nightmare, inhuman, endowed with attributes of a
devil. The serpents were part of him, growths of his body, visible signs
of some terrible disease in which he gloried and of which he made a
show. The creature was intolerable. His exhibition had suddenly become
to Renfrew unfit for the eyes of any woman; and, without a word, he took
hold of Claire and pulled her almost violently away from the circle on
which the fascinated mob was beginning to encroach. She resisted him.

"Desmond!" she exclaimed, "what are you doing?"

"Claire--come. I insist upon it!"

Already the Moors had thronged the place which they had left vacant. She
turned a white face on him. There was in her eyes the hideous expression
of a sleep-walker suddenly awakened, and she trembled in every limb. She
swung round from Renfrew, and, above the intercepting Moors, high in the
air, she saw the snake, which seemed climbing to heaven. While she
looked, a huge hand closed upon it and took it out of sight. The
charmer, observing the departure of his distinguished patrons, had
abruptly stopped his performance. Claire made no further resistance.
Without a word, she permitted Renfrew to lead her to the horses and
help her into the saddle. They rode down the hill to the camp without
exchanging a word.

When Claire had dismounted, she stood for a moment twisting her whip in
her hands. Then she said:--

"Desmond, I must ask you never to startle me again as you did to-day, by
sudden action. You can't understand how such an interruption hurts a
nature like mine. I would rather you had struck me. That would only have
wounded my body."

She turned and went into her tent, leaving Renfrew in an agony of
penitence and self-reproach. All the rest of the afternoon she was very
cold and silent, rather dreamy than sullen, but obviously disinclined
for conversation, and still more obviously unwilling to endure even the
slightest demonstration of affection on the part of Renfrew. When the
sheep which were to be slaughtered for the soldiers' feast were driven
bleating into the camp, she retired into her tent, and remained there,
resting, until the sun was low in the heavens, and the porters and
mule-drivers went gaily out to search for the materials of the African
fire with which the night was to be celebrated. They returned, singing
the Moorish conquest of Granada, with their strong arms full of canes,
dry and brittle branches of trees, logs that looked like whole trunks,