Slowly she stretched out her long thin arms, until they almost touched the golden embroidery on the coat, as slowly she turned her hands, and looked at the glittering nails, the hands she knew and feared so much, and turning them back again, with a little smile drew a finger-tip over the hills and valleys of the palms.  Higher still, until the pink and scented palms were on a line with the man’s stern mouth, whilst a sigh, faint as the passing of a fly’s wing, left his lips, as taking the little hands in his, he drew the girl closer yet.

“Behold, you are beautiful, O! woman, whom I would take to wife.  You start!  Why!  For what manner of man have you taken me?  Did you think that being an Arab means being without honour?  Nay!  When my eyes fell upon you standing in the sun, I knew that my heart had found its desire, that the woman who for all these years had, invisible to others, walked beside me in my waking hours, and hovered near me in my dreams, had come to life; that before me, if Allah willed, stood my wife and the mother of my children.  I know that the English race, from lack of sun perchance, love not in a moment with a love that can outlast eternity.  I do not ask you if you love me, only that you will be my wife, honouring me above all men, delighting me with such moments as you can give me.

“Listen, O! woman.  I ask of you nothing until you shall love me.  You shall draw the curtains of your apartment, and until you call me, you shall go undisturbed. When you shall call me—­then—­ah!” and his voice sank to infinite depths of tenderness as he drew her to him—­“then you will be all mine—­all—­lily of the night you are now—­rose of the morning you will be then, and I—­I will wear that rose upon my heart.  You are even as a necklace of rich jewels, O! my beloved.  Your eyes are the turquoise, your teeth are the white pearls, even as the ravishing marks upon your face,[1] and may be upon that part of your body upon which my eyes may not rest, are as black pearls of the rarest.  Your lips are redder than rubies, and your fingers are of ivory.

“And one day shall that necklace be placed in my hands, and not alone the necklace, but the white alabaster pillar of your body, from your feet like lotus flowers, to the golden rain of your hair, shall you be mine.

“And you shall not make me wait too long, for behold, I love you.  Allah! how I love you—–­as only we men of the desert love.  Allah help me,” and holding the girl in the bend of his left arm, so that she felt the racing of his heart, he raised his eyes and right hand to Heaven.  “Allah!  God of all, give me this rose soon!”

For one long moment the girl was still, with face as white as death, and great eyes troubled even as the ocean when swept by gusts of wind; for to the very depths of her stirred her heritage of tremendous passions, untouched, unknown, whilst that which is in all women, from queen to coster, coming down from the day when they were slaves, that which urges them to cry aloud, “Master!  Master!” upon their bended knees, stirred not at all; so that even as her eyes, so was her soul troubled, knowing that love had not yet laid hand to draw the curtains from about her womanhood.