So that as in a dream she passed down the Haj road to the water, with a vague recollection of a few wayfarers and beggars squatting on the roadside, many men who salaamed with fervour at the water’s edge; a boat, a quick passage, and more of those who salaamed, and a three days’ rest, when the tents were pitched on the near side of the mountains.  Three days in which she slept, and slept, and slept, rising to bathe and eat, grateful to the man who spoke only when she asked a question, and who, though sign of servant there was none, forestalled her every unuttered wish.  Then followed they the Haj road through the mountains and left it to take a line in the Eastern direction, which they also followed until the hour when the Arab called his camels to a halt, and pointing straight ahead, exclaimed: 

“Behold, woman, your land!”

Upon which Jill strained her eyes in vain, for her untrained sight revealed nothing but sand, and yet more sand.

“Yonder lies the oasis, O! woman of the West, and beneath the star of happiness the dwelling which will serve to throw a shadow upon your path in the heat of the day, and from the roof of which you may watch the changing of the moon; and learn the way of the Eastern stars, whilst listening to the million voices of the desert night.”

The girl made no reply, neither did she turn to look at the man.

There was no sound, save for an occasional grunt of satisfaction from one or other of the beasts, who sensed their home and the termination of their labour.

There was nothing to break the silence, and nothing to break the never-ending stretches of sand, as the two, caught in the inevitable fingers of Fate, sat motionless, looking ahead beyond the oasis, beyond the stars, to the moment when the first wind blew a particle of sand to find its mate, with which to multiply and form the desert, the birthplace and burial ground of so many; whilst gnarled hands playing with Life’s shuttlecock drew a golden thread to a brown, proceeding to weave them in and out with the blood-red silk of the pomegranate, the orange of the setting sun, the silver of the rising moon, and the purples of the bougainvillaea, until upon the background of dull greys and saffrons appeared an amazing pattern of that which is called Love.

And suddenly the girl looked up into the man’s face, and stretching out her hand spake softly, calling upon him by name, so that his heart quaked within him, and his being was suffused with love.

“Hahmed!  O!  Hahmed!  Is it happiness?”

And Hahmed the Arab, raising his right hand, called heaven to witness.

“As Allah is above us, O woman, it is happiness.  Glory be to Him Whose prophet is Mohammed.”

[1]The most poisonous snake in Egypt.

CHAPTER XXIII