A Soldier of the Legion

by C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson

  CHAPTER XXVI

  SANDA'S WEDDING NIGHT

  What arguments the explorer used none save himself and the priest fromTouggourt would ever know. But the priest came and married Sanda toStanton according to the rites of the Catholic Church. In his eyes, asin the eyes of the girl, it was enough; for was she not, in the sight ofheaven, a wife?

  Stanton professed himself not only glad, but thankful, to have Max as arecruit for his expedition. He agreed with Sanda that it would beQuixotic, in the circumstances, to go back to Sidi-bel-Abbes.

  "You'd be a damn fool, my boy," he said emphatically, "to go and offeryourself a lamb for the sacrifice!" It did not occur to him that Max wasoffering himself on the altar of another temple of sacrifice. He thoughtthe young man was "jolly lucky" to escape from the mess he had tumbledinto and get the chance of a glorious adventure with Richard Stanton. Ithad been a blow and even a humiliation to the explorer that all theEuropeans he had asked to accompany him had refused, either on the spot,or after deliberation. He believed in himself and his vision socompletely, and had snatched so many successes out of the jaws ofdisaster, that it was galling not to be believed in by others, in this,the crowning venture of his life. If he could find the Lost Oasis hewould be the most famous man in the world, or so he put it to himself;and any European with him would share the glory. It had been almostmaddening to combat vainly, for once in his career, the objections andsneers of skeptics.

  People had said that if no European, not even a doctor, would join himin his "mad mission," he would be forced to give it up. But he had founda fierce satisfaction in disappointing them and in showing the worldthat he, unaided, could carry through a project which daunted all whoheard of it. He had triumphed over immense obstacles in getting togetherhis caravan, for Arabs and Soudanese had been superstitiously depressedby the fact that the mighty Stanton could persuade no man of his ownrace to believe in the Lost Oasis. It was only his unique force ofcharacter that had made the expedition possible at last; that and hisknowledge of medicine, even of "white and black" magic, his mastery ofdesert dialects, his eloquence in the language of those who hesitated,working them up to his own pitch of enthusiasm by descriptions of whathe believed the Lost Oasis to be: a land of milk and honey, with wivesand treasure enough for all, even the humblest. Napoleon, the greatestgeneral of the French, had wished to search for the Lost Oasis, marchingfrom Tripolitania to Egypt, but had abandoned the undertaking because ofother duties, not because he ceased to believe. The golden flower of thedesert had been left for Stanton and his band to pluck. Threats,persuasion, bribes, had collected for him a formidable force. If he hadlingered at Touggourt, after getting the necessary men together, no onehad dared to suggest in his hearing that it was because a desertdancing-woman was beautiful. He had always had weighty reasons toallege, even to himself: the stores were not satisfactory; the oilprovided was not good; camels fell ill and substitutes had to be got; hewas obliged to wait for corn to be ground into the African substitutefor macaroni; Winchester rifles and ammunition promised for his fightingmen did not turn up till long after the date specified in his contract.But now he was off on the great adventure; and, gloriously sure that allcredit would be his, he was sincerely glad to have Max as a follower,humble yet congenial.

  His meeting with Sanda seemed to Stanton a good omen. Since Ahmara haddeserted him in a fury, because of the humiliation put upon her duringDeLisle's visit, he had been in a black rage. Days had been lost insearching for her, because she had disappeared. He had dreamed at nightof choking the dancer's life out, and shooting the man who had stolenher from him, for he had no doubt of the form her revenge had taken. Inthe end, he had decided to put her from his mind, persuading himselfthat he was sick to death of the tigress-woman whom he had thought ofcarrying with him on the long desert march. Still, he had been sad andthwarted, and the music of the tomtoms and raeitas, instead of tributesto his triumph, had been like voices mocking at his failure. Then Sandahad magically appeared in the desert: fair and sweet as the moon incontrast with the parching sun. He had held out his arms on the impulseand she had fallen into them. Her youth, her white beauty in the bluenight, lit a flame in him, and he fanned it greedily. It was good toknow that he was young enough still to light another fire so soon onhalf-cold ashes. He revelled in making himself believe that he loved thegirl. He respected and admired himself for it, and he drank in eagerlythe story she told him in whispers, at the door of her tent in thenight: the story of childish, hopeless hero-worship for her "SirKnight." He was so confident of her adoring love that jealousy of Maxwould have seemed absurd, though Max was twenty-six and Stanton twentyyears older. If it had occurred to him that Max might be romantically inlove with Sanda, the idea would not have displeased him or made himhesitate to take the younger man as a member of his escort. There was acruel streak running through Stanton's nature which even Sanda dimlyrealized, though it did not diminish her love. There were moods when heenjoyed seeing pain and inflicting it; and there were stories told ofthings he had done in such moods: stories told in whispers; tales ofwhipping black men to death when they had been caught deserting from hiscaravans; tales of striking down insubordinates and leaving themunconscious to die in the desert. It would have amused Stanton, if theidea had presented itself, to think of a love-sick young man helplesslywatching him teach an uninstructed young girl the art of becoming awoman. But the idea did not present itself. He was too deeply absorbedin himself, and in trying to think how infinitely superior was a whitedove like Sanda to a creature of the Ahmara type. He wished savagelythat Ahmara might hear--when it was too late--of his marriage within afew days after their parting.

  When the wedding ceremony was over the caravan started on at once, inorder to reach, not too late, a certain small oasis on the route whereStanton wished to camp on his marriage night. He described the placeglowingly to Max. There was no town there, he said, only a few tentsbelonging to the chief of a neighbour tribe to Ben Raana's. The menthere guarded an artesian well whose water spouted up like a fountain.Though the oasis was small, its palms were unusually beautiful, and thegroup of tall trees with their spreading branches was like a greentemple set in the midst of the desert. Altogether, Stanton remarked, itwas an ideal spot for the beginning of a honeymoon. His eyes were morebrilliant than ever as he spoke, and Max turned his head away not to seethe other man's face, because the look on it made him want to killStanton. The martyrdom he knew awaited him had already begun.

  Before starting into the unknown Max bought from the leader of his owncamel-men some garments which Khadra had washed for her husband at BenRaana's _douar_. They were to be ready for his return to Touggourt, andwere still as clean as the brackish water of the desert could make them.Dressed as an Arab, Max made a parcel of his uniform with its treasuredred stripes of a corporal; and having addressed it for the post, paidthe camel-driver to send it off for him from Touggourt toSidi-bel-Abbes. The unpardonable sin of a deserting Legionnaire is torob France of the uniform lent him for his soldiering. But returning herproperty to the Republic, Max sent no letter of regret or apology. Hewas a deserter, and to excuse himself for deserting would be an insultto the Legion. Nobody except DeLisle could possibly understand, and Maxdid not mean to offer explanations, even to his colonel. If in his heartSanda's father could ever secretly pardon a deserter, it must be of hisown accord, not because of what that deserter had to say on his ownbehalf.

  Out of the little caravan Max had to discharge, Stanton kept the mehariwith the bassourah which Sanda had ridden during the journey from BenRaana's _douar_. It was, he said, laughing, a present direct fromProvidence to his bride, since not without delay could he have providedher with anything so comfortable for travelling. The finely bred cameland many other animals of the escort might fail or die en route, butthere were places on the way where others could be got, as well as mento replenish vacancies made by deaths. Stanton was too old an explorernot to have calculated each step of the way, as far as any white man'sstory or black man's rumour des
cribed it. And he talked stoically of thedepletion of his ranks. It was only his own failure or death whichappeared to be for him incredible.

  Stanton rode all day at the head of the caravan, with Sanda, on hermehari, looking down at him, "like the Blessed Damozel" as he had said,between her curtains. Max, on a strong pony which Stanton had bought asan "understudy" for his own horse, kept far in the rear. The desert hadbeen beautiful for him yesterday. It was hideous to-day. He thought itmust always be hideous after this. They saw the new moon for the firsttime that afternoon. Sanda, lost in a dream of happiness, pointed it outto Stanton, but he was vexed because they caught a glimpse of it overthe left shoulder. It was a bad sign, he said, and Sanda laughed at himfor being superstitious. As if anything could be a bad sign for them on_that day_!

  "Little White Moon," Ourieda and the other Arab women had called her atDjazerta. Stanton said it was just the name for her, when she told him.The girl was perfectly happy now that Max was rescued. She had noregrets, no cares; for, though she dearly loved her father, it wouldhave been long before she saw him again even if she had gone toSidi-bel-Abbes; and she knew he had hated the necessity for leaving herthere without him. She believed it would be a great relief to such akeen soldier as he was not to be burdened with a girl. Often she felt ithad been wrong and selfish of her to run away from the aunts and throwherself upon his mercy. Their few weeks together, learning to know andlove each other, had been delicious, but the future might have beendifficult if she had stayed.

  Surely her father would be glad to have her married to his friend, and,even if there were dangers to be feared in the unknown desert, why,Colonel DeLisle was a soldier, and she was a soldier's daughter.

  She wrote a letter to her father and gave it to the priest who hadmarried her. Some day it must reach its destination, and there werethings in it which would make Colonel DeLisle happy. Sanda believedthere would be tender romance for him, as for her, in the thought of themarriage near Touggourt, where his love had come to him from half acrossthe world.

  Not a rap did the girl care for the hardships in front of her. Shelaughed and thought it a great adventure that she had no "trousseau,"but only the few clothes which were wearable after her long visit toDjazerta. And if they were never to find the Lost Oasis, or if theythemselves were to be lost, she would go forth with the same untroubledheart.

  The crescent moon had dropped behind the horizon, like a bracelet in thesea, before they came in sight of the oasis where they were to spend thewedding night; but the sky glittered with encrusting stars that spread asilver background for the tall, dark palms. As the caravan descendedinto a wide valley between dunes, Max heard Stanton's voice shouting tohim. He rode forward to the side of the "Chief," as the explorer wascalled by his men.

  "Like a good chap, gallop ahead with my fellows and see that our tent isset up in the best place," said Stanton in his deep, pleasant voice. "Ishould like Sanda to find it all ready when she gets there. Have it putwhere my wife would think it prettiest; you'll know the right place;place you'd choose yourself if it was _your_ honeymoon!"

  There was no conscious malice in the words, but they cut like a lash ina raw wound. Max had the impulse to strike his horse with the whip, buthe was ashamed of it and stroked the animal's neck instead, as with aword he urged it on.

  "I must watch myself if this isn't to turn me into a beast," he thought."It shan't, or I'll be worse than useless to her. She shan't fallbetween two brutes."

  Stanton had already selected the men who were to pitch his bridal tent,and Max rode ahead with them and their loaded camels. He chose a spotbetween a miniature palm grove separated from the main oasis and theartesian well, far enough from the gushing water for its bubbling to beheard through canvas walls soothingly, like the music of a fountain.

  Fortunately for the comfort of the unprepared-for bride, Stanton was aman who "did himself well" when he could, though he had always beenready to face hardship if necessary. He had not considered it necessaryto stint himself when starting on this expedition, although, later on,he would be quite ready to throw luxuries away as encumbrances. Therewere cushions and thick rugs and fine linen and soft blankets. There wasalso some folding furniture; and one object which revealed itself amongthe rugs at first surprised, then unpleasantly enlightened, Max. It wasa rather large mirror with a gilded French frame, such as Arab womenadmire. For himself, Stanton would have had a shaving-glass a footsquare, and the gaudy ornament made Max's blood boil. Stanton hadcertainly brought it for a woman: Ahmara. Before the quarrel, then, hehad intended to take her with him! It was only by a chance that he hadgathered a fair white lily instead of a desert poppy.

  Max would have liked to break the mirror, but, instead, he saw that itwas safely hung on one of the tent-hooks and supported by a brightlypainted Moorish chest.

  As he stepped out of the tent when all was finished and ready for thebride--even to a vase of orange blossoms brought by the priest fromTouggourt--the caravan, which had been moving slowly at the last, hadnot yet arrived. Two elderly Arabs hovered near, however, the men wholived in the oasis to guard the well and the date palms in season. AsMax spoke to them in his laboured Arabic he saw in the distance theform of a woman. Standing as she did, in the open ground with no treesbetween her and the far silver horizon, she was a noble and commandingfigure, slender and tall like a daughter of the palms. She was for Maxno more than a graceful silhouette, majestically poised, for he couldnot see her face, or even be sure that the effect of crown and plumes onher high-held head was not a trick of shadow. Indeed it seemed probablethat it was a mere illusion, for crowns and waving plumes were worn bydesert dancers, and it did not appear likely that a wife or daughter ofthe well-guardians should be so adorned.

  As he exchanged elaborate compliments with the Arabs the woman's figurevanished and he thought no more of it, for Sanda and Stanton werearriving. Max turned away his eyes as Stanton took the bride out of herbassourah and half carried her toward their tent without waiting tothank the man who had placed it. Max busied himself feverishly insuperintending the arrangements of the camp, which Stanton had asked himas his "lieutenant" to undertake that night.

  The kneeling camels were tethered in long lines. No zareba would beraised, for there would be many a long march before the caravan reachedperilous country. Here a fire could be built, for there was no danger inshowing smoke and raising a rose-red glow against the silver. Theunveiled women, whom Stanton had diplomatically allowed to accompanytheir husbands, began to cook supper for the men; couscous and coffeeand thin, ash-baked bread. It was a long time since Stanton had takenSanda to the tent under the little grove of palms, but he had given noorders yet for food to be prepared. Max thought it unlikely that heshould be asked to eat with them, but if he were invited he intended torefuse. In spite of himself, he could not help glancing now and thentoward the tent. The door-flaps had not been let down, but there was nolight inside. Turning involuntarily that way, as iron turns to a magnet,at last he saw a man and woman come out of the tent. But the woman wasnot Sanda!

  Max realized this with a shock. He saw both figures for an instantpainted in blue-black against the light, khaki-coloured canvas. Thewoman was very tall, as tall as Stanton, and on her head was somethinghigh, like a crown set with plumes. Stanton led her away, walkingquickly. They went toward the low, black tents of the guardians of theoasis.

  Max stood still with a curious sensation of being dazed after a stunningblow half forgotten. How long he remained without moving he could nothave told. His eyes had not followed the two figures very far. Theyreturned to the tent and focussed there in anguish. Some scene theremust have been between those three. He was not surprised when, after ashort time--or a long time, he did not know which--Sanda appeared. Hewondered if his soul had called her, and she was coming in answer to thecall.

  She hesitated at first, as if not sure where to go. Then catching sightof him at a distance, with the light of the fire ruddy on his face, shebegan to run. Almost instantly, however, she
stopped, paused for asecond or two, and it seemed to Max that she swayed a little as if shemight fall. He started toward her with great strides; but he had nottaken more than three or four when he saw that she was walking slowlybut steadily straight toward him. He felt then, with a mysterious butcomplete certainty, that she wished him to go no farther, but to wait.He stopped, and in a moment she was by his side. She did not speak, butstood with her head drooping. Max could not see her face. After thefirst eagerly questioning glance he turned his eyes away. She did notwish him to look at her or break the silence. He held his tongue, but hewas afraid she might hear the pounding of his heart and his breathcoming and going. If she did she would guess that he knew somethingwhich, perhaps, she did not mean to let him know. At last, however, hecould bear the strain no longer; besides, Stanton might come back. Ifthere were anything he could do for her, if she wanted him to take heraway--God! how his blood sang at the thought of it!--there was no moretime to waste.

  His tone sounded flat and ineffectual in his own ears as he spoke. Theeffort to keep it down to calmness made it almost absurd, as it wouldhave been to mention the weather in that tingling instant. He askedsimply: "Is there something--something I can do?"

  "No," she said. "Nothing, thank you. Nothing any one can do."

  The voice was not like the voice of Sanda, which Max had once comparedin his mind to the ripple of a brook steeped in sunshine. It was thinand weak, almost like the voice of a little, broken old woman. But,praise heaven, she was young, so very young that she would live thisdown, and, some day, almost forget. If she would let him take her backto Sidi-bel-Abbes after all! This marriage by a priest without sanctionof the law need not stand. She was not a wife yet, but a girl, oh! thankGod for that! It was not too late. If only he could say these things toher. But it seemed that he must stand like a block of wood and wait forher to point the way.

  "Are you--perhaps you're homesick?" he dared to give her a cue.

  "Homesick?" Her voice broke and, instead of being like an old woman's,it was like a little child's. "Yes, that's it, I'm homesick! And--and Ithink I'm not very well. I want my father, I want him so much!"

  The heart of the man who was not her father yearned toward the girl.

  "Shall I take you back?" he panted. "We're not far past Touggourt.To-morrow it will be too late, but now--now----"

  "Now it's already too late. Oh, Soldier! to have yesterday again!"

  He did not ask her what she meant. He did not need to ask.

  "It can be yesterday for you," he urged.

  "No. Yesterday I was Sanda DeLisle. To-day I'm Sanda Stanton. Nothingcan change that."

  "If you're unhappy your father can change it. You see, it's only thechurch that----"

  "_Only_ the church!"

  "Forgive me. But the law would say----"

  "It doesn't matter to me what the law would say. It's the thing what youdon't think matters that matters entirely to me. And even if it wereso--even if I were--unhappy instead of only homesick, and somehow ill, Iwouldn't go back if I could. I've written to my father. And that priestfrom Touggourt will have told the Amaranthes. Every one knows. It wouldbe a disgrace to----"

  "No! Not to you."

  "I think it would. And to Richard. I have taken him by storm and almostforced him to marry me. I would die and be left alone in the desertrather than disgrace him in the world's eyes just when he's starting outon the crowning expedition of his life."

  "Who put such an idea into your head that you'd taken him by storm,that----"

  "Never mind. It is in my head, and it's true. I know it. Soldier, I'mglad, oh, _so_ glad, that you're here! Will you help me?"

  "You know I will," Max said, his heart bursting. If he had neededpayment for what he had done, he had it in full measure. She was glad hewas with her!

  "Well, I've told you that I'm ill. It's my head--it aches horribly. Ihardly know what I'm doing or saying. I _can't_ be--in that tentto-night!"

  "You shall have mine," Max assured her quickly. "It's a good littletent, got for the French doctor Stanton was telling us about, whodecided at the last minute not to come."

  "Oh, thank you a thousand times. But you?"

  "I shall rig up something splendid. They've got more tents than theyknow what to do with. Several men fell out after Stanton had bought hissupplies."

  "You _are_ good. Could I go to your tent now?"

  "Of course. I'll take you there, and fetch your luggage myself. Butyou're sure you won't go back while there's time?"

  "Sure."

  "If you're ill you can't ride on with the caravan."

  "I shall be better to-morrow. God will help me, and you will help me,too. I shall be able to go on for a while. Maybe it need not be forlong. People die in the desert. I've always thought it a beautifuldeath. When you promise to marry a person it's for better or worse. AndI've never said I was not _happy_, Soldier! Only a little homesick andtired."

  "Come with me to my tent," Max said, realizing that all his persuasionswould be in vain. "Come quietly now, and I'll explain to--to Stanton."

  "He knows I feel ill," she answered. "I told him. He will understand."