She sat down beside him and drew her hood forward, so as to conceal her face. Then, "Henri," she resumed, "do you remember what I said in Cairo the night you pressed me to become your wife?"
"A good deal was said," he answered, "on that memorable occasion; but what is it that you wish me specially to recall?"
"This, that, instead of ending my life as I had intended, I said I would live for you and Buonaparte—for love—and vengeance—vengeance on my betrayer."
St. Just was roused; he had hoped Halima was forgetting this episode in her life, as he himself was striving hard to. The subject was abhorrent to him.
"My dear," he said, "why refer to this? I had hoped it was fading from your memory. We are happy in each other's love; why cherish revengeful thoughts that are impossible of accomplishment?"
"Impossible? They are not; they shall not be. I am as firm in my resolve as ever. So you thought I had forgotten. Know that I will never rest, until I have been revenged on him. You little guess the stuff that I am made of. You know how I can love; you shall learn how I can hate." The words ended almost in a hiss.
All this was a revelation to St. Just, and, for the moment, he was nonplussed.
"Well," he said weakly, "what do you purpose doing?"
"I have thought it all out. Listen. My father told us just before he died that in this treasure, beside the gold, there is vast wealth in jewels—opals, diamonds, rubies of great size and value; but, for all that, occupying little space.
"Now my plan is this; when we have got the treasure to the camp, you shall take the gold to Cairo to those appointed by my father to receive it. Then, instead of returning to the tribe, make your way to Suez and there await me. I will join you with the jewels, and we will take ship for France."