"A man next him looked in the direction he was looking and laughed.
'That's the Saint Huberts' wild man of the desert. Looks fierce,
doesn't he? The women call him "le bel Arabe." He certainly
wears European clothes with better grace than most natives. He is said
to have a peculiar hatred of the English, so you'd better give him a
wide berth, Glencaryll, if you don't want to be bow-stringed or have
your throat cut, or whatever fancy form of death the fellow cultivates
in his native habitat. Raoul can tell you all about him.' "There was not any need for me to tell him. Fortunately the opera began
and the lights went down, and I persuaded him to go away before the
thing was over."
Diana gave a little shiver. She felt a great sympathy coming over her
for the lonely old man, hoping against hope for the impossible, that
she had not felt earlier in the evening. He, too, was wearing his heart
out against the inflexible will of Ahmed Ben Hassan.
She shivered again and turned back into the tent with Saint Hubert.
They halted by the couch and stood for a long time in silence. Then
Diana slowly raised her head and looked up into Raoul's face, and he
read the agonised question in her eyes.
"I don't know," he said gently. "All things are with Allah."