United States or Morocco ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
She had no regrets, no cares; for, though she dearly loved her father, it would have been long before she saw him again even if she had gone to Sidi-bel-Abbés; and she knew he had hated the necessity for leaving her there without him. She believed it would be a great relief to such a keen soldier as he was not to be burdened with a girl.
If, when he reached Sidi-bel-Abbés, he were blamed for the delay, and punished by losing his stripe, or even by prison, it would be nothing, or almost a joy, because he would be suffering for her. "It was only to-day they gave me father's letter, which you brought," Sanda was saying. "It was short, written in a hurry, in answer to one I sent begging him to take me away.
"Prettiest dancing girls of the Sahara," he said, "and a fellow there I used to know in Bel-Abbés in the Chasseurs has just told me there's a great show for to-night." There were several cafés in Sidi-bel-Abbés, where the proprietors engaged Arab girls to dance, but Max, who had paid one visit, in curiosity, thought the women disgusting and the dancing dull.
He might already be there when she reached Sidi-bel-Abbés. What a place for a first meeting! Max agreed, sympathetically. It seemed that everything at Sidi-bel-Abbés must happen at the Hotel Splendide! "If you could only be with me and help, as you have helped me all along!" she sighed. "Though of course you can't. If Sir Knight had come But I couldn't easily explain you to my father.
The Arab girl proposed to Sanda that she should pretend to have a letter from Colonel DeLisle calling her back at once to Sidi-bel-Abbés, not giving her even time to wait for the wedding. Ben Râana would reluctantly consent to her going: he would give her an escort not Tahar, because Tahar must stay for his marriage but some trustworthy men of his goum, and good camels.
"Sidi-bel-Abbés!" a deep voice shouted musically from one end of the platform to the other, as the train came in; and the name thrilled through Max Doran's veins as it had not ceased to thrill since yesterday. More strongly than ever he had the impression that some great things would happen to him here, or begin to happen, and carry him on elsewhere, beyond those yellow hills.
The very town itself had been created by such men, and for them. For generations desperate men, sad men, starving men, of all countries men who had lost everything but life and strength had been turning their faces toward Sidi-bel-Abbés, their sole luggage the secret sorrow which, once the Legion had taken them, was no one's business but their own.
He felt physically sick as he thought of leaving her in the desert with that man, whom they called mad, and going on alone to report at Sidi-bel-Abbés, days after his leave had expired. Now that Sanda was staying behind, his best excuse was taken from him. He could hear himself making futile-sounding explanations, but keeping Mademoiselle DeLisle's name in the background.
Early in the morning, passengers for Sidi-bel-Abbés had to descend from the train going on to Oran, and take a slow one, on a branch line. It was a very slow one, indeed, and it was also late, so that it would be nearly midday and the hour for dejeuner when they reached their destination.
The Arab name rang in his ears like the sound of bells fateful bells that chime at midnight for birth or death. It seemed to him that Something had always been waiting, hidden behind a corner of life, calling him to Sidi-bel-Abbés, calling for good or evil, for sorrow or happiness, who could tell? but calling.
Word Of The Day