A Soldier of the Legion
Page 20
CHAPTER XIX
WHAT HAPPENED AT DAWN
Sanda DeLisle's short life had not been brilliantly happy. She had knownthe ache of feeling herself unwanted by the only two human beings ofparamount importance in her world: her almost unknown father, and heradored "Sir Knight" and hero Richard Stanton. But never for more than afew hours of concentrated pain, like those at Algiers, had she sufferedfor herself as she suffered for Ourieda.
The "Little Rose," defenceless against the men who had power over herfate (as all Arab women are defenceless, unless they choose deathinstead of life), appealed to the latent motherhood that slept in theheart of Sanda, as in the heart of every normal girl: appealed to theromance in her: appealed to the sympathy born of her own love forStanton, which seemed as hopeless as Ourieda's love for Manoeel Valdez.Would Manoeel come in answer to one of those secretly sent letters? Wouldanything happen to save Ourieda from Tahar? The girl brought up to be aRoman Catholic prayed to the Blessed Virgin. The girl brought up to be aMohammedan prayed to Allah. And the prayers of both, ascending fromdifferent altars, like smoke of incense in a Christian church and in amosque, rose toward the same heaven. Yet no help came; and the summerdays slipped by, until at last it was September, the month fixed for thewedding.
With the subtlety and soft cowardice of Mussulman women, young or old,Ourieda said no word to her father of her loathing for Tahar. When Sandabegged her to tell him at least so much of the truth and trust to hislove, the girl replied always dully and hopelessly in the same way: itwould be useless. He was very fond of her, for her dead mother's sakeand her own. But the fire of youth had died down in his heart. He hadforgotten how he felt when love was the greatest thing on earth.Besides, his own wife had been the exception to all womanhood, in hiseyes. The child she had left had been his dear plaything, hisconsolation. Now he counted upon her to fulfil the ambitions of hislife, thwarted so far, because she had been a daughter. To have hisnephew, his heir by law, become the father of his grandsons, was hisbest hope now, and nothing except Ourieda's death or Tahar's death wouldmake him give it up.
"My dear nurse Embarka would kill Tahar for me if she could get at him,"the "Little Rose" said one day, calmly. "That would end my trouble, butshe cannot reach him, and there is no one she can trust among those whocook or serve food in the men's part of our house."
Sanda was struck with horror, but Ourieda could not at first evenunderstand why she was shocked. "If a viper were ready to strike you orone you loved, would you think harm of killing it?" she asked. "Tahar isvenomous as a viper. I should give thanks to Allah if he were dead, nomatter how he died. But since Allah does not will his death, I must prayfor courage to die myself rather than be false to Manoeel, who hasperhaps himself gone to Paradise, since he does not answer when I call;and if a woman can have a soul, I may belong to him there."
Sanda had forgiven her, realizing if not understanding fully thedifference between a heart of the East and a heart of the West, andloving the Arab girl with unabated love. Up to the hour when Ben Raanacame into the garden of the harem and bade his daughter praise Allahbecause her wedding day was at hand, Sanda hoped, and begged Ourieda tohope, that "something might happen." But even to her that seemed theend, for the girl listened with meekness and offered no objection exceptthat the hot weather had stolen her strength: she was not well.
"Let the excitement of being a bride bring back thy health, like wine inthy veins, Little Rose," said the Agha, speaking in French out ofcompliment to the guest, and to show her that there was no family secretunder discussion which she might not share.
"It is not exciting to marry my cousin Tahar," Ourieda sighed ratherthan protested. "He is an ugly man, dreadful for a girl to look upon asher husband."
"Thou makest me feel that thine aunt is right when she tells me I waswrong ever to let thee look upon him or any man except thy father," theAgha answered quickly, with a sudden light behind the darkness of hiseyes like the flash of a sword in the night. Sanda, knowing what sheknew, guessed at a hidden meaning in the words. He was rememberingManoeel, and wishing his daughter to see that he had never for a momentforgotten the thing that had passed. The Agha, despite his eagle face,had been invariably so gentle when with the women of his household, andhad seemed so cultured, so instructed in all the tenets of the twentiethcentury, that Sanda had sometimes wondered if his daughter were notneedlessly afraid of him. But the unsheathing of that sword of lightconvinced her of Ourieda's wisdom. The girl knew her father. If shedared to urge any further her dislike of Tahar he would believe it wasbecause of Manoeel, and hurry rather than delay the wedding. Illness wasthe only possible plea, and even to that Ben Raana seemed to attachlittle importance. Marriage meant change and new interests. It should bea tonic for a Rose drooping in the garden of her father's harem.
"Thou seest for thyself that it is no use to plead," whispered Ouriedawhen her father had gone, and Leila Mabrouka and her woman, Taous, onthe overhanging balcony, were loudly discussing details of the feast."Now, at last, is the time to tell the thing I waited to tell, till theworst should come: the thing thou couldst do for me, which would be evenharder to do, and take more courage--oh! far more courage!--than leavingthe letters open."
The look in Ourieda's eyes of topaz brown was more tragic, morestrangely fatal than Sanda had ever seen it yet, even on the roof in thesunset when the story of Manoeel had been told. The heart of her friendfelt like a clock that is running down. She was afraid to know the thingwhich Ourieda wanted her to do; yet she must know--and make up her mind.It seemed as if there were nothing she could refuse, still----
"What is it you mean?" she whispered back, the two heads leaningtogether over a frame of bright embroidery in Ourieda's lap, and thetinkle of the fountain drowning the soft voices, even if the chatter atthe door of Leila Mabrouka's room above had not covered the secretwords.
"When I said there was a thing I would ask, if the worst came," Ouriedarepeated, "I meant one of two things. If thou wilt do either, they arefor thee to choose between. But thou wilt think them both terrible, andmy only hope is that thou lovest me."
"You know I do," Sanda breathed.
"Enough to do what I am too poor a coward to do for myself, and Embarkahas refused to do?"
"Not--oh, no, no, you can't mean----"
"Yes, thou hast guessed. No one need ever suspect. I would think of away. I've thought of one already. There'd be no pain for me. And yet--Isuppose because I am young and my blood runs hot in my veins, I fear--Iam sure--I couldn't, when the moment came, do it myself."
"Even for you, I can't be a murderess," Sanda said miserably, almostapologetically.
"It is thy strange Christian superstition which makes thee call it that.It would be our fate; and thou couldst go away and be happy, feelingthou hadst saved me from life which is worse than death sometimes.Still, if thou wilt not, there is the other thing. Will thou help me toescape?"
"Oh, yes!" cried Sanda.
"Wait till thou hast heard my plan. Maybe thou wilt change thy mind."
"I feel sure I shan't change it."
"But the plan may make thee hate me, and think I am cruel and selfish,caring for no one except myself. Besides, there will be lies to tell;and I know thou dost not like lies, though to me they seem no harm ifthey are to do good in the end."
"Tell me the plan."
Ourieda told it, while overhead on the balcony her AuntMabrouka--Tahar's mother--chatted of the merchants in Djazerta who soldsilks from Tunis and perfumes from Algiers.
The plan was very hateful, very dangerous and treacherous. But--it wasto save Ourieda. The Arab girl proposed to Sanda that she should pretendto have a letter from Colonel DeLisle calling her back at once toSidi-bel-Abbes, not giving her even time to wait for the wedding. BenRaana would reluctantly consent to her going: he would give her anescort--not Tahar, because Tahar must stay for his marriage--but sometrustworthy men of his _goum_, and good camels. On the camel preparedfor her would be of course a bassourah with heavy curtains: pro
bably theone in which she had already travelled. It went also without saying thatSanda would make the journey in Arab dress, such as she had worn duringher visit. Ourieda would pretend to be ill with grief because her friendmust leave her at such a time; already she had prepared the Agha's mindby complaining of weakness. She would take to her bed and refuse to seeany one but her nurse, Embarka. Lella Mabrouka, glad to be rid of theRoumia girl (of whom, beneath her politeness, she had alwaysdisapproved), and hating illness, would gladly keep out of the way fortwo or three days, while the wedding preparations went on. It would beeasy, or almost easy, if no accident happened, Ourieda argued, for herto go away veiled and swathed in the bassourah, while Sanda lay in bedin a darkened room. At Touggourt the veiled lady would be met by thatCaptain Amaranthe and his wife of whom Sanda had spoken: they must bewritten to immediately and told to expect Mademoiselle DeLisle. Thentrouble might come, if they suspected, but perhaps they would not, ifSanda wrote that she had been ill with influenza and had nearly lost hervoice. They might send her off by train, guessing nothing, or, if theydid guess, she must throw herself on Madame Amaranthe's mercy. No womanwith a heart would give her up! And if the plan succeeded, instead ofgoing to Sidi-bel-Abbes she would go to Oran where she could find a shipthat would take her to Marseilles. Her jewels (some which had been hermother's, and many new ones given by her father) would pay the expensesand keep her in France, hidden from Ben Raana and beyond his power,until perhaps Manoeel found her through advertisements she would put intoall the French papers.
As for Sanda, the result for her when the trick was discovered (as itought not to be until Ourieda had got out of Algeria) would be simple.She was the daughter of Ben Raana's friend, a soldier of importance inthe eyes of France. Colonel DeLisle had entrusted her to the Agha'scare, and she could not be punished as though she were an Arab woman. IfEmbarka or any member of Ben Raana's household so betrayed him and hisdearest hopes the right revenge would be death, and no one outside wouldever hear what had been done, for tragedies of the harem are sacred. ToMademoiselle DeLisle, however, her host could do nothing, except sendher with a safe escort out of his home. And that would be her onedesire.
At first it seemed to Sanda that she could not do what Ourieda asked.With tears she said no, they must think of some other way. And theLittle Rose did not argue or plead. She answered only that she hadthought, and there was no other way but the one which Sanda had refused.Then she was silent, and the light died out of her eyes, leaving themdull, almost glazed, as if her soul, that had been gazing through thewindows, had gone to some dark sepulchre of hope.
It was because of this silence and this look that Sanda changed hermind, after one day and night, all of which she spent--vainly--in tryingto find another plan. A letter did come from her father, as she andOurieda had hoped it might (Colonel DeLisle, while still atSidi-bel-Abbes, found time to scribble off a few lines to his girl foreach camel post that travelled through the dunes from Touggourt toDjazerta), and in sickness of heart Sanda pretended that she was wanted"at home." The Agha was grieved and astonished, but, great Arabgentleman that he was, would have cut out his tongue rather thanquestion his guest when no information was volunteered. He asked only ifshe had been in all ways kindly treated in his house; and when withswimming eyes she answered "yes," it was enough. The caravan wasprepared to take her to Touggourt, where she would be met by her formertravelling companions, Captain Amaranthe and his wife; and the Aghaassured her that only the marriage--an event unlucky topostpone--prevented him from sending his nephew as before, or goinghimself as her escort.
The start was to be made very early in the morning, before dawn, inorder that the caravan might rest during the two hours of greatest heatwithout shortening the day's march; and this was in the girl's favour.Sanda had said farewell to Lella Mabrouka the night before, that thelady need not wake before her usual hour: but not only did she wake; sherose, very quietly, and saw Embarka tiptoeing along the balcony fromSanda's room to Ourieda's with the new gandourah and extra thick veilshe herself had given the guest to travel in. When Embarka was out ofthe way Lella Mabrouka, in her night robe, pattered softly to Sanda'sclosed door and knocked. No answer. She peeped in and saw the roomempty.
Sanda might have gone to bid Ourieda good-bye at the last minute: thatwould be natural; and it was the last minute, because the sky waschanging its night purple for the gray of dawn, and from the distantcourtyard Lella Mabrouka had heard some time ago the grunting of thecamels. (She was a light sleeper always: and afterward she told BenRaana and Tahar that Allah had doubtless sent some messenger to touchher shoulder at this hour of fate.) She had had no definite suspicionsuntil that moment, except that she was always vaguely suspicious of thegirls' confidences; but suddenly an idea leaped into her mind, thesuggestion of just such a trick as she herself would have been subtleenough to play. If the Roumia went to the room of her friend to disturbher (though Ourieda had been ailing for days), why did she not goalready dressed, by Embarka's help, for the start, since it was time toset out, and the Agha must be waiting in the courtyard to bid Allahspeed his guest? There might be a simple and innocent reason for whatstruck Lella Mabrouka as mysterious, but she determined to find out.With suddenness she flung open the door of Ourieda's room (whichEmbarka, believing Lella Mabrouka safely asleep, had not locked), and bythe light of a French lamp she saw the old nurse draping Ourieda in theRoumia's veil. In Ourieda's green and gold bed from Tunis lay Sanda in anightdress of Ourieda's with her head wrapped up as Ourieda's was oftenwrapped by Embarka as a cure for headache.
Instantly the whole plot was clear to the mother of Tahar. She saw howOurieda had meant to go, and how Sanda would have kept her place,guarded from intrusion by the old nurse, until the fugitive was safelyout of reach.
Ourieda, quick of mind as the older and more experienced woman,explained without waiting to be asked that she and her dearest Sanda hadexchanged clothing, just for a moment, according to the old Arabsuperstition that garments changed between those who love have the powerof giving some quality of the owner to the friend. Sanda said nothing atall, knowing that she would but make matters worse by speaking. When sheunderstood what the story was to be (she had given hours of each dayduring the past months to learning Arabic) she sat up in bed and begununwrapping her head as if to prepare for the journey, now that timepressed, and she must again put on her own things. But if she had hadthe slightest hope that Lella Mabrouka might be deceived by Ourieda'splausible excuse, the cold glint of black eyes staring at her in thelamplight would have stabbed it to death.
A woman of Europe, burning with rage like Mabrouka's, might have blurtedout fierce reproaches or insults; but the woman of the harem did noteven put her discovery into words. She looked at Ourieda and the Roumia,and said quietly: "It was a charming idea to wear each other's clothesso that each might have something of the other in her heart forever.Already I can see a likeness. But do not hurry to change now. I came tosay that for a reason, to be explained later, the caravan cannot startto-day. Our Little White Moon will light our sky for a time longer. Comewith me, Embarka, I have work for thee. These dear children may have thepleasure of dressing each other."
Ashy pale under her bronze skin, Embarka obeyed without protest,throwing one look at her beloved mistress as she followed Lella Mabroukato her fate. Her great, dilated eyes said: "Good-bye forever, oh, thouwhom I love, and for whom I have given myself without regret."
When they were left alone the girls fell into each other's arms as iffor protection against some terrible fate coming swiftly to destroythem. Though the September dawn had in it the warmth of summer, theyshivered as they clung together.
"It is all over!" Ourieda said. "Allah is against me."
"What will happen?" asked Sanda, a horror of the unknown upon her.
"Nothing to thee. Do not be afraid."
"I'm not afraid for myself. I am thinking of you."
"For me this is the end."
"You don't mean--surely your father will not----"
"Ourieda! No--there's hope still. Who can tell----"
But Ourieda did not hear. Suddenly she tore herself free from Sanda'sarms, and running to one of the carved cedarwood doors in the white wallof the bedroom, opened a little cupboard. There, fumbling among perfumedparcels, rolled as Arab women roll their garments, she snatched from abundle of silk a small stiletto with a jewelled handle. Sanda had seenit before, and had been bidden to admire its rough, square emeralds andqueerly shaped pearls. The thing had belonged to Ourieda's mother, andhad been given to the daughter by the Agha on her sixteenth birthday,nearly a year ago. Ben Raana's Spanish wife had worn it in her darkhair; but Ben Raana's daughter, even from the first, had thought of itfor another purpose. Last night, when Embarka had packed the jewelsamong Sanda's things for the secret journey, Ourieda had kept out thestiletto in case of failure. Now it was ready to her hand, and beforeSanda could reach her the point of its thin blade pressed the flesh overthe heart. But the pin prick of pain as the skin broke was too sharp aprophecy of anguish for the petted child who knew herself physically acoward. She gave a cry, dropped the stiletto as if the handle had burnther, and, stumbling against the girl who tried to hold her up, fell in alimp heap on the floor.
There was no time to hide the stiletto, even if Sanda had thought to doso, before Taous, Lella Mabrouka's woman, came quietly into the room. Nodoubt Mabrouka had meant to send her, but had not told the girls,because she wished her servant to surprise them. Gathering up Ourieda,who had fainted, or seemed to faint, the negress's bright eyes spied thedagger. Freeing one hand as easily as if Ourieda's weight had been thatof a baby, she took the weapon and slipped it into her dress. Whethershe meant to show the dagger to her mistress, or to keep it for herself,who could say?
Sanda would not leave Ourieda when the girl had been laid on the bed byTaous, but presently, after half an hour's absence, Lella Mabroukareturned. "Thou mayest go now," said the formidable woman. "We who loveand understand her will restore our Rose with her name's perfume, whichhas the power of bringing back lost senses. Have no fear for her health,Little Moon. All will be well with our sweet bride. Dress thyself, notfor a journey, but for a visit from my brother, the Agha, who will dohimself the honour of calling upon thee when thou art ready to descendto our reception-room. Thou being a Roumia, with customs different toours, may receive him alone, otherwise I would leave our Little Rose toTaous, and go with thee."
Despite the unbroken courtesy of Mabrouka's manner, or all the morebecause of its frozen calm, Sanda was sick with a deadly fear. She wasnot afraid that the Agha would do her bodily harm, but the whole worldseemed to have come to an end because of her treachery. She did not knowhow she could meet his eyes, those eyes of an eagle, after what she hadtried to do. She was afraid he would question her about what she knew ofOurieda's secrets, and though she resolved that nothing should make herspeak, her heart seemed turning to water.