* * * * *The Lady Halima was pacing her room in a lever of impatience. She had received Buonaparte's letter, and the hour of his promised visit had arrived. In the courtyard below, surrounded by their guards, stood the three hapless captives. The moon's silver light fell upon them shivering in their scanty clothing of haic and burnous—a great contrast to the French soldiers in their uniforms, and three-cornered hats—the two groups fair samples of the East and of the West.Presently there was a slight movement among the French soldiers, and their listless attitude was changed for one of expectation; at the same time a faint sound, like that of muffled blows, could be heard in the distance, though it scarce penetrated the thick, high walls. But, low as it was, it reached the Lady Halima's ears, and it made her heart beat high and brought the color to her face. The sound came nearer, and now could plainly be recognized as the sharp trot of a horse. No wonder she was in a fever of excitement, for she knew that Buonaparte was approaching, and all that his visit meant for her. What had the Fates in store for her? Was she to learn that her lover still lived, and, having performed his mission in the desert, would soon return to her; or that he was dead and that she must fulfill her promise and permit Buonaparte to take his place? True, she had not promised to install him as her lover, in so many words; but she had given him to understand that it would be so, and she considered that she was in honor bound to give herself to him, should he demand it; she knew she had meant this all the time, should she receive unimpeachable evidence that St. Just no longer lived. But she would not allow herself to think of the possibility of his death. Ill he might be; seriously ill of fever; even grievously wounded; but dead? No. Fate could not be so cruel.But, should the worst have happened, she would have gone to Buonaparte's arms without the least repugnance or sense of shame. Despite the French strain in her, her upbringing had been an Eastern one; she was a Mahometan and familiar with the usuages of the harem, and to the light esteem in which Eastern women were held; so that she saw nothing degrading, if she could not have the man she loved, in becoming the paramour of some one else. In the case of Buonaparte, another factor helped to influence her decision, and that was Ambition. As already shown, she was superstitious and believed in a mysterious connection between humanity and the stars; and, according to her reading of the heavens, Buonaparte was destined to rise to the highest flights of power; were she with him, she would rise with him.To sum up, Love was easily first with her; she would sacrifice everything for that. If St. Just lived, nothing should stand between her and him. But, if he was dead, then she would bury Love, and install Ambition in its place. Union with Buonaparte, at any rate, would serve her immediate purpose—to flee from Egypt and take up her abode in France.She moved to the latticed window and looked out; presently she saw Buonaparte ride into the courtyard, unattended, and dismount. Her agitation grew almost more than she could bear, Love and Ambition being in the balance; the most momentous question of her life was on the eve of settlement.The room was almost in darkness, for only a small oil lamp, that hung above the divan, gave a feeble light; so that, before she saw Buonaparte, he was upon her. While she was still standing at the window, he entered softly, and unannounced. Stealing up to her, he wound his arm about her waist and kissed her.She struggled with him, and he let her go. She started back, and then stood facing him with flashing eyes and heightened color, her bosom heaving with indignation."How dare you, Sir?" she cried. "So it is thus you think to gain a woman's favor? I have heard much of the deference paid by your countrymen to women; is this a sample of it? Oh, would that my lover were here to avenge for me this insult!"Buonaparte answered with a laugh, "Your lover? Ah! he is here; but not the one you mean."And he tapped his breast with his hand.Halima made a step forward."My lover!" she cried eagerly. "What mean you? Do you bring me intelligence of his return? If that is the reason of your coming, I could find it in my heart to pardon you. Speak; Oh! keep me not in suspense, but speak."She panted in her agitation, while she hung in mingled hope and fear upon his answer.It came in harsh and strident tones. He was angered at the depth of her feeling for St. Just, and it made him pitiless and heedless of the pain his words would cause."Never in this world will you see St. Just again," he said. "He lies buried in the desert, slain by your father's orders."At this dreadful news, so suddenly and cruelly imparted, his hearer swayed as though she would have fallen; but, with an effort, she so far controlled herself as to stagger to a divan, on which she dropped."It is not true, it cannot be true," she cried; "you are deceiving me for your own ends. Why should my father slay him? No, I believe you not."Buonaparte took no notice of her words. He merely stepped to the open window and called out, "Roustan, bring up the prisoners."The Arab girl sprang to her feet and advanced to him. "Prisoners?" she asked wonderingly. "Who are they? Why are they here?""You say you disbelieve me. They bring you proof of what I have just told you."Even while he spoke the tramp of men could be heard outside, and, in another moment, Roustan entered with the three Arab soldiers and their guards.Buonaparte cross-examined them in Halima's presence, and she herself put such questions to them as she chose. They told her of the capture of St. Just by members of her father's tribe and all that had followed, to his final fall from the rock. They were so evidently the witnesses of truth that Halima could not fail to be convinced that St. Just was dead.She waved her hand to them as a signal that they were to go, and Buonaparte dismissed them.Then the tears, that her excitement had kept back, poured forth. The girl staggered to the divan and, burying her head in its cushions, wept long and passionately.As on a similar occasion, Buonaparte sought not to check her tears, but sat near, waiting patiently till her grief should spend itself. Meanwhile he fingered mechanically St. Just's charm, which he had taken from Yusuf, and meant to give to Halima.At last the force of her weeping died away, and she raised her tear-stained face to his, a look of piteous entreaty on it.At a loss for words of consolation, Buonaparte handed her the jewel."It was St. Just's," he said. "Now you have a right to it."She reached out her hand and took it. At the same time, Buonaparte seated himself upon the divan and drew her to him. Then he kissed her, while he whispered tenderly in her ear, "I love you, Halima, I love you. My Queen, my heart's desire, tell me you love me too."But she had St. Just's death too freshly in her mind. She shook her head sadly. "No, no," she murmured; "not to-night. Perhaps, to-morrow I will tell you."Now Buonaparte, always imperious, could and would brook no resistance. For reply, he crushed her to himself. Violent was his embrace and masterful his manner. And, she, in her inmost heart already yielding, made but a faint resistance. And, at that moment, the light above the divan flickered out and darkness fell upon the scene.CHAPTER XII.To return to St. Just who, when last seen, was lying unconscious in the tent of the Arab Sheik; the fever that had robbed him of his senses soon spent its force, and, with a lowering of his temperature, he returned to consciousness. Accustomed to the hardships of a campaign in the field, and with some experience of wounds, and by no means impatient or given to complaining, he could not but chafe at his slow progress towards recovery. He seemed to gain no strength. No doubt this was due in great measure to his want of European comforts, medical attendance, and the diet suitable to an invalid.When, at last, he was able to get about again, which, was not till December had ended and a new year had dawned, he found, somewhat to his surprise, that the sheik, if harsh, was just in all his dealings. One night he and the sheik were sitting over the camp fire under the shadow of the very rock which had been the scene of St. Just's narrow escape from death, when the sheik spoke concerning that adventure."If I had wished to kill you, I could easily have done so. You must not suppose that my men are, as a rule, the bad marksmen they proved themselves on that occasion. If you had been killed, I had avenged the affront your General had put upon me, and, indirectly, upon the tribe, by trying to bribe me to become his ally. If you survived the shots, you could carry my answer, and, possibly, save the life of one of my own tribe, whom your General might slay for being the bearer of unpalatable news. That you would be hit fatally I expected; and how Mahmoud, who, though but eighteen, is a good marksman, came to miss, I know not, though he only failed by chance."Chance, did I say? Nay, my son," and here the old man laid his hand softly upon his listener's shoulder; "It was fate. Allah has willed that you should live for greater things. Therefore give praise to him."Towards the end of January the whole camp, including St. Just, who was mounted on a camel and closely guarded, made a move, traveling northwards towards Cairo. After journeying for about a month, a halt was made at a group of stone tombs, said to be—in common with so many burial places in Egypt whose records are lost—the tombs of Kings.During their stay at this oasis of the tombs, St. Just began to pick up health and strength. Here, too, he improved his acquaintance with the old sheik, and the more he learned of him the better he liked him. Strange to say, too, the boy Mahmoud, he who had fired the last shot at him on the rock, began to make friendly advances towards him, and expressed a wish to wait on him. At first St. Just was suspicious of his motives, and watched him carefully. But, in the end, he satisfied himself that the lad had really become attached to him; so, with the Sheik's permission, he accepted his services, and, as the result, found that he could have engaged no truer or more faithful servant.The monotony of St. Just's life at this time made him dwell with tenderness and regret on the memory of the busy time he had passed at Cairo, and, in particular, of the beautiful half-bred Arab girl with whom he had been so much thrown.He knew that his love for her was no transient passion, but the abiding affection of a life-time; absence, in his case, so far from inducing forgetfulness, had made the heart grow fonder. With her, his life would be rose-colored, like the desert sand around him when the sun's rays were poured upon it; without her, like the same desert at night before the moonbeams had illumined it, cold and gray and gloomy.Inwardly chafing at the enforced helplessness that kept him from his love, and wondering whether they were ever again to meet, he was much surprised and no less delighted when the sheik one day told him that, in the middle of March, he was to set out for Cairo with his, the sheik's, reply to Buonaparte's letter; and, further, that he would be furnished with an escort of twenty men for his protection. It now wanted about three weeks to the time.One day, when it wanted but four to the time when he was to set out, he was aroused from his slumbers, while dawn yet struggled with the darkness, by the sheik himself, who bade him get up quickly and dress quickly."Before the camp wakes to life we must be on our way," he told St. Just; but whither they were bound he gave no intimation.Through the sleeping camp they made their way and, shaping their course north by east, they rode out into the great silent desert, being joined by a small escort, on reaching the outskirts of the camp. For many miles the sheik and St. Just rode on side by side without exchanging a word.At last the old man spoke, taking advantage of an opportunity, when those who accompanied them had fallen behind, possibly in obedience to his orders."Doubtless, my son," began the sheik, "you have wondered why I, your enemy, have kept you by my side so long, when you were able to return to him from whom you came two months ago. It was for this; I wished to satisfy myself that your character is what it has been represented to me. You know that I am a man of power and that, daily, messengers come from other chiefs to me for my advice and help. From enquiries of these men I have learned much of you from the moment you set foot in Alexandria."After pausing to note the effect of his harangue, the sheik went on, "Scarce an action or a word of yours—uttered even in your sleep—has escaped me. If from the moment of your ordeal on the rock, until to-day, you have failed to please me, then would your stay in camp have been cut short. But, not only have you pleased me, but I have grown to regard you as a son."After some hours traveling, they halted on the margin of a broad sheet of water fringed around with grass and low shrubs, with here and there a date palm. In the middle of this pool rose a cone-shaped rock graven with hieroglyphics. Selecting a place that was sheltered from the sun's heat by a pile of rocks, the whole party dismounted, the escort, who numbered a dozen, and were all, save St. Just's own lad Mahmoud, elderly men, casting themselves down upon the grass to rest.After giving some directions to the leader of the party and asking St. Just to await his return, the Sheik remounted and set out alone, and soon was lost to sight, putting up in his progress thousands of birds that had made this their haunt and lived here undisturbed from the moment they had left the egg. Now they rose in flocks, just in advance of the Sheik, swirling above him and uttering cries of mingled wonder and alarm.After an interval the old warrior came galloping back, with as firm a seat upon his fiery steed as if he were but a youth of twenty, instead of being fully four score years.The old man called out something St. Just could not catch, and, instantly, two of the men sprang up and drew their swords. He, too, rose to his feet, but was pulled back by Mahmoud, whose voice said in his ear:"Fear not, they go but to cut wood."Meanwhile the old Sheik dismounted, and the rest busied themselves in spreading a meal under the shadow of the rock.Presently the two woodsmen returned bearing a large bundle of lengths of fibrous wood. These were distributed among the party, each piece being about two feet long, and two inches thick. In addition to the bundle of sticks, one of the two men carried a pole two inches in diameter and about ten feet long.This he handed to the old Sheik, who, mounting his horse, once more rode away, leaving St. Just and his followers standing under the rocks.While St. Just was absently gazing across the lake and wondering what was going on, he saw the old Sheik on the bank stop and plant his pole in the water close to the bank, and in a line with the pillar. Then to his amazement, he saw the pillar topple and fall with a terrific splash into the lake, whose waters instantly closed over it, the only signs that it had ever stood there being the bubbles that rose to the surface as the mass of stone sank deeper and deeper towards the bottom.Then the old Sheik returned and, drawing St. Just apart, took from his garment the miniature of the fair Halima which had but lately hung around St. Just's neck and had received the bullet aimed at him and thus saved his life."My son," he said, "I take it that the wish of your heart is to possess the woman whose picture I now hold. On the faith of this, I am about to tell you many things. But, before you hear them, you must swear by that which you rate above all other things that you will obey and be faithful to the commands that I shall give you."And St. Just, because of his great love for Halima, blindly swore to do that which the Sheik should bid him.Then the old man went on."Twelve hundred and fifty years after the coming of the Messiah to Jerusalem, one of my forefathers ruled in Egypt. Now the visitation of Christ gave rise to the prophecy that when a white man, a soldier, should come to us, Egypt would again be free. Now I, who am the last of the true princes of the land, believe you to be the man foretold, and it is for the furthering of my plans that I have brought you here. On the spot on which we stand, buried far beneath us, lies a city that was formerly one of the chief cities of the gods. Here their worship lingered for many years after the introduction of Christianity; then it vanished. In those troublous days my ancestor buried in the lake, which aforetime stretched even to the Nile, a vast treasure, marking the spot with the stone pillar upon which he had engraved his title—that pillar that was here but now. Now, the times in which he lived were so fraught with danger, that he entrusted the secret to but one person, with injunctions that it should be passed on at the death of one of the two who knew it, and so on for generations. Thus it came to me. The only other person who knew it died lately, so I tell it you. You will wonder at my destroying the pillar that marked the treasure's spot, but it had to be. Else it might have guided some marauder."Owing to some cause I am unable to explain and, it follows, unable to remove, the lake is falling foot by foot, and, in a few weeks, it will have dried up and become a portion of the desert, and the rocking pillar will soon be buried fathoms deep in sand. But enough of this for the present."By this time the sun was getting low in the heavens, and the hour for the afternoon meal had come. When this was over, the old Sheik gave orders for the men to resume the staves, that had been distributed as torches, and to follow him.Then, accompanied by St. Just, they plunged in single file into the jungle of foliage that grew around the rock, and was so tangled and interlaced that progress was very difficult, and no one who did not know of the path they followed could have found it. In about an hour, at the cost of numerous tears and scratches, they emerged on a small clearing, in which was a mound of sand, with a slab of stone before it. Two of the strongest men were ordered to roll away this stone; and, this done, an opening about two feet square was seen.Then, at a few words from the Sheik, each man went down upon his hands and knees, and, one by one, they crawled through the hole and in utter darkness began to traverse a passage that led from it.They had proceeded but a few yards, when, all at once, the man immediately in front of St. Just called out in Arabic "Take care." In a moment, the young Frenchman felt himself gliding down a slope. He clutched at the bare earth with his hands, one of which held his unlighted torch, and managed, with an occasional slip and scratch and scramble and bump, so far to check his progress that, when he presently dropped two or three feet on to level ground, he was not much hurt.When he looked about him, he saw that those of the party who were in advance of him were occupied in lighting their torches. He lighted his from one of theirs. One after another the remainder of the party scrambled down; when all the torches had been lighted, St. Just found that they were in a square hall, hewn out of the solid rock, the sides of which were sculptured in the Assyrian and Egyptian style.It was but a passing glance that he could give, for, so soon as the whole party was assembled and the torches had been lighted, the word was given to move forward. They traversed the rocky road for upwards of two miles, now leaping over fallen boulders, now climbing great blocks of masonry, till, at last, they halted before a wondrous sight.For the last quarter of a mile—so far as St. Just could judge, they had been going down an easy incline, and their course had been free from obstacles. Another thing he noticed and could not account for was that, as they neared their present halting place, the way in front of them became gradually lighter until finally their torches were no longer needed. By the time they had come to a stand-still, the source of this light was no longer a mystery. Opposite to them at a distance that was difficult to calculate in their present environment, but quite near enough for them to feel its heat, was a vast crater, that was belching out flames and steam and streams of boiling lava. The whole of the space between this volcano and St. Just and his companions was occupied by a city in ruins, that lay in a basin about three hundred feet below the watchers, who were standing on a platform to which the passage they had just traversed led. The light from the crater and the molten lava that was being spouted from it and was streaming down upon the subterranean city, enabled them to distinguish what remained of the buildings; but was not sufficiently diffused to show the sides or roof of the enormous cavern in which they were, so that it was impossible to estimate its size.Transfixed with astonishment, St. Just watched the stream of melted lava vomited forth from the glowing chasm and rush along in a fiery channel, crackling and hissing and bubbling into a sort of caldron, whence it spread out into a sheet and poured down upon the deserted city, sending up a noisome vapor that no living creature could breathe for long. The whole scene was enough to strike terror into the boldest heart, and St. Just, courageous as he was, felt his own quake and his legs beneath him tremble.Presently the old Sheik touched him and called his attention to an obelisk that was reared on the platform on which they stood.It was covered with inscriptions, almost undecipherable through age. But the old Sheik interpreted them to St. Just as follows:"In the sixth year of the founding of this city (this would mean about 2600 B.C.) was this built for the river and for the traders thereon; wherein is it possible to shelter our ships. And in this same year was the road from the City to the Ancient tomb by the Nile Bank finished in a manner worthy of those who built this city. This monument has been erected as a memorial of the same.""There," said the Sheik, "this was their greatness, now listen to their end."He pointed to an inscription of six lines cut roughly upon the wall of the rocky platform on which they were, and read:"Woe is come upon us, Woe. The plague is on us—the black plague. Our trade is at an end; our King has fled; our women and children lie dead in the streets; for the gods have forsaken us. The mountain is on fire and the river has receded, and in its place have I walked dry shod. I have placed the King's treasures in a safe place, and I go to tell him that the Captain of his guard, Hathi, is faithful."Lower down was written:"Alas, I am too late, I die, I die. The treasure is in the temple."Thus abruptly ended these records of man in his magnificence and in his woe."Where is the temple?" inquired St. Just."There," said the Sheik, pointing to a passage on their right. "We go to it now."The Sheik led the way, and, after traversing the passage, they entered a vast, ruined marble hall."The treasure is here?" asked St. Just."Nay," replied the Sheik, "for this is but the outer court.""Is the fire always issuing from that crater?" inquired St. Just when they had retraced their steps to their companions. "And will it take long to destroy what remains of the city?""Years, at the rate it goes on now; for it is not always burning actively; sometimes for long periods it only smoulders. But, possibly, only hours, should there be a great increase in the outpour of the lava.""And, if the lake above fell in on top?" suggested St. Just laughing."Seconds; there would be such an explosion as the world has never yet seen."Their torches, which they had extinguished when they had been no longer needed, were now relighted, and they made their way back as rapidly as possible, musing in silence on all that they had seen.The dawn of another day was breaking when they emerged on the spot from which they had started on the subterranean journey; and at once they started for the camp.Three days later, St. Just left for Cairo, resolved first to marry Halima, and then, to gain possession of the treasure and return to France at the first opportunity. He had made some rough plans of the place, unknown to the Sheik, and these he took with him when he set out for Cairo.CHAPTER XIII.It was on the fifth of March that St. Just started on his return journey to Cairo, accompanied by an escort of twenty of the old Sheik's followers and the lad Mahmoud, to whom, on account of his alertness and fidelity, he had become much attached. He was the bearer of a letter written in Arabic, from the Sheik to Buonaparte, its purport being that the wily Ibrahim, while declining to give any active assistance to the French Commander-in-chief, agreed, on the other hand, not forcibly to oppose him.The Sheik also gave him letters of introduction to other sheiks in and on the way to Cairo, commending him to their protection and urging them to do all they could to forward him on his way.In order to avoid the hardships of the desert, it had been decided that, so far as was possible, St. Just's route should be by the river; boats to make the journey in stages, it was believed, could be obtained from the various sheiks on the way. With this view, the party took no horses, but set out mounted on camels. The gray stallion, that St. Just had captured from the Arabs when he had slain its rider, and that had served him so faithfully during his wanderings in the desert, he presented as a parting gift to Halima's father. It was the only thing in his possession, and was but a slight return for all the old sheik had done for him from the time he had made a target of him for his followers. And Ibrahim had done much; had nursed him back to life, supplied him with money for his homeward journey, furnished him with letters of commendation to powerful sheiks he would fall in with by the way, given him a guard for his protection, accorded him his friendship, and, to crown all, was desirous of receiving him as his son-in-law.And St. Just rightly appreciated the old man's kindness; he thanked him again and again at parting, and promised to return with Halima at the earliest possible moment. And the Sheik himself, with all his Arab undemonstrativeness, seemed much affected while he wrung the young man's hand, when the moment for the cavalcade to start had come."Farewell, my son," he said; "may Allah have you in his keeping, and bring you back here safe and sound, and, with you, the light of my old eyes, my daughter. I charge you watch over her and protect her from all danger. Keep your tryst with me, and I will keep faith with you and will give my child to you, and you shall be my son indeed. For I am old, and 'tis time she had some one to protect her, other than myself. And now, speed you all you can. Once more, farewell.""Trust me," was St. Just's sole reply; then the party started.Two days' traveling by easy stages brought them to the river bank at a point that marked the eastern boundary of the district occupied by Ibrahim's tribe. Here they were furnished with a boat sufficiently capacious to contain them all, as well as the men who were to take her back.It was weary work this traveling down the Nile, for, though St. Just was in the company of others, he was practically alone; he could understand but little of the dialect of those who were about him, and what interested them, in no way appealed to him. Besides, they seemed to regard him with a certain degree of distrust, that, in some of them, amounted to dislike, which they took small pains to hide. This was only natural, for the uniform St. Just wore was a constant reminder that he was of the nationality of the invaders of their country. They endeavored to thwart and mislead him in every way, and, had it not been for information that Mahmoud gave him privately, his progress would have been slower even than it was. Arrangements could be made for boats or rafts, only for stated distances; and at the end of each of such stages there was renewed bargaining and haggling with a fresh set of people, St. Just's own followers doing their best privately with the proprietors to persuade them not to take them on. They were desirous of returning to the encampment of the tribe, and hoped, by raising so many difficulties to their progress, to wear out St. Just's persistence and cause him to forego his purpose. It was a pity they did not know all that was in his mind; for, had they done so, they would have realized the hopelessness of achieving what they had in view, and would have done all they could to advance, instead of to retard, him. Where he fell in with sheiks located on the margin of the river, to whom Ibrahim had given him letters, bargaining for boats was easy; but it so happened that most of the dwellers by the river were strangers.Thus, from one cause and another, their progress was very slow. Then, something occurred that completely stopped it for a time; St. Just fell ill. He took a severe cold which he was unable to shake off. He struggled manfully with his increasing weakness, but in vain; ague set in, and he felt that he was in for a serious illness. He called the faithful Mahmoud and inquired of him whether any of the sheiks to whom he had letters were within reasonable distance. Fortunately for him, there was one encamped but a few miles away. So St. Just decided to land at once and make for this sheik's quarters. When he reached them, he had but time to deliver his credentials, when he fell down in a fainting fit. He was thoroughly exhausted.For weeks he knew nothing. All the time, the trusty Mahmoud tended him assiduously, and, but for him, St. Just would never have recovered. The Sheik, too, who had a great respect for the more powerful Ibrahim, did all he could for him. At last, so weak that he could not raise his head, the young officer awoke to consciousness. Soon he began to pick up strength, and, a month afterwards, he felt himself sufficiently recovered to proceed. So he once more embarked upon the river and the weary round was recommenced; and, on the 9th of August, St. Just made his final landing on the river bank at a point near a village distant only a few hours' journey from Cairo, and within the sphere of French authority.Here he dismissed the men who had formed his escort, retaining only the youth Mahmoud, with whom he made his way to a hut close by, where dwelt a man who had some camels. It was at this hut that the young officer caught a glimpse of himself for the first time for many months; for, hanging up against the wall, was a piece of looking-glass about four inches square, an article, it seemed, on which the owner set much store.St. Just started with surprise at the unfamiliar visage in the mirror. He saw a thin, lined, haggard face, with a complexion almost as dark as an Arab's, set in framework of long, black, disheveled hair and unkempt beard, his mouth completely hidden by a strong deep fringe of moustache. His military headgear he had never seen since the moment of his fall from the rock after he had been shot at by Mahmoud; and he now wore a "haic," a sort of turban. Altogether he looked a thorough Asiatic, and to one who had known him only as the smart young officer of the Guides, he would have been unrecognizable. He still wore what remained of his uniform, but it was stained and worn and torn, with scarcely a morsel of gold lace left on it. Moreover, it hung loosely on him, for his thin face was the index of his whole frame, which was emaciated to a degree. He was horrified at his appearance, but he spent no time in vain regrets at the woeful spectacle he presented. With a short, hard laugh, indicative of a sort of amused disgust, he strode out of the hut to join the owner of the camels, whom he found chatting with Mahmoud.After much chaffering, in which, on St. Just's side, Mahmoud bore the major part and displayed considerable acuteness, a bargain was struck.They set out upon their journey shortly before noon, and proceeded slowly on their way, making no halt until just before dusk, when they dismounted for their evening meal. Not much time, however, was allowed for this, for, now that St. Just was nearing the goal he had been aiming at for months, his eagerness to reach it made him hurry on his men. But darkness came on so rapidly that they were compelled to postpone further progress till the following day.At the dawn of day they resumed their march, and in about two hours St. Just's eyes were gladdened by the sight of a detachment of French infantry mounted on camels en route for Suez. Soon after this he entered Cairo.CHAPTER XIV.General Buonaparte had just returned to Cairo after an absence of several months with the army, whose operations he had been directing in the field. From the moment of his arrival, he had been busy interviewing not only generals and other army officials, but all sorts and conditions of men in that part of the world—contractors, concessionaires, traders, slavers, interpreters, sheiks, the guardians of order in the City, breeders of horses, dealers in camels—in fact all who hoped to make money out of the French.The last person he had seen was Yusuf, the man, it will be remembered, who, being the nephew of the sheik Ibrahim, attempted to abduct his uncle's daughter, the lovely Halima. He had been kept in confinement during the whole five months of Buonaparte's absence. In fact the General had forgotten him, and it was only on his return, when reminded that Yusuf was still in prison, that he remembered his existence. Then he at once ordered the man's release.Given his liberty, Yusuf sought an interview with General Buonaparte for the purpose of asking to be enrolled in a band of Bedouins who acted as spies and scouts for the French Army,—at the same time that they did a little slave dealing on their own account; of course, under the rose—and his request was granted.Scarcely had the Arab left his presence, when an officer came to inform the General that a strange looking man, who said he was the bearer of important despatches, desired an interview."Who is he? Where is he from?" was Buonaparte's sharp enquiry."He declines to give his name, Sir," was the reply. "He speaks French like a Frenchman and wears a ragged French uniform and a turban; but he looks like an Arab and says he is from the desert.""Admit him," said Buonaparte shortly.The officer withdrew and, in another minute, returned, followed by St. Just. The latter drew himself up, saluted and then removed his "haic" (his head-covering.)Buonaparte made a movement with his hand for the officer to retire. Then he bent his gaze on the uncouth figure before him, scrutinizing him closely to see whether his features were familiar to him. Failing to recognize him, he said sharply."Your name, Sir? You have despatches. Where do you come from?" He drummed impatiently with his fingers on the table. With all his imperturbability, the answer he received surprised him."Henri St. Just, Captain in the regiment of Guides.""What!" exclaimed Buonaparte. "St. Just? It was reported that you were dead by those who said they saw you shot."He got up from his seat, and, coming up to the young officer, examined his features closely. The result satisfied him of St. Just's identity."You are indeed St. Just. Now, sit down and tell me all about it."He resumed his seat, and St. Just also sat down, and, after detailing the circumstances with which the reader is acquainted, went on to say, "After my recovery and release, I started, with an escort furnished by the Sheik Ibrahim, from a place whose name I do not know, except that the people call it the Tombs of the Kings, with an answer from Ibrahim to your letter. It is for this reason, General, that I have ventured to present myself before you in this most unseemly garb and unkempt condition, for which I crave your pardon.""It is granted; you have done quite right. Where is the letter?"St. Just rose and handed it to him.Buonaparte had just concluded reading it, when an aide-de-camp entered and, saluting, said, "A courier from Admiral Gantheaume, Sir.""Admit him," was the answer.In obedience, the aide-de-camp ushered in a young officer, in whom St. Just recognized his quondam acquaintance Garraud, now a smart looking Captain in St. Just's old troop.Garraud advanced and, at Buonaparte's bidding, laid his despatches upon the table; then retiring, he took up his stand by St. Just and gazed intently at him. There was something about him that seemed familiar to him. All at once, the past came back to him, and, with a smile of pleasure, and, quite forgetful of his General's presence, he seized St. Just by the arm and exclaimed boisterously:"Why, St. Just, my dear fellow, it's you I declare. How on earth did you get here, and in this strange garb, too? It was given out that you were dead.""Silence, if you please, Sir," exclaimed Buonaparte. "Your congratulations may be deferred to a more fitting time. At present you will attend to me, important duties require your attention. The Englishman Smith (Sir Sidney), is he still on the coast?"The color had mounted to Garraud's face at the reproof he had received, and he stammered in making his reply, "He—he is, Sir.""How soon can you reach Alexandria, leaving at once?" Buonaparte went on."In three days, Sir, traveling night and day."Then Buonaparte bent over the table and began to write rapidly. Meanwhile, neither of the others spoke, contenting themselves with exchanging meaning smiles and glances.The document completed, Buonaparte folded and sealed it; then handed it to Garraud."Leave instantly," he said, "and make all speed."Bowing to the General and giving St. Just a silent handshake, Garraud left the room, and soon they heard the clatter of his horse's hoofs outside.When they were once more alone, Buonaparte began to question St. Just about his adventures since their last meeting. St. Just's answers appeared to please him, for he rose from his seat and shook his hand; then he pinched his ear, a way he had of showing friendliness, and addressed him."You have shown yourself worthy of your country, St. Just; you have done well, and I shall give you further opportunities for the exercise of your courage and fidelity. Meanwhile——" he broke off and strode to the door and flung it open. Then he called out, "Tremeau."A young officer presented himself and saluted. "Take Major St. Just to your quarters and give him the means of making himself recognizable as a French officer. And you, St. Just, keep within the barracks till I give you leave to quit them. It is likely I shall want you. And you, too, Tremeau, I shall have work for you."A glow of satisfaction had lighted up St. Just's face at hearing Buonaparte address him as Major, and, he with the other officer, was on the point of leaving the room, when the General resumed, "Stay."He drew a paper to him and scrawled something rapidly upon it. Then, handing what he had written to St. Just, he went on, "Here is your commission as Major, with a letter to your Colonel to reinstate you in your old regiment; also an order to General Dupuy to furnish you with new uniforms and a horse, or the means of procuring them."St. Just, his heart beating with gratitude and, almost, worship for his General, whom at that moment he regarded as a hero for whom he would willingly have laid down his life, bent over Buonaparte's hand and kissed it in his enthusiasm.The evident spontaneity of the act and its devotion pleased the General and even touched his heart."Go along, you silly boy," he said, with a smile; "this is not a drawing-room, but a soldier's quarters. You should reserve such acts of homage for your mistress. Now, go; I shall not lose sight of your interests." And he gave him a friendly push towards his companion, who stood waiting statue-like by the door.The door closed upon them, and Buonaparte was alone. In a moment a change came over his countenance; the smile vanished and, with knitted brow, and hands clasped behind his back, he stood in the center of the apartment, motionless, deep in thought."They must not meet yet," he muttered presently; "not until I have seen her and learned what she will tell him."St. Just's return had brought Halima to his mind. For months he had seen nothing of her, nor had he communicated with her. In fact he had discarded her, as a child throws aside a toy of which he has grown tired. At the same time, although he considered himself in no way accountable to St. Just for his relations with her, he did not care that the former lovers should meet without preparation. He knew that Halima was in Cairo, for he had given orders that she was to be watched, though unknown to her, and not allowed to leave—a selfish precaution he had taken, in case he should care to renew his intercourse with her.However, for the moment, there were weightier matters to engage his thoughts. He turned again to some papers he had received from Paris, his consideration of which had been interrupted by the despatches from Admiral Gantheaume.After studying them for some time attentively, he spoke aloud. "Things seem going badly in Paris. Those directors are not to be trusted. Spite of all I have done for France, they are my enemies. They think to keep me in the background, to brush me aside. Ha! we shall see. They have reason to fear me. They shall know the stuff of which I am made. But Junot was right; I must go back to France at once."He gathered up the documents, locked them up in a drawer; then strode quickly from the room.
* * * * *
The Lady Halima was pacing her room in a lever of impatience. She had received Buonaparte's letter, and the hour of his promised visit had arrived. In the courtyard below, surrounded by their guards, stood the three hapless captives. The moon's silver light fell upon them shivering in their scanty clothing of haic and burnous—a great contrast to the French soldiers in their uniforms, and three-cornered hats—the two groups fair samples of the East and of the West.
Presently there was a slight movement among the French soldiers, and their listless attitude was changed for one of expectation; at the same time a faint sound, like that of muffled blows, could be heard in the distance, though it scarce penetrated the thick, high walls. But, low as it was, it reached the Lady Halima's ears, and it made her heart beat high and brought the color to her face. The sound came nearer, and now could plainly be recognized as the sharp trot of a horse. No wonder she was in a fever of excitement, for she knew that Buonaparte was approaching, and all that his visit meant for her. What had the Fates in store for her? Was she to learn that her lover still lived, and, having performed his mission in the desert, would soon return to her; or that he was dead and that she must fulfill her promise and permit Buonaparte to take his place? True, she had not promised to install him as her lover, in so many words; but she had given him to understand that it would be so, and she considered that she was in honor bound to give herself to him, should he demand it; she knew she had meant this all the time, should she receive unimpeachable evidence that St. Just no longer lived. But she would not allow herself to think of the possibility of his death. Ill he might be; seriously ill of fever; even grievously wounded; but dead? No. Fate could not be so cruel.
But, should the worst have happened, she would have gone to Buonaparte's arms without the least repugnance or sense of shame. Despite the French strain in her, her upbringing had been an Eastern one; she was a Mahometan and familiar with the usuages of the harem, and to the light esteem in which Eastern women were held; so that she saw nothing degrading, if she could not have the man she loved, in becoming the paramour of some one else. In the case of Buonaparte, another factor helped to influence her decision, and that was Ambition. As already shown, she was superstitious and believed in a mysterious connection between humanity and the stars; and, according to her reading of the heavens, Buonaparte was destined to rise to the highest flights of power; were she with him, she would rise with him.
To sum up, Love was easily first with her; she would sacrifice everything for that. If St. Just lived, nothing should stand between her and him. But, if he was dead, then she would bury Love, and install Ambition in its place. Union with Buonaparte, at any rate, would serve her immediate purpose—to flee from Egypt and take up her abode in France.
She moved to the latticed window and looked out; presently she saw Buonaparte ride into the courtyard, unattended, and dismount. Her agitation grew almost more than she could bear, Love and Ambition being in the balance; the most momentous question of her life was on the eve of settlement.
The room was almost in darkness, for only a small oil lamp, that hung above the divan, gave a feeble light; so that, before she saw Buonaparte, he was upon her. While she was still standing at the window, he entered softly, and unannounced. Stealing up to her, he wound his arm about her waist and kissed her.
She struggled with him, and he let her go. She started back, and then stood facing him with flashing eyes and heightened color, her bosom heaving with indignation.
"How dare you, Sir?" she cried. "So it is thus you think to gain a woman's favor? I have heard much of the deference paid by your countrymen to women; is this a sample of it? Oh, would that my lover were here to avenge for me this insult!"
Buonaparte answered with a laugh, "Your lover? Ah! he is here; but not the one you mean."
And he tapped his breast with his hand.
Halima made a step forward.
"My lover!" she cried eagerly. "What mean you? Do you bring me intelligence of his return? If that is the reason of your coming, I could find it in my heart to pardon you. Speak; Oh! keep me not in suspense, but speak."
She panted in her agitation, while she hung in mingled hope and fear upon his answer.
It came in harsh and strident tones. He was angered at the depth of her feeling for St. Just, and it made him pitiless and heedless of the pain his words would cause.
"Never in this world will you see St. Just again," he said. "He lies buried in the desert, slain by your father's orders."
At this dreadful news, so suddenly and cruelly imparted, his hearer swayed as though she would have fallen; but, with an effort, she so far controlled herself as to stagger to a divan, on which she dropped.
"It is not true, it cannot be true," she cried; "you are deceiving me for your own ends. Why should my father slay him? No, I believe you not."
Buonaparte took no notice of her words. He merely stepped to the open window and called out, "Roustan, bring up the prisoners."
The Arab girl sprang to her feet and advanced to him. "Prisoners?" she asked wonderingly. "Who are they? Why are they here?"
"You say you disbelieve me. They bring you proof of what I have just told you."
Even while he spoke the tramp of men could be heard outside, and, in another moment, Roustan entered with the three Arab soldiers and their guards.
Buonaparte cross-examined them in Halima's presence, and she herself put such questions to them as she chose. They told her of the capture of St. Just by members of her father's tribe and all that had followed, to his final fall from the rock. They were so evidently the witnesses of truth that Halima could not fail to be convinced that St. Just was dead.
She waved her hand to them as a signal that they were to go, and Buonaparte dismissed them.
Then the tears, that her excitement had kept back, poured forth. The girl staggered to the divan and, burying her head in its cushions, wept long and passionately.
As on a similar occasion, Buonaparte sought not to check her tears, but sat near, waiting patiently till her grief should spend itself. Meanwhile he fingered mechanically St. Just's charm, which he had taken from Yusuf, and meant to give to Halima.
At last the force of her weeping died away, and she raised her tear-stained face to his, a look of piteous entreaty on it.
At a loss for words of consolation, Buonaparte handed her the jewel.
"It was St. Just's," he said. "Now you have a right to it."
She reached out her hand and took it. At the same time, Buonaparte seated himself upon the divan and drew her to him. Then he kissed her, while he whispered tenderly in her ear, "I love you, Halima, I love you. My Queen, my heart's desire, tell me you love me too."
But she had St. Just's death too freshly in her mind. She shook her head sadly. "No, no," she murmured; "not to-night. Perhaps, to-morrow I will tell you."
Now Buonaparte, always imperious, could and would brook no resistance. For reply, he crushed her to himself. Violent was his embrace and masterful his manner. And, she, in her inmost heart already yielding, made but a faint resistance. And, at that moment, the light above the divan flickered out and darkness fell upon the scene.
CHAPTER XII.
To return to St. Just who, when last seen, was lying unconscious in the tent of the Arab Sheik; the fever that had robbed him of his senses soon spent its force, and, with a lowering of his temperature, he returned to consciousness. Accustomed to the hardships of a campaign in the field, and with some experience of wounds, and by no means impatient or given to complaining, he could not but chafe at his slow progress towards recovery. He seemed to gain no strength. No doubt this was due in great measure to his want of European comforts, medical attendance, and the diet suitable to an invalid.
When, at last, he was able to get about again, which, was not till December had ended and a new year had dawned, he found, somewhat to his surprise, that the sheik, if harsh, was just in all his dealings. One night he and the sheik were sitting over the camp fire under the shadow of the very rock which had been the scene of St. Just's narrow escape from death, when the sheik spoke concerning that adventure.
"If I had wished to kill you, I could easily have done so. You must not suppose that my men are, as a rule, the bad marksmen they proved themselves on that occasion. If you had been killed, I had avenged the affront your General had put upon me, and, indirectly, upon the tribe, by trying to bribe me to become his ally. If you survived the shots, you could carry my answer, and, possibly, save the life of one of my own tribe, whom your General might slay for being the bearer of unpalatable news. That you would be hit fatally I expected; and how Mahmoud, who, though but eighteen, is a good marksman, came to miss, I know not, though he only failed by chance.
"Chance, did I say? Nay, my son," and here the old man laid his hand softly upon his listener's shoulder; "It was fate. Allah has willed that you should live for greater things. Therefore give praise to him."
Towards the end of January the whole camp, including St. Just, who was mounted on a camel and closely guarded, made a move, traveling northwards towards Cairo. After journeying for about a month, a halt was made at a group of stone tombs, said to be—in common with so many burial places in Egypt whose records are lost—the tombs of Kings.
During their stay at this oasis of the tombs, St. Just began to pick up health and strength. Here, too, he improved his acquaintance with the old sheik, and the more he learned of him the better he liked him. Strange to say, too, the boy Mahmoud, he who had fired the last shot at him on the rock, began to make friendly advances towards him, and expressed a wish to wait on him. At first St. Just was suspicious of his motives, and watched him carefully. But, in the end, he satisfied himself that the lad had really become attached to him; so, with the Sheik's permission, he accepted his services, and, as the result, found that he could have engaged no truer or more faithful servant.
The monotony of St. Just's life at this time made him dwell with tenderness and regret on the memory of the busy time he had passed at Cairo, and, in particular, of the beautiful half-bred Arab girl with whom he had been so much thrown.
He knew that his love for her was no transient passion, but the abiding affection of a life-time; absence, in his case, so far from inducing forgetfulness, had made the heart grow fonder. With her, his life would be rose-colored, like the desert sand around him when the sun's rays were poured upon it; without her, like the same desert at night before the moonbeams had illumined it, cold and gray and gloomy.
Inwardly chafing at the enforced helplessness that kept him from his love, and wondering whether they were ever again to meet, he was much surprised and no less delighted when the sheik one day told him that, in the middle of March, he was to set out for Cairo with his, the sheik's, reply to Buonaparte's letter; and, further, that he would be furnished with an escort of twenty men for his protection. It now wanted about three weeks to the time.
One day, when it wanted but four to the time when he was to set out, he was aroused from his slumbers, while dawn yet struggled with the darkness, by the sheik himself, who bade him get up quickly and dress quickly.
"Before the camp wakes to life we must be on our way," he told St. Just; but whither they were bound he gave no intimation.
Through the sleeping camp they made their way and, shaping their course north by east, they rode out into the great silent desert, being joined by a small escort, on reaching the outskirts of the camp. For many miles the sheik and St. Just rode on side by side without exchanging a word.
At last the old man spoke, taking advantage of an opportunity, when those who accompanied them had fallen behind, possibly in obedience to his orders.
"Doubtless, my son," began the sheik, "you have wondered why I, your enemy, have kept you by my side so long, when you were able to return to him from whom you came two months ago. It was for this; I wished to satisfy myself that your character is what it has been represented to me. You know that I am a man of power and that, daily, messengers come from other chiefs to me for my advice and help. From enquiries of these men I have learned much of you from the moment you set foot in Alexandria."
After pausing to note the effect of his harangue, the sheik went on, "Scarce an action or a word of yours—uttered even in your sleep—has escaped me. If from the moment of your ordeal on the rock, until to-day, you have failed to please me, then would your stay in camp have been cut short. But, not only have you pleased me, but I have grown to regard you as a son."
After some hours traveling, they halted on the margin of a broad sheet of water fringed around with grass and low shrubs, with here and there a date palm. In the middle of this pool rose a cone-shaped rock graven with hieroglyphics. Selecting a place that was sheltered from the sun's heat by a pile of rocks, the whole party dismounted, the escort, who numbered a dozen, and were all, save St. Just's own lad Mahmoud, elderly men, casting themselves down upon the grass to rest.
After giving some directions to the leader of the party and asking St. Just to await his return, the Sheik remounted and set out alone, and soon was lost to sight, putting up in his progress thousands of birds that had made this their haunt and lived here undisturbed from the moment they had left the egg. Now they rose in flocks, just in advance of the Sheik, swirling above him and uttering cries of mingled wonder and alarm.
After an interval the old warrior came galloping back, with as firm a seat upon his fiery steed as if he were but a youth of twenty, instead of being fully four score years.
The old man called out something St. Just could not catch, and, instantly, two of the men sprang up and drew their swords. He, too, rose to his feet, but was pulled back by Mahmoud, whose voice said in his ear:
"Fear not, they go but to cut wood."
Meanwhile the old Sheik dismounted, and the rest busied themselves in spreading a meal under the shadow of the rock.
Presently the two woodsmen returned bearing a large bundle of lengths of fibrous wood. These were distributed among the party, each piece being about two feet long, and two inches thick. In addition to the bundle of sticks, one of the two men carried a pole two inches in diameter and about ten feet long.
This he handed to the old Sheik, who, mounting his horse, once more rode away, leaving St. Just and his followers standing under the rocks.
While St. Just was absently gazing across the lake and wondering what was going on, he saw the old Sheik on the bank stop and plant his pole in the water close to the bank, and in a line with the pillar. Then to his amazement, he saw the pillar topple and fall with a terrific splash into the lake, whose waters instantly closed over it, the only signs that it had ever stood there being the bubbles that rose to the surface as the mass of stone sank deeper and deeper towards the bottom.
Then the old Sheik returned and, drawing St. Just apart, took from his garment the miniature of the fair Halima which had but lately hung around St. Just's neck and had received the bullet aimed at him and thus saved his life.
"My son," he said, "I take it that the wish of your heart is to possess the woman whose picture I now hold. On the faith of this, I am about to tell you many things. But, before you hear them, you must swear by that which you rate above all other things that you will obey and be faithful to the commands that I shall give you."
And St. Just, because of his great love for Halima, blindly swore to do that which the Sheik should bid him.
Then the old man went on.
"Twelve hundred and fifty years after the coming of the Messiah to Jerusalem, one of my forefathers ruled in Egypt. Now the visitation of Christ gave rise to the prophecy that when a white man, a soldier, should come to us, Egypt would again be free. Now I, who am the last of the true princes of the land, believe you to be the man foretold, and it is for the furthering of my plans that I have brought you here. On the spot on which we stand, buried far beneath us, lies a city that was formerly one of the chief cities of the gods. Here their worship lingered for many years after the introduction of Christianity; then it vanished. In those troublous days my ancestor buried in the lake, which aforetime stretched even to the Nile, a vast treasure, marking the spot with the stone pillar upon which he had engraved his title—that pillar that was here but now. Now, the times in which he lived were so fraught with danger, that he entrusted the secret to but one person, with injunctions that it should be passed on at the death of one of the two who knew it, and so on for generations. Thus it came to me. The only other person who knew it died lately, so I tell it you. You will wonder at my destroying the pillar that marked the treasure's spot, but it had to be. Else it might have guided some marauder.
"Owing to some cause I am unable to explain and, it follows, unable to remove, the lake is falling foot by foot, and, in a few weeks, it will have dried up and become a portion of the desert, and the rocking pillar will soon be buried fathoms deep in sand. But enough of this for the present."
By this time the sun was getting low in the heavens, and the hour for the afternoon meal had come. When this was over, the old Sheik gave orders for the men to resume the staves, that had been distributed as torches, and to follow him.
Then, accompanied by St. Just, they plunged in single file into the jungle of foliage that grew around the rock, and was so tangled and interlaced that progress was very difficult, and no one who did not know of the path they followed could have found it. In about an hour, at the cost of numerous tears and scratches, they emerged on a small clearing, in which was a mound of sand, with a slab of stone before it. Two of the strongest men were ordered to roll away this stone; and, this done, an opening about two feet square was seen.
Then, at a few words from the Sheik, each man went down upon his hands and knees, and, one by one, they crawled through the hole and in utter darkness began to traverse a passage that led from it.
They had proceeded but a few yards, when, all at once, the man immediately in front of St. Just called out in Arabic "Take care." In a moment, the young Frenchman felt himself gliding down a slope. He clutched at the bare earth with his hands, one of which held his unlighted torch, and managed, with an occasional slip and scratch and scramble and bump, so far to check his progress that, when he presently dropped two or three feet on to level ground, he was not much hurt.
When he looked about him, he saw that those of the party who were in advance of him were occupied in lighting their torches. He lighted his from one of theirs. One after another the remainder of the party scrambled down; when all the torches had been lighted, St. Just found that they were in a square hall, hewn out of the solid rock, the sides of which were sculptured in the Assyrian and Egyptian style.
It was but a passing glance that he could give, for, so soon as the whole party was assembled and the torches had been lighted, the word was given to move forward. They traversed the rocky road for upwards of two miles, now leaping over fallen boulders, now climbing great blocks of masonry, till, at last, they halted before a wondrous sight.
For the last quarter of a mile—so far as St. Just could judge, they had been going down an easy incline, and their course had been free from obstacles. Another thing he noticed and could not account for was that, as they neared their present halting place, the way in front of them became gradually lighter until finally their torches were no longer needed. By the time they had come to a stand-still, the source of this light was no longer a mystery. Opposite to them at a distance that was difficult to calculate in their present environment, but quite near enough for them to feel its heat, was a vast crater, that was belching out flames and steam and streams of boiling lava. The whole of the space between this volcano and St. Just and his companions was occupied by a city in ruins, that lay in a basin about three hundred feet below the watchers, who were standing on a platform to which the passage they had just traversed led. The light from the crater and the molten lava that was being spouted from it and was streaming down upon the subterranean city, enabled them to distinguish what remained of the buildings; but was not sufficiently diffused to show the sides or roof of the enormous cavern in which they were, so that it was impossible to estimate its size.
Transfixed with astonishment, St. Just watched the stream of melted lava vomited forth from the glowing chasm and rush along in a fiery channel, crackling and hissing and bubbling into a sort of caldron, whence it spread out into a sheet and poured down upon the deserted city, sending up a noisome vapor that no living creature could breathe for long. The whole scene was enough to strike terror into the boldest heart, and St. Just, courageous as he was, felt his own quake and his legs beneath him tremble.
Presently the old Sheik touched him and called his attention to an obelisk that was reared on the platform on which they stood.
It was covered with inscriptions, almost undecipherable through age. But the old Sheik interpreted them to St. Just as follows:
"In the sixth year of the founding of this city (this would mean about 2600 B.C.) was this built for the river and for the traders thereon; wherein is it possible to shelter our ships. And in this same year was the road from the City to the Ancient tomb by the Nile Bank finished in a manner worthy of those who built this city. This monument has been erected as a memorial of the same."
"There," said the Sheik, "this was their greatness, now listen to their end."
He pointed to an inscription of six lines cut roughly upon the wall of the rocky platform on which they were, and read:
"Woe is come upon us, Woe. The plague is on us—the black plague. Our trade is at an end; our King has fled; our women and children lie dead in the streets; for the gods have forsaken us. The mountain is on fire and the river has receded, and in its place have I walked dry shod. I have placed the King's treasures in a safe place, and I go to tell him that the Captain of his guard, Hathi, is faithful."
Lower down was written:
"Alas, I am too late, I die, I die. The treasure is in the temple."
Thus abruptly ended these records of man in his magnificence and in his woe.
"Where is the temple?" inquired St. Just.
"There," said the Sheik, pointing to a passage on their right. "We go to it now."
The Sheik led the way, and, after traversing the passage, they entered a vast, ruined marble hall.
"The treasure is here?" asked St. Just.
"Nay," replied the Sheik, "for this is but the outer court."
"Is the fire always issuing from that crater?" inquired St. Just when they had retraced their steps to their companions. "And will it take long to destroy what remains of the city?"
"Years, at the rate it goes on now; for it is not always burning actively; sometimes for long periods it only smoulders. But, possibly, only hours, should there be a great increase in the outpour of the lava."
"And, if the lake above fell in on top?" suggested St. Just laughing.
"Seconds; there would be such an explosion as the world has never yet seen."
Their torches, which they had extinguished when they had been no longer needed, were now relighted, and they made their way back as rapidly as possible, musing in silence on all that they had seen.
The dawn of another day was breaking when they emerged on the spot from which they had started on the subterranean journey; and at once they started for the camp.
Three days later, St. Just left for Cairo, resolved first to marry Halima, and then, to gain possession of the treasure and return to France at the first opportunity. He had made some rough plans of the place, unknown to the Sheik, and these he took with him when he set out for Cairo.
CHAPTER XIII.
It was on the fifth of March that St. Just started on his return journey to Cairo, accompanied by an escort of twenty of the old Sheik's followers and the lad Mahmoud, to whom, on account of his alertness and fidelity, he had become much attached. He was the bearer of a letter written in Arabic, from the Sheik to Buonaparte, its purport being that the wily Ibrahim, while declining to give any active assistance to the French Commander-in-chief, agreed, on the other hand, not forcibly to oppose him.
The Sheik also gave him letters of introduction to other sheiks in and on the way to Cairo, commending him to their protection and urging them to do all they could to forward him on his way.
In order to avoid the hardships of the desert, it had been decided that, so far as was possible, St. Just's route should be by the river; boats to make the journey in stages, it was believed, could be obtained from the various sheiks on the way. With this view, the party took no horses, but set out mounted on camels. The gray stallion, that St. Just had captured from the Arabs when he had slain its rider, and that had served him so faithfully during his wanderings in the desert, he presented as a parting gift to Halima's father. It was the only thing in his possession, and was but a slight return for all the old sheik had done for him from the time he had made a target of him for his followers. And Ibrahim had done much; had nursed him back to life, supplied him with money for his homeward journey, furnished him with letters of commendation to powerful sheiks he would fall in with by the way, given him a guard for his protection, accorded him his friendship, and, to crown all, was desirous of receiving him as his son-in-law.
And St. Just rightly appreciated the old man's kindness; he thanked him again and again at parting, and promised to return with Halima at the earliest possible moment. And the Sheik himself, with all his Arab undemonstrativeness, seemed much affected while he wrung the young man's hand, when the moment for the cavalcade to start had come.
"Farewell, my son," he said; "may Allah have you in his keeping, and bring you back here safe and sound, and, with you, the light of my old eyes, my daughter. I charge you watch over her and protect her from all danger. Keep your tryst with me, and I will keep faith with you and will give my child to you, and you shall be my son indeed. For I am old, and 'tis time she had some one to protect her, other than myself. And now, speed you all you can. Once more, farewell."
"Trust me," was St. Just's sole reply; then the party started.
Two days' traveling by easy stages brought them to the river bank at a point that marked the eastern boundary of the district occupied by Ibrahim's tribe. Here they were furnished with a boat sufficiently capacious to contain them all, as well as the men who were to take her back.
It was weary work this traveling down the Nile, for, though St. Just was in the company of others, he was practically alone; he could understand but little of the dialect of those who were about him, and what interested them, in no way appealed to him. Besides, they seemed to regard him with a certain degree of distrust, that, in some of them, amounted to dislike, which they took small pains to hide. This was only natural, for the uniform St. Just wore was a constant reminder that he was of the nationality of the invaders of their country. They endeavored to thwart and mislead him in every way, and, had it not been for information that Mahmoud gave him privately, his progress would have been slower even than it was. Arrangements could be made for boats or rafts, only for stated distances; and at the end of each of such stages there was renewed bargaining and haggling with a fresh set of people, St. Just's own followers doing their best privately with the proprietors to persuade them not to take them on. They were desirous of returning to the encampment of the tribe, and hoped, by raising so many difficulties to their progress, to wear out St. Just's persistence and cause him to forego his purpose. It was a pity they did not know all that was in his mind; for, had they done so, they would have realized the hopelessness of achieving what they had in view, and would have done all they could to advance, instead of to retard, him. Where he fell in with sheiks located on the margin of the river, to whom Ibrahim had given him letters, bargaining for boats was easy; but it so happened that most of the dwellers by the river were strangers.
Thus, from one cause and another, their progress was very slow. Then, something occurred that completely stopped it for a time; St. Just fell ill. He took a severe cold which he was unable to shake off. He struggled manfully with his increasing weakness, but in vain; ague set in, and he felt that he was in for a serious illness. He called the faithful Mahmoud and inquired of him whether any of the sheiks to whom he had letters were within reasonable distance. Fortunately for him, there was one encamped but a few miles away. So St. Just decided to land at once and make for this sheik's quarters. When he reached them, he had but time to deliver his credentials, when he fell down in a fainting fit. He was thoroughly exhausted.
For weeks he knew nothing. All the time, the trusty Mahmoud tended him assiduously, and, but for him, St. Just would never have recovered. The Sheik, too, who had a great respect for the more powerful Ibrahim, did all he could for him. At last, so weak that he could not raise his head, the young officer awoke to consciousness. Soon he began to pick up strength, and, a month afterwards, he felt himself sufficiently recovered to proceed. So he once more embarked upon the river and the weary round was recommenced; and, on the 9th of August, St. Just made his final landing on the river bank at a point near a village distant only a few hours' journey from Cairo, and within the sphere of French authority.
Here he dismissed the men who had formed his escort, retaining only the youth Mahmoud, with whom he made his way to a hut close by, where dwelt a man who had some camels. It was at this hut that the young officer caught a glimpse of himself for the first time for many months; for, hanging up against the wall, was a piece of looking-glass about four inches square, an article, it seemed, on which the owner set much store.
St. Just started with surprise at the unfamiliar visage in the mirror. He saw a thin, lined, haggard face, with a complexion almost as dark as an Arab's, set in framework of long, black, disheveled hair and unkempt beard, his mouth completely hidden by a strong deep fringe of moustache. His military headgear he had never seen since the moment of his fall from the rock after he had been shot at by Mahmoud; and he now wore a "haic," a sort of turban. Altogether he looked a thorough Asiatic, and to one who had known him only as the smart young officer of the Guides, he would have been unrecognizable. He still wore what remained of his uniform, but it was stained and worn and torn, with scarcely a morsel of gold lace left on it. Moreover, it hung loosely on him, for his thin face was the index of his whole frame, which was emaciated to a degree. He was horrified at his appearance, but he spent no time in vain regrets at the woeful spectacle he presented. With a short, hard laugh, indicative of a sort of amused disgust, he strode out of the hut to join the owner of the camels, whom he found chatting with Mahmoud.
After much chaffering, in which, on St. Just's side, Mahmoud bore the major part and displayed considerable acuteness, a bargain was struck.
They set out upon their journey shortly before noon, and proceeded slowly on their way, making no halt until just before dusk, when they dismounted for their evening meal. Not much time, however, was allowed for this, for, now that St. Just was nearing the goal he had been aiming at for months, his eagerness to reach it made him hurry on his men. But darkness came on so rapidly that they were compelled to postpone further progress till the following day.
At the dawn of day they resumed their march, and in about two hours St. Just's eyes were gladdened by the sight of a detachment of French infantry mounted on camels en route for Suez. Soon after this he entered Cairo.
CHAPTER XIV.
General Buonaparte had just returned to Cairo after an absence of several months with the army, whose operations he had been directing in the field. From the moment of his arrival, he had been busy interviewing not only generals and other army officials, but all sorts and conditions of men in that part of the world—contractors, concessionaires, traders, slavers, interpreters, sheiks, the guardians of order in the City, breeders of horses, dealers in camels—in fact all who hoped to make money out of the French.
The last person he had seen was Yusuf, the man, it will be remembered, who, being the nephew of the sheik Ibrahim, attempted to abduct his uncle's daughter, the lovely Halima. He had been kept in confinement during the whole five months of Buonaparte's absence. In fact the General had forgotten him, and it was only on his return, when reminded that Yusuf was still in prison, that he remembered his existence. Then he at once ordered the man's release.
Given his liberty, Yusuf sought an interview with General Buonaparte for the purpose of asking to be enrolled in a band of Bedouins who acted as spies and scouts for the French Army,—at the same time that they did a little slave dealing on their own account; of course, under the rose—and his request was granted.
Scarcely had the Arab left his presence, when an officer came to inform the General that a strange looking man, who said he was the bearer of important despatches, desired an interview.
"Who is he? Where is he from?" was Buonaparte's sharp enquiry.
"He declines to give his name, Sir," was the reply. "He speaks French like a Frenchman and wears a ragged French uniform and a turban; but he looks like an Arab and says he is from the desert."
"Admit him," said Buonaparte shortly.
The officer withdrew and, in another minute, returned, followed by St. Just. The latter drew himself up, saluted and then removed his "haic" (his head-covering.)
Buonaparte made a movement with his hand for the officer to retire. Then he bent his gaze on the uncouth figure before him, scrutinizing him closely to see whether his features were familiar to him. Failing to recognize him, he said sharply.
"Your name, Sir? You have despatches. Where do you come from?" He drummed impatiently with his fingers on the table. With all his imperturbability, the answer he received surprised him.
"Henri St. Just, Captain in the regiment of Guides."
"What!" exclaimed Buonaparte. "St. Just? It was reported that you were dead by those who said they saw you shot."
He got up from his seat, and, coming up to the young officer, examined his features closely. The result satisfied him of St. Just's identity.
"You are indeed St. Just. Now, sit down and tell me all about it."
He resumed his seat, and St. Just also sat down, and, after detailing the circumstances with which the reader is acquainted, went on to say, "After my recovery and release, I started, with an escort furnished by the Sheik Ibrahim, from a place whose name I do not know, except that the people call it the Tombs of the Kings, with an answer from Ibrahim to your letter. It is for this reason, General, that I have ventured to present myself before you in this most unseemly garb and unkempt condition, for which I crave your pardon."
"It is granted; you have done quite right. Where is the letter?"
St. Just rose and handed it to him.
Buonaparte had just concluded reading it, when an aide-de-camp entered and, saluting, said, "A courier from Admiral Gantheaume, Sir."
"Admit him," was the answer.
In obedience, the aide-de-camp ushered in a young officer, in whom St. Just recognized his quondam acquaintance Garraud, now a smart looking Captain in St. Just's old troop.
Garraud advanced and, at Buonaparte's bidding, laid his despatches upon the table; then retiring, he took up his stand by St. Just and gazed intently at him. There was something about him that seemed familiar to him. All at once, the past came back to him, and, with a smile of pleasure, and, quite forgetful of his General's presence, he seized St. Just by the arm and exclaimed boisterously:
"Why, St. Just, my dear fellow, it's you I declare. How on earth did you get here, and in this strange garb, too? It was given out that you were dead."
"Silence, if you please, Sir," exclaimed Buonaparte. "Your congratulations may be deferred to a more fitting time. At present you will attend to me, important duties require your attention. The Englishman Smith (Sir Sidney), is he still on the coast?"
The color had mounted to Garraud's face at the reproof he had received, and he stammered in making his reply, "He—he is, Sir."
"How soon can you reach Alexandria, leaving at once?" Buonaparte went on.
"In three days, Sir, traveling night and day."
Then Buonaparte bent over the table and began to write rapidly. Meanwhile, neither of the others spoke, contenting themselves with exchanging meaning smiles and glances.
The document completed, Buonaparte folded and sealed it; then handed it to Garraud.
"Leave instantly," he said, "and make all speed."
Bowing to the General and giving St. Just a silent handshake, Garraud left the room, and soon they heard the clatter of his horse's hoofs outside.
When they were once more alone, Buonaparte began to question St. Just about his adventures since their last meeting. St. Just's answers appeared to please him, for he rose from his seat and shook his hand; then he pinched his ear, a way he had of showing friendliness, and addressed him.
"You have shown yourself worthy of your country, St. Just; you have done well, and I shall give you further opportunities for the exercise of your courage and fidelity. Meanwhile——" he broke off and strode to the door and flung it open. Then he called out, "Tremeau."
A young officer presented himself and saluted. "Take Major St. Just to your quarters and give him the means of making himself recognizable as a French officer. And you, St. Just, keep within the barracks till I give you leave to quit them. It is likely I shall want you. And you, too, Tremeau, I shall have work for you."
A glow of satisfaction had lighted up St. Just's face at hearing Buonaparte address him as Major, and, he with the other officer, was on the point of leaving the room, when the General resumed, "Stay."
He drew a paper to him and scrawled something rapidly upon it. Then, handing what he had written to St. Just, he went on, "Here is your commission as Major, with a letter to your Colonel to reinstate you in your old regiment; also an order to General Dupuy to furnish you with new uniforms and a horse, or the means of procuring them."
St. Just, his heart beating with gratitude and, almost, worship for his General, whom at that moment he regarded as a hero for whom he would willingly have laid down his life, bent over Buonaparte's hand and kissed it in his enthusiasm.
The evident spontaneity of the act and its devotion pleased the General and even touched his heart.
"Go along, you silly boy," he said, with a smile; "this is not a drawing-room, but a soldier's quarters. You should reserve such acts of homage for your mistress. Now, go; I shall not lose sight of your interests." And he gave him a friendly push towards his companion, who stood waiting statue-like by the door.
The door closed upon them, and Buonaparte was alone. In a moment a change came over his countenance; the smile vanished and, with knitted brow, and hands clasped behind his back, he stood in the center of the apartment, motionless, deep in thought.
"They must not meet yet," he muttered presently; "not until I have seen her and learned what she will tell him."
St. Just's return had brought Halima to his mind. For months he had seen nothing of her, nor had he communicated with her. In fact he had discarded her, as a child throws aside a toy of which he has grown tired. At the same time, although he considered himself in no way accountable to St. Just for his relations with her, he did not care that the former lovers should meet without preparation. He knew that Halima was in Cairo, for he had given orders that she was to be watched, though unknown to her, and not allowed to leave—a selfish precaution he had taken, in case he should care to renew his intercourse with her.
However, for the moment, there were weightier matters to engage his thoughts. He turned again to some papers he had received from Paris, his consideration of which had been interrupted by the despatches from Admiral Gantheaume.
After studying them for some time attentively, he spoke aloud. "Things seem going badly in Paris. Those directors are not to be trusted. Spite of all I have done for France, they are my enemies. They think to keep me in the background, to brush me aside. Ha! we shall see. They have reason to fear me. They shall know the stuff of which I am made. But Junot was right; I must go back to France at once."
He gathered up the documents, locked them up in a drawer; then strode quickly from the room.