For Love of a Bedouin Maid

The boxes that contained the gold were also safe, and had been transported to the camp before St. Just's return.

CHAPTER XXII

The effects of the terrible experience she had undergone were very serious to Halima. She had been carried from the cave to the encampment on a litter, for she had not been able to stand, still less to ride or walk. She lay on a couch and moaned, acutely sensible to pain, yet seemingly unconscious, so great was her prostration. She felt bruised and sore all over, every nerve and muscle overstrained; her body was one huge ache, her joints burned like fire, and she could scarcely have suffered more had she been stretched out on the rack.

Thus she passed the weary night, vainly longing, oh! so earnestly, for the sleep that would have been everything to her, but that her sufferings would not permit; for, with the cessation of exercise, her joints stiffened and the pain increased. In the morning she was in a high fever, and delirious. It was nature's retaliation for the affront that had been put upon her; for no one may insult her with impunity, and she rebels when too much is demanded of her, as when nerves and thews are overstrained and the brain is overwrought.

St. Just, the old nurse and Ben Kerriman, the doctor, stood gravely watching the unconscious girl, who lay staring at them with wide open eyes, eyes in which there was no trace of recognition; and their heart sank within them. The old doctor's knowledge of the healing art was superficial, and he was acquainted only with the simple herbal remedies. These he administered, but with little faith in their efficiency; such hope as he had, lay in the soundness and natural vigor of her constitution, aided by her youth. He gazed upon her sorrowfully, and shook his head doubtfully—almost despairingly. For all that, he was unremitting in his care, and in this he was ably seconded by the old nurse and St. Just. He was resolved that nature should have every chance. For a week she hovered between life and death, on more than one occasion the vital spark flickering so feebly that every moment they thought it would die out. In a week the critical moment that would decide her fate arrived. It passed and she was saved; her strong constitution had gained the mastery of the fever; the temperature of her blood was lowered; the florid color faded from her face; the pulse, that had been rapid and irregular, became calm and measured; a slight moisture broke out upon the hot, parched skin, and consciousness returned. She looked up in the faces of the watchers with a feeble smile, and her lips moved slightly, but no sound escaped them. Then she closed her eyes and dropped off into a calm, refreshing sleep, that lasted many hours.

When she awoke she was able to speak. From that moment she gradually gained strength; nothing now ailed her, but extreme debility, and each day that grew less. Ben Kerriman, in fact, was surprised at her rapid progress towards recovery.

All this time the treasure that had almost cost their lives was kept carefully guarded. It had been stored up in a hut, which had been then banked round and on the top with sand, the door only being exposed. St. Just kept the key of this, and each day he went in to count the boxes and see that they had not been tampered with. Moreover, night and day the hut was always watched by two men—not, of course, always the same—in whom implicit confidence could be placed. All these precautions were scarcely needed, for no member of the tribe would have robbed its chief; but St. Just, realizing that he was but the bailee of this great wealth, was resolved to run no risk.

He had deferred the examination of the silver casket, until his wife should be restored to health, feeling that she would like to be present at its opening; but one day, when she was thoroughly recovered and they were alone together, and likely for some time to be undisturbed, he brought it out. It was soon forced open, and then the sight disclosed to view made Halima's eyes sparkle with delight, and St. Just's to beam with satisfaction. They had expected to find precious stones, but had never dreamed of such as these. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and others whose names they did not know, all flawless, and of the purest water; the diamonds colorless as ice, the others with tints rich and deep. And there were no mean sized stones among them; some as large as pigeon's eggs, others equaling the size of marbles; there were none smaller. They were all unset and badly cut, but the size and quality were there. Little as St. Just knew of the value of such gems, he was satisfied that the contents of that little silver box far out-weighed in worth the treasure stored up in the hut outside.

When the jewels had been duly inspected and admired, it was arranged that Halima should have the charge of them, and, with a view to their safe custody, she said she would sew them into a pad or belt, and wear them under her clothing, until the opportunity should arrive for their disposal.

The subject naturally brought up that of the remainder of the treasure. Now that his anxiety on the score of his wife's health was over, St. Just was desirous of relieving himself of his responsibility as soon as possible. Having no immediate personal interest in the money, its custody had become an incubus he would fain shake off. Accordingly, he now suggested that a messenger should be at once despatched to Cairo with a letter to the persons mentioned by the late sheik, informing them of the existence of the gold and of the old man's wishes in regard to it, and inquiring whether, and by what route it would be safe for him, St. Just, to bring it.

Halima wished the matter to be put oft for a time; said the treasure was quite safe where it was, that the country was so unsettled that its transport would be hazardous, that the withdrawal of so many men as would be necessary for the convoy would leave her insufficiently protected; and advanced a number of other reasons more or less plausible, for postponing action for the present. Summed up, they simply meant that she wished to keep her husband with her.

He combated her objections one by one, showing that she made too much of them; then he dwelt on his own uneasiness at having the charge of so much wealth, and on his pledged word to the old sheik; appealing, finally, to her filial affection and her duty to her father.

This last was his most mighty argument, and it prevailed with the result that she agreed that a messenger should be sent to Cairo with all speed.

Now this decision was a most untoward one, as events will show. Had St. Just at once set out with the treasure, without previously communicating with the men in Cairo, the current of his life would have flowed in a very different channel from that it took.

It may be remembered that when St. Just rejoined the tribe with Halima, shortly before the old sheik's death, his wife's old nurse regarded him with great repugnance; though why, unless it was for his nationality, he could not understand. At first he had hoped that her undoubted love and fidelity towards his wife, whose affection for himself the old woman must have seen was strong and deep, would have wrought some change in her feelings towards him—and he, on his part, albeit by no means sympathetic towards her, had done his utmost to capture her goodwill. So far from that, however, her aversion for him seemed daily to increase, and, after Halima's illness, attained to such a pitch of hatred that, if she could have slain him with impunity, she would have done so. It was not that she indulged in any overt acts of insolence or disobedience; but the looks of diabolical malignancy she flung at him as often as she met his eyes, sufficiently revealed her sentiments.

And the cause was this; she, of course, had been Halima's chief attendant in her illness, and, during her ramblings, her young mistress had disclosed the fact of her betrayal and, in consequence, her deep sense of injury and desire for vengeance; but with no mention of the name of her seducer.

The nurse being unaware that Halima knew Buonaparte, thereupon jumped to the conclusion that St. Just was the man who had robbed her former nurseling of her virtue, having assailed her in a moment when she was off her guard; that the intimacy once begun, Halima had been unable to free herself from her relations with her betrayer, and had thus lapsed to the position of his mistress, a toy he could discard when weary of it. The statement that they were really married with Mahometan rites the old woman regarded as a mere blind to cover Halima's dishonor. The thought worked her into a state of rage and hatred that was uncontrollable, and she resolved to punish the unsuspecting Frenchman, if by any means it could be done.

The course of events now seemed to have brought about her opportunity. The existence of the treasure was known throughout the camp, and it was rumored that it was to be sent to Cairo. When, therefore, the old woman heard that a messenger was to be despatched thither, she guessed what was his errand and laid her plans accordingly. Everything seemed to favor them, for the man selected for the mission was one of those most devoted to the late sheik's nephew, Yusuf, and withal one who deeply resented St. Just's position in the tribe. Naturally, St. Just was not aware of this, or another man would have been chosen. Yusuf had always been a favorite with the nurse; she had been present at his birth and had seen him grow to manhood, and had looked forward to seeing him eventually assume the headship of the tribe; thus his banishment by the old sheik had sorely troubled her. She now saw a chance of his reinstatement.

There were those in Cairo who would know his whereabouts. Accordingly, she sought the messenger who was to go to Cairo and who, it happened, was akin to her, and could be trusted not to betray her confidence, and instructed him to seek out Yusuf, and, should he find him, to tell him of the coming treasure; that, if he could collect a sufficient force and keep a good look out, he would be able to intercept it, and at the same time kill St. Just, who would be with it. That accomplished, there would be nothing to prevent his taking the leadership of the tribe, and making Halima his wife, should he desire it.

Should St. Just's messenger be unable to get speech of Yusuf, he was to forward her instructions to him by some one he could trust. The old woman was satisfied that, if Yusuf lived, he could be found, for many knew him; he had held an important position in the tribe and had many influential friends in Cairo.

She had no doubt that Yusuf would act upon her information, should it arrive in time; her only fear was that it might not reach him until St. Just should have advanced so far on his journey with the treasure, as to preclude Yusuf from making his arrangements for attacking him. However, that, as she piously observed, would be as Allah willed.

In due course, St. Just's messenger returned with letters from his Cairo correspondents. They had expressed delight at hearing of the treasure, and requested him to bring it on at once.

It was now February in the year 1800, and nothing stood in the way of St. Just's making an immediate start. To tell the truth, he was becoming somewhat wearied with desert life, and ready to welcome almost anything that would vary its monotony. So he set about at once to make his preparations. They were simple, including only a sufficiency of camels to transport the treasure, the devising of a ready mode of securing it on their backs, and the selection of the men to tend them; also supplies for the men's consumption by the way. The camels would need no food, for they would be required only to take the treasure to the river bank. St. Just had decided to make the whole journey by the Nile. It would take somewhat longer than by the desert route, but he preferred it as being less tedious and much more interesting. His point of debarkation would be a village five days' journey from Cairo; St. Just had halted there before, and was acquainted with a sheik who was friendly to the tribe and would, he hoped, supply him with camels for the remaining portion of the route.

It was agreed between himself and Halima—for she held firmly to her resolution to proceed to France—that, when he should have transacted the business connected with the treasure, he should write to her, by the returning party, stating where he would await her. Having regard to the condition of the country and the risk he ran of recognition, both felt that, at this stage, no definite fixture for their meeting could be made.

When everything was ready and the moment of departure had arrived, Halima, who thought she had schooled herself to the separation, broke down altogether. She threw her arms about his neck and clung to him with desperation, almost devouring him with kisses.

"Oh! Henri," she sobbed, "I would you were not leaving me, my husband. Oh! I cannot let you go. Stay, my dear one, and let Abdallah take this treasure; he is to be trusted and will see that it be handed over safely. I am sure you need not go. Oh! would we had never seen this cursed gold!"

"Nay, my Halima," he replied sadly, and he stroked the silky head that lay against his breast; "go I must; I pledged my word to your dead father. It is hard enough, God knows, to part from you; don't make it harder for me by your tears. But our parting will not be for long, and, when we meet again, it will be for life. Before six months are passed, we shall be on our way to France."

"Ah! I know not. Once before you left me, promising to return soon; but it was more than twelve months before my eyes again rested on you; and, in the interval, how much had happened. They told me that you were no more, and—but I cannot bear to think of all I went through then; I would blot it from the pages of my life's history. And now it may be the same again. It is not that I do not trust you, Henri, but others may control your movements and keep you from me. Oh! I have an awful foreboding that it will be so; that, when you shall have faded from my sight, it will be years before my eyes will be set on you again. Oh! stay, my husband; do not leave your Halima who loves you so. I cannot live without you!"

"Wife," he replied, "it tears my heart to leave you, but I cannot now draw back; I should be dishonored before all the tribe. Oh! seek not to restrain me, for it but prolongs our sorrow, and avails nothing."

"Oh! you are cruel!" she wailed. "You love me not as I love you."

It was true there was the more fervor in her passion, but whether it would be as enduring as her husband's was a question to be decided by the future. It is not always the fiercest fire that burns the longest; rather is its ardor the soonest spent.

Halima went on much in the same strain, he vainly endeavoring to soothe her, until he could no longer bear it. So, impressing one long, fervent kiss upon her quivering lips, he unclasped her arms from round him and tore himself from her embrace; then handed her over to her old nurse, who received her willingly enough, though she scowled ferociously at him and mumbled words of menace. Then he gave the signal for departure, and the whole party moved away.

Aided by the current and fair winds, they made good progress, and, when a fortnight had elapsed, had performed half their journey, having reached a point hard by the ruined city of Thebes. Up to this moment they had not left the boat, but here was a convenient landing place, and St. Just had a fancy for seeing something of the place. So the boat was moored a little distance from the river bank, and a smaller one they had on board was launched, and in it, St. Just, with Mahmoud and a few of the men took their places and were rowed ashore. His chief follower and the other men were given strict injunctions not to leave the larger boat till his return, which would be on the morrow. So far their journey had been without adventure; they had scarcely even seen a soul; only now and then a solitary horseman had appeared about half a mile away; and then, after looking about him, apparently with no particular object, had galloped off.

After making a cursory inspection of the ruins, while the day-light lasted, St. Just had a fire built up and lighted, for the night was cold and squally, and settled down to camp out till the morning under the shelter of a ruined wall, with Mahmoud close at hand and the others at a little distance.

Wearied just sufficiently to make rest enjoyable, he fell into a half-dreamy state, but still awake, and thought of Halima, picturing her now asleep; wondering whether at that moment he occupied her dreams; and how long it would be before they would meet again. By an easy transition his thoughts reverted to the treasure, and he fell to pondering on the probabilities of a successful issue to his undertaking, and the chances of his being recognized in Cairo by any of his former comrades. At this point he dropped off into a heavy sleep, and in his sleep his mind went back into the past. He dreamed that he was a mere youth and had just joined his regiment. A scene in his campaign in Italy came vividly before him. His company were sleeping in the marshes, when, suddenly, they were attacked. He could hear again the clash of arms, the cries of the alarmed sleepers, and, in the distance the sound of shots. It all seemed so real that, in his excitement, he awoke and, with a cry, sprang to his feet.

In a moment he realized that this was no dream, but that they were in truth attacked. He had no occasion to rouse Mahmoud; the lad was a light sleeper and the noise had waked him. Both drew their swords and rushed on to where the conflict was proceeding. His men were contending against fearful odds, and the result of the encounter could not be doubtful. He saw the hopelessness of their position, and felt that death was staring him in the face; for all that, he did not hesitate an instant, but threw himself upon the nearest foe. Before their swords had crossed, he had recognized him as Yusuf; then he knew there had been treachery; it was impossible the man could have been there by chance. This sudden recognition and the thought it prompted, disconcerted him, and, for the moment, threw him off his guard. Yusuf was a skillful swordsman, and had had more practice with the desert weapon, with which both were armed, than had St. Just. The Arab began to press him sorely, and the young Frenchman found that he had met more than his match. Still desperately he fought on, the personality of his opponent lending fury to his attack. Indeed, both were animated by the same passion, jealousy, for Yusuf had recognized in the other the man who had snatched Halima from his arms and usurped his position in the tribe. His look of malignant triumph was awful to behold, for in his eyes his hated rival was already slain. With a skillful movement of his flexile wrist, he sent St. Just's sword flying, then drew back his arm to make the lunge that should deal the death stroke. The Frenchman felt that in another moment he would have done with life. But that moment did not come. Before the Bedouin could deal the blow, Mahmoud, who had been watching his opportunity, got behind him and ran him through the heart. Yusuf with a groan, threw up his arms and fell heavily to the ground. Before St. Just had had time to realize his respite, a blow on the head felled him also, and he knew no more.

CHAPTER XXIII

After the description of the affray with which the preceding chapter closed, the reader will scarcely need to be informed that the message from Halima's old nurse to Yusuf duly reached that worthy.

After a few inquiries, St. Just's messenger had discovered him in Cairo, and told him of the treasure which, it was believed, was to be forwarded to the city.

Forthwith Yusuf had set to work to utilize the information. Having no means or followers of his own, it would be necessary to invoke outside assistance. After casting about in his mind for a suitable associate, he had pitched upon a man, with whom he had some acquaintance, who followed the combined callings of pirate and slave dealer; a man who, from his daring, unscrupulousness and ferocity, as well as more than average swarthiness, had earned for himself the sobriquet of Black Ali.

The proposed adventure was quite in Black Ali's line, and he had entered with avidity into Yusuf's scheme. He had grown rich on trading in human flesh, and, accordingly, had found it easy to collect a gang of scoundrels only too ready to place themselves at his disposal for any undertaking, however desperate and lawless. It had been agreed that the treasure they hoped to seize should be scared equally by Yusuf and Black Ali. Arrangements had been quickly made and the filibustering party had set out. It being unknown whether St. Just's party with the treasure would travel by the river or the desert, both routes had been watched. The solitary horsemen St. Just had seen at intervals, from the river, had been Black Ali's scouts, and they had dogged the party all the way, had seen the young Frenchman and some of his followers land at Thebes, and conveyed the news to the slave dealer, who, when night had fallen, had surrounded with his men and set upon the sleepers, with the result already stated. Black Ali had believed that all St. Just's followers had been killed; the attack had been so sudden that they had had no time for their defense; they had hardly been awakened when they had been slaughtered; all but two, who had escaped. No one had been hurt on the side of the marauders, except Yusuf, who, as narrated, had been killed by Mahmoud, a fate no one had regretted, least of all Black Ali, who now saw himself possessed of all the treasure. Mahmoud, like his master, had been struck down, almost as soon as he had run his sword through Yusuf.

Seeing that St. Just and Mahmoud were not seriously injured—only stunned—Black Ali ordered some of his men to carry them to the river bank, whither he, with all his party, made his way. His intention was to capture the large boat with the treasure and to sell as slaves such of the crew as should not be killed, or too seriously maimed in the approaching contest.

The smaller boat, in which St. Just had landed, and another were drawn up on the river bank. These were quickly launched and crowded with as many men as they would hold; then they were rowed softly and silently to the moored boat, one making for the port and the other for the starboard side. So noiseless was their approach that it was not until they were almost alongside that they were discovered. Then an alarm was raised; but it was too late, for all were asleep, except the watch, and, before they had realized what had happened, the pirates were swarming over the gunwales of the boat. St. Just's men did what they could, but the contest was hopeless from the first. Outnumbered and but half awake, some not having time even to seize their weapons, they were in no position to make a stout resistance. One by one they dropped before the savage onslaught of Black Ali's men, who kept ever increasing in numbers, and pressing forward, while St. Just's men fell back fighting, inch by inch. Two of them, to save their lives, sprang overboard, hoping to swim ashore; they feared less the crocodiles than their human foes. Their leader, the man St. Just had left in charge, fought desperately himself, and urged his followers to do the same. Two of the pirates fell before him to rise no more; but his courage was of no avail; a gigantic Arab rushed up and threw himself upon him, and, by sheer force, beat down his guard, then cleft his skull down even to his chin. He dropped with a dull thud, but no sound escaped his lips. And then, above the clash of arms and the shouts and groans, Black Ali's voice rang out, "Yield and I will spare your lives. Your leader is slain; further resistance has become useless."

There was a pause, and each man's hand was stayed. Then one of the crew called out, "Swear that you will not slay us, if we yield."

"I swear, by Allah," was the pirate's answer.

Satisfied that he would keep his oath, the men suffered themselves to be disarmed and bound. The whole affair had lasted but five minutes. Of the defenders, uninjured or only slightly hurt, there were but twelve; about the same number had been either killed outright, or wounded fatally. The losses of the assailants were two killed and three slightly wounded. When those who had surrendered had been secured against escape, Black Ali gave orders for the dead and badly wounded to be thrown overboard. The latter shrieked for mercy—to be allowed to die in such peace as their wounds would suffer; but they might have spared their dying gasps for mercy; as well might they have appealed to the crocodiles, whose food they would shortly be, as to the pitiless Black Ali. "Overboard with them," he cried, and overboard they went, their dying shrieks smothered in the waters of the Nile.