She stumbled badly as her feet touched the ground, and bit on a cry as the man's strong hand caught and steadied her as she stood swaying slightly.
"Remove thy veil for I fain would see what winds have blown upon thee!"
The little figure, wrapped in countless yards of the soft purple satin habarah, recoiled a step as the words fell with the hiss of icy water upon red hot steel; a little nervous laugh rising like thin vapour on the strained atmosphere.
"And so the great Hahmed would expose the face of his wife to the driver of camels? Behold, has his pride fallen."
And she continued with the sharp edge of an approaching nerve storm in her voice.
"Methinks it would be better for him to send his fleetest camel to the great city, and bid it wait without the house of the Blue Door, wherein are to be found those who, unveiled and unashamed, will come and dance upon the sand before such men as—yon camel driver!"
A slight sound of tearing silk and the scented veil lay in Hahmed's hands, whilst the great moon threw its rays mercilessly on the little face.
Deep purple rings made the eyes seem twice their size, the nose looked pinched, the mouth slightly twisted, whilst great drops from the damp brow fell upon the silk covering she held heaped up around her.
"Allah!" ejaculated Hahmed, as he looked and looked again. "Methinks the winds have been ill which have blown upon thee. Thou lookest stricken unto death—and I know not how, but thou hast changed inconceivably—thou art shorter. No! I know not what it is, but hearken.
"Thou hast filled my cup of endurance, O! woman, to the brim. Yea! until the drops of bitterness have overflowed and fallen upon the sands, but now thou art come back, rather than let thee go I would drive this dagger through thy heart.