or amuse those who were herfather's bitterest foes, she danced on until she sank completely out ofbreath. Then she reclined upon the soft rugs spread for her, and, withTamahu and myself, smoked a cigarette in silence. From her full redlips she blew clouds of smoke, and watched it curl upward in the stillnight air. I glanced at her furtively, and saw that she had grownunusually thoughtful. Her brilliant eyes were fixed upon the stars.
At last, pillowing her handsome head upon a leopard's skin I rolled andplaced for her, she wished me "Peace," and presently closed her eyes insleep.
Silence, dead and complete, had fallen upon the camp. The stillness wasonly broken by the uneasy groaning of a camel or the soft footfall of asentry whose spear gleamed afar in the white moonbeams. Gabrielle'sheart slowly heaved and fell as she slept. Through that calm night Isat, hugging my knees and thinking deeply. Try how I would, I could notget rid of the one thought that for days had possessed me, the thoughtof her. That she had entranced me; that she held me in her toilsirrevocably, I could not deny. Never before had I looked upon any womanwith affection until now. But I loved with all my heart and soul thisdelicate Roumi, whose fair face the sun had never kissed.
Was it not in order to behold my countenance she had that eveningrequested me to remove my _litham_? Her every word, her every action,now that I recalled them, showed plainly that she did not regard me withdisfavour. The moon waned, the stars paled, and dawn was nigh ere Icast myself upon the warm sand near her, and snatched a brief hour'srepose, not, however, before I had carefully placed a rug about her,fearing lest the morning dew, so deadly to Europeans, should chill her.
One bright balmy night we reached El Okaz, and halted. It was a largeoasis with running water, luxuriant vegetation, and many palms. Whenthe _maghrib_ had been said, the evening meal eaten, and the sun wasslowly sinking, I went forth among the trees to search for camel-grass,and invited Gabrielle to accompany me. She walked by my side, and whenwe were out of hearing I took her tiny hand in mine, and, raising itreverently to my lips, declared my love.
Slowly, but resolutely, she drew her hand away. The last ray ofsunlight tipped her hair with molten gold as we stood together beneath agreat high palm. Her brilliant eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"Alas! no, Ahamadou," she answered huskily. "We must not love eachother, it would wreck both our lives."
"Why not?" I cried passionately, my arm around her waist, her slimwhite hand raised again to my lips. "I adore you. To me thou art mylife, my love, my everything."
"Ah! yes," she sighed sadly. "To you I owe my life. You have all beenso good to me, although I am a woman of the Franks, that I can scarcebelieve that you are actually the Azjars, the dreaded Breath of theWind, reports of whose exploits have times without number caused me toshudder."
"An Azjar never forgets a favour nor forgives a false friend," Ianswered. "To our enemies we are brutal and relentless; yet those whoeat our salt need never fear. Already hast thou had experience of thetreatment the stranger receiveth within our tents."
"True," she answered, her hand closing tightly over mine. "I have hadexperience of thine own tender care of me, Ahamadou, yet--"
"Yet thou hast already grown tired of our life?" I hazardedreproachfully.
"Ah! no," she said quickly, fixing her brilliant eyes upon mine. "Thouhast asked if I could ever love thee. I tell thee that I do love thee,yet there is between us a barrier of blood, and such love can only bringunhappiness unto us both."
"Thou lovest me!" I cried, delighted, and taking her soft cheeksbetween my hard, sun-browned hands, our lips met for the first time in along passionate caress. Again, she put me from her, saying--"No, it cannever be. We are of different races, different creeds. What is rightin thine eyes is sin in mine; what is worship to thee is, to me,idolatry. No, Ahamadou. It must not be. We must not love, for we cannever marry."
I was silent. Her argument seemed utterly unassailable. Never beforehad I faced the situation until now. She had, indeed, spoken the truth.
"But we love each other!" I cried, dolefully.
"Yes," she sighed, shaking her head. "I confess that I love thee," andher fingers again gripped my hand. "But it is the very fact that welove one another that should cause us to part and forget."
"Why? Until the war is ended thou must, of necessity, remain in ourcamp," I observed.
"And after?"
"Then we could return to Algiers, or to Oran, and marry."
She remained silent for a few moments, nervously toying with the singlering of emeralds upon her finger.
"No," she answered at length. "This love between us is but a passingfancy. When the war is at an end, thou wilt have become convinced ofthe truth of my words."
"Never," I answered. "I love thee now; I shall love thee always."
"Alas!" she said, laying her hand softly upon my shoulder, and lookingearnestly into my face. "Now that we have both made confession we mustendeavour to forget. We love each other, but the wide difference in ourraces renders happiness impossible. Thou wilt find for wife some goodwoman of thine own people, and I--perhaps I shall find some man of mineown nationality to become my husband. From to-night, Ahamadou, if thoulovest me, thou wilt make no further sign."
I bit my lip to the blood. Although she had uttered these words, I sawthat she nevertheless loved me with a mad, passionate love, for soondown her pink cheeks tears were coursing.
"Thou art all to me--everything, Gabrielle," I cried. "Allah knowethhow deeply and honestly I adore thee, I--"
The sound of a rifle-shot startled us. With bated breath we bothstrained our ears. The evening gloom had crept on unperceived, and itwas almost dark. In rapid succession other shots sounded, followed bythe fierce fiendish war-cry of the Beni-Mzabs. Instantly the truthflashed upon me. We had been surprised by the French!
By the route we had come we sped back to the encampment, where we foundall confusion. A large body of Spahis had made a sudden and determinedattack, but it had been repulsed. My first thought was of Gabrielle'ssafety. I found cover for her behind a huge boulder, and telling her toseat herself, and not attempt to watch the progress of the fight,returned, spear in hand, to bear my part against our enemies.
The cessation of the fighting was only for a few minutes. We heard thesudden sound of a bugle, and from among the trees there dashed aformidable troop of red-burnoused horsemen, led by a young Europeanofficer, who sat his horse as if he were part of it. Even in thatmoment of excitement I admired the way he rode. The charge was,however, an ill-fated one. Not half those who dashed forward lived toretreat. The Arabs of the Mechefer, who had recently joined us,possessed guns, and the flashing of these, in combination with those ofour enemies, illumined the darkness, while the still air was full ofdense, stifling smoke. More desperate each moment the conflict grew.Undismayed by loss or misfortune, we thrice returned their attack, eachtime with increasing force, until our bullets and keen spears commencedto work havoc among the infidel ranks. East and furious became thefight, but gradually the attack upon us grew weaker, and at last,determined upon reprisals, Tamahu ordered a dash forward. With oneaccord we charged, and then before us the remnant of the ill-fated troopfell back and fled to save their lives.
When I returned I found Gabrielle kneeling beside the officer whoseriding had been so conspicuous, tenderly bandaging an ugly spear-woundhe had received in the left shoulder. She had improvised a torch, andbeneath its fitful light was pursuing her task unconscious of myapproach. Upon the clammy brow of the unconscious man she placed hercool, soft hand; then, having felt his pulse, she seemed satisfied, andtaking her flambeau went forward to one of my own tribesmen who had beeninjured in the breast. From the deep shadow wherein I stood I watchedher, white-robed and fair like one of the good genii of whom the Korantells us, passing from one to another, alleviating their sufferings asbest she could, uttering cheering words, or giving water to the dying.I did not approach her, for my heart seemed too full. It was best,
Ithought, to leave her alone to her merciful work.
Before the sun rose many of those whom she had so carefully tended andwatched had drawn their last breath, but the young officer, whose name Iafterwards learned was Andre de Freyville, lieutenant of Spahis, hadrecovered consciousness sufficiently to thank his nurse, and learn fromher lips the curious circumstances which had led her to accept thehospitality of our tents. He proved a pleasant fellow, and during hisconvalescence we all three had frequent chats together. Although he wasour prisoner-of-war, he soon became on excellent terms with Tamahu, andhis time passed happily enough. Colonel Bonnemain had, he told us,escaped when Metlili fell, and had reached Algiers unharmed.
Soon, in order to join forces with another large body of horsemen
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