e?"

"Yes."

"Let me do it for you. See, I have the other brand!"

"Thank you--but I will do it."

In the light of the flame that leaped up as if striving to touch her
face he saw a light in her eyes that he understood, and he drooped his
torch towards the earth while she lifted hers on high and waved it in
the blackness.

He watched her. The tall, strong, but exquisitely supple figure, the
uplifted arm with the torch sending forth a long tongue of golden flame,
the ardent and unconscious pose, that set before him a warm passionate
heart calling to another heart without shame, made him think of her
as some Goddess of the Sahara. He had let his torch droop towards the
earth, but, as she waved hers, he had an irresistible impulse to join
her in the action she made heroic and superb. And presently he lifted
his torch, too, and waved it beside hers in the night.

She smiled at him in the flames.

"He must see them surely," she said.

From below, in the distance of the desert, there rose a loud cry in a
strong man's voice.

"Aha!" she exclaimed.

She called out in return in a warm, powerful voice. The man's voice
answered, nearer. She dropped her brand to the earth.

"Monsieur, you will come then--in half an hour?"

"Madame, with the most heartfelt pleasure. But let me accompany--"

"No, I am quite safe. And bring your men with you. We'll make the best
feast we can for them. And there's enough champagne for all."

Then she went away quickly, eagerly, into the darkness.

"To be her husband!" murmured De Trevignac. "Lucky--lucky fellow!" And
he dropped his brand beside hers on the ground, and stood watching the
two flames mingle.

"Lucky--lucky fellow!" he said again aloud. "I wonder what he's like."

CHAPTER XX

When Domini reached the camp she found it in a bustle. Batouch, resigned
to the inevitable, had put the cook upon his mettle. Ouardi was already
to be seen with a bottle of Pommery in each hand, and was only prevented
from instantly uncorking them by the representations of his mistress
and an elaborate exposition of the peculiar and evanescent virtues of
champagne. Ali was humming a mysterious song about a lovesick camel-man,
with which he intended to make glad the hearts of the assembly when the
halting time was over. And the dining-table was already set for three.

When Androvsky rode in with the Arabs Domini met him at the edge of the
hill.

"You saw my signal, Boris?"

"Yes--"

He