ople. I knew, too, that the spirits would be
kind, and say nothing to frighten thee. Besides, thou didst not go to
them quite alone, for thine own white angel walked on thy right hand, as
always."

"Thou makest poetical speeches, Si Maieddine."

"It is no poetry to speak of thy white angel. We believe that each one
of us has a white angel at his right hand, recording his good actions.
But ordinary mortals have also their black angels, keeping to the left,
writing down wicked thoughts and deeds. Hast thou not seen men spitting
to the left, to show despite of their black angels? But because thy soul
is never soiled by sinful thoughts, there was no need for a black angel,
and whilst thou wert still a child, Allah discharged him of his
mission."

"And thou, Si Maieddine, dost thou think, truly, that a black angel
walks ever at thy left side?"

"I fear so." Maieddine glanced to the left, as if he could see a dark
figure writing on a slate. Things concerning Victoria must have been
written on that slate, plans he had made, of which neither his white
angel nor hers would approve. But, he told himself, if they had to be
carried out, she would be to blame, for driving him to extremes. "Whilst
thou art near me," he said aloud, "my black angel lags behind, and if
thou wert to be with me forever, I----"

"Since that cannot be, thou must find a better way to keep him in the
background," Victoria broke in lightly. But Si Maieddine's compliments
were oppressive. She wished it were not the Arab way to pay so many. He
had been different at first; and feeling the change in him with a faint
stirring of uneasiness, she hurried her steps to join M'Barka.

The invalid reclined on a rug of golden jackal skins, and rested a thin
elbow on cushions of dyed leather, braided in intricate strips by
Touareg women. Victoria sat beside her, Maieddine opposite, and Fafann
waited upon them as they ate.

After supper, while the Bedouin woman saw that everything was ready for
her mistress and the Roumia, in their tent, M'Barka spread out her
precious sand from Mecca and the dunes round her own Touggourt. She had
it tied up in green silk, such as is used for the turbans of men who
have visited Mecca, lined with a very old Arab brocade, purple and gold,
like the banners that drape the tombs of marabouts. She opened the bag
carefully, until it lay flat on the ground in front of her knees, the
sand piled in the middle, as much perhaps as could have be