“I want to signal to my husband,” she said, “and this is the highest point. He will see it best if I stand here.”
“Go, Marelle, ask for Batouch, and be sure you bring the brand from the fire.”
The man saluted and rode off with alacrity. The thought of wine had infused a gaiety into him and his companions.
“Now, Monsieur, don’t stand on ceremony,” Domini said to the officer. “Go in and make your toilet. You are longing to, I know.”
“I am longing to look a little more decent—now, Madame,” he said gallantly, and gazing at her with a sparkle of admiration in his inflamed eyes. “You will let me return in a moment to escort you to the camp.”
“Thank you.”
“Will you permit me—my name is De Trevignac.”
“And mine is Madame Androvsky.”
“Russian!” the officer said. “The alliance in the desert! Vive la Russie!”
She laughed.