C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson

“ Then he turned his eyes upon Laila, and they grew colder.
“And thou?” he inquired. “Thou who art so clever; thou, whose great pleasure it is to read French novels which tell thee of women's lives in Europe?”
Laila blushed deeply. She had not supposed that El Khadra knew of the novel reading, and she was frightened; but he divined her thoughts, and spoke before she could try to excuse herself. “Oh, I know,” he said, smiling faintly. “There are little birds who whisper, as well as sing, in the garden. But do not think it is Ourïeda who has told me. Thou wouldst be doing her an injustice. ”

“ If thy father will not object to my presence, I shall certainly not object to his,” Norah assured her. “What a lovely room! I shall feel as if I were living in a fairy story.”
The ceiling of the long, narrow room was of cedar wood, beamed and gorgeously painted like that of the gallery outside, which ran round the garden court. The walls were hung with panels of brocade and old embroideries, above which ran a line of illuminated texts from the Koran; and between the hangings, space was left for doors, windows, and cupboards let into the walls. ”

“ A faint smell of roses came to Laila, for Nouna always washed the sisters' hair with rose water, which she distilled herself.
“Ourïeda!” the elder girl cried. “Come down if thou art ready. I want to talk to thee.”
She spoke in Arabic, though Ourïeda was fond of speaking French; and, according to Arab fashion, always said, “thee and thou.” No Arab ever uses the word “you,” even in addressing strangers or superiors. ”

“ Norah grew pink and then pale. If Duprez were a detective it must mean that Constantine Prevali was not going to die. She was thankful for that; but it was terrifying to think that he might have paid some one to follow her here to Algiers, where she had taken another name, not dreaming that any one except Pobble was in the secret. It frightened her to think that, if Duprez were employed by Prevali, a very elaborate plan had been made to bring her into association with him every day for weeks. ”

“ Laila came forward, too, though slowly and with dignity. She was not easily won to love or admiration, and on this she prided herself, not realizing that her critical attitude toward other women was a proof of latent jealousy rather than keenness of judgment. She had no feeling of love for Norah now, but as she saw no reason to be jealous of her, she was glad that Miss Luck was young and pleasant to look at, instead of elderly and fussy. ”

“ Even I think that, though thou sayest that I am 'advanced,' and that thou art not. Is it thy French novels which make thee talk so? And why, if thou lovest the Arabs and not the French, dost thou read their romances and dream of their men, when thou art engaged to thy Cousin Mahmoud?”
“Mahmoud is French in most of his ideas in these days.”
“Yet thou speakest of him slightingly. Is it for that?”
“Oh, thou art a child, Ourïeda! Thou knowest nothing of men or love—and nothing of life or even of thyself, or thy sister. Can a girl always give a reason for everything she feels, or says, or does?” ”

“ He does not care that I am not 'advanced' in my thoughts, that I am almost as old-fashioned as Aunt Aïssa. Arab ways and the Arab language are good enough for me. And I do not let my thoughts go far outside the harem. I love the wearing of the veil; for it seems to me that in it lies our greatest charm for men. It is the mystery surrounding us which makes them love and long for us as they do.”
Ourïeda laughed. “If thou hast found out that they love and long for us, it must be from French novels. ”

“ Nouna smuggled them into the house for Laila, and the younger girl read them sometimes, more to keep up her French than anything else, for they made her rather sad. She was a very happy girl really, for every one was kind to her, and she loved her father dearly—her father, who was so austere with others that his affection for her was a great compliment. But she could not help the longing which these stories of European girls put into her head. She thought it must be wonderful to be treated by a man not only like an equal in intelligence, but even a superior being, to be bowed down to. ”

“ But I am a man, and I'm a good deal older and more experienced than she. So now you know what my question was: Will you ask my advice, as a sort of understudy of the consul—that is, of course, unless it's a private affair you can only speak about to a friend?”
“It isn't a secret at all,” said Norah, smiling, and feeling her heart warm with gratitude to the unconventional stranger. “And the consul isn't my friend. I've only met him once on a letter of introduction. But he said, if I got any answers to an advertisement I put in the papers, I might come and speak to him. ”

“ Winthrop said to himself that the explanation might be very sinister indeed—and very subtle.
“The man is like a detective,” he said to himself. “Yet why should a detective want to get a sweet, simple girl like this into his clutches?”
“Miss Luck will suit me excellently, I can see,” remarked the playwright. “I offer four hundred francs for a month's work, four hours a day only; two in the morning, two in the afternoon. And it may be for a longer time, at the same salary, for I shall probably write a new comedy while I am in Algiers—where I come for my health.” ”

“ The glorious Algerian sunlight looked cold and faded. He was taking Miss Luck back to the consulate, not to her hotel, as the consul had asked to hear the result of the interview with Duprez, and Winthrop had been boyish enough to mumble in the chauffeur's ear on leaving the Villa Saïda: “Go the longest way round.” Now he thought what a fool he had been. Winthrop saw down into his own mind, and knew that he was jealous of “the person” for whom Miss Luck confessed to “caring very much.”
“Bel Abbès is farther from Tunis than from Algiers,” he told her. ”

“ But it is now five years that Laila has been hadjaba—that means, veiled and shut up—and four years since I, too, have been put in the cage.”
“But thou canst go out surely!” exclaimed Norah. “No one can live without exercise!”
“Oh, exercise!” laughed Laila. “What does a woman want of exercise? We walk a little in the country when we go to my father's place there in August and September; but it is very boring. We are taken to the cemetery, too, on Fridays, in our carriage; and when we are once there we are allowed to walk, because Friday is the women's day, and no man can come near. ”

“ My father, 'advanced' as he is, would not have consented to let him see us as he used to when we were children, if thou hadst not put forth all thy wiles and arts.”
“I have none,” said the younger girl. “I love our father, and he loves me, that is all.”
“Yes, that is all,” Laila echoed bitterly. “Well, now I have some one to love me, too—for the first time in my life, even though it is only Mahmoud.”
“Only Mahmoud!” Ourïeda repeated. “He is the handsomest and cleverest young man in Tunis.”
“Tunis is not the world.”
“It is our world. ”

“ It is not very interesting, for the friends we meet have little to say which can amuse us, at least nothing they will tell to young girls. That is all the exercise we get, except here in the garden court. Unless thou callest it exercise to drive about in a closed-up carriage, and peep through the shutters at the shops and the French officers. That is the most amusing thing we do—except to go to the baths, which are reserved for us and some of our friends on a certain morning each week. Also, I like very much to read French novels and eat French bonbons, which Mahmoud brings me every day. ”

“ You know—or maybe you don't know—that though Tunis is a great deal more Eastern and unspoiled than Algiers, curiously enough, the women there are making a move toward freedom, which isn't at all the case in Algiers. From what young Mahmoud Bel Hassan has told me about his people, I'm pretty sure you'd like his cousins, and the life might amuse you. I could get the chance for you, I know, because Bel Hassan has told me that his uncle is looking for a French or English lady to talk languages with the girls and teach them European music. ”

“ One morning, after a night spent less in dreaming than in wondering what to do for the best, there was a letter for Miss Norah Luck, an answer to her advertisement. A French gentleman, Monsieur Duprez, a playwright, who wished to put one of his own plays into English, needed a secretary, and would be glad if Miss Luck could call between ten and eleven in the morning at the Villa Saïda, Rue Sidi Abderrahman. If she were able to fill his requirements she would receive a generous salary, which could be discussed between them. ”

“ Pat had carried out the plan he had unfolded to his sister, the day when he first broke the news to her of what he meant to do. So far there had been no hitch. He was at Sidi Bel Abbès, the great recruiting station of Algeria for the Foreign Legion. He had been accepted without a question, except such official questions as could be answered as he pleased. He was now a Legionnaire, or rather a “bleu,” as every new recruit was nicknamed by the old soldiers. ”

“ There were great modern-looking boulevards, with smart shops and huge open-fronted restaurants and cafés, full of Europeans. It was late afternoon when they arrived, and Winthrop, who was driving, stopped the car in front of a big, white hotel.
“We'll have tea here,” he said, “and I'll send a note to Si Mahmoud. He knows we're due to get in to-day, and is prepared for a message at any time. Then we'll let his cousins know, and El Khadra's carriage will come and fetch you, Miss Luck. Motors can't go into the real Tunis—old Tunis—Arab Tunis, which you haven't seen yet. ”

“ I must take my medicine.”
“Uncle Edward could have saved you if he'd chosen to use his influence,” Norah said. “I can't help hating him.”
“He doesn't think I'm worth saving. You know it isn't the first time I've kicked over the traces.”
“What are a few debts?” exclaimed Norah indignantly. “He was very pleased you should be in the Grenadier Guards. What could he expect? You're young and popular, and you have a position to keep up.”
Pat Lassels laughed. “A position! Son of an impecunious Irish baron, and not a penny to bless himself with!”
“But you'll be a baron yourself when Conron dies.” ”

“ Pat answered. For “Pobble” was Miss Pobblethwaite, Norah's last and best-loved governess, who had adored sister and brother, and been adored by them. She had left her beloved pupil only because Lord Grayminster had decided that it was a useless expense keeping on a governess after a girl was eighteen.
“There's just one more thing,” said Norah. “You've told me that you mean to take another name. Have you made up your mind what it's to be? ”

“ I have read in French novels of the way Europeans arrange their bathing; but we like our things brought in newly each time, though we bathe a good deal, for it is in our religion. And every week we go out to the Moorish Bath, as we have told thee already. Thou shalt go, too, if thou wilt, with Nouna to take care of us, as always; but, perhaps, now we have thee, Aunt Aïssa will sometimes stop at home. She is too weak for the hottest room now she is old ”

“ If you're young and strong it's all they care about. You may be a thief or a murderer, and, if you choose to call yourself Smith or Jones, they won't bother to try and find out if you're really Brown. Oh, it's an opportunity cut out for me, and I've made up my mind to take it as soon as I can.”
All her life Norah Lassels had tried to make it a rule never to urge her brother not to do things he wanted to do, or to do things he wanted not to do. But now, with her whole soul she yearned to persuade Pat into giving up this plan of his. ”

“ Through Miss Pobblethwaite, who knew some of the “cathedral set,” a letter of introduction was got for Miss Norah Luck to the British consul at Algiers. It stated, on the authority of an archdeacon, who had been told the real story, that Miss Luck was an extremely well-connected and accomplished young person, suitable for the position of private secretary, companion, or governess for advanced pupils. She understood typewriting and shorthand—the girl had learned both at the instigation of Lord Grayminster, who saved a salary by employing her as an unpaid secretary; she spoke French fluently ”

“ Uncle Edward's fond of you in his queer, frozen way. You're useful to him, too. When he's rid of me things will right themselves between you. Not that you'll forget me. Rather not. I should hate to think you could; and I'll remind you of my existence by writing no end of letters.”
Norah had grown very pale.
“Letters from—where?” she asked quietly.
“From Southern Algeria, I hope. That's what I mean to try for. It's out now. My plan's to enlist in the Foreign Legion. At least I'd have adventure, plenty of life and action to help me forget. And I was born a soldier, Noll. ”

“ But—but do men fight nowadays over cards? Do they take the trouble to cross to France and try to kill each other just because—because one doesn't like the way the other plays bridge?”
“Human nature's about the same that it always was,” said Pat, with the same air of reserve which seemed to put a barrier between them. “When a man insults you, it isn't much trouble to cross the Channel if you don't want to get mixed up with the law of your own country.” ”