For one reared amid the seclusion of a harem she really was wonderful. Her presence of mind, her fearlessness, and her resourcefulness astonished me, engrossed though I was.
After we had had something to eat, and put the children to bed, Chakendé, the young Turk and I went and sat down at a little distance, and talked over the events of the day. None of us had any desire for sleep, although it was late. The earth was still groaning occasionally, and it was unpleasant to lie down, since one could hear hideous rumblings and tremblings which gave one a curious feeling of sea-sickness.
“What a day!” Chakendé exclaimed, after a long silence. There was a certain exhilaration both in the voice and in the manner of the girl. She seemed detached from the awfulness of it all, in spite of the bloody wrappings on her arm.
The Turk hardly took his eyes from her and there was no mistaking his condition. He had met the woman he was to remember till he died, whether he ever saw her again or not.
Chakendé did not look in his direction. She sat erect, her head held proudly above her lovely throat. She was even prettier than she had been in the daytime.
Presently the young man spoke, addressing himself to her:
“Mademoiselle, we have worked together to-day, as companions—as friends. I should like you to give me something to keep for the rest of my life.”
“Monsieur only asks,” she replied, without looking at him, “he does not offer to give anything to be remembered by.”
It was a weird night, one of those nights when people cannot be conventional. In my place I made myself very small, trying to forget I was present, as the two seemed to forget me.
“I, mademoiselle?” repeated the man, in a voice full of emotion. “I have given you to-day all that is best in me. And whatever my life may become that best will always belong to you.”