s--the marvellous, birdlike eyes of Bedouins--steadily
regarding her beneath the darkness of peaked hoods. She heard the
crackle of flames in the windy silence, a soft grating sound that came
from the jaws of feeding camels. Dogs snuffed about her ankles.

"My lady, you comin' with me!"

Mechanically she followed Ibrahim away from the fire, across a strip of
sand to a large tent that stood apart. As she drew near to it her heart
began to beat violently and irregularly, and she felt almost like a
girl. For years she had not felt so young as she felt to-night. In this
dark desert, among these men of Africa, all her worldly knowledge, all
her experience of men in civilized countries seemed of no use to her.
It was as if she shed it, cast it as a snake casts its skin, and stood
there in a new ignorance that was akin to the wondering ignorance of
youth. The canvas flap that was the door of the tent was fastened down.
Ibrahim went up to it and called out something. For a moment there was
no answer. During that moment Mrs. Armine had time to notice a second
smaller tent standing, with Baroudi's, apart from all the others. And
she fancied, but was not certain, that as for an instant the breeze died
down, she heard within it a thin sound like the plucked strings of some
instrument of music. Then the canvas of the big tent was lifted, light
shone out from within, and she saw the strong outline of a man. He
looked into the night, drew back, and she entered quickly and stood
before Baroudi. Then the canvas fell down behind her, shutting out the
night and the desert.

Baroudi was dressed in Arab costume. His head was covered with a white
turban spangled with gold, his face was framed in snowy white, and his
great neck was hidden by drapery. He wore a kuftan of striped and
flowered silk with long sleeves, fastened round his waist with lengths
of muslin. Over this was a robe of scarlet cloth. His legs were bare of
socks, and on his feet were native slippers of scarlet morocco leather.
In his left hand he held an immensely long pipe with an ivory
mouthpiece.

Mrs. Armine looked from him to his tent, to the thick, bright-coloured
silks which entirely concealed the canvas walls, to the magnificent
carpets which blotted out the desert sands, to the great hanging lamp of
silver, which was fastened by a silver chain to the peaked roof, to the
masses of silk cushions of various hues that were strewn about the
floor. Once again her nostri