"I know," she said.
I was weaker than a baby. After the overstrain of the day had come a fit of utter nervous depression. A lump rose in my throat, choking me.
"If you knew, if you only knew!... Take me away, little one. Get me away from here."
"Not so loud," she whispered. "There is a white Targa on guard at the door."
"Take me away; save me," I repeated.
"That is what I came for," she said simply.
I looked at her. She no longer was wearing her beautiful red silk tunic. A plain white haik was wrapped about her; and she had drawn one corner of it over her head.
"I want to go away, too," she said in a smothered voice.
"For a long time, I have wanted to go away. I want to see Gâo, the village on the bank of the river, and the blue gum trees, and the green water.
"Ever since I came here, I have wanted to get away," she repeated, "but I am too little to go alone into the great Sahara. I never dared speak to the others who came here before you. They all thought only of her.... But you, you wanted to kill her."