For Love of a Bedouin Maid

"My strength has come back to me, my child," he said, "and I must use it while I may; and talking will not harm me. But I will first drink again."

Fearing that opposition would hurt him even more than would the effort of talking, Halima said no more, but again held the goblet to his lips.

"I can hold it," he said somewhat touchily, and he took it from her. He handed it back to her, and then resumed.

"At one time I had hoped that your cousin Yusuf would have filled my place and ruled the tribe, when I am gone; but he has grievously offended me in the way that you both wot, so that his place in the tribe is blotted out. But I fear he will not take his banishment with patience. Be wary of him, for I am assured that he will trouble you. However specious his promises of fidelity, trust him not; have no dealings with him. Let him not plant his foot within the borders of the tribe. If he do, have no mercy on him; kill him ruthlessly, as you would a scorpion; or a venomous snake. You will have no safety while he lives, for he has friends among the young men of the tribe, who will never cease to plot for him, till he is dead. Our good doctor will inform you of them. He is faithful, as the sun that never fails to run his allotted course. He helped you into life, my child, and his love towards you is great. And now I will rest me for a space, ere I summon my warriors about me; for, presently, I must have speech of them."

He sank back on his cushions and closed his eyes; in a few minutes, from his measured breathing, he seemed to be asleep.

In about an hour he opened his eyes and looked round inquiringly, with a dazed expression. They lighted upon Halima, and he smiled; a look of intelligence appeared upon his face.

"Ha!" he exclaimed, "I recollect; you brought me here. I have been asleep and feel refreshed for it. The sun has warmed my blood and put new strength in me. I will address my people while it lasts. Call all my warriors, and let them place themselves before me in due order."

"Oh! father," began Halima, "it is too much for you; it—"

"Be silent, child; I will have it so," he interrupted sternly.

She shrank back, cowed, and made no further effort to dissuade him.

Then the word was passed throughout the camp, and eagerly responded to.

When the whole tribe was gathered in front of him, Ben Ibrahim raised his hand, and every voice was stilled. Even the little children held their peace, impressed by the solemnity of the occasion, without knowing what it meant.

"My children," the chief began—and his voice was clear and strong—"I have called you here to rest my eyes on you once more, and to take my last farewell of you; for the river of my life has almost ceased to flow; and I do not murmur that it should be thus, for I have lived longer than is given the most of us, and it is meet that I should go. I have known every one of you from his birth, for I am older than the oldest of you. In all the many years in which I have been your chief I have striven to deal out justice to you, and, at the same time, to temper it with mercy; but man's knowledge is so limited, and his judgment is so fallible, that some of you I may unknowingly have wronged; if so, I now ask your forgiveness. My warriors, we have stood together on many a hard fought field, and our swords have drunk the blood of worthy foes. Sometimes for a brief space we have been worsted, but never have we turned our backs except when hopelessly outnumbered. Generally I have led you on to victory, and, when we have returned to our women and our little ones, we have not come empty-handed from our enemies. I miss the faces of some who have fallen at my side, but it was the will of Allah, and we dare not question it, and there is no more glorious end than to die fighting for one's home and dear ones. I thank you for your courage and fidelity, and I charge you solemnly to yield the same to her on whom will soon devolve the headship of the tribe—my daughter Halima, whom you have known from the moment of her birth. Also to her husband, my dear son-in-law; and I take this opportunity of declaring that it was with my full consent and wish he married her, and of her own free choice. Yield him, therefore, the same unswerving confidence and obedience you have accorded me. He is worthy of it, and can, moreover, teach you many things unknown to you—new arts, by which you may defeat your enemies; new modes by which you may increase your wealth and comfort; new forms of pleasure for your leisure hours. Therefore, I say to you trust him and conform to his behests.

"You have heard me patiently, and now I ask you with my last breath—for you will see my face again no more—will you be true and faithful to my daughter and her husband, and serve them loyally as you have served me, even to laying down your lives, if it be necessary?"

There was a moment's silence, and then the assemblage shouted with one voice:—

"We will."

"Then swear it on your knees," resumed the Sheik. "Swear it in the presence of Allah, who knows all that is in your hearts, and will deal with you in the great hereafter according to your deeds, and will mete out a fearful punishment to the perjured traitor; swear that you will yield true and loyal service to my daughter and him who is her husband. They, in their turn, shall take the same oath to you."

He raised his arm, then moved it slowly downwards as a sign to them to kneel. The next moment, all were on their knees, the little children, who were too young to understand, being pressed down by their mothers. Then all the men stretched forth their hands to Halima and St. Just, and took this oath of fealty.

"We swear to take the Lady Halima as our ruler, and to be true and faithful to her and to her husband and to defend them against all adversaries while the breath is in our bodies. May Allah so deal with us, as we deal with them."

"It is well," said the Sheik, "I can die content."

When the people had regained their feet, he turned to Halima and St. Just.

"It is your turn, my children."

Then Halima laid her left hand on her father's shoulder, and St. Just moved to her side and took her other hand in his. Then, raising his right arm, he faced the multitude. Thus standing hand in hand—a handsome pair, forsooth, as every one confessed—under the broad, blue expanse, the sinking sun full in their faces, they swore to uphold the honor of the tribe, to be true and just in all their dealings with them, and to do their utmost to promote their welfare. It was St. Just alone who spoke on behalf of both.

When he had finished speaking, Halima bent her gaze downward on her father. He was motionless, his head had fallen forward, and his eyes were partly closed and void of all expression. An awful fear crept over her.

"My father! he has fainted," she exclaimed. "Ben Kerriman!"

The doctor stepped round from behind the Sheik, and placed his ear against the old man's heart; then, looking very grave, he removed his head and took a little mirror from his pocket, and placed it before the patient's lips. When he examined it, its surface was unsullied, its brightness was undimmed. Then Ben Kerriman faced the people, on whom the hush of an impending woe had settled, and raised his hand.

"My friends," he said, "Ben Ibrahim has joined his fathers."

CHAPTER XX

The next day the old Sheik was laid to rest with his ancestors in the "Tombs of the Kings." At first Halima was inconsolable in her grief; but, from its very intensity, it soon spent itself, and her thoughts, from dwelling upon her father, reverted to herself.

She set herself, and in this she was ably seconded by her husband, to gain popularity in her new position; and, to say this, is to say that she succeeded, for her youth and beauty, her sweet temper and winning manners, and her kindness and generosity, compelled her retainers' enthusiastic loyalty, so that they almost worshiped her; also they admired and honored him.

Altogether she was in danger of being spoiled, for St. Just also yielded to her in everything and never sought to impose his will on her. Ben Kerriman, the old doctor, noted all this with regret, and one day remonstrated with St. Just.

"My son," he said, "you will pardon an old man for offering unsought advice; for you know my strong regard for the Lady Halima. But you let her have too much of her own way; it is not good for women to be independent. She should be taught, even more for her own sake than for yours, to control her wishes; she should not have everything she wants. I know her disposition well; she is generous and affectionate; but she is by nature dictatorial and ambitious, and filled with unsatisfied desires. And these qualities have become far more marked since her father's death. I foresee that, unless she be kept in hand, even should she gain the goal marked out by the late Sheik, and become Queen of Upper Egypt, she will not be content. What she has set her heart upon is to go to France and there to make a position for herself. Recollect, too, that she is half French; it was partly that, no doubt, that inclined her to yourself. It would be a terrible disappointment to us all, should she forsake her father's people."

St. Just thanked the old doctor for his kindly meant advice and promised seriously to consider it.

Strange to say, at that very time something was occurring that seemed to lend confirmation to the doctor's views of Halima's disposition. Soon after her father's death, she had chosen to consider herself slighted through the non-observance by a neighboring tribe of some trivial ceremony customary on the decease of a friendly Sheik; and St. Just had been surprised at the importance she had assigned to it and the temper she had shown. Since then, she had been continually urging him to invade their territory to chastise them. But he was unwilling to break the peace of the district, that had been so admirably kept by the old Sheik; and had, so far, held her back.

With a view of diverting her attention from the subject, he proposed that they should set about the recovery of the buried treasure; to his delight, she at once acceded to his suggestion. So he called together some of the elder members of the tribe—those with whom the old Sheik had been in the habit of taking counsel—and told them what he and Halima had resolved.

Accordingly, a party was formed, which, beside St. Just and Halima, consisted of six of the leading members of the tribe, Abdallah, Mahmoud and a guard of forty-five men.

St. Just had been surprised when Halima had announced her intention of accompanying the expedition, and had done his utmost to dissuade her; but she had been resolute to go, and, of course, had had her way.

So, early one morning, they set out. It was now three weeks since the old Sheik's death.

They traveled with all speed, but, for all that, it was nightfall when they reached the rocks that marked the entrance to the subterranean city. To explore it at that time could not be thought of, for all were more or less fatigued; so St. Just gave orders for the camels to be tethered and for the men to make themselves as comfortable as circumstances would permit, an impromptu tent being rigged up for Halima. Then fires were lighted, and a meal of stewed kid, supplemented with dates and rice, was prepared and duly eaten. This done, a watch was set, and the men disposed themselves to pass the night, each rolled up in his blanket. St. Just, before he retired to rest, walked through the camp, to see that all were settled and to give his last instructions to the sentry. Then he himself lay down just outside Halima's tent.

But, tired though he was, he could not sleep; his brain was busy with thoughts of the treasure the morrow would disclose—of what it would consist, its value, and all that it might lead to. He tried to put the thoughts away from him, for he longed to sleep; but, the more he tried, the more wakeful he became, and he tossed about from side to side, in the vain hope that, by changing his position, he would effect his purpose.

Presently the sound of a light footfall reached his ear, then some one behind him touched his arm. He started up and laid his hand upon his dagger, believing himself about to be attacked. Halima stood beside.

"You startled me, sweetheart," he exclaimed in muffled tones. "Is anything the matter; are you ill?"

"Hush! no," was her reply, and she put a finger to her lips, "but I want to talk to you, undisturbed. Everyone is now asleep."

She sat down beside him and drew her hood forward, so as to conceal her face. Then, "Henri," she resumed, "do you remember what I said in Cairo the night you pressed me to become your wife?"

"A good deal was said," he answered, "on that memorable occasion; but what is it that you wish me specially to recall?"

"This, that, instead of ending my life as I had intended, I said I would live for you and Buonaparte—for love—and vengeance—vengeance on my betrayer."

St. Just was roused; he had hoped Halima was forgetting this episode in her life, as he himself was striving hard to. The subject was abhorrent to him.

"My dear," he said, "why refer to this? I had hoped it was fading from your memory. We are happy in each other's love; why cherish revengeful thoughts that are impossible of accomplishment?"

"Impossible? They are not; they shall not be. I am as firm in my resolve as ever. So you thought I had forgotten. Know that I will never rest, until I have been revenged on him. You little guess the stuff that I am made of. You know how I can love; you shall learn how I can hate." The words ended almost in a hiss.

All this was a revelation to St. Just, and, for the moment, he was nonplussed.

"Well," he said weakly, "what do you purpose doing?"

"I have thought it all out. Listen. My father told us just before he died that in this treasure, beside the gold, there is vast wealth in jewels—opals, diamonds, rubies of great size and value; but, for all that, occupying little space.

"Now my plan is this; when we have got the treasure to the camp, you shall take the gold to Cairo to those appointed by my father to receive it. Then, instead of returning to the tribe, make your way to Suez and there await me. I will join you with the jewels, and we will take ship for France."

"A very pretty plan, but you will have to get the jewels first; no easy matter with so many eyes about."

"I'll manage that; trust a woman for hoodwinking those about her."

"But how can I set foot in France? Buonaparte would have me shot as a deserter. But, even supposing my presence were unknown, and I escaped; if we killed Buonaparte, we should pay forfeit with our heads; and then, what would profit us all our wealth?"

"Kill him? That is not my aim. No, I shall wait till his power has become supreme; then I will drag him down."

"Words, idle words, my dear, that can never eventuate in deeds. I doubt not that you have the will, but you almost make me smile. How can you, a mere woman, control the future of such a man?"

"You shall see when his hour has come, mere woman though I am. When he has reached the zenith of his power, he shall be hurled suddenly into ignominy and exile, and eat his heart out in captivity. Then he shall know that I have had a hand in all that has befallen him, and learn the intensity of my hatred."

"And you will help me to be revenged on Buonaparte?" she asked, after a little pause.

"Willingly," he answered earnestly. "He is the cause of all our trouble. To be revenged on him I am prepared to face all risks—yes, even Hell's torments, rather than abate one jot or tittle of his punishment. Are you content?"

A cruel smile of triumph played about her lips.

"I am," she said. "See that you never waver in your resolution. As for my own, it is as fixed and sure as the sun round which we move. It is the very breath of my existence, and will cease only either with my death, or its fulfillment. I have not thought out the details of my plan; there is ample time for that; but, with the wealth at our command, the instruments for retribution will not be hard to find."

"But you are weary, love, and you have much to do to-morrow, and the night is far advanced. Come into my tent, my Henri." She laid her hand on his. "Ah! you are cold," she cried with gentle sympathy. "You shall rest with my arms around you, close to my heart, and I will give you warmth, and lull you off to sleep."

He made no demur, and she led him to her tent.

Thus was the oath to be revenged on Buonaparte re-sworn. At that moment he was preparing, away in France, to take up the reins of government as First Consul, and, could he have heard them, would have laughed to scorn the threats of Halima and her husband.

CHAPTER XXI

At daybreak the camp was all astir. Fires were replenished for the preparation of the morning meal, which some attended to, while others were told off to feed the camels. Then all breakfasted, and the final arrangements for the day's proceedings were completed.

When they were on the point of starting, much to St. Just's annoyance and regret, Halima came up ready dressed to join the party.

"My dear," he said, "you surely cannot think of going with us."

"Naturally," she replied simply.

"But it is impossible," he rejoined. "You have no conception of the roughness of the road; we have to burrow underground, and the way is full of danger. No woman could face it."

"If there is danger, the greater the reason that I should go with you. I will not run the risk of being left alone to face the world. If aught befall you, it shall strike me too."

"But," he urged, "where a man would run but little risk, a woman would run much. Besides, the care of you would impede our movements."

"I care not; I mean to go with you. Come, we are wasting time."

He saw she was immovable, and he sighed.

"Be it so," he said, and, without further words, they started.

On their way to the entrance of the subterranean passage, they had to pass the lake. To their surprise, they found that more than half of it had disappeared. The shallower portion of what had been the lake, consisted now of dried up mud, intersected with deep fissures, with here and there a shallow pool. Only at the end nearest the high rocks, beneath which lay the buried city, was the water deep, and black as night.

While St. Just was gazing at it, Mahmoud came up behind him and touched him on the arm.

"Look, master; look what I have found," he said, when St. Just turned round; and he handed him a little slab about one inch square and a quarter of an inch in thickness. In color it was of a dull reddish yellow, and on one side of it could be discerned the indistinct figure of a cat. St. Just carefully examined it, and weighed it in his hand. Then he took out his dagger and scratched the surface. It was soft; it was pure gold!

"Where did you find this?" he inquired.

Meanwhile, some of the others had come up and were gazing enviously at what was in his hand.

"In the grass, close to this hole," replied the boy, his brown face wreathed in smiles, though he had not the least notion of the value of his find; but he saw, by his master's face, that St. Just was pleased.

"Look about, some of you, and see whether you can find more," St. Just went on.

A careful search was made, but no more gold pieces were forthcoming. Evidently this was a stray one dropped either in the hiding, or removing of the treasure.

"Here, sweetheart," he said, handing it to Halima; "take this as a keepsake; it is the first fruits of our expedition."

"I will have a brooch made of it," she said.

Having seen all there was to see about the lake, they retraced their steps to where the camels were tethered. Here St. Just gave final directions to those who were to remain behind, and then the party of treasure seekers made their way to the entrance of the passage leading to the buried city, all carrying torches.

One by one they disappeared within the entrance, each man lighting his torch inside from the one preceding him, until all were within the opening. Then they proceeded cautiously down the easy descent the passage took, until they reached the point at which the real danger began; and here their leader called a halt.

Mindful, from the experience of his previous journey, of the shoot down which one had to slide—an easy task, when one was aware of it, for a man, but hazardous for a woman—he adopted special precautions for securing Halima from accident.

What he did was this—and it was only his knowledge of the length of the shoot that made it possible—he sent one man down to the bottom of the slope with a lighted torch. Arrived there, he was to lie at full length on his back close against the side of the tunnel. Then another man was to follow in the same way, setting his feet on the shoulders of the one below; and so on, until the entire length of the steep incline was occupied. By this means the whole stretch was lighted most effectively, and a passage was left at the side of the men, down which Halima could travel; in case her progress should become dangerously rapid, the men could check it. Then he tied a rope round Halima's waist, and she began the descent feet foremost on her hands and knees, he standing at the top and paying out the rope as needed. In two minutes she had reached the bottom. Then he followed, and the torch-bearers after him, beginning from the topmost man.

In due course, they reached the roadway that gave on to the ruined city, and here they halted for a moment to view the wondrous scene, which many of them now saw for the first time. Halima's eyes sparkled with excitement; she seemed enraptured.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "It is like being transported to another world. I could not have imagined such a scene; never again will my eyes rest on such a sight. Oh! I would not have missed it for all the world. And to think that you would have deprived me of it, Henri."

She seemed loth to leave it, but stood turning her eyes from one point to another, without further comment. Presently St. Just recalled her to their errand.

"It is indeed a wondrous sight," he said, "but we must not dally here; we can admire it further, when we have done our work."

"You are right," she said: "let us go on."

St. Just gave the order, and the whole party made a sharp turn to the left, along the pathway to the temple, which lay not many yards away. What had been once a noble doorway was now a yawning gap, and through this they passed, to find themselves in a gigantic hall, down which ran two long rows of pillars, which served to support the roof, the span of the building being such as to require them. In the semi-darkness it was impossible to see whether the roof still stood. Between the pillars there were marble statues which, considering their antiquity, were marvelously well preserved—sufficiently so, at any rate, to show that those who had produced them were no uncivilized barbarians, but men who had a thorough knowledge of the sculptor's art.

In the center of the building a much larger statue reared itself. The figure was at least twenty feet in height, and was placed on a pedestal ten feet high, the whole resting on a flight of half a dozen steps that faced four ways. The figure represented a man perfectly proportioned and of majestic mien. It wore a crown and was draped in flowing robes; the right arm was raised and bore a sword. Doubtless, the statue was the counterfeit presentment of the god to whom the temple had been dedicated.

At the foot of this statue they found the object of their search. Around its base were piled, one upon another, strong wooden boxes bound with iron. They were oblong, eighteen inches by twelve, and about nine inches deep. St. Just counted them; there were forty-eight. Then he raised the end of one of them to judge its weight; it took more strength than he had thought. From the size of the boxes and their weight, their contents must be gold—about two hundred-weight in each, as he supposed. He made a mental calculation. Then he turned to Halima and said in French: "Gold. If they are all alike, there is the value here of about fifteen million francs."

"So much as that," she said. "It seems an immense sum. But think you the jewels are packed with the gold?"

"Most likely not; we will make a further search before we go."

Meanwhile, the restless Mahmoud, who had been peering about, called out: