For Love of a Bedouin Maid

"It is not true, it cannot be true," she cried; "you are deceiving me for your own ends. Why should my father slay him? No, I believe you not."

Buonaparte took no notice of her words. He merely stepped to the open window and called out, "Roustan, bring up the prisoners."

The Arab girl sprang to her feet and advanced to him. "Prisoners?" she asked wonderingly. "Who are they? Why are they here?"

"You say you disbelieve me. They bring you proof of what I have just told you."

Even while he spoke the tramp of men could be heard outside, and, in another moment, Roustan entered with the three Arab soldiers and their guards.

Buonaparte cross-examined them in Halima's presence, and she herself put such questions to them as she chose. They told her of the capture of St. Just by members of her father's tribe and all that had followed, to his final fall from the rock. They were so evidently the witnesses of truth that Halima could not fail to be convinced that St. Just was dead.

She waved her hand to them as a signal that they were to go, and Buonaparte dismissed them.

Then the tears, that her excitement had kept back, poured forth. The girl staggered to the divan and, burying her head in its cushions, wept long and passionately.

As on a similar occasion, Buonaparte sought not to check her tears, but sat near, waiting patiently till her grief should spend itself. Meanwhile he fingered mechanically St. Just's charm, which he had taken from Yusuf, and meant to give to Halima.

At last the force of her weeping died away, and she raised her tear-stained face to his, a look of piteous entreaty on it.

At a loss for words of consolation, Buonaparte handed her the jewel.

"It was St. Just's," he said. "Now you have a right to it."

She reached out her hand and took it. At the same time, Buonaparte seated himself upon the divan and drew her to him. Then he kissed her, while he whispered tenderly in her ear, "I love you, Halima, I love you. My Queen, my heart's desire, tell me you love me too."

But she had St. Just's death too freshly in her mind. She shook her head sadly. "No, no," she murmured; "not to-night. Perhaps, to-morrow I will tell you."

Now Buonaparte, always imperious, could and would brook no resistance. For reply, he crushed her to himself. Violent was his embrace and masterful his manner. And, she, in her inmost heart already yielding, made but a faint resistance. And, at that moment, the light above the divan flickered out and darkness fell upon the scene.

CHAPTER XII

To return to St. Just who, when last seen, was lying unconscious in the tent of the Arab Sheik; the fever that had robbed him of his senses soon spent its force, and, with a lowering of his temperature, he returned to consciousness. Accustomed to the hardships of a campaign in the field, and with some experience of wounds, and by no means impatient or given to complaining, he could not but chafe at his slow progress towards recovery. He seemed to gain no strength. No doubt this was due in great measure to his want of European comforts, medical attendance, and the diet suitable to an invalid.

When, at last, he was able to get about again, which, was not till December had ended and a new year had dawned, he found, somewhat to his surprise, that the sheik, if harsh, was just in all his dealings. One night he and the sheik were sitting over the camp fire under the shadow of the very rock which had been the scene of St. Just's narrow escape from death, when the sheik spoke concerning that adventure.

"If I had wished to kill you, I could easily have done so. You must not suppose that my men are, as a rule, the bad marksmen they proved themselves on that occasion. If you had been killed, I had avenged the affront your General had put upon me, and, indirectly, upon the tribe, by trying to bribe me to become his ally. If you survived the shots, you could carry my answer, and, possibly, save the life of one of my own tribe, whom your General might slay for being the bearer of unpalatable news. That you would be hit fatally I expected; and how Mahmoud, who, though but eighteen, is a good marksman, came to miss, I know not, though he only failed by chance.

"Chance, did I say? Nay, my son," and here the old man laid his hand softly upon his listener's shoulder; "It was fate. Allah has willed that you should live for greater things. Therefore give praise to him."

Towards the end of January the whole camp, including St. Just, who was mounted on a camel and closely guarded, made a move, traveling northwards towards Cairo. After journeying for about a month, a halt was made at a group of stone tombs, said to be—in common with so many burial places in Egypt whose records are lost—the tombs of Kings.

During their stay at this oasis of the tombs, St. Just began to pick up health and strength. Here, too, he improved his acquaintance with the old sheik, and the more he learned of him the better he liked him. Strange to say, too, the boy Mahmoud, he who had fired the last shot at him on the rock, began to make friendly advances towards him, and expressed a wish to wait on him. At first St. Just was suspicious of his motives, and watched him carefully. But, in the end, he satisfied himself that the lad had really become attached to him; so, with the Sheik's permission, he accepted his services, and, as the result, found that he could have engaged no truer or more faithful servant.

The monotony of St. Just's life at this time made him dwell with tenderness and regret on the memory of the busy time he had passed at Cairo, and, in particular, of the beautiful half-bred Arab girl with whom he had been so much thrown.

He knew that his love for her was no transient passion, but the abiding affection of a life-time; absence, in his case, so far from inducing forgetfulness, had made the heart grow fonder. With her, his life would be rose-colored, like the desert sand around him when the sun's rays were poured upon it; without her, like the same desert at night before the moonbeams had illumined it, cold and gray and gloomy.

Inwardly chafing at the enforced helplessness that kept him from his love, and wondering whether they were ever again to meet, he was much surprised and no less delighted when the sheik one day told him that, in the middle of March, he was to set out for Cairo with his, the sheik's, reply to Buonaparte's letter; and, further, that he would be furnished with an escort of twenty men for his protection. It now wanted about three weeks to the time.

One day, when it wanted but four to the time when he was to set out, he was aroused from his slumbers, while dawn yet struggled with the darkness, by the sheik himself, who bade him get up quickly and dress quickly.

"Before the camp wakes to life we must be on our way," he told St. Just; but whither they were bound he gave no intimation.

Through the sleeping camp they made their way and, shaping their course north by east, they rode out into the great silent desert, being joined by a small escort, on reaching the outskirts of the camp. For many miles the sheik and St. Just rode on side by side without exchanging a word.

At last the old man spoke, taking advantage of an opportunity, when those who accompanied them had fallen behind, possibly in obedience to his orders.

"Doubtless, my son," began the sheik, "you have wondered why I, your enemy, have kept you by my side so long, when you were able to return to him from whom you came two months ago. It was for this; I wished to satisfy myself that your character is what it has been represented to me. You know that I am a man of power and that, daily, messengers come from other chiefs to me for my advice and help. From enquiries of these men I have learned much of you from the moment you set foot in Alexandria."

After pausing to note the effect of his harangue, the sheik went on, "Scarce an action or a word of yours—uttered even in your sleep—has escaped me. If from the moment of your ordeal on the rock, until to-day, you have failed to please me, then would your stay in camp have been cut short. But, not only have you pleased me, but I have grown to regard you as a son."

After some hours traveling, they halted on the margin of a broad sheet of water fringed around with grass and low shrubs, with here and there a date palm. In the middle of this pool rose a cone-shaped rock graven with hieroglyphics. Selecting a place that was sheltered from the sun's heat by a pile of rocks, the whole party dismounted, the escort, who numbered a dozen, and were all, save St. Just's own lad Mahmoud, elderly men, casting themselves down upon the grass to rest.

After giving some directions to the leader of the party and asking St. Just to await his return, the Sheik remounted and set out alone, and soon was lost to sight, putting up in his progress thousands of birds that had made this their haunt and lived here undisturbed from the moment they had left the egg. Now they rose in flocks, just in advance of the Sheik, swirling above him and uttering cries of mingled wonder and alarm.

After an interval the old warrior came galloping back, with as firm a seat upon his fiery steed as if he were but a youth of twenty, instead of being fully four score years.

The old man called out something St. Just could not catch, and, instantly, two of the men sprang up and drew their swords. He, too, rose to his feet, but was pulled back by Mahmoud, whose voice said in his ear:

"Fear not, they go but to cut wood."

Meanwhile the old Sheik dismounted, and the rest busied themselves in spreading a meal under the shadow of the rock.

Presently the two woodsmen returned bearing a large bundle of lengths of fibrous wood. These were distributed among the party, each piece being about two feet long, and two inches thick. In addition to the bundle of sticks, one of the two men carried a pole two inches in diameter and about ten feet long.

This he handed to the old Sheik, who, mounting his horse, once more rode away, leaving St. Just and his followers standing under the rocks.

While St. Just was absently gazing across the lake and wondering what was going on, he saw the old Sheik on the bank stop and plant his pole in the water close to the bank, and in a line with the pillar. Then to his amazement, he saw the pillar topple and fall with a terrific splash into the lake, whose waters instantly closed over it, the only signs that it had ever stood there being the bubbles that rose to the surface as the mass of stone sank deeper and deeper towards the bottom.

Then the old Sheik returned and, drawing St. Just apart, took from his garment the miniature of the fair Halima which had but lately hung around St. Just's neck and had received the bullet aimed at him and thus saved his life.

"My son," he said, "I take it that the wish of your heart is to possess the woman whose picture I now hold. On the faith of this, I am about to tell you many things. But, before you hear them, you must swear by that which you rate above all other things that you will obey and be faithful to the commands that I shall give you."

And St. Just, because of his great love for Halima, blindly swore to do that which the Sheik should bid him.

Then the old man went on.

"Twelve hundred and fifty years after the coming of the Messiah to Jerusalem, one of my forefathers ruled in Egypt. Now the visitation of Christ gave rise to the prophecy that when a white man, a soldier, should come to us, Egypt would again be free. Now I, who am the last of the true princes of the land, believe you to be the man foretold, and it is for the furthering of my plans that I have brought you here. On the spot on which we stand, buried far beneath us, lies a city that was formerly one of the chief cities of the gods. Here their worship lingered for many years after the introduction of Christianity; then it vanished. In those troublous days my ancestor buried in the lake, which aforetime stretched even to the Nile, a vast treasure, marking the spot with the stone pillar upon which he had engraved his title—that pillar that was here but now. Now, the times in which he lived were so fraught with danger, that he entrusted the secret to but one person, with injunctions that it should be passed on at the death of one of the two who knew it, and so on for generations. Thus it came to me. The only other person who knew it died lately, so I tell it you. You will wonder at my destroying the pillar that marked the treasure's spot, but it had to be. Else it might have guided some marauder.

"Owing to some cause I am unable to explain and, it follows, unable to remove, the lake is falling foot by foot, and, in a few weeks, it will have dried up and become a portion of the desert, and the rocking pillar will soon be buried fathoms deep in sand. But enough of this for the present."

By this time the sun was getting low in the heavens, and the hour for the afternoon meal had come. When this was over, the old Sheik gave orders for the men to resume the staves, that had been distributed as torches, and to follow him.

Then, accompanied by St. Just, they plunged in single file into the jungle of foliage that grew around the rock, and was so tangled and interlaced that progress was very difficult, and no one who did not know of the path they followed could have found it. In about an hour, at the cost of numerous tears and scratches, they emerged on a small clearing, in which was a mound of sand, with a slab of stone before it. Two of the strongest men were ordered to roll away this stone; and, this done, an opening about two feet square was seen.

Then, at a few words from the Sheik, each man went down upon his hands and knees, and, one by one, they crawled through the hole and in utter darkness began to traverse a passage that led from it.

They had proceeded but a few yards, when, all at once, the man immediately in front of St. Just called out in Arabic "Take care." In a moment, the young Frenchman felt himself gliding down a slope. He clutched at the bare earth with his hands, one of which held his unlighted torch, and managed, with an occasional slip and scratch and scramble and bump, so far to check his progress that, when he presently dropped two or three feet on to level ground, he was not much hurt.

When he looked about him, he saw that those of the party who were in advance of him were occupied in lighting their torches. He lighted his from one of theirs. One after another the remainder of the party scrambled down; when all the torches had been lighted, St. Just found that they were in a square hall, hewn out of the solid rock, the sides of which were sculptured in the Assyrian and Egyptian style.

It was but a passing glance that he could give, for, so soon as the whole party was assembled and the torches had been lighted, the word was given to move forward. They traversed the rocky road for upwards of two miles, now leaping over fallen boulders, now climbing great blocks of masonry, till, at last, they halted before a wondrous sight.

For the last quarter of a mile—so far as St. Just could judge, they had been going down an easy incline, and their course had been free from obstacles. Another thing he noticed and could not account for was that, as they neared their present halting place, the way in front of them became gradually lighter until finally their torches were no longer needed. By the time they had come to a stand-still, the source of this light was no longer a mystery. Opposite to them at a distance that was difficult to calculate in their present environment, but quite near enough for them to feel its heat, was a vast crater, that was belching out flames and steam and streams of boiling lava. The whole of the space between this volcano and St. Just and his companions was occupied by a city in ruins, that lay in a basin about three hundred feet below the watchers, who were standing on a platform to which the passage they had just traversed led. The light from the crater and the molten lava that was being spouted from it and was streaming down upon the subterranean city, enabled them to distinguish what remained of the buildings; but was not sufficiently diffused to show the sides or roof of the enormous cavern in which they were, so that it was impossible to estimate its size.

Transfixed with astonishment, St. Just watched the stream of melted lava vomited forth from the glowing chasm and rush along in a fiery channel, crackling and hissing and bubbling into a sort of caldron, whence it spread out into a sheet and poured down upon the deserted city, sending up a noisome vapor that no living creature could breathe for long. The whole scene was enough to strike terror into the boldest heart, and St. Just, courageous as he was, felt his own quake and his legs beneath him tremble.

Presently the old Sheik touched him and called his attention to an obelisk that was reared on the platform on which they stood.

It was covered with inscriptions, almost undecipherable through age. But the old Sheik interpreted them to St. Just as follows:

"In the sixth year of the founding of this city (this would mean about 2600 B.C.) was this built for the river and for the traders thereon; wherein is it possible to shelter our ships. And in this same year was the road from the City to the Ancient tomb by the Nile Bank finished in a manner worthy of those who built this city. This monument has been erected as a memorial of the same."

"There," said the Sheik, "this was their greatness, now listen to their end."

He pointed to an inscription of six lines cut roughly upon the wall of the rocky platform on which they were, and read:

"Woe is come upon us, Woe. The plague is on us—the black plague. Our trade is at an end; our King has fled; our women and children lie dead in the streets; for the gods have forsaken us. The mountain is on fire and the river has receded, and in its place have I walked dry shod. I have placed the King's treasures in a safe place, and I go to tell him that the Captain of his guard, Hathi, is faithful."

Lower down was written:

"Alas, I am too late, I die, I die. The treasure is in the temple."

Thus abruptly ended these records of man in his magnificence and in his woe.

"Where is the temple?" inquired St. Just.

"There," said the Sheik, pointing to a passage on their right. "We go to it now."

The Sheik led the way, and, after traversing the passage, they entered a vast, ruined marble hall.

"The treasure is here?" asked St. Just.

"Nay," replied the Sheik, "for this is but the outer court."

"Is the fire always issuing from that crater?" inquired St. Just when they had retraced their steps to their companions. "And will it take long to destroy what remains of the city?"

"Years, at the rate it goes on now; for it is not always burning actively; sometimes for long periods it only smoulders. But, possibly, only hours, should there be a great increase in the outpour of the lava."

"And, if the lake above fell in on top?" suggested St. Just laughing.

"Seconds; there would be such an explosion as the world has never yet seen."

Their torches, which they had extinguished when they had been no longer needed, were now relighted, and they made their way back as rapidly as possible, musing in silence on all that they had seen.

The dawn of another day was breaking when they emerged on the spot from which they had started on the subterranean journey; and at once they started for the camp.

Three days later, St. Just left for Cairo, resolved first to marry Halima, and then, to gain possession of the treasure and return to France at the first opportunity. He had made some rough plans of the place, unknown to the Sheik, and these he took with him when he set out for Cairo.

CHAPTER XIII

It was on the fifth of March that St. Just started on his return journey to Cairo, accompanied by an escort of twenty of the old Sheik's followers and the lad Mahmoud, to whom, on account of his alertness and fidelity, he had become much attached. He was the bearer of a letter written in Arabic, from the Sheik to Buonaparte, its purport being that the wily Ibrahim, while declining to give any active assistance to the French Commander-in-chief, agreed, on the other hand, not forcibly to oppose him.

The Sheik also gave him letters of introduction to other sheiks in and on the way to Cairo, commending him to their protection and urging them to do all they could to forward him on his way.

In order to avoid the hardships of the desert, it had been decided that, so far as was possible, St. Just's route should be by the river; boats to make the journey in stages, it was believed, could be obtained from the various sheiks on the way. With this view, the party took no horses, but set out mounted on camels. The gray stallion, that St. Just had captured from the Arabs when he had slain its rider, and that had served him so faithfully during his wanderings in the desert, he presented as a parting gift to Halima's father. It was the only thing in his possession, and was but a slight return for all the old sheik had done for him from the time he had made a target of him for his followers. And Ibrahim had done much; had nursed him back to life, supplied him with money for his homeward journey, furnished him with letters of commendation to powerful sheiks he would fall in with by the way, given him a guard for his protection, accorded him his friendship, and, to crown all, was desirous of receiving him as his son-in-law.

And St. Just rightly appreciated the old man's kindness; he thanked him again and again at parting, and promised to return with Halima at the earliest possible moment. And the Sheik himself, with all his Arab undemonstrativeness, seemed much affected while he wrung the young man's hand, when the moment for the cavalcade to start had come.

"Farewell, my son," he said; "may Allah have you in his keeping, and bring you back here safe and sound, and, with you, the light of my old eyes, my daughter. I charge you watch over her and protect her from all danger. Keep your tryst with me, and I will keep faith with you and will give my child to you, and you shall be my son indeed. For I am old, and 'tis time she had some one to protect her, other than myself. And now, speed you all you can. Once more, farewell."

"Trust me," was St. Just's sole reply; then the party started.

Two days' traveling by easy stages brought them to the river bank at a point that marked the eastern boundary of the district occupied by Ibrahim's tribe. Here they were furnished with a boat sufficiently capacious to contain them all, as well as the men who were to take her back.

It was weary work this traveling down the Nile, for, though St. Just was in the company of others, he was practically alone; he could understand but little of the dialect of those who were about him, and what interested them, in no way appealed to him. Besides, they seemed to regard him with a certain degree of distrust, that, in some of them, amounted to dislike, which they took small pains to hide. This was only natural, for the uniform St. Just wore was a constant reminder that he was of the nationality of the invaders of their country. They endeavored to thwart and mislead him in every way, and, had it not been for information that Mahmoud gave him privately, his progress would have been slower even than it was. Arrangements could be made for boats or rafts, only for stated distances; and at the end of each of such stages there was renewed bargaining and haggling with a fresh set of people, St. Just's own followers doing their best privately with the proprietors to persuade them not to take them on. They were desirous of returning to the encampment of the tribe, and hoped, by raising so many difficulties to their progress, to wear out St. Just's persistence and cause him to forego his purpose. It was a pity they did not know all that was in his mind; for, had they done so, they would have realized the hopelessness of achieving what they had in view, and would have done all they could to advance, instead of to retard, him. Where he fell in with sheiks located on the margin of the river, to whom Ibrahim had given him letters, bargaining for boats was easy; but it so happened that most of the dwellers by the river were strangers.

Thus, from one cause and another, their progress was very slow. Then, something occurred that completely stopped it for a time; St. Just fell ill. He took a severe cold which he was unable to shake off. He struggled manfully with his increasing weakness, but in vain; ague set in, and he felt that he was in for a serious illness. He called the faithful Mahmoud and inquired of him whether any of the sheiks to whom he had letters were within reasonable distance. Fortunately for him, there was one encamped but a few miles away. So St. Just decided to land at once and make for this sheik's quarters. When he reached them, he had but time to deliver his credentials, when he fell down in a fainting fit. He was thoroughly exhausted.