I was silent. How strange it was that I should meet here, so far removed from civilisation as we in Europe know it, a man who held a secret which, if made known, would cause one of the greatest scandals that has ever shocked Society! How bitter were his thoughts; how utterly wrecked was his life! in order that a leader of smart Paris—a woman over whose beauty London had raved—should live in blissful happiness with her husband, this man was leading an aimless, hopeless life, condemned by his friends as a coward and a criminal.
He noticed my look of sympathy, and pressed my hand a trifle harder.
“I do not usually wear my heart on my sleeve,” he said, at last. “Indeed, I have told my secret to no one beside yourself; therefore consider what I have said is in confidence. You are returning to the world I have so ignominiously left, and in all probability we shall not meet again. If we do, and you require a friend, remember you will find him in the Spahi, Octave Uzanne.”
“A thousand thanks,” I said. “You, who have saved me from an Arab’s sword, may always rely upon my devoted friendship. Expressions of vague regret are useless. A stout heart, a clear conscience, and a fixed determination may accomplish many difficulties—they may even effect one’s social resurrection—one’s—”
“With me, never,” he interrupted, despondently. “But see! your horse is ready,” he added, glancing at the tent door, before which a soldier stood, holding the fine Ku-hai-lan that Zoraida had given me. “You will have a long ride to-night, and the dispatches cannot wait. You must go.”
“Then adieu,” I said, rising and shaking his sun-tanned hand heartily. “I hope you’ll soon be right again. Till we meet, au revoir.”
He smiled rather sorrowfully, and his dark eyes wore a wistful look. But it was only momentary. “Bon voyage,” he said, gaily. “Accept the good wishes of an outcast.”
The dispatch-bearer was outside, speaking impatiently and shouting to remind me that we had a long and fatiguing journey before us; therefore a few moments later I was in the saddle, and the messenger, six Spahis, and myself were soon galloping away past the ghastly corpses of Hadj Absalam’s followers and out into the trackless appallingly-silent wilderness.