a's mehari, when good-byes had been said,
blessings exchanged, and the little caravan had started. Looking out
between the haoulis which protected her from sun and wind, the handsome
Arab on his Arab horse seemed far below her, as Romeo must have seemed
to Juliet on her balcony; and to him the fair face, framed with dazzling
hair was like a guiding star.

"Thou canst rest in thy bassour?" he asked. "The motion of thy beast
gives thee no discomfort?"

"No. Truly it is a cradle," she answered. "I had read that to ride on a
camel was misery, but this is like being rocked on the bough of a tree
when the wind blows."

"To sit in a bassour is very different from riding on a saddle, or even
on a mattress, as the poor Bedouin women sometimes ride, or the dancers
journeying from one place to another. I would not let thee travel with
me unless I had been able to offer thee all the luxuries which a sultana
might command. With nothing less would I have been content, because to
me thou art a queen."

"At least thou hast given me a beautiful moving throne," laughed
Victoria; "and because thou art taking me on it to my sister, I'm happy
to-day as a queen."

"Then, if thou art happy, I also am happy," he said. "And when an Arab
is happy, his lips would sing the song that is in his heart. Wilt thou
be angry or pleased if I sing thee a love-song of the desert?"

"I cannot be angry, because the song will not really be for me,"
Victoria answered with the simplicity which had often disarmed and
disconcerted Maieddine. "And I shall be pleased, because in the desert
it is good to hear desert songs."

This was not exactly the answer which he had wanted, but he made the
best of it, telling himself that he had not much longer to wait.

"Leaders of camels sing," he said, "to make the beasts' burdens weigh
less heavily. But thy mehari has no burden. Thou in thy bassour art
lighter on his back than a feather on the wing of a dove. My song is for
my own heart, and for thine heart, if thou wilt have it, not for Guelbi,
though the meaning of Guelbi is 'heart of mine.'"

Then Maieddine sang as he rode, his bridle lying loose, an old Arab
song, wild and very sad, as all Arab music sounds, even when it is the
cry of joy:

"Truly, though I were to die, it would be naught,
If I were near my love, for whom my bosom aches,
For whom my heart is beating.

"Yes, I am to die, but death is nothing
O ye who pass and see me d