CHAPTER XXIV
THE MAD MUSIC
Max was struck dumb by the shock. He had expected nothing so devastatingas this. What to do he knew not, yet something he must do. If he had notloved the girl, it would have been easier. There would have been no fearthen that he might think of himself and not of her. Yet she had been putunder his charge by Colonel DeLisle. He was responsible for her welfareand her safety. Ought he to constitute himself her guardian and standbetween her and this man? On the other hand, could he attempt playingout a farce of guardianship--he, almost a stranger, and a boy comparedto Stanton, who had been, according to Sanda, informally her guardianwhen she was a little girl? Max stammered a few words, not knowing whathe said, or whether he were speaking sense, but Stanton paid him thecompliment of treating him like a reasonable man. Suddenly Max becameconscious that the explorer was deliberately focussing upon him all theintense magnetism which had won adherents to the wildest schemes.
"I understand exactly what you are thinking about me," Stanton said."You must feel I am mad or a brute to want this child to go with meacross the desert, to share the fate all Europe is prophesying."
"It's glory to share it," broke in Sanda, in a voice like a harp. "Do Icare what happens to me if I can be with you?"
Stanton laughed a delightful laugh.
"She _is_ a child--an infatuated child! But shouldn't I be more--orless--than a man, if I could let such a stroke of luck pass by me? Yousee, she wants to go."
"_He_ knows I love you, and have loved you all my life," said Sanda. "Itold him in Algiers when I was so miserable, thinking that I shouldnever see you again, and that you didn't care."
"Of course I cared," Stanton contradicted her warmly; yet there was adifference in his tone. To Max's ears, it did not ring true. "Seeing agrown-up Sanda, when I'd always kept in my mind's eye a little girl,bowled me over. I made excuses to get away in a hurry, didn't I? It wasthe bravest thing I ever did. I knew I wasn't a marble statue. But itwas another thing keeping my head in broad daylight on the terrace of ahotel, with a lot of dressed-up creatures coming and going, from what itis here in the desert at night, with that mad music playing me away intothe unknown, and a girl like Sanda flashing down like a falling star."
"The star fell into your arms, and you saved it from extinction," shefinished for him, laughing a little gurgling laugh of ecstasy.
"I caught it on its way somewhere else! But how can I let it go when itwants to shine for me? How can I be _expected_ to let it go? I ask youthat, St. George!"
Racked with an anguish of jealousy, Max felt, nevertheless, a queerstirring of sympathy for the man; and struggling against it, he knewStanton's conquering fascination. He knew, also, that nothing he coulddo or say would prevent Sanda from going with her hero. However, hestammered a protest.
"But--but I don't see what's to be done," he said, "MademoiselleDeLisle's father, my colonel, ordered me to take her to Sidi-bel-Abbes."
"Not ordered; asked!" the girl cut in with an unfairness that hurt.
"All the blame is mine," Stanton assured him with a warm friendliness ofmanner. "My shoulders are broad enough to bear it. And you know, St.George, your colonel and I are old friends. If he were here he'd givehis consent, I think, after he'd got over his first surprise. I believeas his proxy you'll do the same, when you've taken a little time toreflect."
"Why, of course he will!" cried Sanda, sweet and repentant. "He knowsthat this is my one chance of happiness in life. Everything looked sogray in the future. I was going to Sidi-bel-Abbes to be with strangerstill my father came. And even at best, though he loves me, I am a burdenand a worry to him. Then, suddenly, comes this glorious joy! My Knight,my one Sir Knight, wants me, and cares! If I knew I were going straightto death, I'd go just the same, and just as joyously."
"We both realized what was in our hearts, and what must happen, when shelooked out between her curtains like the Blessed Damozel, and I took herout of her bassourah and held her in my arms. That settled our fate,"said Stanton, attractively boyish and eager in the warmth of hispassion. It was genuine passion. There was no doubting that, but lit inan instant, like a burnt wick still warm from a flame blown out. Howlong would it last? How clear and true a light would it give? Max didnot know how much of his doubt of Stanton was jealousy, how much regardfor Sanda's happiness.
"To think this should come to me at Touggourt, where my father'shappiness came to him!" Sanda murmured rapturously, as Max stood silent."It is Fate, indeed!"
"Listen to the music of Africa," said Stanton. "The players followed usfor 'luck.' What luck they've brought! Child, I was feeling lonely andsad. I almost had a presentiment that my luck was out. What a fool! Allthe strength and courage I've ever had you've given back to me withyourself!"
"I could die of happiness to hear you say that!" Sanda answered. "Yousee how it is, my friend, my dear, kind soldier? God has timed my cominghere to give me this wonderful gift! You wouldn't rob me of it if youcould, would you?"
"Not if it's for your happiness," Max heard something that was only halfhimself answer. "But"--and he turned on Stanton--"how do you propose tomarry her--here?"
The other hesitated for an instant, then replied briskly, as if he hadcalculated everything in detail. This was characteristic of him, to mapout a plan of campaign as he went along, as fast as he drew breath forthe rushing words. Often he had made his greatest impressions, hisgreatest successes, in this wild way.
"Why, _you_ will pitch your camp here for the night, instead of marchingon to Touggourt," he said. "I camp here, too. My expedition is delayedfor one day more, but what does that matter after a hundred delays?Heavens! I've had to wait for tents a beast of a Jew contracted to giveme and didn't. I've waited to test water-skins. I've waited for newcamel-men when old ones failed me. Haven't I a right to wait a few hoursfor a companion--a wife? The first thing in the morning we'll have thepriest out from Touggourt. Sanda's Catholic. He'll marry us and we'llstart on together."
"Couldn't we," the girl rather timidly ventured the suggestion,"couldn't we go to Touggourt? There must be a church there if there's apriest, and I--I'd like to be married in a church."
"My darling child! The priest shall consecrate a tent, or a bit of thedesert," Stanton answered with decision, which, she must have realized,would be useless to combat. "He'll do it all right! Marriage ceremoniesare performed by Catholic priests in houses, you know, if the man or thewoman is ill; deathbed marriages, and--but don't let us talk of suchthings! I know I can make him do this when I show him how impossible itwould be for us to go back to Touggourt. Why, the men I've got together,mostly blacks, would take it for a bad omen if I left the escortstranded here in the desert the first day out! Half of them would bolt.I'd have the whole work to do over again. You see that, don't you?"
Sanda did see; and even Max admitted to himself that the excuse wasplausible. Yet he suspected another reason behind the one alleged.Stanton was afraid of things Sanda might hear in Touggourt; perhaps hefeared some more active peril.
"I thought," Max dared to argue, "that it took days arranging the legalpart of a marriage? You're an Englishman, Mr. Stanton, and ColonelDeLisle's daughter's a French subject, though she is half British. Youmay find difficulties."
"Damn difficulties!" exclaimed Stanton, all his savage impatience ofopposition breaking out at last. "Don't you say so, Sanda? When a manand woman need each other's companionship in lonely places outside theworld, is the world's red tape going to make a barrier between them? MyGod, no! Sanda, if your church will give you to me, and send us into thedesert with its blessing, is it, or is it not, enough for you? If not,you're not the girl I want. You're not my woman."
"If you love me, I _am_ 'your woman,'" said Sanda.
"You hear her?" Stanton asked. "If it's enough for her, I suppose it'senough for you, St. George?"
Through the blue dusk two blue eyes stared into Max's face. They put aquestion without words. "Have you any reason of your own for wanting tokeep her from me?"
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br /> "Will it be enough for Colonel DeLisle?" Max persisted.
"I promised to shoulder all responsibility with him," repeated Stanton.
"And father would be the last man in the world to spoil two lives for aconvention," Sanda added. "Do you remember his love story that I toldyou?"
Did Max remember? It was not a story to forget, that tragic tale of loveand death in the desert. Must the story of the daughter be tragic, too?A great fear for the girl was in his heart. He believed that he couldthink of her alone, now, apart from selfishness. Realizing her worshipof Stanton, had her fate lain in his hands he would have placed it inthose of the other man could he have been half sure they would betender. But her fate was in her own keeping. He could do no more thanbeg, for DeLisle's sake, that they would wait for the wedding untilStanton came back from his expedition. Even as he spoke, it seemedstrange and almost absurd that he should be urging legal formalitiesupon any one, especially a man like Stanton, almost old enough to be hisfather. What, after all, did law matter in the desert if two peopleloved each other? And as Stanton said--patient and pleasant again afterhis outburst--they could have all the legal business, to make thingsstraight in the silly eyes of the silly world, when they won through toEgypt, under English law.
The matter settled itself exactly as it would have settled itself hadMax stormed protests for an hour. Sanda was to be married by theCatholic priest from Touggourt, as early in the morning as he could befetched. The great caravan and the little caravan halted for the night.Stanton harangued his escort in their own various dialects, for therewas no obscure lingo of Africa which he did not know, and this knowledgegave him much of his power over the black or brown men. The news hetold, explaining the delay, was received with wild shouts of amusedapproval. Stanton was allowing some of his head men to travel with theirwives, it being their concern, not his, if the women died and rotted inthe desert. It was his concern only to be popular as a leader on thisexpedition for which it had been hard to get recruits. It was fair thathe, too, should have a wife if he wanted one, and the men cared aslittle what became of the white girl they had not seen as Stanton caredabout the fate of their strapping females.
The mad music of the tomtoms and raeitas played as Max, with his ownhands, set up Sanda's little tent. "For the last time," he said tohimself. "To-morrow night her tent will be Stanton's."
He felt physically sick as he thought of leaving her in the desert withthat man, whom they called mad, and going on alone to report atSidi-bel-Abbes, days after his leave had expired. Now that Sanda wasstaying behind, his best excuse was taken from him. He could hearhimself making futile-sounding explanations, but keeping MademoiselleDeLisle's name in the background. None save a man present at the scenehe had gone through could possibly pardon him for abandoning his charge.After all, however, what did it matter? He did not care what became ofhim, even if his punishment were to be years in the African penalbattalion, the awful _Bat d'Aff_, a sentence of death in life. "PerhapsI deserve it," he said. "I don't know!" All he did know was that hewould give his life for Sanda. Yet it seemed that he could do nothing.
When all was quiet he went to his tent and threw himself down justinside the entrance with the flap up. Lying thus, he could see Sanda'stent not far away, dim in the starlit night. He could not see her, nordid he wish to. But he knew she was sitting in the doorway with Stantonat her feet. Max did not mean to spy; but he was afraid for her, ofStanton, while that music played. At last he heard her lover in goingcall out "good night," then it was no longer necessary to play sentinel,but though Sanda had slipped inside her tent, perhaps to dream ofto-morrow, it seemed to Max that there were no drugs in the world strongenough to give him sleep. He supposed, vaguely, that if a priestconsented to marry the girl to Stanton, after the wedding and the startof the explorer's caravan, he, Max, would board the first train he couldcatch on the new railway, and go to "take his medicine" atSidi-bel-Abbes.
Before dawn, when Stanton came to tell Sanda that he was off forTouggourt to fetch the priest, no alternative had yet presented itselfto Max's mind, and he was still indifferent to his own future. But whenStanton had been gone for half an hour, and a faint primrose colouredflame had begun to quiver along the billowy horizon in the east, heheard a soft voice call his name, almost in a whisper.
"Soldier St. George!" it said.
Max sprang up, fully dressed as he was, and went out of his tent. Sandawas standing near, a vague shape of glimmering white.
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