ey into the desert, and this whispering Moorish tune, plucked by
dark fingers from the strings of a rough lute, moved in the night, till
Claire ceased. The lute continued for a few bars, like the symphony that
closes a song, and then it too ceased abruptly on a note that brought no
feeling of finale to modern ears. For an instant Claire stood motionless
in the centre of the human circle. Then her arms fell to her sides. She
moved swiftly towards the trees in whose shadow Renfrew was watching.
The Moors made a gap, and as she passed out all the shapeless figures
were suddenly elongated and crowded together upon her footsteps. As
Claire came into the blackness of the trees, Renfrew stretched out his
hand and clasped her arm. She stopped with no tremor, and faced him.

"Claire!"

"What, it is you, Desmond! I thought you were asleep."

"When you were awake? You have given me a fright. I came to your tent; I
found it empty. The soldiers were gone."

"They were guarding me up the hill. I could not sleep. I wandered out.
How hot your hand is!"

Renfrew released her. All the Moors had gathered round them like
enormous shadows.

"My audience has come to the stage door!" Claire said.

Her eyes were gleaming with excitement.

"They are a beautiful audience," she added; "and the orchestra, the
soft music--that was better than London fiddles."

"Come back to the camp, Claire."

"Very well."

He drew her arm through his, and led her out into the moonlight and down
the hill. Two shadows detached themselves from the silent assembly and
followed them, barefooted, over the dewy grass. They were the soldiers.
Claire looked back and saw them.

"I shall give those men a handful of pesetas, to-morrow," she said.

They reached the camp and sat down on two folding chairs in the shadow
of Claire's tent. The soldiers stood near, gazing intently at them.
Claire sat in a curved attitude. She had drawn a dark veil over her
hair, and her enormous and tragic eyes were turned sombrely on Renfrew.
She looked fatigued, as she often did after acting a long and passionate
part. To Renfrew she seemed more wonderful than ever. He could scarcely
believe that he was her husband.

"You have had your circle of savages," he said.

"Yes."

"And you liked them?"

"Do you think they liked me? I wonder if there was a snake-charmer among
them. When I came to Sidi Mahomet I thought perhaps they would kill me.
That thought made me pray better than