in; and if she were not intuitively, preternaturally wise, she
would not marry an enemy of the Jesuits, a bearer withal of
infiltrated lungs and a shrunken windpipe. "There is a great advantage
in having a sickly husband," she once said to Shakib, "it lessons a
woman in the heavenly virtues of our Virgin Mother, in patient
endurance and pity, in charity, magnanimity, and pure love." What,
with these sublimities of character, need we know of her visible
charms, or lack of them? She might deserve the title Shakib bestows
upon her; she might be a real huri, for all we know? In that event,
the outward charms correspond, and Khalid is a lucky dog--if some one
can keep the Jesuits away.

This, then, is our picture of Najma, to whom he is now relating, in
the Temple of Venus, of the dangers he had passed and the felicities
of the beduin life he has in view. It is evening. The moon struggles
through the poplars to light the Temple for them, and the ambrosial
breeze caresses their cheeks.

"No," says Khalid; "we can not live here, O my Heart, after we are
formally married. The curse in my breast I must not let you share, and
only when I am rid of it am I actually your husband. By the life of
this blessed night, by the light of these stars, I am inalterably
resolved on this, and I shall abide by my resolution. We must leave
Baalbek as soon as the religious formalities are done. And I wish your
father would have them performed under his roof. That is as good as
going to Church to be the central figures of the mummery of priests.
But be this as You will. Whether in Church or at home, whether by your
father or by gibbering Levites the ceremony is performed, we must hie
us to the desert after it is done. I shall hire the camels and prepare
the necessary set-out for the wayfare a day or two ahead. No, I must
not be a burden to you, my Heart. I must be able to work for you as
for myself. And Allah alone, through the ministration of his great
Handmaid Nature, can cure me and enable me to share with you the joys
of life. No, not before I am cured, can I give you my whole self, can
I call myself your husband. Into the desert, therefore, to some oasis
in its very heart, we shall ride, and there crouch our camels and
establish ourselves as husbandmen. I shall even build you a little
home like your own. And you will be to me an aura of health, which I
shall breathe with the desert air, and the evening breeze. Yes, our
love shall dwell in a