e, she exhaled from her body and
hair and floating draperies strange, intoxicating perfumes which seemed
to change with her motions--perfumes of sandalwood and ambergris and
attar-of-rose.

For the first time Max understood the meaning of the Ouled Nail dance.
This child-woman of the desert, with her wicked eyes and sweet mouth,
made it a pantomime of love in its first timid beginnings, its fears and
hesitations, its final self-abandon and rapture. Ahmara was a dangerous
rival for a daughter of Europe with such a man as Richard Stanton.

When she had danced once, she refused to indulge the audience again, but
staring scorn at the company, accepted a cup of coffee from the handsome
young caid in the black mantle. She sat beside him with a fierce air of
bravado, and ignored every one else, as though the dimly lit room in
which her spangles flamed was empty save for their two selves. So she
would have sat by Max if he had given back glance for glance; but he
pushed his way out quickly when Ahmara's dance was over, and drew in
long, deep breaths of desert air, sweet with wild thyme, before he dared
let himself even think of Sanda. Sanda, who loved Stanton--with this
recompense!

As he walked back to camp, to take what rest he could before the early
start, he met a sergeant of his company, a tall Russian, supposed to be
a Nihilist, who had saved himself from Siberia by finding sanctuary in
the Legion.

"I have sent two men to look for you," he said. "The colonel wants you.
Go to his tent at once."

Max went, and at the tent door met Richard Stanton coming out. Max
recognized his figure rather than his features, for the light was at his
back. It shone into the Legionnaire's face as he stepped aside to let
the explorer pass, but Stanton's eyes rested on the corporal of the
Legion without interest or recognition. The colonel had just bidden him
good-bye, and he strode away with long, nervous strides. "Will he go to
the cafe and see Ahmara with the caid?" The thought flashed through
Max's mind, but he had no time to finish it. Colonel DeLisle was calling
him into the tent.

The only light was a lantern with a candle in it; yet saluting, Max saw
at once that the colonel's face was troubled.

"Have I done anything I oughtn't to have done?" he questioned himself
anxiously, but the first words reassured as much as they surprised him.

"Corporal St. George, I sent for you because you are the only one among
my men of whom I