"You'll require that, and more, yourself," she said. So Helmar let the matter drop.
He was unfeignedly sorry to part with his protectress. A sort of filial affection had grown up in him for this woman, and when she came in for the last time, bringing her son with her, George felt that he was about to leave his best friend. On her part, the old woman seemed no less affected, and but for the presence of her son, she would undoubtedly have broken down altogether.
The man in whose guardianship Mariam was about to trust her patient was a powerfully-built fellow of forty. He possessed a strong, honest face of a similar cast to his mother's, although perhaps a shade paler. He was dressed in the ordinary Egyptian garb, and, as his mother presented him, he advanced with outstretched hand and gripped Helmar's in a manner as hearty as it was honest.
"The night is dark, Mussiu," he said, "we must not delay. For the moment the place is quiet, but the riotousness of the people is liable to break out at any moment, and, unless the greatest caution is used, we may be discovered and challenged. Come, let us start, for it is some distance to the river!"
Helmar turned to his nurse. He was deeply affected at parting with the old soul.
"Good-bye, Mariam," he exclaimed. "I can never thank you for all you have done for me. I shall never forget it. Some day perhaps you will allow me to repay you."
"Do not talk of thanks. I like it not. You will be a second son to me. Take these," she went on, handing him his revolver and a long knife of Egyptian make, "they may be of use to you. I shall watch for you always, and some day we shall meet again. Farewell!"
Without another word she turned and left the room.
Naoum stood looking on with a stolid face, and, as his mother departed, led the way to another door, and the two men left the house.
To anybody of a less courageous spirit the position Helmar found himself placed in would have been appalling. With little money, with hardly recovered health, only these two people whom he could count his friends in a now hostile country—all these things combined to make his position one of the greatest insecurity and danger. Instead of doubting the outcome of it all, however, he rather gloried in the situation, and did not trouble himself in the least as to the future. He felt more than ever the keen enjoyment of the roving, happy-go-lucky existence he had elected to follow. The simple effect of stretching his legs as he walked beside his companion inspired in him a keen feeling of appreciation of life, and a grim determination to follow to the end his adventurous career.