the Cross of the Legion of Honour. I felt that, then. I feelit a lot more now." There was more truth in this than he wished her toguess.
"You are the _realest_ friend!" cried Sanda. "Why, do you know, now Icome to think of it, unless I count my father, you are the only realfriend I have in the world?"
"You forget Mr. Stanton!" Max reminded her, without intending to becruel.
She blushed, and Max hated himself as if he had brought the colour toher face with a blow.
"No," she answered quietly. "I never forget him. But you understand,because I told you everything, that in my heart I can't call him myfriend. _He_ doesn't care enough, and _I_--care too much."
"Forgive me!" Max begged. "All the same I know he must care. He wouldn'tbe human not to."
"He isn't human! He's superhuman!" She laughed, to cover her pain ofhumiliation. "I suppose--long ago--he has started out on his wonderfulmission. I keep thinking of him travelling on and on through the desert,and I pray he may be safe, and succeed in finding the Lost Oasis hebelieves in. He told me in Algiers that to find it would crown hislife."
"He hadn't started when I left Touggourt," Max said rather dryly.
"What--he was still there? Then my father must have seen him. Howstrange! He didn't refer to him at all."
"You mentioned that the colonel wrote in a hurry." Max hinted at thisexplanation to comfort her, but he guessed why DeLisle had not been in amood to speak of Stanton to his daughter. "There is a reason," he hadsaid, "why I don't want to ask Stanton to put off starting and go toDjazerta." And Max,
having seen the dancer, Ahmara, had known withouttelling what the reason was.
"Do you think Richard may be there when we get to Touggourt?" she asked,shamefaced, yet not able to resist putting the question.
"I think it's very likely." Max tried to keep his tone at reassuringlevel, though he hoped devoutly that Stanton might be gone. He could notbear to think of his seeing Sanda again after the Ahmara episode. With aman of Stanton's strange, erratic nature and wild impulses, who couldbe sure whether--but Max would not let the thought finish in his mind.
Sanda suddenly dropped the subject. Whether this was because she sawthat Max disliked it, or whether she had no more to say, he could notguess.
"Tell me about yourself, now," she said. "My father has told me somethings in letters, but I long to know from you if I made a mistake inwanting you to try the Legion."
"You made no mistake. It's one of the things I have to thank youfor--one of several very great things," said Max.
"What _other_ things? I can't think of one unless you thank me forhaving a splendid father."
"That's one thing."
"Are there more?"
"Yes."
"Tell me, please. Anyway, the greatest, or I shan't believe in any."
Max was silent for an instant. Then he said in a voice so low she couldhardly hear it, bending down from her bassourah, "For giving me back myfaith in women."
"I? But you hadn't lost it."
"I was in danger of losing it, with most of my mental and moral baggage.Through you--I've kept the lot."
"That's the most beautiful thing ever said to me. And it does me so muchgood after all I've gone through and been blamed for!"
"Who's dared to blame you for anything?"
"I asked you to tell me about yourself. When you have done that I'lltell you things that have happened here, things concerning ManoeelValdez and Ourieda--poor darling Ourieda, whom I ought to be thinking ofevery instant! And so I am, only I can't help being happy to getaway--with you."
There was sweet pain in hearing those last words, and the emphasis thecaressing girl-voice gave. Max hurried through a vague list of suchevents as seemed fit for Sanda's ears. They were not many, since he didnot count his fights among the mentionable ones. He told her, with moredetail, about his acquaintance with Valdez, whose face she had remarkedat the railway station at Sidi-bel-Abbes; and then claimed her promise.She must tell him, if she would (with a sudden drop from the happy wayof Max Doran with women to the humbler way of Max St. George,Legionnaire), what she had gone through in the Agha's house.
She began by asking a question. "Didn't you think it queer that no onebut a servant came out to see me off?"
"I did a little, but I put it down to Arab manners."
"It was because I left in disgrace. Oh! no one was ever rude! They werepolite always. It was like being stuffed with too much honey. And Idon't mean Ourieda, of course. Ourieda's a darling. I'd do anything forher. I've proved that! Did my father give you any idea why he had tosend for me in a hurry, though he has to leave me alone--or rather incharge of people I don't know--at Bel-Abbes? He must have told yousomething, as he asked such a sacrifice."
"He needn't have told me anything at all. But he took me into hisconfidence--it was like him--far enough to say the Agha was offendedsomehow, and you were anxious to leave."
"I should think the Agha _was_ offended! I tried to help Ourieda toescape, even though she hadn't heard from her Manoeel. She had lots ofjewels, and thought she might get to France. We failed in our attempt,and after that we were never alone together, though they--her father andaunt--didn't want me to go till she was married. The idea at firstwas--when I arrived, I mean--that my visit shouldn't end till fathercame back. They meant me to stop on with Ourieda, as she and her husbandwould live at her old home at Djazerta. The last plot wasn't mine. Itwas got up by an old nurse they'd sent away, and a weird woman, a kindof Arab beauty-doctor. But all the same they were afraid of me. Theylonged to have me gone, yet, for their own superstitious, secretivereasons, they were afraid to let me go. As I _had_ to stay so long, I'drather have stopped a little longer, so as to know what becomes ofOurieda. They made me say good-bye to her in Tahar's tent, where she iswaiting, all dressed up like a doll, till the hour at night when herhusband chooses to come to her. Instead, we hope---- But I can hardlybear it, not to know! Shall we _ever_ know?"
"It may be a long time before Manoeel can send us any word," said Max."But we shall hear, I suppose, about Tahar."
"Oh, Manoeel doesn't mean to _kill_ him, does he? Ourieda said hewouldn't do that! But Arab women are so strange, so different from us, Idon't believe she'd care much if he did; except that if he were amurderer they could seize him, even in another country--Spain, wherethey both hope to go when they can get out of Djazerta."
"Manoeel wouldn't care much, either, except for that same reason," Maxadmitted. "But he does care for that. He intends only to surprise andstun Tahar. He doesn't want his life with Ourieda spoiled, for he'll bea public character, you know, if he succeeds in escaping from Algeria.He'll be a great singer. He can take back his own name."
"Why not France?" Sanda wanted to know. "Surely France would be betterfor a singer than Spain, or even Italy?"
"Perhaps, but, you see, he has had to desert from the Legion. In Francehe could be brought back to Algeria to the penal battalion."
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that!"
"It was--a hateful necessity, his deserting."
Sanda looked at him anxiously. "Will it make trouble for you?"
"Possibly. I hoped it needn't happen. But it had to. There was no otherway in the end."
"How he must love Ourieda, to risk all that for her sake!"
"He risked a great deal more."
"What--but, oh, yes, you told me! The way he came into the Legion, andall that. I wonder--I wonder if there are many men in the world whowould do as much for a woman?"
"I think so," said Max quietly. "You don't count the cost very much whenyou are in love."
He was to remember that speech before many days.
"They're wonderful, men like that!" Sanda murmured. "And there's morerisk to come, for Ourieda and himself. A little for us, too, isn'tthere?"
"Not for you, please God! And very little for any of us. But I see youknow what Manoeel expects to happen."
"Oh, yes, that they'll run after us, thinking that he has followed withOurieda, to join our caravan. I do hope the Agha will send his men afterus, for that will make us sure those two have got away. If we hearsounds of pursuit we'll hurry on quickly. Then the chase will havefarther to go back, and Manoeel and Ourieda will gain time. The moreground we can cover before we're come up with by the Agha's camels,who'll be superior to ours, the better it will be, won't it?"
"Yes, for if the Agha lets Djazerta alone, Manoeel may contrive to slipout of the town sooner than he dared hope, well disguised, in a caravanof strangers not of Ben Raana's tribe. In that case the Agha of Djazertawould have no right to search among the women. And Manoeel's splendid atdisguise. His actor's training has taught him that."
"I feel now that he _will_ get Ourieda out of the country. They'vesuffered too much and dared too much to fail in the end."
"I hope so; I think so," Max answered. But he knew that in real lifestories did sometimes end badly. His own, for instance. He could see nohappy ending for that.
They pushed on as fast as the animals could go when a long march and nota mere spurt of speed was before them. Through the mysterious sapphiredarkness of the desert night the padding feet of the camels strodenoiselessly over the hard sand. Sanda asked Max to offer extra pay tothe men if they would put up with an abbreviated rest. Only three hoursthey paused to sleep; and then, in the dusk before dawn, when all livingthings are as shadows, the camels were wakened to snarl with rage whiletheir burdens were ruthlessly strapped on again. As Max gave Sanda a cupof hot coffee (which he had made for her, as Legionnaires make it,strong and black) she said, shivering a little, "Do you think the
y'llhave found Tahar yet if--if----"
"Hardly yet! Not till daylight," answered Max. "Are you cold? Thesedesert nights can be bitter, even in summer. Won't you let me putsomething more around you?"
"No, thanks. It's only excitement that makes me shiver. I'm thinking ofOurieda and Manoeel. I've been thinking of them instead of sleeping. ButI'm not tired. I feel all keyed up; as if something wonderful were goingto happen to me, too."
Something wonderful was happening to Max. But she had no idea of that.She would never know, he thought.
All day they journeyed on, save for a short halt at noon, and Max washappy. He tried to recall and quote to himself a verse of Tennyson's"Maud"--"Let come what come may; What matter if I go mad, I shall havehad my day!" He was having his day--just that one day more, because onthe next they would come to Touggourt, and if Stanton were there hewould spoil everything.
At night they went on till late, as before; but the camel-men said thatthe animals must have a longer rest. Luckily it did not matter now ifthey were caught. If Manoeel and Ourieda had escaped they had had a longstart. A little after midnight the vast silence of the sand-ocean wasbroken with cries and shoutings of men. The Arabs, not knowing of theexpected raid, stumbled up from their beds of bagging and ran to protectthe camels; but Max, who had not undressed, walked out from the littlecamp to meet a cavalcade of men.
Ben Raana himself rode in advance, mounted on a swift-running camel. Inthe blue gloom where the stars were night lights Max recognized the longblack beard of the Agha flowing over his white cloak. None rode nearhim. Tahar was not there. Max took that as a good sign.
"Who are you?" demanded the uniformed Legionnaire in his halting Arabic."In the name of France, I demand your business."
Ben Raana, recognizing him also, impatiently answered in French, "And Idemand my daughter!"
"Your daughter? Ah, I see! It is the Agha of Djazerta. But what can weknow of your daughter? We left her being married."
"I think thou knowest well," Ben Raana cut him short furiously, "thather marriage was not consummated. I cherished a viper in my bosom when Ientertained in my house the child of George DeLisle. She has deceivedme, and helped my daughter to deceive."
"I cannot hear Mademoiselle DeLisle spoken of in that way, even by mycolonel's friend, sir," said Max. "If your daughter has run away----"
"If! Thou knowest well that she has run away with her lover, who hashalf murdered the man who should by now be her husband. Thou knowestand Mademoiselle knows!"
"You are mistaken," broke in Max, not troubling to hide his anger. "Ifyou think your daughter----"
"I think she is here! But thou canst not protect her from me. Try, andthou and every man with thee shall perish."
"Search our camp," said Max.
As he spoke, Sanda appeared at the door of the mean little tent hiredfor her at Touggourt. From the shelter of the bassourah, close by on thesand, Khadra peeped out. The search was made quickly and almost withoutwords. If the power of France had not been behind the soldier and thegirl whom Ben Raana now hated, he would have reverted--"enlightened" manas he was--to primitive methods. He would have killed the pair with hisown hand, while the men of his _goum_ put the Arabs to death, and allcould have been buried under the sand save the camels, which would havebeen led back to Djazerta. But France was mighty and far reaching, andhe and his tribe would have to pay too high for such indulgence.
When he was sure that Ourieda and Manoeel Valdez were not concealed inthe camp, with cold apologies and farewells he turned with his men androde off toward the south--a band of shadows in the night. The visit hadbeen like a dream, the desert dream that Sanda had had of Max, Max ofSanda. Yet dimly it seemed to both that these dreams had meant more thanthis. The girl let her "Soldier St. George" warm her small, icy hands,and comfort her with soothing words.
"You were _not_ treacherous," he said. "You did exactly right. Youdeserve happiness for helping to make that girl happy. And you'll haveit! You must! You shall! I couldn't stand your not being happy."
"Already it's to-day," she half whispered, "to-day that we come toTouggourt. The greatest thing in my father's life happened there. Ithought of that when I passed through before, and wondered what wouldhappen to me. Nothing happened. But--_what about to-day_?"
"May it be something very good," Max said steadily. But his heart washeavy, as in his hands her own grew warm.
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