With a look of bitter sorrow she shook her head, replying, “No. We must not meet, or our friendship may prove fatal. When I invited thee hither, it was to impart to thee the secret of the Crescent of Glorious Wonders that would give thee power to work for our mutual benefit. But, alas! thou, an infidel, mayest not learn the extraordinary truth; the Unseen hath decreed that thou shalt remain in the outer darkness called Ignorance.”
“But how can I act in order to break down this strange barrier that precludeth our happiness? Hast thou — hast thou already a husband?”
She started. Her lips quivered, and the colour left her cheeks.
“If I had a husband, I should not ask thee hither, neither would I dare to enter the Kingdom of Shades with thee, a lover. To endeavour to learn my secret at present will be futile. Suffice it for thee to know that there is more mystery to penetrate than thou hast ever dreamed of, and that only by seeking knowledge from afar canst thou hope ever to bring us nearer to each other — to — ”
A sigh finished the sentence.
“I am prepared to do anything, to go anywhere, to render thee service,” I replied, pressing her jewelled fingers to my lips.
“Then hearken,” she said, raising herself upon her arm and looking earnestly at me. “The secret of this, the Crescent of Glorious Wonders, is forbidden thee; yet if thou darest to travel to a distant country far away over the waterless regions beyond the Touareg; if thou wilt penetrate the lands of hostile tribes in the disguise of a True Believer, thou canst learn that which will give thee wealth and power, and will at last bring us together.”
“To marry?”
“Yes. To marry.”
“Tell me all I must do,” I exclaimed excitedly. “Can I learn that which thou callest the Great Secret?”
“Alas! it is impossible,” she replied. “If thou wilt undertake this perilous journey, thou shalt carry with thee the Crescent of Glorious Wonders as my pledge that I do not deceive thee, and as a talisman which, if thou canst learn its secret, will make thee wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice.”
“But what of thyself — what of happiness with thee?”
“Until thou hast accomplished thy mission, I shall remain with my clansmen awaiting thee. Remember, whatever gossip thou mayest hear, or whatever may be revealed to thee about myself, seek no explanation. Set out upon thy journey as soon as possible, and travel on the wings of haste, for the way is long and the approach difficult. My movements concern thee not until thy return, for although to-night thou art here in the harem, do not forget the awful fate that awaiteth women of Al-Islâm who hold converse with Infidels. Therefore, before I give thee instructions, swear by thine own Deity, thine Allah, to heed nothing that thou mayest see or hear concerning me, but perform thy journey speedily, and learn the Great Secret ere thou seekest any explanation.”
“I swear I will obey thee unswervingly. I will act upon thy commands as blindly and devotedly as I have to-night.”
“Then know, O Cecil,” she said, regaining her feet slowly and standing erect before me, “there is but one spot on earth where the Great Secret may be imparted unto thee, now that it hath been withheld even at the portal of the Land of Shades. Before thou mayest again enter my presence, thou must have gained the power and the riches that it can bestow. Whilst thou art in the distant Desert I shall not forget thee; it is even possible that secret communications may pass between us, for do not forget that in future a fatal affinity existeth between our souls, and that, irrespective of distance, we may have a dream-like consciousness of each other’s well-being.” Her dark eyes fixed upon me seemed to hold me with a strange magnetism. Truly I was under her spell. Even in the brief space that had elapsed, she had now entirely reassumed her marvellous beauty. Stretching forth her hand she poured water from an ewer of chased silver into two drinking-cups. Over them both she passed her fingers swiftly, and then sipped one of them. The sweet odours that hung about the harem had caused a dryness in my throat, and, raising the other cup to my lips, I took several gulps, while she regarded me keenly.
“Shall I always know thy whereabouts?” I asked eagerly.
“No. There will be a certain affinity between our thoughts, but I shall remain hidden from thee until thou hast returned.”
For a few moments we were silent. She was no longer haggard and cold as she had been while the poison coursed through her veins, but the rose-garden of her beauty had forthwith recovered its freshness; in the delicate, rounded limbs and bust there glowed the natural warmth and yielding softness of flesh and blood. Her great lustrous eyes, standing well apart under her darkened brows, the broad white forehead, the perfect nose, the small, well-formed mouth, the pearly teeth, the rounded chin, each added grace to grace. Her beauty was perfect.
“Wilt thou remain here, or go back to the Desert with thy tribe?” I asked, gazing at her enraptured.
“To — to the Desert — peradventure,” she replied hesitatingly. “If the homards are thrown off our scent.”
“What! are thy people about to resume their murderous marauding expeditions?” I asked in surprise.
“I — I know not, Cecil,” she replied, laying her hand upon my arm. “I would prevent their terrible crimes if I could, but, alas! it is impossible. Thou knowest not in what constant peril I exist, or — or how unhappy is my life. A single imprudent word may seal my fate. I may be tied in a sack even to-night, and cast into the sea!”
“How can I help thee? How can I save thee?” I asked, with eagerness.
“Only by undertaking the journey of which I have already spoken,” she answered slowly. “If thy mission is accomplished successfully, then thou wilt rescue me from a cruel fate — a fate far worse than death.”
Chapter Eighteen
A Hidden Tragedy
So earnestly she spoke that I felt convinced there was in her life some hideous mystery, and that those who held power over her she regarded with abject terror. Besides, her frequent allusions to the uncertainty of her life made it plain that she was apprehensive of a swift and terrible doom.
Though some of her words and actions were, strange and incomprehensible, and the effects I had witnessed at the weird Shrine of Darkness had, I reflected, been probably produced by some kind of mechanical ingenuity, yet there was something even more remarkable about this Pearl of the Harem than her entrancing beauty. Her actions led me to the conclusion that she was actually the woman reputed by the Ennitra to be possessed of superhuman power, and every moment I now spent in her company deepened my curiosity concerning her.
The mystery by which she was enveloped was puzzling. I felt myself bewildered.
That she was well versed in Oriental mystic, rites was certain, but whether she had actually produced the results I had witnessed without some ingenious trickery I was half inclined to doubt.
Nevertheless, I loved her blindly. Her beauty fascinated me, and her words in soft, musical Arabic that fell upon my ears entranced me.
“Then thou wilt go?” she said fondly, entwining her arm around my neck. “Thou, the Amîn, to whom may the Bestower of Good Gifts be merciful, art willing to face all the terrors of the long journey for my sake?”
“Yes, Zoraida,” I replied, looking straight into her dark orbs. “Already thou hast saved my life. If it lieth within my power I will save thine.”
“Then we must lose no time,” she exclaimed suddenly. Leaving me, she crossed the harem, and took a sheet of paper and an ink-horn from a little cabinet inlaid with silver and mother-of-pearl,