d times more in those few days of his visit at Cairo.
He forgave her without being asked for leaving him "in the lurch," as
she repentantly called it, and letting herself be carried away by
Stanton. "You thought you loved him, my darling," DeLisle said. "And I
could forgive anything to love."

It was in his arms, with her face buried on his breast, that she told
what her marriage had been, and then came the confession (for it seemed
to her a confession, though she was not ashamed of it, but proud) about
Max.

"He didn't speak one word of love to me," the girl said. "He tried not
even to let his eyes speak. But they did, sometimes, in spite of him.
And no man could possibly endure or do for a woman the things he endured
and did for me, every one of those terrible days, if he didn't love her.
So when I was afraid he might die from the viper's bite, I wanted him to
have one happy moment in this world to remember in the next. I told him
that I cared, and he kissed my hand and looked at me. That's all,
except just a word or two that I keep too sacredly to tell even you. And
afterward when Richard was dead, and Max and I were alone in the desert,
save for a few Arabs, he never again referred to that night, or spoke of
our love. I was sure it was only because we were alone and I depended on
him. But after those weeks and months of facing death together, it seems
that we belong to each other, he and I. Nothing must part us--nothing."

She was half afraid her father might remind her of the situation which
had arisen between Max as a deserter and himself as colonel of the
regiment from which Max had deserted.

But Colonel DeLisle did not say this or anything like it. He knew that
love was the greatest thing in the world for his daughter, as it had
been for him, and he could not cheat her out of it. He was sad because
it seemed to him that in honour he could do nothing for this deserter
who had done everything for him--nothing, that is, save give him his
daughter, and abandon what remained of his own career by resigning his
commission. As colonel of the Legion, his child could not be allowed to
marry a deserter, a fugitive who dare not enter France. As for him,
DeLisle, though the Legion was much to him, Sanda was more. But she said
she and Max would not take happiness at that price. They must think of
some other way. And the other way was the plan.

When the colonel returned to Algeria and his regiment Max had not yet
gained