o or three
tabourets of the same material, and, at one end of the room a low divan,
where something white and orange-yellow and purple lay half buried in
cushions.

Though the light was dim, Victoria could see as she went nearer a thin
face the colour of pale amber, and a pair of immense dark eyes that
glittered in deep hollows. A thin woman of more than middle age, with
black hair, silver-streaked, moved slightly and held out an emaciated
hand heavy with rings. Her head was tied round with a silk handkerchief
or takrita of pansy purple; she wore seroual, full trousers of soft
white silk, and under a gold-threaded orange-coloured jacket or rlila, a
blouse of lilac gauze, covered with sequins and open at the neck. On the
bony arm which she held out to Victoria hung many bracelets, golden
serpents of Djebbel Amour, and pearls braided with gold wire and coral
beads. Her great eyes, ringed with kohl, had a tortured look, and there
were hollows under the high cheek-bones. If she had ever been handsome,
all beauty of flesh had now been drained away by suffering; yet stricken
as she was there remained an almost indefinable distinction, an air of
supreme pride befitting a princess of the Sahara.

Her scorching fingers pressed Victoria's hand, as she gazed up at the
girl's face with hungry curiosity and interest such as the Spirit of
Death might feel in looking at the Spirit of Life.

"Thou art fresh and fair, O daughter, as a lily bud opening in the spray
of a fountain, and radiant as sunrise shining on a desert lake," she
said in a weary voice, slightly hoarse, yet with some flutelike notes.
"My cousin spoke but truth of thee. Thou art worthy of a reward at the
end of that long journey we shall take together, thou, and he, and I. I
have never seen thy sister whom thou seekest, but I have friends, who
knew her in other days. For her sake and thine own, kiss me on my
cheeks, for with women of my race, it is the seal of friendship."

Victoria bent and touched the faded face under each of the great burning
eyes. The perfume of _ambre_, loved in the East, came up to her
nostrils, and the invalid's breath was aflame.

"Art thou strong enough for a journey, Lella M'Barka?" the girl asked.

"Not in my own strength, but in that which Allah will give me, I shall
be strong," the sick woman answered with controlled passion. "Ever
since I knew that I could not hope to reach Mecca, and kiss the sacred
black stone, or pray in the Mosqu