e was received at the tent door by the Agha himself, Maieddine
forgot his self-restraint, and swung the girl down, with tingling hands
that clasped her waist, as if at last she belonged to him.

Half fearful of what he had done, lest she should take alarm at his
sudden change of manner, he studied her face anxiously as he set her
feet to the ground. But there was no cause for uneasiness. So far from
resenting the liberty he had taken after so many days of almost
ostentatious respect, Victoria was not even thinking of him, and her
indifference would have been a blow, if he had not been too greatly
relieved to be hurt by it. She was looking at his father, the Agha, who
seemed to her the embodiment of some biblical patriarch. All through her
long desert journey, she had felt as if she had wandered into a dream of
the Old Testament. There was nothing there more modern than "Bible
days," as she said to herself, simply, except the French quarters in the
few Arab towns through which they had passed.

Not yet, however, had she seen any figure as venerable as the Agha's,
and she thought at once of Abraham at his tent door. Just such a man as
this Abraham must have been in his old age. She could even imagine him
ready to sacrifice a son, if he believed it to be the will of Allah; and
Maieddine became of more importance in her eyes because of his
relationship to this kingly patriarch of the Sahara.

Having greeted his niece, Lella M'Barka, and passed her hospitably into
the tent where women were dimly visible, the Agha turned to Maieddine
and Victoria.

"The blessing of Allah be upon thee, O my son," he said, "and upon thee,
little daughter. My son's messenger brought word of thy coming, and thou
art welcome as a silver shower of rain after a long drought in the
desert. Be thou as a child of my house, while thou art in my tent."

As she gave him her hand, her veil fell away from her face, and he saw
its beauty with the benevolent admiration of an old man whose blood has
cooled. He was so tall that the erect, thin figure reminded Victoria of
a lonely desert palm. The young girl was no stern critic, and was more
inclined to see good than evil in every one she met; therefore to her
the long snowy beard, the large dreamy eyes under brows like
Maieddine's, and the slow, benevolent smile of the Agha meant nobility
of character. Her heart was warm for the splendid old man, and he was
not unaware of the impression he had made. As he b