ng her heel; then will she die with a
smile upon her red mouth, for love will have come to her, maybe for a
day, maybe for a second of time, but a love which will mingle her soul
with the soul of her desert lover, or shatter her body, even as is
broken the alabaster vase of sweet perfume. Yet is it the _love of the
soul_ that endureth forever, yea, even if the body of the woman passeth
unto another's keeping."

The girl pulled her veil closely about her head and sat quite still,
her wonderful eyes hidden by the fringe of black lashes.

And yet did she not move when he sprang to his feet, intoxicated with
the mystery of her, afire with that love which is the heritage of the
desert.

Then he bent and caught her by the wrists and raised her to her feet.

"Take the path at thy right hand, woman; set not a foot upon the desert
sand, lest perchance a bird of prey swoop down upon thee, thou white
dove."

He pulled her hands up, holding them cruelly, as in a steel vise, so
that he had but to bend a finger's breadth to kiss them.

"Thy feet hesitate, woman. Why? What searchest thou?"

"Knowledge."

The man unconsciously laced his fingers in hers, crushing them until
she went white to the lips.

"Knowledge is pain, woman. What know'st thou of pain? Great pain.
How could'st thou endure it?"

Then he let her hands go and touched the silver tray of sand upon the
table beside him.

"Behold! Love shall be offered thee within the passing of a few hours,
the love of thy right hand, and thou shalt reject it. Searching for
that which thou desirest thou shalt, surrounded by thy women who love
thee, pass down the river even unto Thebes of the Hundred Gates. Yet
shalt thou not find it in the river, nor in the temples upon the east
bank of the waters, nor upon the west bank."

Drawing a square in the sand, the fortune-teller made a cross at the
south-east, upon which, to see it better, the girl drew close--so close
that the sweet perfume of her veils filled his nostrils.

"Then shalt thou, in thy search, go, even under the stars, to the Gate
of Tomorrow, and there shall thou find a mare descended from the mares
of Mohammed, the Prophet of Allah the one and only God. White is the
mare, and beautiful, yea, even is she like unto thee, thou woman of
ivory; her bit is of silver, her bridle of plaited gold, her
saddle-cloth encrusted with jewels. Thou wilt spring upon her, and
she, knowing her way, will bring thee to the