hast different feelings."

"Perhaps," answered Victoria humbly, for she was crushed by Fafann's
fierce eloquence. And for a moment her heart was heavy; but she would
not let herself feel a presentiment of trouble.

"What harm can happen to me?" she asked. "I haven't been guided so far
for nothing. Si Maieddine is an Arab, and his ways aren't like the ways
of men I've known, that's all. My sister's husband was his friend--a
great friend, whom he loved. What he does is more for Cassim's sake
than mine."

Her cheeks were burning after the long day of sun, and because of her
thoughts; yet she was not glad to bathe them with Si Maieddine's
fragrant offering of rosewater, some of which Fafann poured into the
glass basin.

Not far away Maieddine was still sitting by the fire with M'Barka.

"Tell me now," he said. "What didst thou see?"

"Nothing clearly. Another time, cousin. Let me have my mind fresh. I am
like a squeezed orange."

"Yet I must know, or I shall not sleep. Thou art hiding something."

"All was vague--confused. I saw as through a torn cloud. There was the
great house. Thou wert there, a guest. Thou wert happy, thy desire
granted, and then--by Allah, Maieddine, I could not see what happened;
but the voice of the sand was like a storm in my ears, and the knowledge
came to me suddenly that thou must not wait too long for thy wish--the
wish made with the sand against thine heart."

"Thou couldst not see my wish. Thou art but a woman."

"I saw, because I am a woman, and I have the gift. Thou knowest I have
the gift. Do not wait too long, or thou mayest wait for ever."

"What wouldst thou have me do?"

"It is not for me to advise. As thou saidst, I am but a woman.
Only--_act_! That is the message of the sand. And now, unless thou
wouldst have my dead body finish the journey in the bassour, take me to
my tent."

Maieddine took her to the tent. And he asked no more questions. But all
night he thought of what M'Barka had said, and the message of the sand.
It was a dangerous message, yet the counsel was after his own heart.

XXX

In the morning he was still brooding over the message; and as they
travelled through the black desert on the way to Ghardaia and the hidden
cities of the M'Zab, he fell into long silences. Then, abruptly, he
would rouse himself to gaiety and animation, telling old legends or new
tales, strange dramas of the desert, very seldom comedies; for there are
few comedies in the