ed as if they were going to cheer.

"I'll go to the camp--"

"Cannot one of the men go for you, Madame? You were sitting here. Pray,
do not let us disturb you."

"But night is falling and I shall have to go back in a moment."

While they had been speaking the darkness had rapidly increased. She
looked towards the distant dunes and no longer saw them. At once her
mind went to Androvsky. Why had he not returned? She thought of the
signal. From the camp, behind their sleeping-tent, rose the flames of a
newly-made fire.

"If one of your men can go and tell Batouch--Batouch--to come to me here
I shall be grateful," she answered. "And I want him to bring me a big
brand from the fire over there."

She saw wonder dawning in the eyes fixed upon her, and smiled.

"I want to signal to my husband," she said, "and this is the highest
point. He will see it best if I stand here."

"Go, Marelle, ask for Batouch, and be sure you bring the brand from the
fire."

The man saluted and rode off with alacrity. The thought of wine had
infused a gaiety into him and his companions.

"Now, Monsieur, don't stand on ceremony," Domini said to the officer.
"Go in and make your toilet. You are longing to, I know."

"I am longing to look a little more decent--now, Madame," he said
gallantly, and gazing at her with a sparkle of admiration in his
inflamed eyes. "You will let me return in a moment to escort you to the
camp."

"Thank you."

"Will you permit me--my name is De Trevignac."

"And mine is Madame Androvsky."

"Russian!" the officer said. "The alliance in the desert! Vive la
Russie!"

She laughed.

"That is for my husband, for I am English."

"Vive l'Angleterre!" he said.

The two soldier echoed his words impulsively, lifting up in the
gathering darkness hoarse voices.

"Vive l'Angleterre!"

"Thank you, thank you," she said. "Now, Monsieur, please don't let me
keep you."

"I shall be back directly," the officer replied.

And he turned and went into the tower, while the soldiers rode round to
the court, tugging at the cords of the led mules.

Domini waited for the return of Marelle. Her mood had changed. A glow of
cordial humanity chased away her melancholy. The hostess that lurks in
every woman--that housewife-hostess sense which goes hand-in-hand with
the mother sense--was alive in her. She was keenly anxious to play the
good fairy simply, unostentatiously, to these exhausted men who had come
to Mogar out of the