III
The moment that the halt was accomplished, Abdullah went about, loosingthe surcingles of his camels. Then he began to pitch his tent. It wasof camel-skins, stretched over eight sticks, and fastened at the edgeswith spikes of locust wood. It was entirely open at the front, and whenhe had the flaps pinned, he gathered a little pile of camels' dung,struck a match, and began to make his tea. He had no thought for hispassengers. His thoughts were with his heart, and that was back at thehouse beyond the bazaar--the house with the green lattices. Before thewater boiled, Ali came up, eager, breathless.
"Master," he said, "the passengers are cared for, and the mistresswears a flower like--like _that_; the one you showed me;" and hepointed to Abdullah's bosom. "You are either a faithful servant," saidAbdullah, "or you are a great liar. The morrow will tell." And hestarted toward the passengers' tent. He found it closed. Being awoman's tent, it had front flaps, and they were laced. He walked backand forth before it. He was master of the caravan, more autocratic thanthe master of a ship. He might have cut the laces, entered, and no onecould have questioned. That is the law of the desert. He could moreeasily have cut his own throat than that slender cord.
He wandered back and forth before the tent. The twilight faded. Theshadows turned from saffron to violet, to purple, to cobalt. Out of thesecret cavern of the winds came the cool night-breeze of the Sahara.
Still he paced up and down, before the little tent. And as he measuredthe sands, he measured his life. Born of a camel-driver by a slave;working his way across the desert a score of times before his wagesmade enough to buy one bale of hides; venturing the earnings of alifetime on one voyage--making a profit, when a loss would have put himback to the beginning--venturing again, winning again--buying threecamels--leasing them--buying three more--starting an express from theSoudan to Biskra one day short of all others;--carrying only dates andgold-dust--insuring his gold-dust, something he learned from the Frenchin Biskra;--buying thirty camels at a plunge--at once the mastercamel-driver of the Sahara--and here he was, pacing up and down beforea laced tent which held behind it--_a woman_.
The night of the desert settled down, and still he paced. The starscame up--the stars by which he laid his course; and, finally, pacing,he came for the hundredth time to the tent's front and stopped.
"Mistress?" he whispered. There was no answer, "Mistress?" he called,and then, after an interval, the flies of the tent parted--a whitehand, and a whiter wrist, appeared, and a red oleander fell on thesands of the desert.
Abdullah was on his knees. He pressed the flower to his lips, to hisheart. Kneeling he watched the flaps of the tent. They fluttered; thelaces raced through the eyelets; the flaps parted, and a girl,unveiled, stepped out into the firelight. They stood, silent, gazingone at the other.
"You have been long in coming," she said, at length.
There is no love-making in the desert. Thanks to its fervent heat, lovethere comes ready-made.
"Yes," said Abdullah, "I have tarried, but now that I have come, I stayforever;" and he took her in his arms.
"When did you love me first?" she whispered, half-released.
"When first I saw you, behind the green lattice," gasped Abdullah.
"Ah, that green lattice," whispered the girl; "how small its openingswere. And still, my heart flew through them when first you passed. Howproudly you walked. Walk for me now--here, in the firelight, where Imay see you--not so slowly with your eyes turned toward me, butswiftly, smoothly, proudly, your head held high--that's it--that is theway you passed my lattice, and as you passed my heart cried out, 'Theregoes my king.' Did you not hear it?"
"No," said Abdullah; "my own heart cried so loudly I heard naughtelse."
"What did it cry? What cries it now?" she said; and she placed hercheek against his bosom, her ear above his heart. "I hear it," shewhispered, "but it beats so fast I cannot understand."
"Then," said Abdullah, "I must tell thee with my lips."
"Oh, beloved," she whispered, "the camels will see us."
"What matters," he said; "they belong to me."
"Then they are my brethren," she said, "since I, also, belong to thee,"and with arms entwined they passed out of the fire-light into thepurple of the desert.
* * * * *
When they came back, the hobbled camels were snoring, and the unfedfires were smouldering.
"Allah keep thee," said Abdullah, at the door of her tent.
"And thee, my master," said the girl, and the flaps fell.
Abdullah went slowly toward his own tent. He stopped a moment by one ofthe lame camels. "Thou broughtest her to me," he said, and he eased thebeast's surcingle by a dozen holes.
He reached his tent, paused, faced the western horizon, lifted hisarms, breathed in the sweet, cool air of the desert, and entered.
Ali had spread a camel's hide, had covered a water-skin with a burnoosefor a pillow, and had left, near it, a coiled wax-taper and a box ofmatches. Abdullah untwined his turban, loosened his sash, feltsomething escape him, fell on his knees, groped, felt a paper, rose,went to the tent's door, recognized the invoice which the old man hadgiven him, went out, kicked up the embers of the fire, knelt, saw thatthe paper was unsealed, was fastened merely with a thread, played withthe thread, saw it part beneath his fingers, saw the page unfold,stirred up the embers, and read:
"_To Mirza, Mother of the Dancers at Biskra, by the hand of Abdullah. Isend thee, as I said, the most beautiful woman in the world. She hasbeen carefully reared. She has no thought of commercialism. Two and twoare five to her as well as four. She is unspoiled. She never has had acoin in her fingers, and she never has had a wish ungratified. Sheknows a little French; the French of courtship merely. Her Arabic isthat of Medina. You, doubtless, will exploit her in Biskra. You mayhave her for two years. By that time she may toss her own handkerchief.Then she reverts to me. I shall take her to Cairo, where second-rateEnglishmen and first-rate Americans abound.
"This is thy receipt for the thirty ounces you sent me._
"ILDERHIM."
When Abdullah had read this invoice of his love, he sat long before thelittle fire as one dead. Then he rose, felt in his bosom, and drew outtwo flowers, one withered, the other fresh. He dropped these among theembers, straightened himself; lifted his arms toward heaven, and slowlyentered his tent.
The little fires smouldered and died, and the great desert was silent,save for the sighing of the camels and the singing of the shiftingsands.
The Turquoise Cup, and, the Desert Page 10