Nobody could
see her from the roof of the mosque, and her roof was higher than any of
the others, except that which covered the private rooms of the marabout.
But the marabout was away, and no one ever came out on his roof when he
was absent.
She opened the folded bit of white paper, which was little more than two
inches square, and was covered on one side with writing almost
microscopically small. The other side was blank, but the woman had no
doubt that the letter was for her. As she read, the carrier-pigeon went
on pecking at the seeds in the basket, and the doves of the mosque
watched it enviously.
The writing was in French, and no name was at the beginning or the end.
"Be brave, my beautiful one, and dare to do as your heart prompts.
Remember, I worship you. Ever since that wonderful day when the wind
blew aside your veil for an instant at the door of the Moorish bath, the
whole world has been changed for me. I would die a thousand deaths if
need be for the joy of rescuing you from your prison. Yet I do not wish
to die. I wish to live, to take you far away and make you so happy that
you will forget the wretchedness and failure of the past. A new life
will begin for both of us, if you will only trust me, and forget the
scruples of which you write--false scruples, believe me. As he had a
wife living when he married you, and has taken another since, surely
you cannot consider that you are bound by the law of God or man? Let me
save you from the dragon, as fairy princesses were saved in days of old.
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