"That's the most beautiful thing ever said to me. And it does me so much good after all I've gone through and been blamed for!"
"Who's dared to blame you for anything?"
"I asked you to tell me about yourself. When you have done that I'll tell you things that have happened here, things concerning Manöel Valdez and Ourïeda—poor darling Ourïeda, whom I ought to be thinking of every instant! And so I am, only I can't help being happy to get away—with you."
There was sweet pain in hearing those last words, and the emphasis the caressing girl-voice gave. Max hurried through a vague list of such events as seemed fit for Sanda's ears. They were not many, since he did not count his fights among the mentionable ones. He told her, with more detail, about his acquaintance with Valdez, whose face she had remarked at the railway station at Sidi-bel-Abbés; and then claimed her promise. She must tell him, if she would (with a sudden drop from the happy way of Max Doran with women to the humbler way of Max St. George, Legionnaire), what she had gone through in the Agha's house.
She began by asking a question. "Didn't you think it queer that no one but a servant came out to see me off?"
"I did a little, but I put it down to Arab manners."
"It was because I left in disgrace. Oh! no one was ever rude! They were polite always. It was like being stuffed with too much honey. And I don't mean Ourïeda, of course. Ourïeda's a darling. I'd do anything for her. I've proved that! Did my father give you any idea why he had to send for me in a hurry, though he has to leave me alone—or rather in charge of people I don't know—at Bel-Abbés? He must have told you something, as he asked such a sacrifice."
"He needn't have told me anything at all. But he took me into his confidence—it was like him—far enough to say the Agha was offended somehow, and you were anxious to leave."
"I should think the Agha was offended! I tried to help Ourïeda to escape, even though she hadn't heard from her Manöel. She had lots of jewels, and thought she might get to France. We failed in our attempt, and after that we were never alone together, though they—her father and aunt—didn't want me to go till she was married. The idea at first was—when I arrived, I mean—that my visit shouldn't end till father came back. They meant me to stop on with Ourïeda, as she and her husband would live at her old home at Djazerta. The last plot wasn't mine. It was got up by an old nurse they'd sent away, and a weird woman, a kind of Arab beauty-doctor. But all the same they were afraid of me. They longed to have me gone, yet, for their own superstitious, secretive reasons, they were afraid to let me go. As I had to stay so long, I'd rather have stopped a little longer, so as to know what becomes of Ourïeda. They made me say good-bye to her in Tahar's tent, where she is waiting, all dressed up like a doll, till the hour at night when her husband chooses to come to her. Instead, we hope—— But I can hardly bear it, not to know! Shall we ever know?"
"It may be a long time before Manöel can send us any word," said Max. "But we shall hear, I suppose, about Tahar."