"About two months from the time when the chiefs set out for the war, the survivors returned in triumph, and, with pride and joy lighting up his countenance, Ben Arbi told Marie that her husband elect was waiting to see her. She fell upon her knees, and clinging to him, besought him not to force her to marry, if he would not see her die of grief, as her poor mother had died. He sternly repulsed her, and left the tent in anger. It was a rude shock to Marie's hopes, and now, for the first time, she felt despair.
"Passively she submitted; she heard them agree that her marriage should take place in a few days, and even this did not rouse her. Ben Arbi tried to caress her and win her from this deep sadness, but she shook off his hand roughly, as she exclaimed, 'Do not touch me,—do not add hypocrisy to your cruelty. Is it not enough for you to force me to do that which will be to me a living death, without making false professions of affection for me? As you killed my mother, so will you kill me!' She stopped her ears and would not listen to a word from him.
"A few days before the fatal one named for Marie's wedding, Ben Arbi said that he must go to visit some holy shrine, to which there was then a great pilgrimage, but that he would be back on the day of the wedding. They were to be married, as is the Arab custom, in the evening.
"Early on the morning of this eventful day an old man tottered across the encampment and entered Ben Arbi's tent. Marie was already out, and was sitting at a little distance from it in a state of mute despair, yet she recognised her grandfather's form, and followed him into the tent. He had fallen upon the ground, and was lying there moaning as if in mortal agony. A feeling of sickness came over Marie as she looked at him, and she leaned against the side of the tent for support.
"At this moment the whole camp seemed roused, and were gathering round the tent, and he to whom she was betrothed implored her to come to him, saying that they must lose no time in departing from a place which was cursed by the plague.
"'What!' she cried; 'you would leave the old man here to die alone? Go; I will remain with him!'
"'Are you mad, girl!' exclaimed her betrothed. 'Come before you are yourself infected—before you have touched him!'
"He advanced a little way into the tent and took hold of her arm, but she shook him off, and springing to her grandfather's side, she laid her hand upon him and said—
"'Now come and take me away if you will, but with me take this fell disease!'