I pressed on my weary animal, and in a few moments we stood before what seemed indeed a human being, of flesh and bone--and what was more wonderful still, a woman. Yet she stirred not, nor gave other sign of life.
'Is the breath of life yet in you?' I cried out--not doubting, however, that whoever it was, death had already released her from her misery--and at the same time laid my hand upon her shoulder. At which she started, and lifting up her head, the very ghastliness of death stamped upon every feature, she shrieked: 'I drown! I drown! Hassan, save me!' and her head fell again upon her knees.
'Poor fool,' said I, 'thou art upon the sands of the desert, and thou dreamest: awake!--awake!--and here is water for thee--real water.'
At which she waked indeed, with a convulsive start, and while with one hand she held fast her child--for a child was indeed laid away among the folds of her garments--with the other she madly grasped the small cup I held out to her, and tearing aside the covering from the face of the infant, she forced open its mouth, and poured in some of the water we gave her, watching its effect. Soon as the little one gave signs of life, she drank the remainder at a draught, crying out, 'More! more!' Our water, of which we had as yet good store, though hot as the wind itself, quickly restored both mother and child.
'And now tell me, miserable woman, what direful chance has brought and left thee here?--but hasten--speak quickly as thou canst--and dost thou look for any one to come to thy relief?'
'Robbers of the desert,' said she, 'have either murdered or carried into slavery my husband, and destroyed and scattered the caravan of which we made a part. I am alone in the desert; and I know of no relief but such as you can give. Leave us not, if you are men, to perish in these burning sands!'
'Fear not that I will leave you,' said I: 'what I can spare, shall freely be thine. But time is precious, for we are yet but midway the desert, and the signs of the heavens portend wind and whirlwind: hasten then and mount the dromedary of my slave, while I upon mine-bear as stronger than thou--the child.'
'Isaac,' here muttered Hadad, in an undertone, 'art thou mad? Is thy reason wholly gone? It is scarcely to be hoped that we alone may cross in safety what remains of the desert, beset as we are by these sweeping gusts, and wilt thou oppress our fainting beasts with this new burden?'
'Thou accursed of God! wouldst thou leave these here to perish? I believed not before that out of hell there could be so black a soul. Bring down thy dromedary. One word of hesitancy, and thy own carcass shall bleach upon the sands.'
I knew well who I was dealing with--that I was safe from immediate violence, though not from ultimate revenge.