e us in his little wooden gig
to an Arab encampment miles away in the Desert. It was dawn when we
started, and large, pale stars were shining in a violet sky; then, like
a gorgeous butterfly emerging from a dusky chrysalis, came the Eastern
day, and we felt as if living in a world warmed by a hundred suns. The
warm, intoxicating light took possession of our senses, and so sweet, so
rarefied, so indescribably delicious was the air, that it seemed to give
wings to our dull bodies. Every now and then we were overtaken by clouds
of locusts, their little wings glistening like diamonds against the soft
sky, or flocks of starlings darkened the air, or a serried line of wild
geese passed majestically overhead. Then we came to the tents, and at
our approach a dozen dogs rushed out to snap and snarl, and a hundred
little naked children scampered and scuttled across the way. A stately
Bedouin made us welcome, and, while Dominique transacted business with
him, his women gathered around us, chattering and grinning like
children. Then we were feasted upon cous-cous-sou and figs, and took
leave, after many "salamaleks."

Another day we went out hunting gazelles, bivouacking along a riverside,
and feasting, Arab fashion, off a sheep roasted whole. Dominique had
found a pretty little French girl, daughter of a travelling farrier, to
act as Mary's handmaid; and she now felt less isolated among so many
men, and less shy, too. The poor child stood a fair chance of being
spoiled, what with suddenly finding herself transformed from a
school-room Cinderella to a fairy-tale princess, and having four lovers,
all heroes, at once. For it was impossible to deny that the General, the
Commandant, the Capitaine, and the Lieutenant all behaved like lovers,
presenting her with jackal skins, ostrich plumes and eggs, rare birds,
and other treasures of the Sahara. The General went so far as to give
her a little negro boy about ten years old, though this gift we had
accepted only temporarily, not quite knowing what to do with him when we
left Teschoun.

Christmas-day came at last. Mary had artfully evaded the delicate point
about horses by declaring herself afraid of every one's beast but
Dominique's; accordingly, mounted on Dominique's ugly hack, she led the
way with the General, her long, bright hair flowing in curls over her
shoulders, her cheeks glowing with excitement. The pleasure and
picturesqueness of the last few days--for Mary had an artistic
p