“Nay,” she answered again, “I saw naught.  Ask me not what I saw.  Why should I fright ye?” And then, turning to Leo with a look of the most utter tenderness that I ever saw upon the face of a woman, civilised or savage, she took his head between her hands, and kissed him on the forehead as a mother might.

“When I am gone from thee, my chosen,” she said; “when at night thou stretchest out thine hand and canst not find me, then shouldst thou think at times of me, for of a truth I love thee well, though I be not fit to wash thy feet.  And now let us love and take that which is given us, and be happy; for in the grave there is no love and no warmth, nor any touching of the lips.  Nothing perchance, or perchance but bitter memories of what might have been.  To-night the hours are our own, how know we to whom they shall belong to-morrow?”

VIII

THE FEAST, AND AFTER!

On the day following this remarkable scene—­a scene calculated to make a deep impression upon anybody who beheld it, more because of what it suggested and seemed to foreshadow than of what it revealed—­it was announced to us that a feast would be held that evening in our honour.  I did my best to get out of it, saying that we were modest people, and cared little for feasts, but my remarks being received with the silence of displeasure, I thought it wisest to hold my tongue.

Accordingly, just before sundown, I was informed that everything was ready, and, accompanied by Job, went into the cave, where I met Leo, who was, as usual, followed by Ustane.  These two had been out walking somewhere, and knew nothing of the projected festivity till that moment.  When Ustane heard of it I saw an expression of horror spring up upon her handsome features.  Turning she caught a man who was passing up the cave by the arm, and asked him something in an imperious tone.  His answer seemed to reassure her a little, for she looked relieved, though far from satisfied.  Next she appeared to attempt some remonstrance with the man, who was a person in authority, but he spoke angrily to her, and shook her off, and then, changing his mind, led her by the arm, and sat her down between himself and another man in the circle round the fire, and I perceived that for some reason of her own she thought it best to submit.

The fire in the cave was an unusually big one that night, and in a large circle round it were gathered about thirty-five men and two women, Ustane and the woman to avoid whom Job had played the role of another Scriptural character.  The men were sitting in perfect silence, as was their custom, each with his great spear stuck upright behind him, in a socket cut in the rock for that purpose.  Only one or two wore the yellowish linen garment of which I have spoken, the rest had nothing on except the leopard’s skin about the middle.

“What’s up now, sir,” said Job, doubtfully.  “Bless us and save us, there’s that woman again.  Now, surely, she can’t be after me, seeing that I have given her no encouragement.  They give me the creeps, the whole lot of them, and that’s a fact.  Why look, they have asked Mahomed to dine, too.  There, that lady of mine is talking to him in as nice and civil a way as possible.  Well, I’m glad it isn’t me, that’s all.”