CHAPTER VI.Throughout the night of the 21st of July, the darkness was intermittently illumined by the flashes of musketry which from time to time resounded from the direction of the village of Gizeh, whither Mourad Bey had retreated with the remainder of his Mamelukes—about two thousand—leaving his infantry to their fate in the intrenched camp on the bank of the Nile. St. Just passed the night under the shadow of the sphinx, having, like many others, no proper place of rest—for the army was without tents—and too tired to think of anything but sleep.Early on the following morning he received the order to mount and proceed at the head of a squadron of Guides, about fifty strong, to help the detachment which was pressing on towards Gizeh, and, if possible, afterwards to advance to Cairo. Accordingly, mounted on the gray stallion which had stood him in such stead on the previous day, he placed himself at the head of his squadron and set out at a smart trot for Gizeh. The infantry, who were attacking the place, and to whose aid he had been sent, had found great difficulty in advancing, for the road to Gizeh had been one of the hottest points in the battle of the previous day. At last, however, the outskirts of the village had been reached, and here it was that St. Just and his Guides came up with them. Mourad Bey made repeated dashes, hoping to lead to victory the dispirited remnants of his followers; but it was not to be; St. Just and his Guides hurled themselves through the sea of fire—the blazing houses—that separated them from the enemy's ranks. Despite the clouds of pungent smoke and the myriads of sparks that fell upon them, they forced their way, supported by the infantry who had taken fresh heart at their arrival, with such vigor that, after a short but sharp encounter, they put the Mamelukes to rout. That night General Buonaparte slept at Gizeh in the Bey's country house.St. Just and his troopers, now reduced to thirty, followed in the Bey's track to the Nile bank, but were prevented from crossing the river by the destruction of the bridge of boats that had led to the Mameluke fleet. Thus checked in his advance, he rested his men in a hut hard by the river side, while he considered what course he should pursue.Before he had come to a decision, he noticed a good deal of activity on board the vessels in the river, and that, from some of them, smoke was beginning to ascend. Instantly he understood what was going on. They were firing them, to prevent their falling into the hands of the French.Now St. Just concluded that, if the Egyptians thought the vessels worth the burning, there must be valuable cargo on board, and that they were worth the saving. Forthwith he resolved to do his best with that intent.Leaving half his men and all the horses, posted at the hut, he marched on foot with the remainder to the river. Several boats were moored along the bank, and one of these they seized, and in it they rowed down the river towards the burning dahabeahs, St. Just's intention being to cut some of them adrift, in the hope of afterwards capturing them.But he had reckoned without his host, for the vessels had been too successfully set alight. There was a strong wind blowing, and the flames and smoke were such that he could not get near enough to cast the vessels from their moorings. Again and again he and his brave men renewed the attempt, but only to be as often driven back by the scorching heat. But, worse even than the flames, the enemy, who had marked them while they were some distance from the vessels, poured in a deadly fire of musketry. One by one his men kept dropping, and St. Just soon saw that it was no longer a question of capturing the enemy's ships, but of saving their own lives.Meanwhile the ships burned furiously, producing such a light that the French troops at Gizeh could see dimly amid the crimson gleams the distant minarets and gilded cupolas of Cairo.St. Just gave orders to row back to their starting point, close to which he had posted the remainder of his troop.But soon he found that their retreat in that direction was cut off; for, while he and his men had been busy trying to cut adrift the burning, as well as the yet unlighted, dahabeahs, swarms of Arabs had put off in boats and had collected in their rear.To turn the boat's head round and row towards Cairo seemed the only thing to be done, and even the risk of this was terrible, their safety depending upon General Buonaparte's having captured the city. His fifteen men were now reduced to eight, seven having fallen beneath the Mamelukes' fusillade. St. Just sat in the stern of the boat steering, pondering meanwhile on the peril of their situation and their chances of escape. He knew that some of the French troops were already moving on Cairo; and, from scraps of conversation picked up round the camp fires on the previous night, he entertained little doubt that Buonaparte would enter the city, either by storming it, or otherwise, at dawn on the following day.Now if he, St. Just, could get into Cairo, with his men, unseen, and quietly take possession of some house, they would probably be able to maintain themselves secure in it till General Buonaparte's arrival. And this was what he set himself to do. But how to do it was the difficulty. The light from the conflagration on the river was so great that, were they to attempt to land in their French uniforms, they would be instantly discovered by the lawless and turbulent hordes scattered up and down the river banks, plundering and fighting and murdering in all directions, and would be quickly set upon, overcome and killed.Their position was desperate, and desperate remedies were required; and the plan St. Just evolved was desperate, and depended also on chance for its accomplishment. Having explained it to his men, he ordered them to lie up under the shadow of some vessels moored in mid-stream and as yet untouched by the fire, just keeping the boat from drifting, and to wait for the chance of capturing a passing boat with Arabs on board, his intention being to massacre the crew for the sake of their clothes, which his own men would then put on; then they were to watch their opportunity to get ashore in the confusion that everywhere prevailed.There is an old proverb to the effect that all things come to those who wait, if they but wait long enough; and so it was in this case. The men were sitting listlessly, tired of their inactivity, when a sudden cry brought them back to attention. Bearing down upon them was a large boat manned by about a dozen Arabs. A shaft of light cast from some burning wreckage floating by upon the encrimsoned waters in their direction, had betrayed to the approaching boat that in one of their own craft were some of the hated invaders. It was their fierce cry that awakened St. Just and his crew to a conviction of their danger. Ping! Ping! went the bullets from the Arab matchlocks, and at the same moment St. Just shouted, "Only two men row; the rest lie in the boat and fire at the Arab rowers. Take careful aim and don't throw away a shot. Your lives depend upon it."The men obeyed at once. Crack, crack. Two of the Frenchmen had fired, and two of the Arabs threw up their arms and fell in a huddled heap at the bottom of their dhow. Almost immediately a wild volley was fired by the Arabs, and one of the Frenchmen, whose head had been exposed to the light, toppled over the side of the boat into the Nile, a bullet in his brain; giving his comrades a brief view of his face, ere he sank beneath the waters in the ruddy light.St. Just's measures were prompt and decisive, and his voice rang out like a clarion on the night. "A volley, all of you; then pick up your oars and row for them as hard as you can go."The order was as promptly obeyed. The seven shots flew straight and, before the Arabs could recover from the confusion they had occasioned, the French picked up their oars, crashed into them and boarded them. A few moments later, there drifted down the Nile an empty boat; while, pulling for the distant domes, which marked the city of Cairo, were eight men dressed as Arabs and speaking French.CHAPTER VII.The flames from the burning vessels on the river wrapped the city of Cairo in a lurid glow, and above it hovered a cloud of smoke, but which the breeze that heralds the approach of dawn, was gradually, though almost imperceptibly dispersing. The air was rent with cries and groans and yells. The thoroughfares were thronged with the panic-stricken citizens. Some, laden with goods, were fleeing with their families into the desert towards Philiae; others, their clothes torn and blood-stained, their muskets still in their hands, their dress proclaiming them to be soldiers who, routed in that day's fight, had fled for refuge to the city, were occupying themselves with pillaging the houses of the merchants.In marked contrast to the general glare and din, one little narrow side street near the citadel remained wrapped in gloom and silence. Running parallel to the river, as it did, the houses on its river side shut out the light of the conflagration and only a faint reflection was visible overhead.Hugging the walls of the houses on one side of this court—for it scarce merited the name of street, so narrow was it—St. Just and his followers, enveloped in "haic" and "burnous," crept stealthily and silently along. No one was about, nor was a light to be seen in any of the houses.So far their venture had been successful; aided by the semi-darkness and the confusion that was prevailing in the busier parts of the city, where the crowd had drawn together, St. Just had managed to run his boat ashore on an unfrequented spot and to land unnoticed. Then separating, the better to escape observation, but still keeping close enough together for mutual help, should they be attacked, they had made their way towards the citadel and had joined a mob that was pouring into its gates. At that point, however, St. Just had turned aside to investigate the little street which seemed deserted.He and his men had almost reached the top, when, suddenly, a piercing shriek rang out upon the stillness of the night. It came from a house St. Just was passing. He halted instantly; then, in the shrill and fearsome tones of a woman, came some words in Arabic. Now, during the few weeks the young officer had been in Egypt he had, in his journeyings with despatches, contrived to pick up a few words of Arabic; and the knowledge thus acquired now stood him in good stead. Thus he could translate the woman's cry, "Let me go; Yusuf, let me go!"What Frenchman could listen unmoved to such a call for help? Certainly not St. Just. In a whisper, he told the man next to him to close up and pass the same order on from each man to the one behind him. Then he cast his eyes up and down the house; it was a tall stone building and white-washed, and was windowless, save that high up from the ground were a few square holes protected by bars of iron. A strong iron-studded door, set deep in a stone archway, formed the entrance to this house.Earnestly as St. Just desired to go to the rescue of the shrieking woman, the door was too strong to be forced, except after continued and strenuous efforts, and there was no other possible entrance from the front. He was debating whether to try to make his way round to the back of the house, in the hope of there finding a means of getting in, when, all at once, the heavy door swung open, and a swarthy Arab came out, bearing on his shoulders a woman, who was either dead or senseless, for she made no movement. With the opening of the door, the light from within fell upon St. Just and those behind him, disclosing to the man's astonished eyes that they were not Arabs, but Frenchmen. St. Just made a forward movement; the Arab hesitated for a moment, then dropped his burden and turned and fled into the house again.St. Just's action was speedy. Fate seemed to be playing into his hands. Here was a house that might serve them for a refuge and that, to all appearance, could be defended for some hours, at any rate, by the small body of men he had at his disposal. At once he decided to take possession of it. Turning to the two nearest men, he said, "Pick up the woman, and take her inside." Then to the others, "Follow me, then close the door and make it fast."His orders were promptly carried out. Then the party—two of them bearing the still unconscious woman—traversed the length of a narrow passage lighted by a small brass lamp that hung from the ceiling. At the end of this they found themselves in an open court, in the center of which a marble fountain was playing, the water falling into the basin with the sound of gentle rain, and moistening the air with its tumid spray.At the further side of the courtyard was a colonnade, and above it were the latticed windows of the women's apartments, now open. But no dusky beauties peeped from them, nor was there any sign or sound of life; the whole place was silent as the grave.Leaving one man as a sentry in the corridor, and despatching four to make a thorough search of the premises, St. Just told the two who were carrying the woman, to lay her down on a marble seat under the colonnade. This done, he set himself to restore her, if so be that she still lived. There were signs that she had struggled with her abductor, for, half way across the courtyard, they found a richly embroidered shawl and a jeweled dagger. A short examination showed St. Just that the woman breathed, and he could find no marks of injury about her. He sprinkled water on her face and fanned her and rubbed her hands; but, despite all his efforts to revive her, she remained insensible.St. Just was still thus occupied, when the four men he had sent on a tour of inspection through the house, returned, each carrying a lighted lantern, to report that they had found not a soul about the place, though, from the appearance of the rooms, it was plain that the inmates had but recently vacated them.While receiving his men's report, St. Just had temporarily stayed his efforts to revive the fainting woman, and had faced the troopers. Now he looked to her again. The men had turned their lanterns on her; her headgear had fallen to the ground, disclosing to the young officer's astonished gaze a face of such rare beauty as he had not even dreamed of. She was quite young and, for an Eastern woman, singularly fair; she had hair of a golden brown and dark blue eyes, and a mouth about which now lurked as sweet a smile as ever brightened woman's face.For the light shining in her eyes had completed her awakening, and, at the moment when St. Just became conscious of her surpassing loveliness, she was gazing in bewilderment upon the group around her. In a few seconds, she recognized them as the invaders of her country, and, at the same time, remembered what had led to her unconsciousness.Then, to the astonishment of her hearers, she thus addressed them, speaking in excellent French and a clear, musical voice."Messieurs, the fortune of war has thrown into your hands a woman who has some claim to call herself a French woman. My mother was captured by a slaver when traveling from France at the time of the death of Louis Quinze, whose soul may God preserve. All my life have I spoken your tongue, and, because of the French blood in me, I have cursed the slavery in which, in this country, we women are held."I thank you for your timely help. You have saved me from a fate worse than death."And now I will order the slaves to bring you some refreshment."And, rising with difficulty, though not without grace and dignity, despite her stiffness and the novelty of her position, she made as though to walk to the colonnade."Mademoiselle!"She stopped and faced the speaker, fixing her eyes intently upon his face. St. Just bowed low before her. She might have been an Empress; but his respect was a tribute only to her beauty."Mademoiselle," he repeated, "I regret to inform you that I have just learned that, save yourself and us, there is no one in the house.""Is that indeed so?" she answered, bowing on her part. "Then I pray you order your men to forage for themselves. If you care to accompany me, I will show you where the stores are."He turned to the men and said, "Hunt about, lads, and eat what you can; for, if that black rascal returns with any more of his friends, we shall have to stand a siege and fight for our skins, and" (after a pause) "the lady's."With this the men dispersed, some in search of food and others to perform allotted duties.An hour later, St. Just, who had busied himself in the interval in putting the house into a fair condition of defence, ascended, with beating heart, a staircase, at the top of which was a doorway screened by heavy blue curtains, that formed a glaring contrast to the bright red stair carpets. Bold soldier as he was, it was with a timid air that he pushed aside the curtains and found himself where, till now, no man, save the master of the house, had been permitted to set foot; in the women's apartments. It was a long, narrow room, but so gracefully and skillfully decorated that its narrowness was not at first apparent. The air was heavy with some Eastern perfume, that caused the feeling of oppression, for the lattices overlooking the courtyard that had been closed over night had not yet been opened, despite the fact that the sun was beginning to show its power.St. Just looked round the room for signs of the girl he had rescued not two hours before; his eyes did not roam far before they lighted on her; she was reclining upon a pile of cushions, on a divan, one arm under her head, the other, bare to the shoulder and exquisitely molded, lying on her side, but bent slightly forward, so that her fingers just touched the floor. She was sleeping, her whole pose betokening the abandon of fatigue. Noiselessly St. Just moved to her side, and gazed enraptured on the vision of loveliness beneath him. Through the gauzy drapery, he could see her swelling bosom rise and fall in gentle undulations; he noted the faint flush, induced by sleep, upon her cheek, the ruddy lips slightly parted in a smile and showing just a hint of the gleaming teeth within, the delicately chiselled nose, the broad smooth brow, the exquisite oval of her face; and, at the sight of all her charms, he felt his manhood stir within him.Then, as sleepers generally do when one is near to them, she became conscious that she was not alone, and the dark blue orbs unclosed. She started, and a look of fear came over her at finding herself in the presence of a man; but, the next instant, she recognized him and, remembering what had passed, she smiled.St. Just, too, smiled, and at the same time registered a mental vow to save her from the usual fate of young and handsome women in a captured city.Then she sat up and laughingly addressed him in French, as heretofore. "Fancy your finding me asleep like this. I feel quite ashamed. And with my face uncovered. And do you know, Sir, that no man but my father ever sets foot in the apartments. They are sacred to the women.""I fear, Madame," replied St. Just, "that, in a state of warfare, nothing is sacred to a Frenchman. But I came here to help you; and this must be my excuse. Soon my countrymen will be in possession of the city, and you will need protection. But I will see to it that no harm shall come to you.""I am sure of that," she answered, beaming on him with admiration. He was the handsomest man she had ever seen. "But come and breakfast with me," she went on, and she motioned to him to seat himself beside her on the divan.St. Just needed no second invitation, but quickly did as he was bidden. Then he noticed that, on a small table close at hand, there was laid out a dainty refreshment in the shape of coffee and Arab cakes and fruit."Are you a conjurer?" he asked in surprise, when she had filled a cup and passed it to him. He did not understand how the repast had been prepared, all the servants having fled.She laughed a merry laugh. "I made the coffee myself a short time ago," she said, "and then I must have dropped asleep. The fruit and biscuits were already in the room.""But you had no stove," St. Just objected."There is a brazier in the corner. See? And the saucepan was put ready for this morning by the slave last night, who was not able to forget the habits of a lifetime even when overcome by terror. Though, till my father returned from Gizeh late last night and told us how the battle had gone, we had no cause for fear.""But how comes it that I find you here alone?""My father returned only for more slaves, and left immediately, when he had collected them. He promised to come back for me, or send Yusuf. Yusuf came indeed—he was the man you saw carrying me—but I would that he had stayed away, for he frightened and insulted me. He said that all law and order were at an end; that the French would soon be here, and that he loved me and was determined that I should be his; by force, if needs be. With that he advanced and would have embraced me. I screamed and fled from him; but he soon caught me and was carrying me away, when I fainted. I know no more; you know what followed.""I do indeed," said St. Just gravely. "God be thanked that I came up when I did. I shudder to think what otherwise might have been your fate.""It would have been death," she said; "for I never could have survived the ignominy of having been embraced by Yusuf. I should have slain myself at the first opportunity. Thus you have saved my life, my brave deliverer."She turned her lovely eyes on him—eyes which beamed forth not only gratitude, but the dawn of love."You overwhelm me, when you talk like that," replied St. Just. "Any of my countrymen would have acted as I did. But tell me. You said but now, that your mother was a French woman; may I know her name?""Certainly; it was de Moncourt.""What, of Moncourt in Brittany?""Yes.""Indeed! then I have little doubt I have the honor to greet a cousin. I am a St. Just, also of Brittany.""Truly? How delightful!""By what name did your mother call you?""Alas! it is an Arab one; I am called Halima."Hardly had the words escaped her lips, when the sound of two shots following rapidly upon each other reached their ears. Both started to their feet."Yusuf!" she cried in terror.And he, "Oh for arms and ammunition. We have but our pistols and a few rounds.""Do you want guns?" asked Halima. "It so, there are matchlocks in the house; and gunpowder, too. Come with me and I will show you where they are."St. Just shouted to one of his men; and Halima led them up a passage, halting at the end of it, before what seemed merely a wall panel. But she touched a knob that formed a portion of the Arabesque that decorated it; and, at the same time, pushed the panel. It opened on hinges, like an ordinary door, disclosing a room in which were arms of all sorts, the whole more or less old fashioned, and useless against disciplined troops, but that might be efficacious against a Cairo mob. At any rate, the matchlocks would make a noise, and firing blank cartridges often answers with a crowd. So St. Just and his trooper picked up a dozen of the firearms and as much ammunition as they could carry, the young girl helping them; then they rejoined the other men, who were gathered in the courtyard at the foot of the staircase that led to the women's apartments.Quickly the matchlocks were distributed and loaded. But, before St. Just had decided how to post his men, a loud hammering at the entrance and the trampling of many feet and the sound of voices were heard. One louder than the rest shouted out in Arabic, "Open, open, ye dogs of Christians."Then Halima trembled and panted in faltering tones, "It is Yusuf. Oh! save me from him. Kill me rather than let me fall into his hands."And St. Just answered. "Trust me, Yusuf shall not have you, while I live. Keep close behind me." Then he called out to his men, "All follow me up the staircase!" and he led the way with Halima. Then he posted four men at the top of the staircase, two in front who were to lie down, and two behind, to stand up or kneel as occasion served. The staircase was not broad enough to allow more than two persons to ascend abreast; there was a fair prospect, therefore, that the four men could defend it.These men placed, St. Just, with Halima and his three remaining troopers, betook themselves to a room with windows or embrasures that commanded the courtyard approach to the foot of the staircase. At these embrasures they took their stand, and awaited, stern and indomitable, the imminent attack.Meanwhile the din without increased; the shouts and yells and menaces against the hated foreigners grew louder; the blows thundered upon the iron-studded door faster and harder. No door could long withstand such violence, and every moment St. Just felt that it must give way. At last, with a loud crash, it fell, and the crowd of Arabs came pouring into the courtyard."Aim low and fire," came the order from St. Just. He fired himself, and the three troopers did the same. Two men in the crowd dropped, and, with a howl of rage, the rest dashed across the yard and made for the staircase. When the first of them came in sight, the four men at the top fired, and several of the attacking party fell."Load and fire as fast as you can," said St. Just to the men in the room; "and show as little as possible of your bodies."Before the beginning of the fight the French troopers had thrown aside their Arab draperies, finding they impeded their movements; so that, if ever their assailants had had any doubt about their nationality, it was now removed.Both the men on the stairs and those in the room were now using their guns with fatal effect upon the densely packed crowd below, and many a bullet found its billet. But the besieged were not having it wholly their own way, for, though the attacking party recoiled time after time before the deadly fire at close quarters, they continually again pressed forward. They, also, were not without firearms, which they were using to some purpose, for every now and then a bullet crashed into the room and buried itself either in the wall, or in some article of furniture. Presently one of St. Just's men gave a cry and dropped, badly wounded. But there was no time to attend to him. All that happened was that Halima stepped forward and took his weapon and his place, loading and firing like the others.Meanwhile the men at the head of the staircase were faring badly. Already two of them had been rendered hors de combat; and St. Just, rushing out of the room to learn how matters were progressing, arrived just in time to see a third man fall with a thud at his feet, stone dead.There was a loud yell, then a rush up the staircase, and, the next moment, St. Just and the trooper at his side found themselves hacking and hewing and stabbing at the sea of swarthy faces in front of them. But they made no impression on the crowd, spite of those who kept falling beneath their blows. On and on the rabble came, pressed forwards by them who were behind. Then St. Just shouted out for those who were in the room to come to his help; but his words were lost in the din of the yelling Arabs. Fighting and retiring inch by inch, he, and the brave fellow at his side gradually regained the room in which were Halima and the others. The place was filled with smoke and sulphurous fumes, and almost stifling, and the many bullets that had entered it had made havoc of the furniture and woodwork.The moment St. Just regained the room, his eyes sought Halima. She was standing at the window firing at the surging mass below. Calling to the two men with her to take his place and hold back the crowd so long as they were able, he ran swiftly to the girl. Each looked in the other's face, and both knew that their efforts to drive back the crowd were vain. Unless there was some way of escape, their doom was sealed. From the look of stern resolve she wore, and the way she clutched the dagger in her hand, St. Just knew that she would keep her word, and that, in securing her, the victors would capture but a corpse.Meanwhile the three men at the door were fighting hard; but what could three men do, opposed by forty? With aching arms and parched mouths, and panting breasts, they slashed and stabbed, and parried, retiring step by step, the savage Arabs ever pressing forward, and by sheer weight forcing the three men back upon St. Just, who now once more joined in the fray.A moment more, and the soldier on his right fell to the ground with a spear point through his heart. Instantly St. Just brought down his sword upon the spearman's head, and the Arab joined the Frenchman he had slain.Enraged at seeing their comrade fall, and thirsting for revenge, St. Just's two last men hurled themselves upon the mob, and, for a moment, made it waver.Then, feeling that their final moment had arrived, St. Just placed himself before the girl, prepared for the last deadly rush that would end the life of both. But, for all that he knew that resistance would avail them nothing, that their case was hopeless, so strongly implanted in the human heart is the love of life, that he did not stand passively awaiting death, but savagely fought on, desperation urging him to superhuman efforts in one last supreme struggle for life.Then, just when he had received a spear thrust through the left arm and all seemed lost, suddenly, with the swiftness of a flash of lightning, despair gave way to hope. A measured tramp was heard along the narrow street; then the inspiring sound of a French bugle call. Help was at hand, if he could but hold out a few moments longer! The knowledge lent him strength and inspired him to fresh efforts. Once more he threw himself upon his foes. But his ardor this time was scarcely needed, for the Arabs also had heard the sounds, and knew what they portended. Their enemy would soon be upon them. They wavered, then fell back before his whirling sword; the next moment they had turned and were rushing pell mell out of the room and down the staircase, tumbling over each other in their hurry.But, warned by the approaching march of men, instead of making for the main entrance, on reaching the foot of the staircase, they wheeled right and left and made their escape by doors and windows at the back.During this stampede, the Arab girl had not been idle. She, too, had heard the marching and the bugle, and knew that, if she could but gain the French, her life and honor were secure. She saw that the courtyard was deserted—for all the Arabs, who were not in the room, were crowded on or about the staircase—also that the main entrance to the house was clear.In a moment her resolve was taken, and, while St. Just was still brandishing his sword to keep his foes at bay, she made her way carefully through the window, and lowered herself on to a protruding gargoyle, about four feet below and somewhat to the side of it. Steadying herself for a moment, she stooped, or, rather, squatted down, until she touched the gargoyle. From this point to the top of the colonnade was scarcely ten feet. Clinging firmly to the gargoyle, she let her body down, until it swung at full length from her hold. Then she dropped. The fall shook her somewhat, but, almost immediately, she recovered herself and ran along the colonnade, until she gained a water pipe. To slide down this and reach the ground in safety was but a second's work. Then, like a young antelope, she sped across the courtyard, and over the large studded door, which had been torn from its hinges and lay athwart her path: and out into the narrow street.Onward she rushed with the cry, "A moi! à moi! mes enfants! Au secours; pour la France!" Nor did she pause until she found herself panting and breathless in the arms of a French officer. But, withdrawing herself immediately, she hurriedly explained St. Just's great peril.At this, scarcely waiting for orders, the soldiers rushed past her through the house and across the courtyard. There they found St. Just covered with blood and black with powder, but, save for the spear thrust through his arm, and sundry bruises, not much the worse for what he had undergone. But he was panting for breath, and resting on his sword, and could not speak. With a cheer, the soldiers ran to him, and, two of them supporting him, one on each side, they got him down the staircase, then carried him across the quadrangle, and set him down before the officer in command of the detachment, which General Buonaparte had that moment joined.To account for the arrival of his fellow soldiers, so opportunely for St. Just, it needs but to be stated that Buonaparte had made his attack at dawn upon the city, as he had intended. The sheiks had made but a poor defence of the Citadel and had quickly agreed to its surrender. The troops were on their way to take possession of it, when the Arab girl ran out and told what was occurring in the house.So soon as he had breath enough, St. Just gave his account of all that had occurred from the time of his pursuit of Mourad Bey. Buonaparte's dark eyes flashed unpleasantly, at times, but he spoke no word until the young officer had concluded his report; then he turned to a man at his side, over whose head the knife of the assassin was already hovering, and in a few weeks would fatally descend; and said something in an undertone. General Kleber, for it was he, replied inaudibly to those about them, and shook his head.Then Buonaparte addressed St. Just and, pinching his ear, he said, "Be careful, be careful. France is watching you, and has need of you."The words seemed cold and formal—almost stern; but coming from this little man with the piercing eyes, to the young officer, they sounded like unmerited praise.Continuing, Buonaparte turned to a captain and said,"Guard the house and look well to the lady also." The next instant he rode away, followed by all, but a captain's guard, to receive the homage due to a conqueror.Then St. Just fell fainting to the ground and was carried into the house in which he had so bravely fought, and where he was to lie upon a bed of sickness and be tended by a beautiful woman who was already more than half in love with him.CHAPTER VIII.For three weeks St. Just lay in bed in the house of Halima's father, for the greater part of the time unconscious; for—what with his wound and bruises, the excitement he had undergone and the great heat—on the day after the attack on the house, he fell into a raging fever. Once General Buonaparte came to see him, but the young officer did not know him.During all this time Halima helped to nurse him, and, so true is it that we acquire affection for the objects of our care, each day she felt herself more drawn towards him.At last his mind came back to him, and he began to gain strength fast; so much so, that he realized, with great dejection, that, in a few days, he would have to return to his duties, and bid farewell to the Arab girl who had wound herself about his heart. Now, in the game of love there is often much finesse and subterfuge. He would have given anything, to know Halima's sentiments towards himself, but it so happened, that in proportion as St. Just gained consciousness and strength, so did she withdraw herself from his society, until at last she would spend but a few minutes of each day in his company, and then only in the presence of another person. Had he known how assiduously she had attended him during his term of insensibility, his mind would have been at rest, for the knowledge would have given him the information he desired, and he would have declared the love that was consuming him. As it was, fearing to offend her by his precipitancy, he said nothing, when he left her, except to thank her for the shelter and attention she had given him.Halima blushed and hung her head, and, though longing for him to take her in his arms, with her Eastern bringing up, was too shy to give him an inkling of her feelings; and so they parted, each outwardly calm, but with a devouring flame within.His duties, when he returned to them, he found irksome, for thought of her, though they were really light—nothing beyond an hour's drill daily with his regiment.In this way two months passed, but more stirring times were coming; this was the calm that heralded the storm. The conquered citizens of Cairo, though, to all appearance, acquiescing with cheerfulness and content in the new order of things, were in reality planning a revolt, and the knowledge of it was brought to St. Just's ears in this way.At five o'clock in the morning of the 21st of October, his servant aroused him to say that a messenger from the "Lady Halima" wished to see him. St. Just dressed with all speed, and Halima's messenger was introduced. He was the bearer of a letter from her to say that she was assured on authority, on which she could implicitly rely, that the citizens had for some time been quietly arming themselves, and that they were at that very moment silently massing themselves throughout the city, and would, at a certain signal, rise simultaneously in the different quarters, and massacre the French.This news was as startling as it was alarming, and St. Just instantly had the reveille sounded and ordered his squadron to horse; then hurried towards the citadel. But, meantime, the insurrection had begun, and General Buonaparte, at the first alarm, had also galloped thither, attended by three Guides. But he was ahead of the young officer, so that when, a few minutes later, the latter came on the scene, he found Buonaparte surrounded by a mob of Arabs, his escort killed, his horse shot under him, and himself in imminent peril of his life.Just in the nick of time St. Just and his troop dashed forward, and by the impetuosity of their onslaught, broke through the crowd, forced them back, and soon cleared a space around their General. But the Arabs were only checked, not broken, and, seeing the small number of their assailants, they prepared to renew the attack; and, had their courage but equalled their numerical advantage, they must have annihilated the Frenchmen.From the French point of view, discretion was the better part of valor, and St. Just saw the means of putting that better part into execution; for it so happened that, once more, he was close to the Lady Halima's abode. To suggest to Buonaparte that they should take refuge there, to mount the General on one of his trooper's horses, and to gallop at full speed through the gateway of the house was the work but of a few seconds. Before the astonished Arabs had divined their object, the whole squadron had passed through, and the entrance to the courtyard had been barred.St. Just's heart beat high at the thought that, for the second time, it seemed likely he would have to defend the house of his lady love; but, on this occasion, with the added responsibility for the safety of his Commander's person.To set against this, however, were the circumstances that they were in sufficient numbers (fifty) to hold the place, with the protection of the walls afforded, for a considerable time, and were well-armed; not, as on the previous occasion, with obsolete and rusty weapons.But, fortunately, the valor and endurance of the party were not put to the test; for the arrangements for defence had scarcely been completed, when the march of infantry was heard approaching at the double. A French regiment was passing the end of the narrow street on its way to the citadel, news having been received that most of the rioters were assembled there.At the sound of their footsteps, some of St. Just's troopers leaned out of the windows and shouted for help. At once the men were halted, then wheeled round and up the street. The effect was magical! with shouts and cries of terror, the crowd of Arabs assembled before the Lady Halima's house, without making the slightest show of fight, took to their heels and ran helter-skelter up the street and out at the end, some of the French soldiers chasing them to that point. Then the door of the house was opened, and one of the troopers informed the commanding officer the meaning of their presence there, and that General Buonaparte was with them. At this unlooked for news, the officer said he would see the General and take his orders.Now, though when the attack was made on him, Buonaparte was on his way to the citadel, at the sight of the Lady Halima he—always an admirer of the other sex—was so captivated by her beauty, that he gladly accepted her invitation to remain for breakfast. So, when the Colonel of the infantry regiment was introduced to him, instead of taking advantage of his escort to continue his journey to the citadel, he contented himself with giving the officer certain orders, among which was that he was to keep open communications between the house in which they were, and the citadel; and to let him know if his presence should be urgently required. Failing any such message, he, Buonaparte, would be at the citadel in two hours time.Then he dismissed the Colonel and he and St. Just sat down to breakfast with the Lady Halima in the women's apartment. It brought to St. Just the remembrance of that first repast he had taken with her in that very room, nearly three months before, and in somewhat similar circumstances. Now, as then, there were sounds of firing in the distance, and the tramp of feet and the rattle of arms awoke the echoes of the court-yard below. But in the room itself how different was the state of things. She had been his sole companion on that memorable morning, and he had been the object of her assiduous courtesy; now, in the presence of this all-conquering young General, he was a sort of "quantité négligeable." As before, the sun-light fell with full effect upon her lovely face, now filled with animation, her eyes sparkling with delight, the while she gayly chatted with the "man of destiny" who was seated upon the divan facing her. Buonaparte, for once, had cast off the iron mask of coldness and impenetrability he usually wore, and was basking in the sunshine of her smiles. For the time the cares of his position had been thrust aside, and, as he himself expressed it, he was amusing himself while Cairo was in revolt, like Nero fiddling while Rome was burning.His chatter was not, however, altogether frivolous; occasionally he would be serious. For instance, speaking of the city and his plans he said, "I must confess that to-day's disturbance has surprised me. And I had thought the future would be so easy. Alas! which one of us knows the future?"The girl, who had been listening intently, here interrupted with a laugh. "You would know your future? That is told easily enough. Remember I have been brought up in the East and have been taught to forecast events by people who have forgotten more than you of the West have ever heard of. I could convince you."So saying, she clapped her hands and, before Buonaparte could object, if indeed he had wished to do so, had said something to her slave in Arabic, that resulted in the removal of the breakfast table and the production of a large earthenware bowl filled apparently with water, for she invited both men to taste it. One thing they noticed, and it was this; that, though the bowl was shallow and the sunlight shone around on the table on which it stood, it did not seem to shine upon the water, which looked black as ink.Presently from a flask, she took from a corner cabinet the girl let fall a drop of liquid into the bowl; then, bending over, she gazed into it in silence, and both her companions did the same. Now, whether the act of fixing their eyes intently on the bowl, in a measure hypnotized them, so that their brains became enslaved by her suggestions, it is not for the present chronicler to say; but, in a few seconds, pictures seemed to form themselves on the surface of the inky looking liquid in the bowl. At first the images presented appeared blurred and misty; but, gradually, they took definite shapes. In the first picture Buonaparte was seated on a throne and on his head was a golden crown, and Josephine his wife was by his side, she also crowned. Gradually the figures faded and disappeared. Next St. Just saw himself on a prison floor chained to the wall and with the visage of a madman. In the next tableau there were many figures dressed in generals' uniforms, and Buonaparte in their midst. It was night and they were seated round a camp fire; from the expression on the faces of all, very serious matters were engaging their attention; and scattered around were dead and wounded men and horses and broken weapons and accoutrements. This scene also passed away. In that which followed Buonaparte and St. Just were driving in a sleigh, and in front of them was a woman beckoning to them. Her face was unknown to both; upon her head was the crown that Buonaparte's wife had worn in the first picture; and, wherever she pointed was desolation, the desolation that comes to a country over which an invading army has passed; and across the picture was written "France." The next tableau was a battle field. On a mound, surrounded by generals, but slightly in advance of them, and mounted on a white horse, was Buonaparte, but looking older and stouter. A short distance from him, soldiers were massed about a large farmhouse, which they were attacking, and which was being defended by other soldiers within. The scene changed; troops were flying in all directions—the French—the figure of Buonaparte among them. Yet one more scene; a lonely rock-bound islet in a boundless sea. The moon and stars overhead showed that it was night. On a narrow bed in a plainly furnished room lay Buonaparte; and at the door there stood a soldier in a uniform that was not that of France. 'Twas plain his duty was to guard a captive! This vision, like those which had preceded it, vanished, and the liquid mirror in the bowl revealed no further pictures.St. Just raised his head from the bowl and encountered the troubled gaze of Buonaparte; while, seated hard by on a divan, was the girl. There was silence for a space. It was Halima who broke it."Have you seen enough, Sir?" she said, turning to the General. "Or would you see more?"Buonaparte's answer was to overturn the table; the bowl fell and was smashed into a thousand pieces on the floor. Then a sudden light leapt into those awful eyes, and he broke forth into a torrent of reproach. "Why did you bring me here?" he asked angrily, turning to St. Just. "Am I to be insulted, fooled by such mummeries as these? As for you, girl, did I but know your father, I would send you to him dead." And he hissed out the last words, his face white with passion.And St. Just, who loved the girl and was rightly counted brave, and would have struck to the earth any other man who had so spoken, was so dominated by the glance of this little man, whom physically he could easily have crushed the life out of; that he sat unmoved and tongue-tied.Not so the girl; with face aflame and flashing eyes, she sprang to her feet and faced the conqueror; then thus she spoke, "My father the Sheik Ibrahim of the tribe of Auim (faithful) has with him many warriors who would avenge my death by killing you."Buonaparte made no reply to her, but addressed himself to the young officer. "Captain," he said, "Assemble your troop and attend me to the Citadel. We have dallied here too long." Then, turning to the Lady Halima, "I thank you, madame, for your hospitality and the timely shelter of your house. Adieu. I doubt not we shall meet again." He bowed to her and strode quickly from the room. She made no answer, but merely inclined her head. But to St. Just, who followed Buonaparte, she nodded smilingly, and, just when he was passing through the doorway, the words were wafted to him, "You will come to see me soon, my Captain."On their way to the Citadel and the moment they were out of hearing, Buonaparte made reference to the Arab girl's remark. "You heard what she said about her father," he said, "and the men under his command. He will be useful to me; he must be gained somehow. I shall send you to him." Then he relapsed into silence, and no further word was uttered till they reached the Citadel.Here they found all quiet; the incipient insurrection had been quelled before it had attained dangerous dimensions.The news of the attempt on Buonaparte's life had reached the French, and, when he made his appearance, loud huzzahs were raised, and many of his officers pressed forward to congratulate him on his escape. Among these were Kleber, and Buonaparte's secretary, Bourrienne. Him the General hailed."Ah! Bourrienne!" he cried; "the very man I want. Get writing materials, and pen me what I shall dictate."The letter presently dictated was addressed to the Sheik Ibrahim, Halima's father, urging him to join forces with the French and, while pointing out the hopelessness of opposition, and the certainty of the eventual victory of the invaders, promising him great rewards for his assistance.The letter was dictated in the hearing of St. Just, for Buonaparte wished him to know its contents. When it was finished, he turned to the young man and handed it to him with the words, "You will take a squadron of men and go to this Ibrahim with this letter, and use your best endeavors to induce him to adopt my views. I have heard of this man; he is a powerful chief. I think you will either fall in with him, or gain news of him in the neighborhood of the third cataract, near Abu Klea. But his daughter can inform you.""How soon do I start, General?" asked St. Just, in a tone that was none of the liveliest. He had had his fill of desert rides, and looked forward to the coming expedition with anything but pleasure."To-morrow at day-break," was the General's reply. "Meanwhile your time is at your own disposal." Then, turning to Kleber, who was standing by, "General, give Captain St. Just a squadron of Arabs you can trust, and an interpreter for service in the desert, in case this sheik should not know French.""I will see to it, Sir," was Kleber's answer. "The men shall be in readiness at day-break."Then, with a nod, Buonaparte dismissed St. Just.Much as he disliked the prospect of the mission that had been confided to him, there was a temporary solace in the excuse it gave him for once more calling on Halima; and not more than two hours after he and General Buonaparte had left her, she was astonished to receive the announcement of his return.She advanced smilingly to meet him, but with a look of inquiry on her face. "I am delighted to see you again so soon, Captain St. Just, but I am not so vain as to attribute your call to my attractions, or even to your courtesy. Besides, I see trouble in your face. Are you the bearer of bad news?"Then St. Just told her of his coming journey, and how loath he was to leave Cairo, where she was, and to face the hardships of the desert, of which he had already had so painful an experience.When she learned his destination, she told him she would write a letter to her father, if he would bear it to him; and, there and then, she sat down and wrote it, inscribing it with her father's name and present resting-place, so far as she believed. Handing it to the young Frenchman, she said, "I have told my father all that you have done for me, and I have prayed him to protect you and put you on your way. Also I have told him of Yusuf's treachery towards a daughter of the house of "Auim." She drew herself up proudly when she mentioned her tribe's name. "He will punish Yusuf either with banishment for ever from the tribe, or with death."St. Just took the letter from her, but his hand trembled with excitement, and he could scarce find words in which to thank her, for stress of the passion that was surging like a torrent in his breast. He tried to stem it, but it would not be confined, and at last broke forth."Oh, Halima!" he cried. "It is not the perils of the desert that alarm me; what cuts me to the heart is that I must leave you; for I love you, I love you; I feel that I cannot live without you. Until I saw you, my heart yearned only for military glory—to rise in my profession; but now—now I would forfeit every prospect, all else that I hold dear, if I might win your love. Tell me, lady, is there no cord in your heart that vibrates in unison with my own? Surely such love as mine cannot be all in vain. Oh, if you could only know its strength, you would pity me with such pity that, close behind it, would follow its half-sister, Love. Speak, Halima, and end my torture."He stood back to feed his eyes upon her beauty, his breast panting and heaving in his excitement.And she? Gradually her creamy complexion took on a warmer hue, until her face and neck were colored like the rose; the long, dark lashes veiled her limpid eyes; she raised her hand; then, to the young officer's wonder and consternation, with a little cry of joy, she ran to him and threw herself on her knees before him. "My love! my lord! my master!" she murmured rapturously. Then she seized his hand and covered it with kisses.But to have a woman kiss his hand was more than he could bear. A feeling of shame came over him; it seemed so utter a reversal of what was fitting. The blood rushed to his face."Not there," he cried. "But here, close to my heart, my Halima." He raised her from the ground and folded her in his arms, she hiding her face upon his shoulder.The hours that followed for the lovers seemed to travel with the speed of light, for they were given up wholly to loving dalliance and endearing phrases, that never seemed to weary the performers; and it was not till night was well advanced, that St. Just tore himself from the arms of the Arab girl, whom he had pledged himself to make his own, on his return, and who on her part had sworn fidelity to him.
CHAPTER VI.
Throughout the night of the 21st of July, the darkness was intermittently illumined by the flashes of musketry which from time to time resounded from the direction of the village of Gizeh, whither Mourad Bey had retreated with the remainder of his Mamelukes—about two thousand—leaving his infantry to their fate in the intrenched camp on the bank of the Nile. St. Just passed the night under the shadow of the sphinx, having, like many others, no proper place of rest—for the army was without tents—and too tired to think of anything but sleep.
Early on the following morning he received the order to mount and proceed at the head of a squadron of Guides, about fifty strong, to help the detachment which was pressing on towards Gizeh, and, if possible, afterwards to advance to Cairo. Accordingly, mounted on the gray stallion which had stood him in such stead on the previous day, he placed himself at the head of his squadron and set out at a smart trot for Gizeh. The infantry, who were attacking the place, and to whose aid he had been sent, had found great difficulty in advancing, for the road to Gizeh had been one of the hottest points in the battle of the previous day. At last, however, the outskirts of the village had been reached, and here it was that St. Just and his Guides came up with them. Mourad Bey made repeated dashes, hoping to lead to victory the dispirited remnants of his followers; but it was not to be; St. Just and his Guides hurled themselves through the sea of fire—the blazing houses—that separated them from the enemy's ranks. Despite the clouds of pungent smoke and the myriads of sparks that fell upon them, they forced their way, supported by the infantry who had taken fresh heart at their arrival, with such vigor that, after a short but sharp encounter, they put the Mamelukes to rout. That night General Buonaparte slept at Gizeh in the Bey's country house.
St. Just and his troopers, now reduced to thirty, followed in the Bey's track to the Nile bank, but were prevented from crossing the river by the destruction of the bridge of boats that had led to the Mameluke fleet. Thus checked in his advance, he rested his men in a hut hard by the river side, while he considered what course he should pursue.
Before he had come to a decision, he noticed a good deal of activity on board the vessels in the river, and that, from some of them, smoke was beginning to ascend. Instantly he understood what was going on. They were firing them, to prevent their falling into the hands of the French.
Now St. Just concluded that, if the Egyptians thought the vessels worth the burning, there must be valuable cargo on board, and that they were worth the saving. Forthwith he resolved to do his best with that intent.
Leaving half his men and all the horses, posted at the hut, he marched on foot with the remainder to the river. Several boats were moored along the bank, and one of these they seized, and in it they rowed down the river towards the burning dahabeahs, St. Just's intention being to cut some of them adrift, in the hope of afterwards capturing them.
But he had reckoned without his host, for the vessels had been too successfully set alight. There was a strong wind blowing, and the flames and smoke were such that he could not get near enough to cast the vessels from their moorings. Again and again he and his brave men renewed the attempt, but only to be as often driven back by the scorching heat. But, worse even than the flames, the enemy, who had marked them while they were some distance from the vessels, poured in a deadly fire of musketry. One by one his men kept dropping, and St. Just soon saw that it was no longer a question of capturing the enemy's ships, but of saving their own lives.
Meanwhile the ships burned furiously, producing such a light that the French troops at Gizeh could see dimly amid the crimson gleams the distant minarets and gilded cupolas of Cairo.
St. Just gave orders to row back to their starting point, close to which he had posted the remainder of his troop.
But soon he found that their retreat in that direction was cut off; for, while he and his men had been busy trying to cut adrift the burning, as well as the yet unlighted, dahabeahs, swarms of Arabs had put off in boats and had collected in their rear.
To turn the boat's head round and row towards Cairo seemed the only thing to be done, and even the risk of this was terrible, their safety depending upon General Buonaparte's having captured the city. His fifteen men were now reduced to eight, seven having fallen beneath the Mamelukes' fusillade. St. Just sat in the stern of the boat steering, pondering meanwhile on the peril of their situation and their chances of escape. He knew that some of the French troops were already moving on Cairo; and, from scraps of conversation picked up round the camp fires on the previous night, he entertained little doubt that Buonaparte would enter the city, either by storming it, or otherwise, at dawn on the following day.
Now if he, St. Just, could get into Cairo, with his men, unseen, and quietly take possession of some house, they would probably be able to maintain themselves secure in it till General Buonaparte's arrival. And this was what he set himself to do. But how to do it was the difficulty. The light from the conflagration on the river was so great that, were they to attempt to land in their French uniforms, they would be instantly discovered by the lawless and turbulent hordes scattered up and down the river banks, plundering and fighting and murdering in all directions, and would be quickly set upon, overcome and killed.
Their position was desperate, and desperate remedies were required; and the plan St. Just evolved was desperate, and depended also on chance for its accomplishment. Having explained it to his men, he ordered them to lie up under the shadow of some vessels moored in mid-stream and as yet untouched by the fire, just keeping the boat from drifting, and to wait for the chance of capturing a passing boat with Arabs on board, his intention being to massacre the crew for the sake of their clothes, which his own men would then put on; then they were to watch their opportunity to get ashore in the confusion that everywhere prevailed.
There is an old proverb to the effect that all things come to those who wait, if they but wait long enough; and so it was in this case. The men were sitting listlessly, tired of their inactivity, when a sudden cry brought them back to attention. Bearing down upon them was a large boat manned by about a dozen Arabs. A shaft of light cast from some burning wreckage floating by upon the encrimsoned waters in their direction, had betrayed to the approaching boat that in one of their own craft were some of the hated invaders. It was their fierce cry that awakened St. Just and his crew to a conviction of their danger. Ping! Ping! went the bullets from the Arab matchlocks, and at the same moment St. Just shouted, "Only two men row; the rest lie in the boat and fire at the Arab rowers. Take careful aim and don't throw away a shot. Your lives depend upon it."
The men obeyed at once. Crack, crack. Two of the Frenchmen had fired, and two of the Arabs threw up their arms and fell in a huddled heap at the bottom of their dhow. Almost immediately a wild volley was fired by the Arabs, and one of the Frenchmen, whose head had been exposed to the light, toppled over the side of the boat into the Nile, a bullet in his brain; giving his comrades a brief view of his face, ere he sank beneath the waters in the ruddy light.
St. Just's measures were prompt and decisive, and his voice rang out like a clarion on the night. "A volley, all of you; then pick up your oars and row for them as hard as you can go."
The order was as promptly obeyed. The seven shots flew straight and, before the Arabs could recover from the confusion they had occasioned, the French picked up their oars, crashed into them and boarded them. A few moments later, there drifted down the Nile an empty boat; while, pulling for the distant domes, which marked the city of Cairo, were eight men dressed as Arabs and speaking French.
CHAPTER VII.
The flames from the burning vessels on the river wrapped the city of Cairo in a lurid glow, and above it hovered a cloud of smoke, but which the breeze that heralds the approach of dawn, was gradually, though almost imperceptibly dispersing. The air was rent with cries and groans and yells. The thoroughfares were thronged with the panic-stricken citizens. Some, laden with goods, were fleeing with their families into the desert towards Philiae; others, their clothes torn and blood-stained, their muskets still in their hands, their dress proclaiming them to be soldiers who, routed in that day's fight, had fled for refuge to the city, were occupying themselves with pillaging the houses of the merchants.
In marked contrast to the general glare and din, one little narrow side street near the citadel remained wrapped in gloom and silence. Running parallel to the river, as it did, the houses on its river side shut out the light of the conflagration and only a faint reflection was visible overhead.
Hugging the walls of the houses on one side of this court—for it scarce merited the name of street, so narrow was it—St. Just and his followers, enveloped in "haic" and "burnous," crept stealthily and silently along. No one was about, nor was a light to be seen in any of the houses.
So far their venture had been successful; aided by the semi-darkness and the confusion that was prevailing in the busier parts of the city, where the crowd had drawn together, St. Just had managed to run his boat ashore on an unfrequented spot and to land unnoticed. Then separating, the better to escape observation, but still keeping close enough together for mutual help, should they be attacked, they had made their way towards the citadel and had joined a mob that was pouring into its gates. At that point, however, St. Just had turned aside to investigate the little street which seemed deserted.
He and his men had almost reached the top, when, suddenly, a piercing shriek rang out upon the stillness of the night. It came from a house St. Just was passing. He halted instantly; then, in the shrill and fearsome tones of a woman, came some words in Arabic. Now, during the few weeks the young officer had been in Egypt he had, in his journeyings with despatches, contrived to pick up a few words of Arabic; and the knowledge thus acquired now stood him in good stead. Thus he could translate the woman's cry, "Let me go; Yusuf, let me go!"
What Frenchman could listen unmoved to such a call for help? Certainly not St. Just. In a whisper, he told the man next to him to close up and pass the same order on from each man to the one behind him. Then he cast his eyes up and down the house; it was a tall stone building and white-washed, and was windowless, save that high up from the ground were a few square holes protected by bars of iron. A strong iron-studded door, set deep in a stone archway, formed the entrance to this house.
Earnestly as St. Just desired to go to the rescue of the shrieking woman, the door was too strong to be forced, except after continued and strenuous efforts, and there was no other possible entrance from the front. He was debating whether to try to make his way round to the back of the house, in the hope of there finding a means of getting in, when, all at once, the heavy door swung open, and a swarthy Arab came out, bearing on his shoulders a woman, who was either dead or senseless, for she made no movement. With the opening of the door, the light from within fell upon St. Just and those behind him, disclosing to the man's astonished eyes that they were not Arabs, but Frenchmen. St. Just made a forward movement; the Arab hesitated for a moment, then dropped his burden and turned and fled into the house again.
St. Just's action was speedy. Fate seemed to be playing into his hands. Here was a house that might serve them for a refuge and that, to all appearance, could be defended for some hours, at any rate, by the small body of men he had at his disposal. At once he decided to take possession of it. Turning to the two nearest men, he said, "Pick up the woman, and take her inside." Then to the others, "Follow me, then close the door and make it fast."
His orders were promptly carried out. Then the party—two of them bearing the still unconscious woman—traversed the length of a narrow passage lighted by a small brass lamp that hung from the ceiling. At the end of this they found themselves in an open court, in the center of which a marble fountain was playing, the water falling into the basin with the sound of gentle rain, and moistening the air with its tumid spray.
At the further side of the courtyard was a colonnade, and above it were the latticed windows of the women's apartments, now open. But no dusky beauties peeped from them, nor was there any sign or sound of life; the whole place was silent as the grave.
Leaving one man as a sentry in the corridor, and despatching four to make a thorough search of the premises, St. Just told the two who were carrying the woman, to lay her down on a marble seat under the colonnade. This done, he set himself to restore her, if so be that she still lived. There were signs that she had struggled with her abductor, for, half way across the courtyard, they found a richly embroidered shawl and a jeweled dagger. A short examination showed St. Just that the woman breathed, and he could find no marks of injury about her. He sprinkled water on her face and fanned her and rubbed her hands; but, despite all his efforts to revive her, she remained insensible.
St. Just was still thus occupied, when the four men he had sent on a tour of inspection through the house, returned, each carrying a lighted lantern, to report that they had found not a soul about the place, though, from the appearance of the rooms, it was plain that the inmates had but recently vacated them.
While receiving his men's report, St. Just had temporarily stayed his efforts to revive the fainting woman, and had faced the troopers. Now he looked to her again. The men had turned their lanterns on her; her headgear had fallen to the ground, disclosing to the young officer's astonished gaze a face of such rare beauty as he had not even dreamed of. She was quite young and, for an Eastern woman, singularly fair; she had hair of a golden brown and dark blue eyes, and a mouth about which now lurked as sweet a smile as ever brightened woman's face.
For the light shining in her eyes had completed her awakening, and, at the moment when St. Just became conscious of her surpassing loveliness, she was gazing in bewilderment upon the group around her. In a few seconds, she recognized them as the invaders of her country, and, at the same time, remembered what had led to her unconsciousness.
Then, to the astonishment of her hearers, she thus addressed them, speaking in excellent French and a clear, musical voice.
"Messieurs, the fortune of war has thrown into your hands a woman who has some claim to call herself a French woman. My mother was captured by a slaver when traveling from France at the time of the death of Louis Quinze, whose soul may God preserve. All my life have I spoken your tongue, and, because of the French blood in me, I have cursed the slavery in which, in this country, we women are held.
"I thank you for your timely help. You have saved me from a fate worse than death.
"And now I will order the slaves to bring you some refreshment."
And, rising with difficulty, though not without grace and dignity, despite her stiffness and the novelty of her position, she made as though to walk to the colonnade.
"Mademoiselle!"
She stopped and faced the speaker, fixing her eyes intently upon his face. St. Just bowed low before her. She might have been an Empress; but his respect was a tribute only to her beauty.
"Mademoiselle," he repeated, "I regret to inform you that I have just learned that, save yourself and us, there is no one in the house."
"Is that indeed so?" she answered, bowing on her part. "Then I pray you order your men to forage for themselves. If you care to accompany me, I will show you where the stores are."
He turned to the men and said, "Hunt about, lads, and eat what you can; for, if that black rascal returns with any more of his friends, we shall have to stand a siege and fight for our skins, and" (after a pause) "the lady's."
With this the men dispersed, some in search of food and others to perform allotted duties.
An hour later, St. Just, who had busied himself in the interval in putting the house into a fair condition of defence, ascended, with beating heart, a staircase, at the top of which was a doorway screened by heavy blue curtains, that formed a glaring contrast to the bright red stair carpets. Bold soldier as he was, it was with a timid air that he pushed aside the curtains and found himself where, till now, no man, save the master of the house, had been permitted to set foot; in the women's apartments. It was a long, narrow room, but so gracefully and skillfully decorated that its narrowness was not at first apparent. The air was heavy with some Eastern perfume, that caused the feeling of oppression, for the lattices overlooking the courtyard that had been closed over night had not yet been opened, despite the fact that the sun was beginning to show its power.
St. Just looked round the room for signs of the girl he had rescued not two hours before; his eyes did not roam far before they lighted on her; she was reclining upon a pile of cushions, on a divan, one arm under her head, the other, bare to the shoulder and exquisitely molded, lying on her side, but bent slightly forward, so that her fingers just touched the floor. She was sleeping, her whole pose betokening the abandon of fatigue. Noiselessly St. Just moved to her side, and gazed enraptured on the vision of loveliness beneath him. Through the gauzy drapery, he could see her swelling bosom rise and fall in gentle undulations; he noted the faint flush, induced by sleep, upon her cheek, the ruddy lips slightly parted in a smile and showing just a hint of the gleaming teeth within, the delicately chiselled nose, the broad smooth brow, the exquisite oval of her face; and, at the sight of all her charms, he felt his manhood stir within him.
Then, as sleepers generally do when one is near to them, she became conscious that she was not alone, and the dark blue orbs unclosed. She started, and a look of fear came over her at finding herself in the presence of a man; but, the next instant, she recognized him and, remembering what had passed, she smiled.
St. Just, too, smiled, and at the same time registered a mental vow to save her from the usual fate of young and handsome women in a captured city.
Then she sat up and laughingly addressed him in French, as heretofore. "Fancy your finding me asleep like this. I feel quite ashamed. And with my face uncovered. And do you know, Sir, that no man but my father ever sets foot in the apartments. They are sacred to the women."
"I fear, Madame," replied St. Just, "that, in a state of warfare, nothing is sacred to a Frenchman. But I came here to help you; and this must be my excuse. Soon my countrymen will be in possession of the city, and you will need protection. But I will see to it that no harm shall come to you."
"I am sure of that," she answered, beaming on him with admiration. He was the handsomest man she had ever seen. "But come and breakfast with me," she went on, and she motioned to him to seat himself beside her on the divan.
St. Just needed no second invitation, but quickly did as he was bidden. Then he noticed that, on a small table close at hand, there was laid out a dainty refreshment in the shape of coffee and Arab cakes and fruit.
"Are you a conjurer?" he asked in surprise, when she had filled a cup and passed it to him. He did not understand how the repast had been prepared, all the servants having fled.
She laughed a merry laugh. "I made the coffee myself a short time ago," she said, "and then I must have dropped asleep. The fruit and biscuits were already in the room."
"But you had no stove," St. Just objected.
"There is a brazier in the corner. See? And the saucepan was put ready for this morning by the slave last night, who was not able to forget the habits of a lifetime even when overcome by terror. Though, till my father returned from Gizeh late last night and told us how the battle had gone, we had no cause for fear."
"But how comes it that I find you here alone?"
"My father returned only for more slaves, and left immediately, when he had collected them. He promised to come back for me, or send Yusuf. Yusuf came indeed—he was the man you saw carrying me—but I would that he had stayed away, for he frightened and insulted me. He said that all law and order were at an end; that the French would soon be here, and that he loved me and was determined that I should be his; by force, if needs be. With that he advanced and would have embraced me. I screamed and fled from him; but he soon caught me and was carrying me away, when I fainted. I know no more; you know what followed."
"I do indeed," said St. Just gravely. "God be thanked that I came up when I did. I shudder to think what otherwise might have been your fate."
"It would have been death," she said; "for I never could have survived the ignominy of having been embraced by Yusuf. I should have slain myself at the first opportunity. Thus you have saved my life, my brave deliverer."
She turned her lovely eyes on him—eyes which beamed forth not only gratitude, but the dawn of love.
"You overwhelm me, when you talk like that," replied St. Just. "Any of my countrymen would have acted as I did. But tell me. You said but now, that your mother was a French woman; may I know her name?"
"Certainly; it was de Moncourt."
"What, of Moncourt in Brittany?"
"Yes."
"Indeed! then I have little doubt I have the honor to greet a cousin. I am a St. Just, also of Brittany."
"Truly? How delightful!"
"By what name did your mother call you?"
"Alas! it is an Arab one; I am called Halima."
Hardly had the words escaped her lips, when the sound of two shots following rapidly upon each other reached their ears. Both started to their feet.
"Yusuf!" she cried in terror.
And he, "Oh for arms and ammunition. We have but our pistols and a few rounds."
"Do you want guns?" asked Halima. "It so, there are matchlocks in the house; and gunpowder, too. Come with me and I will show you where they are."
St. Just shouted to one of his men; and Halima led them up a passage, halting at the end of it, before what seemed merely a wall panel. But she touched a knob that formed a portion of the Arabesque that decorated it; and, at the same time, pushed the panel. It opened on hinges, like an ordinary door, disclosing a room in which were arms of all sorts, the whole more or less old fashioned, and useless against disciplined troops, but that might be efficacious against a Cairo mob. At any rate, the matchlocks would make a noise, and firing blank cartridges often answers with a crowd. So St. Just and his trooper picked up a dozen of the firearms and as much ammunition as they could carry, the young girl helping them; then they rejoined the other men, who were gathered in the courtyard at the foot of the staircase that led to the women's apartments.
Quickly the matchlocks were distributed and loaded. But, before St. Just had decided how to post his men, a loud hammering at the entrance and the trampling of many feet and the sound of voices were heard. One louder than the rest shouted out in Arabic, "Open, open, ye dogs of Christians."
Then Halima trembled and panted in faltering tones, "It is Yusuf. Oh! save me from him. Kill me rather than let me fall into his hands."
And St. Just answered. "Trust me, Yusuf shall not have you, while I live. Keep close behind me." Then he called out to his men, "All follow me up the staircase!" and he led the way with Halima. Then he posted four men at the top of the staircase, two in front who were to lie down, and two behind, to stand up or kneel as occasion served. The staircase was not broad enough to allow more than two persons to ascend abreast; there was a fair prospect, therefore, that the four men could defend it.
These men placed, St. Just, with Halima and his three remaining troopers, betook themselves to a room with windows or embrasures that commanded the courtyard approach to the foot of the staircase. At these embrasures they took their stand, and awaited, stern and indomitable, the imminent attack.
Meanwhile the din without increased; the shouts and yells and menaces against the hated foreigners grew louder; the blows thundered upon the iron-studded door faster and harder. No door could long withstand such violence, and every moment St. Just felt that it must give way. At last, with a loud crash, it fell, and the crowd of Arabs came pouring into the courtyard.
"Aim low and fire," came the order from St. Just. He fired himself, and the three troopers did the same. Two men in the crowd dropped, and, with a howl of rage, the rest dashed across the yard and made for the staircase. When the first of them came in sight, the four men at the top fired, and several of the attacking party fell.
"Load and fire as fast as you can," said St. Just to the men in the room; "and show as little as possible of your bodies."
Before the beginning of the fight the French troopers had thrown aside their Arab draperies, finding they impeded their movements; so that, if ever their assailants had had any doubt about their nationality, it was now removed.
Both the men on the stairs and those in the room were now using their guns with fatal effect upon the densely packed crowd below, and many a bullet found its billet. But the besieged were not having it wholly their own way, for, though the attacking party recoiled time after time before the deadly fire at close quarters, they continually again pressed forward. They, also, were not without firearms, which they were using to some purpose, for every now and then a bullet crashed into the room and buried itself either in the wall, or in some article of furniture. Presently one of St. Just's men gave a cry and dropped, badly wounded. But there was no time to attend to him. All that happened was that Halima stepped forward and took his weapon and his place, loading and firing like the others.
Meanwhile the men at the head of the staircase were faring badly. Already two of them had been rendered hors de combat; and St. Just, rushing out of the room to learn how matters were progressing, arrived just in time to see a third man fall with a thud at his feet, stone dead.
There was a loud yell, then a rush up the staircase, and, the next moment, St. Just and the trooper at his side found themselves hacking and hewing and stabbing at the sea of swarthy faces in front of them. But they made no impression on the crowd, spite of those who kept falling beneath their blows. On and on the rabble came, pressed forwards by them who were behind. Then St. Just shouted out for those who were in the room to come to his help; but his words were lost in the din of the yelling Arabs. Fighting and retiring inch by inch, he, and the brave fellow at his side gradually regained the room in which were Halima and the others. The place was filled with smoke and sulphurous fumes, and almost stifling, and the many bullets that had entered it had made havoc of the furniture and woodwork.
The moment St. Just regained the room, his eyes sought Halima. She was standing at the window firing at the surging mass below. Calling to the two men with her to take his place and hold back the crowd so long as they were able, he ran swiftly to the girl. Each looked in the other's face, and both knew that their efforts to drive back the crowd were vain. Unless there was some way of escape, their doom was sealed. From the look of stern resolve she wore, and the way she clutched the dagger in her hand, St. Just knew that she would keep her word, and that, in securing her, the victors would capture but a corpse.
Meanwhile the three men at the door were fighting hard; but what could three men do, opposed by forty? With aching arms and parched mouths, and panting breasts, they slashed and stabbed, and parried, retiring step by step, the savage Arabs ever pressing forward, and by sheer weight forcing the three men back upon St. Just, who now once more joined in the fray.
A moment more, and the soldier on his right fell to the ground with a spear point through his heart. Instantly St. Just brought down his sword upon the spearman's head, and the Arab joined the Frenchman he had slain.
Enraged at seeing their comrade fall, and thirsting for revenge, St. Just's two last men hurled themselves upon the mob, and, for a moment, made it waver.
Then, feeling that their final moment had arrived, St. Just placed himself before the girl, prepared for the last deadly rush that would end the life of both. But, for all that he knew that resistance would avail them nothing, that their case was hopeless, so strongly implanted in the human heart is the love of life, that he did not stand passively awaiting death, but savagely fought on, desperation urging him to superhuman efforts in one last supreme struggle for life.
Then, just when he had received a spear thrust through the left arm and all seemed lost, suddenly, with the swiftness of a flash of lightning, despair gave way to hope. A measured tramp was heard along the narrow street; then the inspiring sound of a French bugle call. Help was at hand, if he could but hold out a few moments longer! The knowledge lent him strength and inspired him to fresh efforts. Once more he threw himself upon his foes. But his ardor this time was scarcely needed, for the Arabs also had heard the sounds, and knew what they portended. Their enemy would soon be upon them. They wavered, then fell back before his whirling sword; the next moment they had turned and were rushing pell mell out of the room and down the staircase, tumbling over each other in their hurry.
But, warned by the approaching march of men, instead of making for the main entrance, on reaching the foot of the staircase, they wheeled right and left and made their escape by doors and windows at the back.
During this stampede, the Arab girl had not been idle. She, too, had heard the marching and the bugle, and knew that, if she could but gain the French, her life and honor were secure. She saw that the courtyard was deserted—for all the Arabs, who were not in the room, were crowded on or about the staircase—also that the main entrance to the house was clear.
In a moment her resolve was taken, and, while St. Just was still brandishing his sword to keep his foes at bay, she made her way carefully through the window, and lowered herself on to a protruding gargoyle, about four feet below and somewhat to the side of it. Steadying herself for a moment, she stooped, or, rather, squatted down, until she touched the gargoyle. From this point to the top of the colonnade was scarcely ten feet. Clinging firmly to the gargoyle, she let her body down, until it swung at full length from her hold. Then she dropped. The fall shook her somewhat, but, almost immediately, she recovered herself and ran along the colonnade, until she gained a water pipe. To slide down this and reach the ground in safety was but a second's work. Then, like a young antelope, she sped across the courtyard, and over the large studded door, which had been torn from its hinges and lay athwart her path: and out into the narrow street.
Onward she rushed with the cry, "A moi! à moi! mes enfants! Au secours; pour la France!" Nor did she pause until she found herself panting and breathless in the arms of a French officer. But, withdrawing herself immediately, she hurriedly explained St. Just's great peril.
At this, scarcely waiting for orders, the soldiers rushed past her through the house and across the courtyard. There they found St. Just covered with blood and black with powder, but, save for the spear thrust through his arm, and sundry bruises, not much the worse for what he had undergone. But he was panting for breath, and resting on his sword, and could not speak. With a cheer, the soldiers ran to him, and, two of them supporting him, one on each side, they got him down the staircase, then carried him across the quadrangle, and set him down before the officer in command of the detachment, which General Buonaparte had that moment joined.
To account for the arrival of his fellow soldiers, so opportunely for St. Just, it needs but to be stated that Buonaparte had made his attack at dawn upon the city, as he had intended. The sheiks had made but a poor defence of the Citadel and had quickly agreed to its surrender. The troops were on their way to take possession of it, when the Arab girl ran out and told what was occurring in the house.
So soon as he had breath enough, St. Just gave his account of all that had occurred from the time of his pursuit of Mourad Bey. Buonaparte's dark eyes flashed unpleasantly, at times, but he spoke no word until the young officer had concluded his report; then he turned to a man at his side, over whose head the knife of the assassin was already hovering, and in a few weeks would fatally descend; and said something in an undertone. General Kleber, for it was he, replied inaudibly to those about them, and shook his head.
Then Buonaparte addressed St. Just and, pinching his ear, he said, "Be careful, be careful. France is watching you, and has need of you."
The words seemed cold and formal—almost stern; but coming from this little man with the piercing eyes, to the young officer, they sounded like unmerited praise.
Continuing, Buonaparte turned to a captain and said,
"Guard the house and look well to the lady also." The next instant he rode away, followed by all, but a captain's guard, to receive the homage due to a conqueror.
Then St. Just fell fainting to the ground and was carried into the house in which he had so bravely fought, and where he was to lie upon a bed of sickness and be tended by a beautiful woman who was already more than half in love with him.
CHAPTER VIII.
For three weeks St. Just lay in bed in the house of Halima's father, for the greater part of the time unconscious; for—what with his wound and bruises, the excitement he had undergone and the great heat—on the day after the attack on the house, he fell into a raging fever. Once General Buonaparte came to see him, but the young officer did not know him.
During all this time Halima helped to nurse him, and, so true is it that we acquire affection for the objects of our care, each day she felt herself more drawn towards him.
At last his mind came back to him, and he began to gain strength fast; so much so, that he realized, with great dejection, that, in a few days, he would have to return to his duties, and bid farewell to the Arab girl who had wound herself about his heart. Now, in the game of love there is often much finesse and subterfuge. He would have given anything, to know Halima's sentiments towards himself, but it so happened, that in proportion as St. Just gained consciousness and strength, so did she withdraw herself from his society, until at last she would spend but a few minutes of each day in his company, and then only in the presence of another person. Had he known how assiduously she had attended him during his term of insensibility, his mind would have been at rest, for the knowledge would have given him the information he desired, and he would have declared the love that was consuming him. As it was, fearing to offend her by his precipitancy, he said nothing, when he left her, except to thank her for the shelter and attention she had given him.
Halima blushed and hung her head, and, though longing for him to take her in his arms, with her Eastern bringing up, was too shy to give him an inkling of her feelings; and so they parted, each outwardly calm, but with a devouring flame within.
His duties, when he returned to them, he found irksome, for thought of her, though they were really light—nothing beyond an hour's drill daily with his regiment.
In this way two months passed, but more stirring times were coming; this was the calm that heralded the storm. The conquered citizens of Cairo, though, to all appearance, acquiescing with cheerfulness and content in the new order of things, were in reality planning a revolt, and the knowledge of it was brought to St. Just's ears in this way.
At five o'clock in the morning of the 21st of October, his servant aroused him to say that a messenger from the "Lady Halima" wished to see him. St. Just dressed with all speed, and Halima's messenger was introduced. He was the bearer of a letter from her to say that she was assured on authority, on which she could implicitly rely, that the citizens had for some time been quietly arming themselves, and that they were at that very moment silently massing themselves throughout the city, and would, at a certain signal, rise simultaneously in the different quarters, and massacre the French.
This news was as startling as it was alarming, and St. Just instantly had the reveille sounded and ordered his squadron to horse; then hurried towards the citadel. But, meantime, the insurrection had begun, and General Buonaparte, at the first alarm, had also galloped thither, attended by three Guides. But he was ahead of the young officer, so that when, a few minutes later, the latter came on the scene, he found Buonaparte surrounded by a mob of Arabs, his escort killed, his horse shot under him, and himself in imminent peril of his life.
Just in the nick of time St. Just and his troop dashed forward, and by the impetuosity of their onslaught, broke through the crowd, forced them back, and soon cleared a space around their General. But the Arabs were only checked, not broken, and, seeing the small number of their assailants, they prepared to renew the attack; and, had their courage but equalled their numerical advantage, they must have annihilated the Frenchmen.
From the French point of view, discretion was the better part of valor, and St. Just saw the means of putting that better part into execution; for it so happened that, once more, he was close to the Lady Halima's abode. To suggest to Buonaparte that they should take refuge there, to mount the General on one of his trooper's horses, and to gallop at full speed through the gateway of the house was the work but of a few seconds. Before the astonished Arabs had divined their object, the whole squadron had passed through, and the entrance to the courtyard had been barred.
St. Just's heart beat high at the thought that, for the second time, it seemed likely he would have to defend the house of his lady love; but, on this occasion, with the added responsibility for the safety of his Commander's person.
To set against this, however, were the circumstances that they were in sufficient numbers (fifty) to hold the place, with the protection of the walls afforded, for a considerable time, and were well-armed; not, as on the previous occasion, with obsolete and rusty weapons.
But, fortunately, the valor and endurance of the party were not put to the test; for the arrangements for defence had scarcely been completed, when the march of infantry was heard approaching at the double. A French regiment was passing the end of the narrow street on its way to the citadel, news having been received that most of the rioters were assembled there.
At the sound of their footsteps, some of St. Just's troopers leaned out of the windows and shouted for help. At once the men were halted, then wheeled round and up the street. The effect was magical! with shouts and cries of terror, the crowd of Arabs assembled before the Lady Halima's house, without making the slightest show of fight, took to their heels and ran helter-skelter up the street and out at the end, some of the French soldiers chasing them to that point. Then the door of the house was opened, and one of the troopers informed the commanding officer the meaning of their presence there, and that General Buonaparte was with them. At this unlooked for news, the officer said he would see the General and take his orders.
Now, though when the attack was made on him, Buonaparte was on his way to the citadel, at the sight of the Lady Halima he—always an admirer of the other sex—was so captivated by her beauty, that he gladly accepted her invitation to remain for breakfast. So, when the Colonel of the infantry regiment was introduced to him, instead of taking advantage of his escort to continue his journey to the citadel, he contented himself with giving the officer certain orders, among which was that he was to keep open communications between the house in which they were, and the citadel; and to let him know if his presence should be urgently required. Failing any such message, he, Buonaparte, would be at the citadel in two hours time.
Then he dismissed the Colonel and he and St. Just sat down to breakfast with the Lady Halima in the women's apartment. It brought to St. Just the remembrance of that first repast he had taken with her in that very room, nearly three months before, and in somewhat similar circumstances. Now, as then, there were sounds of firing in the distance, and the tramp of feet and the rattle of arms awoke the echoes of the court-yard below. But in the room itself how different was the state of things. She had been his sole companion on that memorable morning, and he had been the object of her assiduous courtesy; now, in the presence of this all-conquering young General, he was a sort of "quantité négligeable." As before, the sun-light fell with full effect upon her lovely face, now filled with animation, her eyes sparkling with delight, the while she gayly chatted with the "man of destiny" who was seated upon the divan facing her. Buonaparte, for once, had cast off the iron mask of coldness and impenetrability he usually wore, and was basking in the sunshine of her smiles. For the time the cares of his position had been thrust aside, and, as he himself expressed it, he was amusing himself while Cairo was in revolt, like Nero fiddling while Rome was burning.
His chatter was not, however, altogether frivolous; occasionally he would be serious. For instance, speaking of the city and his plans he said, "I must confess that to-day's disturbance has surprised me. And I had thought the future would be so easy. Alas! which one of us knows the future?"
The girl, who had been listening intently, here interrupted with a laugh. "You would know your future? That is told easily enough. Remember I have been brought up in the East and have been taught to forecast events by people who have forgotten more than you of the West have ever heard of. I could convince you."
So saying, she clapped her hands and, before Buonaparte could object, if indeed he had wished to do so, had said something to her slave in Arabic, that resulted in the removal of the breakfast table and the production of a large earthenware bowl filled apparently with water, for she invited both men to taste it. One thing they noticed, and it was this; that, though the bowl was shallow and the sunlight shone around on the table on which it stood, it did not seem to shine upon the water, which looked black as ink.
Presently from a flask, she took from a corner cabinet the girl let fall a drop of liquid into the bowl; then, bending over, she gazed into it in silence, and both her companions did the same. Now, whether the act of fixing their eyes intently on the bowl, in a measure hypnotized them, so that their brains became enslaved by her suggestions, it is not for the present chronicler to say; but, in a few seconds, pictures seemed to form themselves on the surface of the inky looking liquid in the bowl. At first the images presented appeared blurred and misty; but, gradually, they took definite shapes. In the first picture Buonaparte was seated on a throne and on his head was a golden crown, and Josephine his wife was by his side, she also crowned. Gradually the figures faded and disappeared. Next St. Just saw himself on a prison floor chained to the wall and with the visage of a madman. In the next tableau there were many figures dressed in generals' uniforms, and Buonaparte in their midst. It was night and they were seated round a camp fire; from the expression on the faces of all, very serious matters were engaging their attention; and scattered around were dead and wounded men and horses and broken weapons and accoutrements. This scene also passed away. In that which followed Buonaparte and St. Just were driving in a sleigh, and in front of them was a woman beckoning to them. Her face was unknown to both; upon her head was the crown that Buonaparte's wife had worn in the first picture; and, wherever she pointed was desolation, the desolation that comes to a country over which an invading army has passed; and across the picture was written "France." The next tableau was a battle field. On a mound, surrounded by generals, but slightly in advance of them, and mounted on a white horse, was Buonaparte, but looking older and stouter. A short distance from him, soldiers were massed about a large farmhouse, which they were attacking, and which was being defended by other soldiers within. The scene changed; troops were flying in all directions—the French—the figure of Buonaparte among them. Yet one more scene; a lonely rock-bound islet in a boundless sea. The moon and stars overhead showed that it was night. On a narrow bed in a plainly furnished room lay Buonaparte; and at the door there stood a soldier in a uniform that was not that of France. 'Twas plain his duty was to guard a captive! This vision, like those which had preceded it, vanished, and the liquid mirror in the bowl revealed no further pictures.
St. Just raised his head from the bowl and encountered the troubled gaze of Buonaparte; while, seated hard by on a divan, was the girl. There was silence for a space. It was Halima who broke it.
"Have you seen enough, Sir?" she said, turning to the General. "Or would you see more?"
Buonaparte's answer was to overturn the table; the bowl fell and was smashed into a thousand pieces on the floor. Then a sudden light leapt into those awful eyes, and he broke forth into a torrent of reproach. "Why did you bring me here?" he asked angrily, turning to St. Just. "Am I to be insulted, fooled by such mummeries as these? As for you, girl, did I but know your father, I would send you to him dead." And he hissed out the last words, his face white with passion.
And St. Just, who loved the girl and was rightly counted brave, and would have struck to the earth any other man who had so spoken, was so dominated by the glance of this little man, whom physically he could easily have crushed the life out of; that he sat unmoved and tongue-tied.
Not so the girl; with face aflame and flashing eyes, she sprang to her feet and faced the conqueror; then thus she spoke, "My father the Sheik Ibrahim of the tribe of Auim (faithful) has with him many warriors who would avenge my death by killing you."
Buonaparte made no reply to her, but addressed himself to the young officer. "Captain," he said, "Assemble your troop and attend me to the Citadel. We have dallied here too long." Then, turning to the Lady Halima, "I thank you, madame, for your hospitality and the timely shelter of your house. Adieu. I doubt not we shall meet again." He bowed to her and strode quickly from the room. She made no answer, but merely inclined her head. But to St. Just, who followed Buonaparte, she nodded smilingly, and, just when he was passing through the doorway, the words were wafted to him, "You will come to see me soon, my Captain."
On their way to the Citadel and the moment they were out of hearing, Buonaparte made reference to the Arab girl's remark. "You heard what she said about her father," he said, "and the men under his command. He will be useful to me; he must be gained somehow. I shall send you to him." Then he relapsed into silence, and no further word was uttered till they reached the Citadel.
Here they found all quiet; the incipient insurrection had been quelled before it had attained dangerous dimensions.
The news of the attempt on Buonaparte's life had reached the French, and, when he made his appearance, loud huzzahs were raised, and many of his officers pressed forward to congratulate him on his escape. Among these were Kleber, and Buonaparte's secretary, Bourrienne. Him the General hailed.
"Ah! Bourrienne!" he cried; "the very man I want. Get writing materials, and pen me what I shall dictate."
The letter presently dictated was addressed to the Sheik Ibrahim, Halima's father, urging him to join forces with the French and, while pointing out the hopelessness of opposition, and the certainty of the eventual victory of the invaders, promising him great rewards for his assistance.
The letter was dictated in the hearing of St. Just, for Buonaparte wished him to know its contents. When it was finished, he turned to the young man and handed it to him with the words, "You will take a squadron of men and go to this Ibrahim with this letter, and use your best endeavors to induce him to adopt my views. I have heard of this man; he is a powerful chief. I think you will either fall in with him, or gain news of him in the neighborhood of the third cataract, near Abu Klea. But his daughter can inform you."
"How soon do I start, General?" asked St. Just, in a tone that was none of the liveliest. He had had his fill of desert rides, and looked forward to the coming expedition with anything but pleasure.
"To-morrow at day-break," was the General's reply. "Meanwhile your time is at your own disposal." Then, turning to Kleber, who was standing by, "General, give Captain St. Just a squadron of Arabs you can trust, and an interpreter for service in the desert, in case this sheik should not know French."
"I will see to it, Sir," was Kleber's answer. "The men shall be in readiness at day-break."
Then, with a nod, Buonaparte dismissed St. Just.
Much as he disliked the prospect of the mission that had been confided to him, there was a temporary solace in the excuse it gave him for once more calling on Halima; and not more than two hours after he and General Buonaparte had left her, she was astonished to receive the announcement of his return.
She advanced smilingly to meet him, but with a look of inquiry on her face. "I am delighted to see you again so soon, Captain St. Just, but I am not so vain as to attribute your call to my attractions, or even to your courtesy. Besides, I see trouble in your face. Are you the bearer of bad news?"
Then St. Just told her of his coming journey, and how loath he was to leave Cairo, where she was, and to face the hardships of the desert, of which he had already had so painful an experience.
When she learned his destination, she told him she would write a letter to her father, if he would bear it to him; and, there and then, she sat down and wrote it, inscribing it with her father's name and present resting-place, so far as she believed. Handing it to the young Frenchman, she said, "I have told my father all that you have done for me, and I have prayed him to protect you and put you on your way. Also I have told him of Yusuf's treachery towards a daughter of the house of "Auim." She drew herself up proudly when she mentioned her tribe's name. "He will punish Yusuf either with banishment for ever from the tribe, or with death."
St. Just took the letter from her, but his hand trembled with excitement, and he could scarce find words in which to thank her, for stress of the passion that was surging like a torrent in his breast. He tried to stem it, but it would not be confined, and at last broke forth.
"Oh, Halima!" he cried. "It is not the perils of the desert that alarm me; what cuts me to the heart is that I must leave you; for I love you, I love you; I feel that I cannot live without you. Until I saw you, my heart yearned only for military glory—to rise in my profession; but now—now I would forfeit every prospect, all else that I hold dear, if I might win your love. Tell me, lady, is there no cord in your heart that vibrates in unison with my own? Surely such love as mine cannot be all in vain. Oh, if you could only know its strength, you would pity me with such pity that, close behind it, would follow its half-sister, Love. Speak, Halima, and end my torture."
He stood back to feed his eyes upon her beauty, his breast panting and heaving in his excitement.
And she? Gradually her creamy complexion took on a warmer hue, until her face and neck were colored like the rose; the long, dark lashes veiled her limpid eyes; she raised her hand; then, to the young officer's wonder and consternation, with a little cry of joy, she ran to him and threw herself on her knees before him. "My love! my lord! my master!" she murmured rapturously. Then she seized his hand and covered it with kisses.
But to have a woman kiss his hand was more than he could bear. A feeling of shame came over him; it seemed so utter a reversal of what was fitting. The blood rushed to his face.
"Not there," he cried. "But here, close to my heart, my Halima." He raised her from the ground and folded her in his arms, she hiding her face upon his shoulder.
The hours that followed for the lovers seemed to travel with the speed of light, for they were given up wholly to loving dalliance and endearing phrases, that never seemed to weary the performers; and it was not till night was well advanced, that St. Just tore himself from the arms of the Arab girl, whom he had pledged himself to make his own, on his return, and who on her part had sworn fidelity to him.