For Love of a Bedouin Maid

by Voleur

At last, after ten hours of this misery, they came in sight of the Nile, on whose bank, under the shadow of overhanging rocks, was pitched what was evidently the temporary encampment of the tribe.

The squadron halted and were immediately surrounded by a crowd of women and children and barking dogs, who indiscriminately greeted the returning warriors. Looking about him from the spot where he lay guarded by four men, who regarded him with no friendly eye, St. Just noted that most of the tents had been struck and that, before his arrival, active preparations had been made for a move; also that the main body were eagerly questioning his captors, who, in reply, vociferated loudly and pointed at him with lively gesticulations. Such was the babel of sounds around him, that he could make nothing of their conversation, and, indeed, was in no condition to try, worn out, as he was, in mind and body. He lay in the shadow of a camel, where he had thrown himself upon his arrival, and, at last, he fell asleep.

When he awoke, it was dusk, and, while he yet struggled between sleeping and waking, his guards came to him and dragged him to his feet; then drove him unceremoniously towards the pile of rocks. Here, in their shadow, squatting in dignified silence around a fire in front of a large tent, were from ten to twenty aged men—apparently the counsellors of the camp. St. Just was placed in the center, near the fire, whose strong light was shed upon his features, immediately facing the opening of the tent, where he could just make out the form of some one seated. At this juncture, a little breeze sprang up, fanning the fire into greater brightness; so that St. Just could now discern the features of those about him. Seated within three feet of him upon a square carpet, was one of the oldest men he had ever seen. His beard was white as snow, and so long that it swept the ground in front of him. It was impossible to guess his age, for, save for his eyes, which sparkled brightly, he looked like a living corpse.

So soon as St. Just was placed before him, the old man spoke: "Let him be unbound, but guarded."

Immediately some one behind him cut the rope, and St. Just knew that he was free. After gazing at him for a moment, the old man called, "Ben Idherim!"

Out of the throng there strode the man who had been leader of the band that had captured St. Just, and, forthwith, he told how he had swooped down upon the camp; accompanying his recital with expressive gestures. St. Just looked on unmoved while, one by one, to lend vraisemblance to the tale, the articles that had been found on him were handed round the circle of impassive listeners. Finally Idherim produced the despatches and was about to hand them also round, when St. Just broke silence.

"Sirs, as I said to him who has just spoken, kill me if you will, but send on my despatches."

The old chief, who, since the sentence recorded of him, had not spoken, and seemed to have sunk into a stupor, merely nodding his head occasionally when some point in his lieutenant's speech gained his approval, now looked up and fixed his eyes upon St. Just, who stood there pale, travel-stained and weary, but fearless and almost defiant. "Why so; what would you?" he inquired.

"Sir, one is my general's letter to a chief to whom I was journeying, when stopped, and the other is from the chief's daughter telling of her safety. Again I say, I ask not for my life. Do with me what you will. All I pray is that both letters may be sent on; the one, that my General may know me to be faithful; the other, that a father may have tidings of his daughter."

The old man's reply was short and sharp. "Give me the letters." They were handed to him, and then, to the surprise of the young Frenchman, he broke the seals and began to read them.