She shook her head, and, taking my hand, noticed upon my finger a plain gold signet ring that had belonged to my father. Slowly she drew it off and placed it upon her middle finger, saying, “I take this in remembrance of to-night.”
“But is there nothing I can do to avert this mysterious evil which thou apprehendest?” I asked.
She did not reply. With her face turned towards the painted ceiling, her dark, serious eyes gazed away into space. Her bare breast, with its profusion of pearls and diamonds, heaved and fell as she breathed, and the sweet odour of rose and geranium that pervaded her filled my nostrils with intoxicating fragrance.
“Why canst thou not escape from here?” I continued. “If danger threateneth, fly from it. I will assist thee. And is not Allah merciful? He giveth life and death.”
“Hákk,” she replied. “Yet to leave this place unobserved would be impossible. I have been able by a ruse to gain thine admittance here, but any attempt to leave would only result in my death.”
“Are not thy servants amenable to bribery?” I suggested.
“Alas! as they are my slaves, so are they my gaolers. They are charged with my safe custody, and if I eluded their vigilance, they would pay the penalty of their negligence with their lives. Ah! thou knowest not the more terrible of the tortures practised by my people. Thou knowest not the Ennitra. Soon I shall return again to the Ahaggar, and then the Great Desert and the Atlas will separate us. For me escape is impossible. Thou wilt go to thine own land ere many moons, and—and forget me!”
“Never!” I exclaimed, vehemently.
“Thou wilt marry one of thine own women who have no prejudices, and who may go unveiled, like those who come to Mustapha at Ramadân.”
“No, Zoraida,” I said; “I love only thee.”