hat Lella Mabrouka might be deceived by Ourieda's
plausible excuse, the cold glint of black eyes staring at her in the
lamplight would have stabbed it to death.

A woman of Europe, burning with rage like Mabrouka's, might have blurted
out fierce reproaches or insults; but the woman of the harem did not
even put her discovery into words. She looked at Ourieda and the Roumia,
and said quietly: "It was a charming idea to wear each other's clothes
so that each might have something of the other in her heart forever.
Already I can see a likeness. But do not hurry to change now. I came to
say that for a reason, to be explained later, the caravan cannot start
to-day. Our Little White Moon will light our sky for a time longer. Come
with me, Embarka, I have work for thee. These dear children may have the
pleasure of dressing each other."

Ashy pale under her bronze skin, Embarka obeyed without protest,
throwing one look at her beloved mistress as she followed Lella Mabrouka
to her fate. Her great, dilated eyes said: "Good-bye forever, oh, thou
whom I love, and for whom I have given myself without regret."

When they were left alone the girls fell into each other's arms as if
for protection against some terrible fate coming swiftly to destroy
them. Though the September dawn had in it the warmth of summer, they
shivered as they clung together.

"It is all over!" Ourieda said. "Allah is against me."

"What will happen?" asked Sanda, a horror of the unknown upon her.

"Nothing to thee. Do not be afraid."

"I'm not afraid for myself. I am thinking of you."

"For me this is the end."

"You don't mean--surely your father will not----"

"He will not take my life. He will take from me his love. And I shall be
watched every instant till I have been given to Tahar. I shall not even
have a chance to kill myself--unless I do it now."

"Ourieda! No--there's hope still. Who can tell----"

But Ourieda did not hear. Suddenly she tore herself free from Sanda's
arms, and running to one of the carved cedarwood doors in the white wall
of the bedroom, opened a little cupboard. There, fumbling among perfumed
parcels, rolled as Arab women roll their garments, she snatched from a
bundle of silk a small stiletto with a jewelled handle. Sanda had seen
it before, and had been bidden to admire its rough, square emeralds and
queerly shaped pearls. The thing had belonged to Ourieda's mother, and
had been given to the daughter by the Agha on her si