“Thou art indeed a man,” she said softly in Arabic, as she placed the tray on a stool, ensconced herself cross-legged upon the divan, and leant towards him as she lit her cigarette, so that he was almost suffocated with the pungency of her perfume. “Yea! verily amongst my subjects, who are of a truth somewhat misshapen about the legs from overmuch bestriding of the Nejdee, thou art indeed a man!”
She sat and looked at him with all her love in her eyes, whilst he sat and wished that in some way he could express his gratitude for all she had done for Helen. But when, after much searching in those portions of her raiment which looked as though they might be large enough to conceal a minute pocket, she showed him Helen’s wrist-watch upon her palm, then he moved close to her and crushed her hand in both of his until he almost broke her fingers, as she told him how Helen had given it to her in memory of old times.
“ ... I give it to you,” she said at last.
It was a sacrifice.
Smothered in jewels as she was, yet, with the delight some Orientals have in the purloined object, she coveted that looted watch more than all her rubies, emeralds, pearls and diamonds put together in a heap.
He sat for a long time with the tragic, lying, little token in his hand, then turned and looked into the doe-like eyes, which looked fearlessly back into his.
“And this is all? You have nothing else, no little thing, a handkerchief, a hair-pin, anything, no matter how trivial, that belonged to your old school friend?”
Zarah shook her beautiful head and sighed as she lied once more with the ease of long-established custom, and the certainty of being able before long to give some foundation to the lie.
“Nozing! No little zing! We bur-r-ried her-r, as I have told you, in her-r cloze. She was not beautiful to look upon. Aï, aï, she was not pr-r-etty in ze gr-r-eat sleep, so we bur-r-ied her-r-r deep, deep in ze comfor-r-ting sands, which tell no tales.”
She rose once more as she spoke and trailed across the marble floor to the door.