will return to the East and find
you waiting for me, even here in this desert. Think on it, and take
care of yourself. _Au revoir._"

In this strange, mysterious manner, after pacing for hours on the sand
in the sheen of the full moon, Mrs. Gotfry says farewell to Khalid.

He sits on a rock near his tent and ponders for hours. He seeks in the
stars, as it were, a clue to the love of this woman, which he first
thought to be unfathomable. There it is, the stars seem to say. And he
looks into the sand-grave near him, where little Najib practises how
to die. Yes; a fitting symbol of the life and love called modern,
boasting of freedom. They dance their dervish dance, these people,
even like Khalid's little Najib, and fall into their sand-graves, and
fold their arms and smile: "We are in love--or we are out of it."
Which is the same. No: he'll have none of this. A heart as simple as
this desert sand, as deep in affection as this heaven, untainted by
the uncertainties and doubts and caprices of modern life,--only in
such a heart is the love that endures, the love divine and eternal.

He goes into Najma's tent. The mother and her child are sound asleep.
He stands between the bed and the cot contemplating the simplicity and
innocence and truth, which are more eloquent in Najib's brow than
aught of human speech. His little hand raised above his head seems to
point to a star which could be seen through an opening in the canvas.
Was it his star--the star that he saw in the sand-grave--the star that
is calling to him?--

But let us resume our narration.

A fortnight after Mrs. Gotfry's departure Shakib leaves the camp to
live in Cairo. He is now become poet-laureate to one of the big
pashas.

Khalid is left alone with Najma and Najib.

And one day, when they are playing a game of "donkey,"--Khalid carried
Najib on his back, ran on all four around the tent, and Najma was the
donkey-driver,--the child of a sudden utters a shriek and falls on the
sand. He is in convulsions; and after the relaxation, lo, his right
hand is palsied, his mouth awry, and his eyes a-squint. Khalid finds a
young doctor at Al-Hayat, and his diagnosis of the case does not
disturb the mind. It is infantile paralysis, a disease common with
delicate children. And the doctor, who is of a kind and demonstrative
humour, discourses at length on the disease, speaks of many worse
cases of its kind he cured, and assures the mother that within a month
the child