And then she had the good fortune to encounter a sheik. A marvellous sheik! A sheik in whose presence Lord Petersham would die with envy. The sprightly air of a Frenchman with the manners and the ease of Lord Rivers or the Duke of Grafton.
She learned the Bedouin morals, the strange customs and the famous Dukhyl, the code of the rights and the prohibitions of hospitality. A Bedouin who had been robbed has no courts to which to appeal. What does he do? He lies in wait for the robber and so soon as he catches sight of him, he throws at him a ball of thread which he has concealed in his hand. If the ball of thread in unwinding itself touches the robber, the victim has won his cause and recovers his property. But if he misses his aim, he must fly as quickly as he can to save his life. The captive to regain his liberty has only to make secretly a knot in his master's keffiye, but, attention, nefah!
If the murderer succeeds in entering his victim's tent or in eating at the family table, he is sacred, but take care, nefah!
Thus, the robber is never sure of keeping his booty, the victor his prisoner, the son of the assassinated his vengeance. Their piercing sight is their only defence, and the fateful word is able alone to break the charm. All the Bedouins have more or less clean consciences, unceasingly on their guard, watching on the right, watching on the left, always distrustful, never in repose, they have too often not to fear to be duped in their turn. And the camp resounds with the word "nefah" which the children and women repeat in shrill tones.
By an admirable foresight, the Bedouins have understood the inanity of a justice often lame and one-eyed, and have remitted to chance the care of passing sentence. Only in this game of blindman's buff, which takes the place of social laws, they are the most adroit and the strongest who gain the end, the forfeits are bloody, and the feeble, those who run less swiftly, those who are captured, mark out the track, motionless for ever.
Lady Hester was accustomed, when the first disturbance which followed the installation of the camp had quieted down, to gather under her tent the sheiks with whom she desired to talk. She was highly amused at the terror which they had of Russia. They thanked Allah that she was not the Czarina, otherwise, said they, their liberty would have been lost.
But one evening, Nasr, urged on by one knows not what maggot in his brain, retorted sharply to the messenger:
"Lady Hester is perhaps the daughter of a vizier, but I am the son of a prince, and I am not disposed to go to her tent now. If she had need of me, let her come or send her interpreter."
Lady Hester was obliged to swallow the insult in silence and to restrain the answer which rose to her lips. The Bedouins were in a hum of excitement, murmuring that Nasr was angry, that that did not augur anything good, that he was going to give the order to return. And, as had been foreseen, a very bad effect was produced on the servants, who pricked up their ears like hares surrounded by the hunters. But Lady Hester remained very calm and treated Nasr with the most complete indifference. This was not what he was expecting, and he postponed until the following night the end of his attempt at intimidation.
At dawn, the doctor started for Palmyra as a courier. While Lady Hester, shaken in her confidence in Nasr, was conferring with Bruce and Beaudin as to the measures to be taken, Pierre came running to announce that some mares had been carried off and that Rajdans were roaming round the camp. They heard neighing, cries, the sound of hoofs and galloping. The Bedouins were making ready for the fight.