With it came a perfume
of sandalwood. Turning the yellow leaves of the book, covered with fine
Arab lettering, she read in a murmuring, indistinct voice, that sounded
to Victoria like one of those desert voices of which Maieddine had
spoken. Also she measured spaces between the figures the girl had
touched, and counted monotonously.
"Thy wish lies a long way from thee," she said at last. "A long way!
Thou couldst never reach it of thyself--never, not till the end of the
world. I see thee--alone, very helpless. Thou prayest. Allah sends thee
a man--a strong man, whose brain and heart and arm are at thy service.
Allah is great!"
"Tell her what the man is like, cousin," Maieddine prompted, eagerly.
"He is dark, and young. He is not of thy country, oh Rose of the West,
but trust him, rely upon him, or thou art undone. In thy future, just
where thou hast ceased to look for them, I see troubles and
disappointments, even dangers. That is the time, above all others, to
let thyself be guided by the man Allah has sent to be thy prop. He has
ready wit and courage. His love for thee is great. It grows and grows.
He tells thee of it; and thou--thou seest between him and thee a
barrier, high and fearful as a wall with sharp knives on top. For thine
eyes it is impassable. Thine heart is sad; and thy words to him will
pierce his soul with despair. But think again. Be true to thyself and to
thy star. Speak another word, and throw down that high barrier, as the
wall of Jericho was thrown down.
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