"I can't ride with you to-day. I am going to meet Saint Hubert. His

courier only came an hour ago. It is two years since I have seen him."

Diana slipped off the couch and went to the open doorway. A detachment

of men were already waiting for him, and, close by the tent, Shaitan of

the ugly temper was biting and fidgeting in the hands of the grooms.

She scowled at the beautiful, wicked creature's flat-laid ears and

rolling eyes. She would have backed him fearlessly herself if the Sheik

had let her, but she was nervous for him every time he rode the vicious

beast. No one but the Sheik could manage him, and though she knew that

he had perfect mastery over the horse, she never lost the feeling of

nervousness, a sensation the old Diana had never, never experienced,

and she wished to-day that it had been any other horse but Shaitan

waiting for him.

She went back to him slowly. "It makes my head ache, to stay in all

day. May Gaston not ride with me?" she asked diffidently, her eyes

anywhere but on his face. He had not allowed her to ride with any one

except himself since her attempted escape, and to her tentative

suggestions that the rides with the valet might be resumed he had given

a prompt refusal. He hesitated now, and she was afraid he was going to

refuse again, and she looked up wistfully. "Please, Monseigneur," she

whispered humbly.

He looked at her for a moment with his chin squarer than usual. "Are

you going to run away again?" he asked bluntly.

Her eyes filled slowly with tears, and she turned her head away to hide

them. "No, I am not going to run away again," she said very low.

"Very well, I will tell him. He will be delighted, le bon

Gaston. He is your very willing slave in spite of the trick you played

him. He has a beautiful nature, le pauvre diable. He is not an

Arab, eh, little Diane?" The mocking smile was back in his eyes as he

turned her face up to his in the usual peremptory way. Then he held out

the revolver he had been cleaning with sudden seriousness. "I want you

to carry this always now when you ride. Ibraheim Omair is still in the

neighbourhood."

She looked at it blankly.

"But----" she stammered.

He knew what was in her mind, and he stooped and kissed her lightly. "I

trust you," he said quietly, and went out.




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