“‘Yes; she knows,’ I answered.”

“He frowned, and seemed perplexed.  ‘She’ll make me shoot myself,’ he went on.  ’I know what she means.  I warn you, she’ll make me do it.  Have a drink?’”

“He was horrible, an offence to the daylight.  He bawled an order to the Arab, and turned to me again.”

“‘That’s what it’ll come to,’ he said.  ‘I warn you.’”

“He repeated the last phrase in whispers, staring at me heavily:  ’I warn you; I warn you.’”

“‘Have you a pistol?’ I asked him.  Yes, Madame, I asked him that.”

“He smiled at me.  ‘No, I haven’t,’ he said, still confidentially.  ’You see how it is?  I haven’t even a pistol.  But I know what she means.’”

“I was in field uniform, and I unbuttoned my holster and laid the revolver on the table before him.  He looked at it with an empty smile.  ‘It is loaded,’ I said, and left him.”

“But I wondered.  It seemed to me that there was a tension in the affairs of Bertin and his wife which could not endure, that the moment was at hand when the breaking-point would be reached.  And it was this idea that carried me the same evening to visit Madame Bertin.  The night about me was still, yet overhead there was wind, for great clouds marched in procession across the moon, trailing their shadows over the sand.  Bertin inhabited a little house at the fringe of the village; it looked out at the emptiness of the desert.  I was yet ten paces from the door when it opened and Madame Bertin came forth.  She was wrapped in her bernouse, and she closed the door behind her quickly and stepped forward to meet me.  She gave me greeting in her cool even tones, the pallor of her face shining forth from the hood of her garment.”

“‘Since you are so good as to come and see me,’ she said, ’let us walk here for a while.  Captain Bertin is occupied; and we can watch the clouds on the sand.’”

“We walked to and fro before the house.  ‘I saw your husband to-day,’ I told her.”

“‘He said so,’ she answered.  ’It was pleasant for him to talk with an old comrade.’”

“One window in the house was lighted, with a curtain drawn across it.  As we paused, I saw the shadow of a man on the curtain—­a man who lurched and pressed both hands to his head.  I could not tell whether Madame Bertin saw it also; she continued to walk, looking straight before her; her face was calm.”

“‘Doubtless he has his occupations here?’ I ventured presently.  ‘There are matters in which he interests himself—­non?’”

“‘That is so,’ she replied.  ’And this evening he tells me he has a letter to write, concerning some matters of importance.  I have promised him that for an hour he shall not be interrupted.  What wonderful color there is yonder?’”

“The shadow of a great cloud, blue-black like a moonlit sea, was racing past us; it seemed to break like surf on a line of sandhills.  But while I watched it awe was creeping upon me.  She was erect and grave, with lips a little parted, staring before her; the heavy folds of the bernouse were like the marble robe of a statue.  I glanced behind me at the lighted window, and the shadow of an arm moved upon it, an arm that gesticulated and conveyed to me a sense of agony, of appeal.  I remembered the revolver; I felt a weakness overcome me.”