"I am of international interest," he said lightly and glanced round toward his attendants.
She thought he was going and would have moved on, but he stopped her.
"You are the first English speaking person I have talked to since I've been in France," he said, "except the American Ambassador." He smiled as at a pleasant recollection.
"You talk almost like an Englishman yourself."
"I was at Oxford," he said. "My brother was at Harvard. My father, the brother of the late Sultan, was a very progressive man and believed in the Western education for his children. Won't you sit down?" he asked, pointing to the sand.
She hesitated a second, and then sank to the ground, and crossing his legs he sat by her side.
"I was in France for four years," he carried on, evidently anxious to hold her in conversation, "so I speak both languages fairly well. Do you speak Arabic?" He asked the question solemnly, but his eyes were bright with laughter.
"Not very well," she answered gravely. "Are you staying very long?" It was a conventional question and she was unprepared for the reply.
"I leave to-night," he said, "though very few people know it. You have surprised a State secret," he smiled again.
And then he began to talk of Morocco and its history, and with extraordinary ease he traced the story of the families which had ruled that troubled State.