seen him. But we have not spoken,
except in letters. For a whole year I heard nothing. Yet I never lost
faith. I seemed to feel Manoeel thinking of me, calling me, far away
across the desert. I knew that we should meet in life or death. At last,
one Friday two years ago--Friday, you know, is the women's day for
visiting the graves of loved ones--I saw Manoeel. He was dressed like a
beggar. His face was stained dark brown, and nearly hidden by the hood
of a ragged burnous. But I recognized the eyes. They looked into mine. I
realized that he must have been waiting for me to pass with Aunt
Mabrouka. He knew of course that whenever possible we went on Friday to
the cemetery. I almost fainted with joy; but Allah gave me presence of
mind, and strength to hide my feelings. You have noticed how sharp Aunt
Mabrouka is. It's the great ambition of her life to see the daughter of
the Agha married to her son. Never for one moment has she trusted me
since she spied out the truth about Manoeel. That Friday, though, I
thwarted her. Oh, it was good to know that Manoeel was near! I hardly
dared to hope for more than just seeing him; but he remembered that my
old nurse had a grandson in my father's _goum_, a fine rider, who first
taught him--Manoeel--to sit on a horse. Through my nurse and Ali ben
Sliman I got letters from Manoeel. He told me he had begun to sing in
opera, and that if I would wait for him two--or at most three--years, he
would have enough money saved to give me a life in Europe worthy of a
prince's daughter, such as I am. He would organize some plan to steal me
from home, if there were no chance of winning my father's consent, and
he was sure it could be done with great bribes for many people, and
relays of _Maharis_ and horses to get us through the dune-country. I
sent word that I would wait for him three years, all the years of my
life! But that was before I knew my father meant me to marry Tahar.

"Not long after Manoeel came to stay in Djazerta, disguised as a
wandering beggar of Touggourt, my father told me what was in his mind. I
feel sure Aunt Mabrouka suspected from my happier looks that I was
hearing from Manoeel, for she persuaded my father that I was ill. She
shut me up and gave me medicine; and I was so afraid Manoeel might be
discovered and murdered, that I sent him word to go away at once, not
even to write me again. He obeyed for my sake, not knowing what might
happen to me if he refused, but by word of mou