"Because I have his amulet. That once lost, his fate was certain. See, here it is."
And the exulting ruffian held before Buonaparte's astonished eyes the identical trinket Josephine had given to St. Just in Paris on the night of their meeting at the Palais de Luxembourg.
Buonaparte snatched it from him suddenly.
With a howl of rage, Yusuf dashed forward to regain it—only to meet the point of a sword, which, gleaming at his breast, had been instantaneously drawn by the General's companion.
Buonaparte put the jewel in his pocket and, as if abstracted, and taking no further notice of the captive, walked from the cell. A moment later, his companion, having locked the door, rejoined him.
Presently they reached the outer gate way, and Buonaparte, mounting his horse, which a soldier held, galloped off into the darkness, leaving his companion standing under the archway, lost in thought.
* * * * *
The Lady Halima was pacing her room in a lever of impatience. She had received Buonaparte's letter, and the hour of his promised visit had arrived. In the courtyard below, surrounded by their guards, stood the three hapless captives. The moon's silver light fell upon them shivering in their scanty clothing of haic and burnous—a great contrast to the French soldiers in their uniforms, and three-cornered hats—the two groups fair samples of the East and of the West.
Presently there was a slight movement among the French soldiers, and their listless attitude was changed for one of expectation; at the same time a faint sound, like that of muffled blows, could be heard in the distance, though it scarce penetrated the thick, high walls. But, low as it was, it reached the Lady Halima's ears, and it made her heart beat high and brought the color to her face. The sound came nearer, and now could plainly be recognized as the sharp trot of a horse. No wonder she was in a fever of excitement, for she knew that Buonaparte was approaching, and all that his visit meant for her. What had the Fates in store for her? Was she to learn that her lover still lived, and, having performed his mission in the desert, would soon return to her; or that he was dead and that she must fulfill her promise and permit Buonaparte to take his place? True, she had not promised to install him as her lover, in so many words; but she had given him to understand that it would be so, and she considered that she was in honor bound to give herself to him, should he demand it; she knew she had meant this all the time, should she receive unimpeachable evidence that St. Just no longer lived. But she would not allow herself to think of the possibility of his death. Ill he might be; seriously ill of fever; even grievously wounded; but dead? No. Fate could not be so cruel.
But, should the worst have happened, she would have gone to Buonaparte's arms without the least repugnance or sense of shame. Despite the French strain in her, her upbringing had been an Eastern one; she was a Mahometan and familiar with the usuages of the harem, and to the light esteem in which Eastern women were held; so that she saw nothing degrading, if she could not have the man she loved, in becoming the paramour of some one else. In the case of Buonaparte, another factor helped to influence her decision, and that was Ambition. As already shown, she was superstitious and believed in a mysterious connection between humanity and the stars; and, according to her reading of the heavens, Buonaparte was destined to rise to the highest flights of power; were she with him, she would rise with him.