The Turquoise Cup, and, the Desert

by Arthur Cosslett Smith

  THE MOTHER OF THE ALMEES

  It was the great fast of Rhamadan, and the square of Biskra was crowdedwith white-robed men waiting for the sun to set that they might eat.

  The rough pavement was dotted with fires over which simmered potsfilled with what only a very jealous God indeed would have called food.About them were huddled the traders from the bazaars, the camel-driversfrom the desert, the water-carriers from Bab el Derb. Each man held acigarette in his left hand and a match in his right. He would smokebefore he ate.

  In the long arcades the camels, in from the Soudan, knelt, fasting. AnArab led a tame lion into the square and the beast held back on hischain as he passed the flesh-pots, for he, too, was fasting. Crowds oflittle children stood about the circle of the fires, fasting. A God wasbeing placated by the sufferings of His creatures.

  There is little twilight in the latitude of Biskra. There is the hard,white light of the daytime, five minutes of lavender and runningshadows, and then the purple blackness of the night.

  The mueddin took his place on the minaret of the mosque. His shadow ranto the centre of the square and stopped. He cried his admonition, eachwhite-robed figure bowed to the earth in supplication, a cannon-shot atthe citadel split the hot air, and in an instant the square was dottedwith sparks. Each worshipper had struck his match. The fast was overuntil sunrise.

  The silence became a Babel. All fell to eating and to talking. Amarabout, graceful as a Greek statue, came out of the mosque and madehis way among the fires. As he passed, the squatting Mussulmans caughtat his robe and kissed it. Mirza, the mother of the Almee girls, hergolden necklaces glinting in the firelight, came walking by. As shepassed the marabout he drew back and held his white burnoose across hisface. She bent her knee and then went on, but as she passed she laughedand whispered, "Which trade pays best, yours or mine?" and she shookher necklaces.

  "Daughter," said the marabout, "there is but one God."

  "Yes," she replied, "but He has many prophets, and, of them all, youare the most beautiful," and she went on.

  An officer of _spahis_ rode in and, stopping his horse before thearched door of the commandant, stood motionless. The square was filledwith color, with life, with foreignness, with the dancing flames, theleaping shadows, the fumes of the cook-pots, the odor of Arabiantobacco, the clamor of all the dialects of North Africa.

  A bugle sounded. Out of a side street trotted a cavalcade. The ironshoes of the horses rang on the pavement, and the steel chains of thecurbs tinkled. The commandant dismounted and gave his bridle to hisorderly.

  The commandant walked through the square. He wore a fatigue cap, asky-blue blouse, with white loopings, white breeches, tight at theknee, and patent-leather boots, with box spurs. He walked through thesquare slowly, smoking cigarette after cigarette. He was not only thecommandant but he was the commissioner of police. With seventy men heruled ten thousand, and he knew his weakness. The knowledge of hisweakness was his strength.

  As he walked through the square he met Mirza. He passed her without asign of recognition and she, on her part, was looking at the minaret ofthe mosque.

  In their official capacities they were strangers. On certain occasions,when the commandant was in _mufti_ they had, at least, passed the timeof day. The commandant walked through the long rows of fires, speakingto a merchant here, nodding to a date-grower there, casting quickglances and saying nothing to the spies who, mingling with the people,sat about the kouss-kouss pots, and reported to the commandant, eachmorning, the date set for his throat-cutting. This was many years ago,before there was a railroad to Biskra.

  The commandant, having made the round of the fires, crossed over to hishouse under the arcades. He dismissed the sergeant and the guard, andthey rode away to the barracks, the hoof-beats dying in the distance.The _spahi_ remained, silent, motionless. The commandant was about toenter his door, when a man sprang from behind one of the pillars of thearcade and held out to him a paper. The commandant put his hands behindhis back. The _spahi_ edged his horse up closely.

  "Who are you?" asked the commandant, in French.

  The man shook his head, but still held out the paper.

  "Who are you?" asked the commandant again, but now in Arabic.

  "I am Ali, the slave of Abdullah," answered the man, "and he sends youthis letter."

  The commandant remained motionless. "Will your horse stand, corporal?"he asked of the _spahi_.

  "Perfectly, my colonel."

  "Leave him, then," said the commandant, "and bring one of yourpistols."

  The _spahi_ gathered his long blue cloak off the quarters of his horse,took a revolver from its holster, swung his right leg over his horse'shead, so that he might not for an instant turn his back, threw thereins over his horse's neck, brought the heels of his red bootstogether, saluted, and stood silent.

  The horse began to play with the pendant reins and to shift hisloosened bit.

  "Go in," said the commandant, and the _spahi_ opened the door. "Younext," and Ali followed. The commandant brought up the rear.

  They entered at once not a hall but a room. So all Eastern houses areordered. A lamp was burning, the walls were hung with maps of Franceand of North Africa, a few shelves held a few books and many tin caseslabelled "Forage," "Hospital," "Police." Behind a desk sat a littleman, dressed in black, who was dealing cards to himself in a game ofsolitaire. He rose and bowed when the commandant entered, and then hewent on with his game.

  "Stand there," said the commandant, pointing to a corner, "and put yourhands over your head."

  Ali obeyed.

  "Search him," said the commandant.

  The _spahi_ began at Ali's hair and ended with his sandals.

  "He has nothing," he reported.

  "Now give me the letter," said the commandant.

  Ali twisted himself, fumbled at his waist, and drew out a knife. Heplaced it on the desk, smiling.

  "Do not blame the corporal for overlooking this," he said; "I am sothin from the journey that he took it for one of my ribs."

  "I will trust you," said the commandant, and he took the letter.

  The little man in black kept dealing solitaire.

  The commandant read the letter to himself and laughed, and then he readit aloud:

  "_To Monsieur the COUNT D'APREMONT, Commandant at Biskra.

  "MONSIEUR: Since last I saw you strange things have happened. I haveturned Christian, and I have married. I wonder at which of thesestatements you will laugh most.

  "May I bring my wife to your house? She will be the only Christianwoman in Biskra. Say 'yes' or 'no' to the bearer. I am halted a mileoutside of the town, awaiting your answer.

  "Mirza, the mother of the Almees, has a certain claim upon my wife; howvalid I do not know. I need counsel, but first of all I need shelter.May I come?_

  "ABDULLAH."

  "Of course he may come," said the commandant; "what is to prevent?"

  "The law, perhaps," said the little man in black, shuffling the cards.

  The commandant turned quickly. "Why the law, Monsieur the Chancellor?"he asked.

  "Because," answered the little man, still shuffling the cards, "he saysthat Mirza has a certain claim upon his wife, how valid he does notknow; and he needs counsel and he needs shelter. When a man writes likethis, he also needs a lawyer;" and he commenced a new deal.

  The commandant stood a moment, thinking. Then he raised his head with ajerk, and said to Ali: "Tell your master that I say 'yes.'"

  Ali made salaam and glided from the room.

  "He has left his knife," said the lawyer.

  The commandant turned to the _spahi_. "Corporal," he said, "go to thecitadel and bring back twelve men. Place six of them at the entrance ofthe square, and six of them before my house. When Abdullah's caravanhas entered the square, have the further six close in behind. You maytake your time. It will be an hour before you are needed."

  The _spahi_ saluted, and went out.

  The commandant turned to the little man in
black.

  "Why in the world," he asked, "did you object to my harboring Abdullah?He is my friend and yours. He is the best man that crosses the desert.He has eaten our salt many times. If all here were like him, you and Imight go home to France, with our medals and our pensions."

  "True," said the lawyer, gathering his cards, "and very likely there isno risk in harboring him and his wife." He shuffled the cardsmechanically, his eyes fixed on the opposite wall.

  "My friend," he said, at length, "whom do you consider the mostpowerful person in Biskra, the person to be first reckoned with?"

  The commandant laughed. "As I am in command," he said, "I should becourt-martialled if I denied my own superiority."

  "And yet," said the lawyer, "you are only a poor second."

  The commandant, who was sitting astride of his chair, his hands uponits back, demi-vaulted as if he were in the saddle of a polo pony.

  "What do you mean?" he demanded.

  The lawyer kept shuffling the cards, but he paid no attention to them.

  "Go to the window," he said, "and tell me what you see."

  The commandant rose, and went to the window, his spurs jingling. Hedrew the curtain and looked out.

  "What do you see?" asked the counsellor.

  "I see the square," answered the commandant, "with five hundredkettle-lights, and three thousand Mussulmans gorging themselves, makingup lost time."

  "Look over at the left corner," said the lawyer.

  "I see the mosque," said the commandant, "with its lamps burning."

  "There you have it," cried the lawyer. "This religion that you and Iare sent to conquer keeps its lamps burning constantly, while thereligion that comes to conquer lights its candles only for the mass.Mankind loves light and warmth. What do you see now?"

  "I see Mirza," replied the commandant; "she is walking up the centreline of the fires. Now she stops. She meets a man, draws him hurriedlyaside, and is speaking close to his ear."

  "Has he a green turban?" asked the lawyer. "Has he been to Mecca?"

  "Yes," answered the commandant.

  "There you see the most powerful person in Biskra," said thecounsellor.

  "Who?" asked the commandant. "The man in the green turban?"

  "No," said the lawyer, "the woman he is speaking to."

  "Mirza?" exclaimed the commandant.

  "Yes," said the lawyer. "The centre of affairs, since the world wassent spinning, has always been a woman. Who placed the primal curse oflabor on the race? Was it the man, Adam, or the woman, Eve?"

  "As I remember," said the commandant, "the serpent was the prime moverin that affair."

  "Yes," said the lawyer; "but being 'more subtile than any beast in thefield,' he knew that if he caught the woman the man would follow of hisown accord. Julius Caesar and Antony were dwarfed by Cleopatra. Helenof Troy set the world ablaze. Joan of Arc saved France. Catharine Isaved Peter the Great. Catharine II made Russia. Marie Antoinette ruledLouis XVI and lost a crown and her head. Fat Anne of England and SarahJennings united England and Scotland. Eugenie and the milliners lostAlsace and Lorraine. Victoria made her country the mistress of theworld. I have named many women who have played great parts in thisdrama which we call life. How many of them were good women? By 'good' Ido not mean virtuous, but simply 'good.'"

  "Out of your list," said the commandant, "I should name Joan of Arc andVictoria."

  "A woman," repeated the lawyer, "is the centre of every affair. Whenyou go back to France, what are you looking forward to?"

  "My wife's kiss," said the commandant. "And you, since you are abachelor?"

  "The scolding of my housekeeper," said the lawyer, and he shrugged hisshoulders.

  The commandant laughed. "But what of Mirza?" he asked. "Why is she sopowerful?"

  "For the same reason that your wife and my housekeeper are powerful,"said the lawyer; "she is a woman."

  "A woman here," said the commandant, "is a slave."

  "A _good_ woman, I grant you," said the lawyer, "but a _bad_ woman, ifshe chance to be beautiful, is an empress. Do you know how many men ittakes to officer a mosque of the first class, such a one as we havehere? Twelve," and he dropped the cards and began to count his fingers."Two _mueddins_ the chaps that call to prayer; two _tolbas_ who readthe litanies; two _hezzabin_, who read the Koran; a _mufti_ whointerprets the law; a _khetib_ who recites the prayer for the chief ofthe government each Friday, and who is very unpopular; an _iman_ whoreads the five daily prayers; a _chaouch_ who is a secretary to thelast of the list, the _oukil_ who collects the funds and pays them out.The _oukil_ is the man who governs the mosque. He is the man in thegreen turban whom you saw talking with Mirza. They are partners. Heattends to the world, she to the flesh, and both to the devil. It is astrong partnership. It is what, in America, they call a 'trust.' The_oukil_ sends his clients to Mirza, and she sends hers to the _oukil_.Look out of the window again. There are three thousand religionists whohave passed through the hands of the _oukil_ and Mirza, and she, makingthe most money, has the last word. Do you ask, now, why she is the mostpowerful person in Biskra?"

  "It seems," said the commandant, "that it is because she is a woman,and is bad."

  "And beautiful," added the lawyer.

  "Do you think her beautiful?" asked the commandant.

  The lawyer thought a moment. "Did you ever see a hunting-leopard?" heasked.

  "No," said the commandant.

  "I used to see them," said the lawyer, "when I was in Sumatra, lookingafter the affairs of some Frenchmen who were buying pearls from theoyster-beds of Arippo. They were horribly beautiful. Mirza reminds meof them, especially when she seizes her prey. Most beasts of prey aresatisfied when they have killed all that they can devour; but thehunting-leopard kills because she loves to kill. So does Mirza. Shedestroys because she loves to destroy. A hunting-leopard and Mirza arethe only two absolutely cruel creatures I have ever seen. Of course,"he added, "I eliminate the English, who deem the day misspent unlessthey have killed something, and who give infinite pains and tendernessto the raising of pheasants, that they may slaughter a record numberof them at a _battue_. Aside from a hunting-leopard and a hunting-Englishman, I know of no being so cruel as Mirza; no being thattakes such delight in mere extermination. They used to call ournobility, in the time of Louis XIV and Louis XV, cruel, but they didnot kill, they merely taxed. In the height of the ancient _regime_, itwas not good form to kill a peasant, because then the country had oneless taxpayer. The height of the art was to take all the peasant hadand then to induce him to set to work again. When he had earned anothersurplus, his lord came and took it. France had an accomplishednobility. England had a brutal one. The latter used to take all theeggs out of the nest and then kill the hen. The French noble took allthe eggs but one or two, and spared the hen. He could rob a nest adozen times and his English contemporary could rob it but once."

  "My friend," said the commandant, laughing, "you reassure me. When youbegin comparing England with France, I know that you have nothing ofimportance at hand and that your mind is kicking up its heels invacation. You have a charming mind, my friend, but it has beenprostituted to the law. If you had been bred a soldier--"

  He stopped, because the murmur of the square suddenly stopped. Thecessation of a familiar clamor is more startling than a sudden cry. Thetwo men ran to the window. The fires under the pots were still burningand the square was light as day. At the opposite side, where thecaravan road debouched, three thousand white-robed Mussulmans stood,silent. Above them the commandant and the lawyer could see the heads ofthe six _spahis_, they and their horses silent. Beyond, were the headsof many camels. The commandant threw up the sash. Across the silentsquare came a woman's voice, speaking Arabic in the dialect of OuledNail.

  "That is Mirza," said the lawyer.

  Then there came a man's voice, evidently in reply.

  "That is Abdullah," said the lawyer.

  "How can you distinguish at this distance?" asked the commandant.

  T
he lawyer shrugged his shoulders. "While you are drilling yoursoldiers," he said, "I am drilling myself. If a man yonder sneezes, Ican name his tribe. A sneeze, being involuntary, cannot be artificial,and therefore it is the true index of race and character. Take theOriental Express any night from Paris to Vienna. If you will sit uplate enough and walk up and down the aisle, you may tell from thesneezes and the coughs the nationality of the occupant of each berth. AGerman sneezes with all his might, and if there is a compatriot withinhearing he says, '_Gesundheit_.' An Italian sneezes as if it were acrime, with his hand over his face."

  "Hush," said the commandant.

  Out from the white-robed crowd came two forms, Mirza and the _oukil_.Mirza held a paper in her hand. They went to the nearest fire and Mirzagave the paper to the man with the green turban. He read it, thought amoment, read it again, and then the two went back to the silent crowdby the mosque. There was conversation, there were vehement exclamationswhich, if they had been in English, would have been oaths--there was asudden movement of the horses and the camels; the outskirts of thecrowd surged and broke, and then, above their heads, flashed the sabresof the _spahis_.

  The commandant went to the door. "Corporal," he said, "take your men tothe mosque, join your comrades, and bring to me Abdullah, his wife,Mirza, and the _oukil_."

  The corporal saluted, gave an order, and the little troop trottedacross the square. The commandant closed the shutters of the window.

  "I do not care to see the row," he said, and he lit a cigarette. But ifhe did not see the row, he heard it, for presently came the yelp andsnarl of an Oriental mob.

  "It is growing warm," said the commandant. "Hospitality cannot belightly practised here."

  "Nor anywhere," said the lawyer, who had resumed his cards; "because itis a virtue, and the virtues are out of vogue. The only reallysuccessful life, as the world looks upon success now, is an absolutelyselfish life. It is the day of specialists, of men with one idea, oneobject, and the successful man is the one who permits nothing to comebetween him and his object. Wife, children, honor, friendship, ease,all must give place to the grand pursuit; be it the gathering ofwealth, the discovery of a disease germ, the culture of orchids, or thebreeding of a honey-bee that works night and day. Human life is tooshort to permit a man to do more than one thing well, and money isbecoming so common that its possessors require the best of everything."

  "Old friend," said the commandant, "you are a many-sided man, and yetyou are one of the best lawyers in France."

  "You have said it," exclaimed the lawyer; "_one_ of the best, not _the_best. The one thing I have earnestly striven for I have not attained."

  "What is that?" asked the commandant. "Do you wish to be Minister ofJustice?"

  "No," said the lawyer; "but I should like to be known as the bestplayer of Napoleon solitaire."

  A sabre-hilt rapped on the door.

  "Enter," cried the commandant.

  The door opened, and there entered first the sharp cries of the mob,and then the corporal, Abdullah, a woman clothed all in white, the_oukil_, and, last of all, Mirza. The moment she was within the roomshe dominated it. The other occupants were blotted out by comparison.She entered, debonair, smiling, and, as she crossed the threshold, sheflung up her hand in a military salute.

  "Hail, my masters," she cried in Arabic. "Would you believe it? butjust now I was nearly robbed, before your windows, of merchandise thatcost me thirty ounces."

  "Be good enough to speak French," said the commandant; "it is theetiquette of the office."

  "And to you?" exclaimed Mirza, in the speech of Paris, "to you, whospeak such charming Arabic. It was only last week, the evening you didme the honor of supping with me, that Miriam--perhaps you will pay herthe compliment of remembering her--the little girl who played anddanced for you, and who, when you were going, hooked on your sword foryou, and gave you a light from her cigarette?--well, Miriam said, whenyou were gone, 'It is a pity the gracious commandant speaks anylanguage save Arabic, he speaks that so convincingly.' What could youhave whispered to her, Monsieur le Commandant, as you left my poorhouse?"

  The commandant moved nervously in his chair and glanced out of thecorner of his eye at the lawyer, who had resumed his cards. Reassuredby the apparent abstraction of his friend, the commandant gatheredhimself and essayed a pleasantry.

  "I told her," he said, "that if she lived to be twice her age, shemight be half as beautiful as you."

  Mirza made an exaggerated courtesy and threw a mocking kiss from herfinger-tips. "I thought," she said, "that a woman's age was somethingthat no well-bred Frenchman would speak of." Then she drew herself upand her face, from mocking, became hard and cruel.

  "I know," she said, slowly, "that I am old. I am eight-and-twenty. Iwas a wife at twelve, and a mother at thirteen. Such matters areordered differently here, Monsieur. A girl is a woman before she hashad any childhood. I married Ilderhim. Of course, I had never seen himuntil we stood before the cadi. I had the misfortune to bear him adaughter, and he cursed me. When I was fourteen, a Russian Grand Dukecame to Biskra and my husband sold me to him. I refused to submitmyself. Then Ilderhim beat me and turned me out of his house. Youunderstand, Monsieur le Commandant, that under our blessed religion aman may have as many wives as he chooses and may divorce them when hechooses. Well, there I was, without a husband, without a home, withoutmy child, and I passed the night in the arcades, among the camels. Thenext morning I went to the hotel and asked for the Grand Duke.'Monsieur,' I said to him, 'I am Mirza. I would not _sell_ myself toyou, but if you will take me as a gift, behold, here am I.' He took meto Paris, to Vienna, to St. Petersburg. For a year he did not tire ofme. That was a long time for a savage to amuse a Grand Duke, was itnot? Then one day he gave me money, bade me keep the jewels he hadgiven me, and sent me back to Biskra. Since then I have been, first adancing-girl, and then, the mother of them all. I have never given theauthorities any trouble. I have observed the laws of France. What willthe laws of France do for me?" and she handed to the commandant theinvoice which Abdullah had brought with his freight.

  The commandant read the paper and his face grew troubled.

  "Chancellor," he said, "is this binding?"

  The lawyer read the paper twice. "Yes," he said, "it is a mere hiring;it is not a sale. I don't see how we can interfere."

  "Mirza," said the commandant, "it seems that you have a good contract,under Moslem law."

  "Excellent," cried the _oukil_, rubbing his hands.

  "Silence," thundered the commandant. "Speak French, and that only whenyou are spoken to. Abdullah, have you anything which you wish to say tome?"

  Abdullah bent and whispered in the ear of the girl who sat trembling;then he stepped forward.

  "Monsieur le Commandant," he said, "will you have the kindness to readthis?" and he held out a paper. It was yellow with age and of quartosize and twice folded. The commandant took it, unfolded it, and readaloud, "_The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen_."

  "Why, this is the last page of a Bible," he said.

  "I do not know," said Abdullah. "He tore it from a book upon his table.It was the only paper that he had. Upon the other side is writing."

  The commandant reversed the paper and again read:

  _THIS is to Certify that on the nineteenth day of February, 187-, in the Oasis of Zama, in the Great Sahara, having first baptized them, I did unite in marriage Philip (formerly Abdullah) and Marie (formerly Nicha), in accordance with the rites of our holy Church_.

  JOSEPH, _Who Keeps Goats_.

  _Witness_, his Ali, _the son of Ali_ X mark

  her ZINA, _parentage unknown_ X mark

  "Ah, ha," exclaimed the lawyer, "this changes the complexion ofaffairs," and he threw the cards upon the floor. "I could swear toJoseph's handwriting, I have his IOU's, but as I am now sitting as amagistrate, I ca
nnot swear to anything. Where are the witnesses,Abdullah?"

  "With the camels, across the square," said Abdullah; "if you willpermit the corporal to go for them--"

  "Pardon," said the _oukil_; "if I am permitted to speak I can save youthe trouble. We admit all that the goatherd certifies."

  "Then," said the chancellor, "you admit yourselves out of court, since,if one Christian marries another, the law of France obtains, and thiscontract which Mirza produces is abhorrent to the law of France, beingimmoral."

  "Pardon," said the _oukil_. "In every word you speak I recognize mymaster, but is it not possible that my master may nod? As one of aconquered people, I have studied the code of my conqueror. It is truethat a religious ceremony has been performed here, but how about thecivil marriage which, as I read the French code, is absolutelynecessary?"

  The lawyer sat silent. Then he put out his hand. "My friend," he said,"I have done you a great wrong. I have looked upon you as a merereligionist. It seems that you are a student. You remind me of my duty.I, as the chief legal officer of this colony, should marry these peopleat once. Thank you many times for reminding me."

  "Pardon," said the _oukil_; "but if I have read the laws of Francearight, there cannot be a civil marriage without the consent of theparents."

  "My friend," said the lawyer, "will you place me doubly in your debt byshaking hands with me a second time? If you were to exchange your greenturban for the silk hat of the boulevards, your photograph would soonbe in the shops. You know my law much better than I know yours, and Ishake hands with you intellectually, not socially. Who is your father,Abdullah?" he asked.

  "I do not know his name," answered Abdullah; "he was a camel-driver ofthe Sahara."

  "And your mother?" asked the lawyer.

  "How can one, born as I, know his mother?" replied Abdullah.

  "And you," said the lawyer, turning to Nicha, "who is your father?"

  "Ilderhim of El Merb," she answered.

  "And your mother?" asked the lawyer.

  "She died before I can remember."

  "Her father, Ilderhim," said the _oukil_, "signs the invoice which youhave read. He does not consent."

  "He is nobody," said the lawyer. "He was banished from Algeria yearsago. It is as though he had never existed."

  "I had overlooked that," said the _oukil_; and then he added, "As themistake this time is mine, perhaps you will again shake hands."

  "No," said the lawyer; "I pay penance only when I am in the wrong."

  The _oukil_ bowed low, but when he drew himself up to his full heightthere was murder in his eye.

  "Well," said the commandant, "what is the solution?"

  "I advise you," said the lawyer, "that this contract comes under thelaw of France and is void, because it is immoral and opposed to publicpolicy. It comes under the law of France because the young woman is aChristian and has married a Christian. The religious marriage iscomplete. The civil marriage is only delayed that the young woman maypresent proofs of her mother's death. Her father is already civillydead."

  "Mirza," said the commandant, "do you hear?"

  "Yes," she said, "I hear, and, being a woman, I am accustomed to suchdecisions. I pay thirty ounces to Ilderhim for two years' hire of agirl. The girl turns Christian and I lose the thirty ounces."

  "Not so," said Abdullah; "they are here," and he placed a bag upon thecommandant's table.

  "Take it," said Mirza; and she tossed it to the _oukil_.

  "To make his contract good," she continued, "Ilderhim, my formerhusband, pays sixteen or seventeen ounces' freight on the girl and hermaid. The girl turns Christian. Who loses the freight?"

  "I," said Abdullah, and he placed another bag upon the table.

  "Take it," said Mirza, and the _oukil_ grasped it.

  "Let us see this girl who has kept us all up so late," said Mirza, andshe strode over to Nicha. Abdullah put out his hand to keep her off.

  "You've won," she said; "why be disagreeable? Let us see what you havegained and I have lost," and she stripped the veil and the outergarment from the girl, who sat passive. When the veil and the burnoosefell, the beauty of the girl filled the room as would a perfume.

  The commandant and the lawyer sat speechless, gazing. The _oukil_ wrunghis hands and exclaimed: "What have we lost!" Abdullah stood, proud andhappy. The corporal at the door shifted his feet and rattled hisside-arms, and Mirza laughed. Then she stepped back a pace; thelaughter died upon her lips, and her hands flew to her bosom.

  "Little one," she said, "the life you would have lived with me wouldnot have been so hard when one remembers what the life of woman is, atbest. It is to amuse, to serve, to obey. You are too young tounderstand. You are, perhaps, fourteen?"

  "Yes," said Nicha.

  "When I was fourteen," said Mirza, "I too was beautiful; at least myhusband and my mirror told me so. There is something in your face thatreminds me of the face I used to see in my glass, but when one growsold, and I am eight-and-twenty, one is sure to see resemblances that donot exist. How prettily they have dressed you! Did Ilderhim, yourfather, give you these silks and these emeralds?"

  "Yes," said Nicha.

  "If you are hoping to be a good wife," said Mirza, "you must not thinktoo much of silks and jewels. When I was in Paris, with the Grand Duke,I noticed that the women who had sold themselves had taken their pay inpearls and diamonds. The honest women went more soberly. I see you areof the old tribe--the tribe of Ouled Nail. Let me see your name."

  She raised the filigree medallion that hung upon Nicha's upper arm. Shelooked at the tattooed crest, started, drew her hand across her eyes,looked again, and fell to trembling. She stood a moment, swaying, andthen she staggered to the commandant's table. She rested one hand uponit and with the other she began playing with Ali's knife. Her face wasgray but her lips were pitifully smiling.

  "Monsieur the Chancellor," she said, each word a sob, "you need nolonger delay the civil marriage.--I consent to it,--This is mydaughter.--It seems," she added, in a whisper, "that Allah has notaltogether forgotten me.--He has saved my child from me." And with anexceeding bitter cry she went out.