l uncontrollably and insistently her cry for her
master tore the air.

"Hahmed! Ah, Hahmed! Come to me!"

And he was beside her.

The Arab had faced death more than once, had witnessed things unmoved
which had served to freeze the very blood of others; but never had he
heard such a cry as this which cleft the shadows in the room.

Great drops of sweat shone upon his forehead as he stooped above the
couch, his strong white teeth biting into his under lip.

Swiftly he crossed the room, pulling back the silken curtain which
served as a door, leaving an opening through which the dying moon
struck a mighty silver spear.

And as swiftly he passed out into the gardens scented with sweet
flowers, a little gate in the wall swinging back at his touch, through
which he sped on and on to the great plains of his beloved desert.

It was the hour before the dawn, and turning in the direction of Mecca
he prayed, and the prayer finished, advanced yet another twenty yards
and, divesting himself of his cloak, laid it upon the ground, and then
turning, sped back to his woman who honoured him before all men.

A little breeze heralding the coming dawn blew the silken curtains
gently to and fro as the man knelt beside the low divan.

"Hahmed! the hour strikes--I am afraid--I--oh! Hahmed, I cannot see
thy face, beloved."

Two little white hands sought and grasped the strong ones held out to
help, for through the faint voice had crept a note of fear.

But even though the little teeth had bit until red drops of blood had
spilled from her mouth on to the white cushion, the great eyes smiled
up into the man's tortured face as he bent closer to the golden head.

"Harken! Woman of women, thou who bringest honour unto me, in this
thou shalt please thyself, for art thou not in this moment a very
queen, and I but a slave at thy feet.

"Behold is it the custom of my tribe, dwellers of the desert, children
of the sand, that the woman give birth to her first-born upon the very
sand of this mighty desert.

"Not upon couch and silken cloth does the first-born draw its breath,
but upon the sand with the desert wind upon his little head.

"I have no command for thee, beloved, because thou art of the West,
where different customs rule, and I--I mind not--for my love for thee
is above all custom, and all manner and fashioning of mankind! Choose
then and I am satisfied!"

Once again two little hands shone dimly as they were raised, search