nd a weird woman, a kind
of Arab beauty-doctor. But all the same they were afraid of me. They
longed to have me gone, yet, for their own superstitious, secretive
reasons, they were afraid to let me go. As I _had_ to stay so long, I'd
rather have stopped a little longer, so as to know what becomes of
Ourieda. They made me say good-bye to her in Tahar's tent, where she is
waiting, all dressed up like a doll, till the hour at night when her
husband chooses to come to her. Instead, we hope---- But I can hardly
bear it, not to know! Shall we _ever_ know?"

"It may be a long time before Manoeel can send us any word," said Max.
"But we shall hear, I suppose, about Tahar."

"Oh, Manoeel doesn't mean to _kill_ him, does he? Ourieda said he
wouldn't do that! But Arab women are so strange, so different from us, I
don't believe she'd care much if he did; except that if he were a
murderer they could seize him, even in another country--Spain, where
they both hope to go when they can get out of Djazerta."

"Manoeel wouldn't care much, either, except for that same reason," Max
admitted. "But he does care for that. He intends only to surprise and
stun Tahar. He doesn't want his life with Ourieda spoiled, for he'll be
a public character, you know, if he succeeds in escaping from Algeria.
He'll be a great singer. He can take back his own name."

"Why not France?" Sanda wanted to know. "Surely France would be better
for a singer than Spain, or even Italy?"

"Perhaps, but, you see, he has had to desert from the Legion. In France
he could be brought back to Algeria to the penal battalion."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that!"

"It was--a hateful necessity, his deserting."

Sanda looked at him anxiously. "Will it make trouble for you?"

"Possibly. I hoped it needn't happen. But it had to. There was no other
way in the end."

"How he must love Ourieda, to risk all that for her sake!"

"He risked a great deal more."

"What--but, oh, yes, you told me! The way he came into the Legion, and
all that. I wonder--I wonder if there are many men in the world who
would do as much for a woman?"

"I think so," said Max quietly. "You don't count the cost very much when
you are in love."

He was to remember that speech before many days.

"They're wonderful, men like that!" Sanda murmured. "And there's more
risk to come, for Ourieda and himself. A little for us, too, isn't
there?"

"Not for you, please God! And very little for any of us. But I