The Sheik

There was a longer pause, but still Diana did not move or speak.

"The curse of Ishmael had taken hold of me by then and I wandered

continually. Sometimes Ahmed came with me; we have shot big game

together in most parts of the globe. A few times he stayed with us in

Paris, but never for long; he always wearied to get back to the desert.

Five years ago the old Sheik died; he was an exceptionally strong man,

and should have lived for years but for an accident which crippled him

hopelessly and from which he died a few months afterwards. Ahmed's

devotion during his illness was wonderful. He never left him, and since

he succeeded to the leadership of the tribe he has lived continuously

amongst his people, absorbed in them and his horses, carrying on the

traditions handed down to him by his predecessor and devoting his life

to the tribe. They are like children, excitable, passionate and

headstrong, and he has never dared to risk leaving them alone too long,

particularly with the menace of Ibraheim Omair always in the

background. He has never been able to seek relaxation further afield

than Algiers or Oran----" Saint Hubert stopped abruptly, cursing himself

for a tactless fool. She could not fail to realise the significance of

those visits to the gay, vicious little towns. The inference was

obvious. His thoughtless words would only add to her misery. Her

sensitive mind would shrink from the contamination they implied. If

Ahmed was going to die, she would be desolate enough without forcing on

her knowledge the unworthiness of the man she loved. He pushed his

chair back impatiently and went to the open doorway. He felt that she

wanted to be alone. She watched him go, then slipped to her knees

beside the couch.

She had realised the meaning of Raoul's carelessly uttered words and

they had hurt her poignantly, but it was no new sorrow. He had told her

himself months ago, callously, brutally, sparing her nothing,

extenuating nothing. She pressed her cheek against the hand she was

holding. She did not blame him, she could only love him, no matter what

his life had been. It was Ahmed as he was she loved, his faults, his

vices were as much a part of him as his superb physique and the

alternating moods that had been so hard to meet. She had never known

him otherwise. He seemed to stand alone, outside the prescribed

conventions that applied to ordinary men. The standards of common usage

did not appear compatible with the wild desert man who was his own law

and followed only his own precedent, defiant of social essentials and

scornful of criticism. The proud, fierce nature and passionate temper

that he had inherited, the position of despotic leadership in which he

had been reared, the adulation of his followers and the savage life in

the desert, free from all restraint, had combined to produce the

haughty unconventionalism that would not submit to the ordinary rules

of life.