"Embrace me, my child," he said.
Halima knelt down beside him and threw her soft, warm arms around his neck, and kissed him fervently; then rested her head upon his breast. "Dear father," she murmured, "it now only needs one thing to make my happiness complete—to see your strength restored. I will nurse you back to health, and Henri will assist me; it is but weakness that you suffer from."
"A weakness, my child, that will only end in death."
Then, seeing the look of sadness in her face, he added, "But not just yet; I feel now, that a few days still remain to me—it may be weeks. The sight of your dear face has acted like a breath of wind upon the spark of life still left in me, and fanned it into a feeble flicker, though it will never rekindle the dying embers of my frame. But I am content; I have had my day, and it has been a long one—longer than that of most men—and now my night has almost come."
"Oh, say not so, my father," urged his daughter. "It is because you are weak and weary that this is in your heart. I cannot bear to hear you talk thus."
He laid one sinewy palm upon her head and stroked it gently.
"We will say no more of it, since it makes you sad," he said. "We will talk of your affairs." He turned to St. Just. "How comes it, my son, that you were able to leave your brothers in arms for the long journey from Cairo to this place?"
St. Just paled at this, and a look of pain came into his face. He could not put away from him the thought of the epithet that would ever be coupled with his name—a deserter, and in time of war—and he knew that he never would, strive how he might; though his life might not be forfeited, the finger of scorn would be always pointed at him by those aware of his disgrace.
Halima, who knew his every mood, noted his expression of distress, and, to spare him the pain of the confession, intervened before he could make answer to her father's question.
"He has left the French army, and all for love of me," she said. "But do not talk of it, my father, for he likes it not. It is no light matter to renounce one's country for a woman's love, and this sacrifice he has made for me. For the future, he is of our people."