“The world is a mirror; show thyself in it, and it will reflect thy image.”—Arabic Proverb.
Helen looked over her shoulder at her lover and smiled without a trace of bitterness, then turned and looked straight into the Arabian’s eyes.
For a long moment the two girls looked at each other, until, unable to bear the contempt in the steady blue eyes, the Arabian lowered hers, and pointed to her sandal, then lifted her head sharply as Helen knelt.
Pushing Helen to one side, Zarah sprang to her feet and walked quickly to the top of the steps and stood staring at the doorway, through which could be seen the star-strewn sky and through which could be heard the baying of dogs in full cry.
Her face was white as death, her eyes wide in fear; her hands pressed down upon her heart as she backed away from the savage sound, until she stood upon her train, which swept around her like a shell.
The men stood facing the doorway, whispering to each other. They had hunted too often with the dogs; they knew every sound of their voices too well not to know that they were hard on the scent of whatever they were so strangely hunting at this hour of the night, when they were never allowed to be at large.
Bowlegs, who loved the dogs almost as much as he loved his horses, under a strange excitement which had fallen upon him as well as on the other men, spoke to Helen, whom he knew to be so beloved of the dogs.
“They cross the plateau in a pack, hot on the trail, ah! they have lost. Canst hear Rādi the bitch, the finest in the kennels? They near the water’s edge! Hearken to the echo thrown by the rock above the cavern! They have found. Ah! hunt they the devil? Or is’t a pack of djinns hunting the dead from the quicksands? Tell——”
A man came running from the doorway, his eyes full of fear, his dagger in his hand. He ran up to the foot of the dais and stood half turned towards the door, to which he pointed frantically, and shouted up to Helen.