his existence.

What was the good of going to her wedding reception? Feebly he told
himself that it was his only chance to inform her upon the history
of the Delcasses. There might have been reasons for her
non-appearance at the gate, for her not writing.... He could have no
glimmering of what went on behind those barred windows. This was his
only chance--he meant to say, to tell her--but his eager senses
murmured, to see her again.

That was it--to see her again. He owned the lure, at last, with a
bitter ruefulness. But--he brightened up at that--it was partly his
duty to himself. Now he had all sorts of fool imaginings about this
girl. He was remembering her as something lovelier than a Houri,
more enchanting than fairy magic, more sweet than spring. He owed it
to himself to rout these imbecile prepossessions and prove clearly
and dispassionately that the girl was just a very nice little girl,
a pretty bride, marrying into a very distinct life from his own--and
a girl with whom he would not have an idea in common. A girl, in
fact, far inferior to any American. A girl not to be compared to
Jinny Jeffries.

Besides, there was fun in the thing. It tempted him tremendously.
It was adventurous, romantic forbidden.

He heard the word echoed in Turkish behind him.

So engrossed in his thoughts had he been that he had been
inattentive to the rhythm of old Khazib, the tale teller's voice, as
he held forth, from the divan, beside his long-stemmed pipe, to his
nightly audience, of men and boys, camel drivers, small merchants,
desert men from the long caravans who were the frequenters of this
cafe.

To-night there were few about the old man, and Ryder had small
difficulty in drawing nearer the circle. A green-turbaned Arab, with
the profile of a Washington and the naive eyes of youth, whispered
to him courteously that it was the tale of the Third Kaland, and the
Prince Azib was in the palace of the forty damsels who were
farewelling him, as they were to depart, according to custom, for
forty days.

Khazib, with a faint salutation of his turban towards the newcomer,
went slowly, sonorously on with his tale.

"We fear," said the damsel unto Azib, "lest thou contraire our
charge and disobey our injunctions. Here now we commit to thee the
keys of the palace which containeth forty chambers and thou mayest
open of these thirty and nine, but beware (and we conjure thee by
Allah and by the lives of us!) lest thou open the fo