Zoraida: A Romance of the Harem and the Great Sahara

“None will mourn for them. Both were equally crafty and brutal; incapable of fidelity, even to their firmest friends. They plotted to take thy life; and at the moment they had secured possession of Agadez, Hadj Absalam was prepared to break his compact with me, and compel me to become his wife.”

“But thou hast escaped it all,” I said cheerily. “In London thou wilt become my wife, and we shall live together always.”

“Ah! Cecil, I – I love thee so dearly. I regret nothing, if only thou wilt grant me forgiveness.”

“I do forgive thee, dearest,” I answered. “Thou hast broken the fetters that have bound thee to Al-Islâm, and, on the threshold of a new life, I wish thee all the happiness that a devoted lover can wish his bride. Thou knowest well how strong is my affection; how utterly I am thine.”

She kissed me, holding her lips to mine in a lingering, passionate caress.

“Thou hast not explained to me the Secret of the Crescent,” I continued, presently.

“How can I?” she answered, looking away to where the yellow streak of dawn was widening. “I know so little – so very little of it myself.”

“But the strange inscription upon it? Hast thou never deciphered it?”

“Yes. It is in the Cufic character, and the words are, ‘In the name of Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful.’”

“And the mystic picture I witnessed on gazing into the mirror of the imam. What was it?”

“It was a representation of the death of Askiá, that was already prepared for thee, in order that thou mightest more readily recognise the spot where the Treasure lieth hidden.”

“Canst thou not explain the reason of the strange phenomenon induced by the application of the Crescent to my brow?” I inquired.

“The only explanation is rendered here,” she replied, drawing from the breast of her dress a small oblong tablet of some dark, hard wood, about six inches long by four wide, worn and polished by age. “See!” and, taking it across to where the light shone through the stained glass roof of the saloon, she added, “Dost thou behold a carved inscription?”

“Yes,” I answered, glancing at it eagerly.

“Therein lieth the secret. Mohammed ben Ishak – on whom may the Merciful have mercy! – was well learned in occult things, and it was he who translated it to me, for, as thou seest, it is likewise carved in Cufic. According to his rendering, this writing is a record of the Sultan Askiá, who states hereby that whomsoever believeth in the legend of his hidden treasure a thousand years after his decease, so shall he take the Crescent to the spot – which was indicated to thee by the dead imam– and then shall the whereabouts of the concealed jewels be revealed.”

“But to what unseen force dost thou attribute its marvellous power of producing an exteriorised image?”

“The inscription further states that so wealthy was the Sultan that he discarded his Great White Diadem, which was of purest gold and diamonds of the first water, and had caused to be constructed a strange semicircle of steel, tempered like a Damascus blade. This emblem of strength he wore upon his head instead of a crown, and it is this which we now know as the Crescent of Glorious Wonders.”

“His crown?” I exclaimed, in abject amazement.

“Yes. The inscription telleth us that the steel was treated in such a manner that when placed upon the head of one possessed of a more powerful will than his fellows, it would, in manner most remarkable, retain the thoughts of its wearer, and transfer them to the person who next assumed it. The Crescent was worn by Askiá at the time he concealed his treasure, and though a thousand years have elapsed since that day, yet, by placing it upon thy brow, unto thee there was transmitted the dead Sultan’s secret thoughts, which, reproducing the scene in thy mind, have enabled thee to unearth the jewels.”

“Extraordinary!” I ejaculated. “But could not another person have learned the clue to the Great Mystery by the same method?”

“No, not unless he knew the spot whereon to stand before he put the Crescent to the test. I myself have secretly tried it, but the cave wherein the Treasure lieth hidden hath never been revealed unto me. Only Mohammed ben Ishak knew in what direction or in what country to seek it. The Crescent was in my possession, and he alone could furnish the key to its secret.”

“Wonderful!” I said. “The story is astounding, and would be absolutely beyond belief were it not for the fact that I have already in my cabin below some of the jewels recovered from the dead Sultan’s hoard. The transference of thought by means of this crescent of magnetised steel, the horns of which acted as positive and negative poles, must be one of the many marvels which, though known to the ancients, have been lost to us for ages.”

I had read much of Dr Luys’ extraordinary discoveries regarding hypnotic suggestion, which seemed to deny the existence of free will, for the assertion that the will of one person could be implanted into that of another had been proved over and over again; yet the power to produce this mysterious rapport was, I felt certain, a strange and startling development of what the European scientific world now terms magnetism; in fact, nothing less than a confirmation of Dr Burq’s metalo-therapeutic theory that for so many years has puzzled the doctors of the Salpêtrière, and to the investigation of which Dr Chareot devoted so much earnest labour.

The love of the marvellous is one of the characteristics of the human race; and contemporary discoveries do not tend to diminish our inclination. Indeed, they extend the limits of the impossible, rendering us more credulous in regard to new ideas. Yet, were not many of the startling phenomena that have recently been discovered at the Charité known in the East ages ago; were not the facts that we believe new and miraculous, common knowledge at that time, and utilised in daily practice?

The absorption of thought by a band of magnetised steel was a startling fact, nevertheless the theory was, as I afterwards found, not an altogether unknown one. In the scientific domain nothing can be declared absolute, and this disclosure, marvellous and incomprehensible as it appeared, was, nevertheless, but a re-discovery of a mystical force which the ancients had accepted without seeking the cause, and the knowledge of which had been lost and forgotten by later generations.

“Is there nothing more thou hast to tell me, Zoraida?” I asked, my arm stealing around her waist, as I drew her towards me.

“Nothing,” she answered. “This carved tablet, a portion of the strange heirloom that hath been in my family through so many years, and hath brought thee wealth, I give unto thee. I have no further explanation to make regarding my past – only to tell thee that from the first hour we met, when I was enabled to sever the bonds that held thee to the asp, I have, loved thee;” and as her head pillowed itself upon my breast, I bent, kissing her white brow with fervent devotion.

“Thou art snatched from an ignominious death, – or a fate worse even than the guillotine, – and thou art mine for ever, Zoraida. Thou goest with me to mine own world, a world that to thee will be strange and full of marvels; nevertheless, we shall be happy in each other’s love always – always.”

Her tiny hand clasped in mine tightened and trembled as she raised her beautiful face.

“I have looked with thoughts of love upon no man but thee, Cecil,” she said. “To thee I owe my liberty, my life! Thou art mine own – mine own;” and our lips met, sealing a lifelong compact.

Chapter Forty Seven.

Conclusion

The events that followed, although startling, may be briefly related.

On arrival in London, I saw by the newspapers that a most profound sensation had been caused throughout Algeria by Zoraida’s escape. In explaining the flight of the beautiful leader of the Ennitra, the published dispatches hinted vaguely at the possibility of a “prominent colonial official” being seriously compromised.

It was apparent that the secret was out!

Breathlessly I opened the papers each morning, and read eagerly of the trial, condemnation, and eventually of the execution of Hadj Absalam and Labakan. But a telegram contained in the Standard on the very morning that Zoraida and I were quietly married at St. Paul’s, Knightsbridge, was the most sensational of all. It reported that on the previous afternoon Monsieur de Largentière, the Governor-General of Algeria, had been found in his private room shot through the temple by his own hand! A revolver was found beside him, and upon his writing-table there lay a letter begging forgiveness of his wife, and – in the words of the correspondent – “the communication contained a very extraordinary statement,” the truth of which was being investigated.

Its purport I easily guessed.

The reason which prompted him to take his life was made plain by Octave Uzanne, who, two months later, called upon me and explained in confidence how, on the day previous to the terrible dénouement, he sought an interview with the assassin of Jack Fothergill, asserting that he intended to return to France, and that if he were arrested upon the warrant still out against him, he should denounce him as the murderer. Octave likewise told him of the existence of the victim’s letter, by which he meant to prove an alibi, and to which I had already referred. This, combined with the revelation made by one of the boatmen he had employed, that he was implicated in Zoraida’s escape, apparently caused him to take his life rather than face the terrible charges against him.

Six months afterwards, Octave and Madame de Largentière were married in Paris, where they still live, in a pretty house in the Avenue des Champs-Elysées. Frequently they are our guests at our Kensington flat; – although Madame Uzanne has never recognised me as the Governor-General’s visitor, and is still ignorant of the guilt of her late husband, for she regards his suicide as having been committed during a sudden fit of insanity, brought on by the heavy responsibilities of his office.

As for the Treasure of Askiá, the whole of it has been recovered and sold by a syndicate formed in the City for that purpose. The jewels, the major portion of which, of course, fell to my share, were found to be of enormous value, their size astonishing the dealers, who, in many cases, were at first inclined to reject them as spurious imitations. In Amsterdam and Paris they created a great sensation, and sold for fabulous sums, several of the gems having now been added to the regalia of Queen Victoria and the Sultan of Turkey.

Zoraida, who is now beginning to chatter English fluently, no longer looks askance at our insular manners. Though she has exchanged her serroual and zouave for a tailor-made gown, and her little pearl-embroidered skull-cap for a milliner’s confection of feathers and flowers, yet, happily, our civilisation does not civilise her to feminine foibles. Still an Oriental, she views many of our customs with a horror that oft-times causes me considerable amusement, but she is never so happy as when at evening, in the fitful light thrown by my study fire, she comes to gossip over the teacups in her native Arabic. Seldom, however, she recalls the horrors of those bygone days when she was Queen of the Sahara, and never without a shudder. She is supremely content in her new world, and has left for ever the parched glaring wilderness that once was her home.

In Society she has become popular, and her “at homes” are always crowded. Sometimes, when visiting, she will sing an Arab song, and entertain a small circle of her closest friends by giving them selections of music upon Arab instruments. The intricacies of piano-strumming she has never mastered. On every hand, indeed, my graceful desert-bride receives boundless admiration. There are many beautiful women in London, but it is agreed, I believe, that the countenance of none is more perfect in its symmetry and more pleasing in its expression than that of the Daughter of the Sun.

The Omen of the Camel’s Hoof has not, after all, been finally fulfilled, for we live an almost idyllic life of peaceful bliss. My wife’s diamonds, which are so often commented upon by the papers, are the same that for a thousand years constituted the magnificence of the Great White Diadem. The little wooden tablet, upon which is inscribed the key to the extraordinary enigma, is preserved in my study; the Crescent of Glorious Wonders, with its mystic geometrical device, is a conspicuous object upon the wall, and over it, suspended by its original thongs of camel’s hide, there hangs the worn and battered Drum of Nâr.

They formed my wife’s dowry, and, besides demonstrating a remarkable scientific fact, they have brought us sufficient of this world’s riches to secure us ease and luxury.

Truly, my lot has fallen in a fair place. At last, in the bright sunshine of Zoraida’s affection, the most perfect happiness is mine.

The End