Then, at last, the girl said: "Will
you tell me something about this man?"
Saidee was surprised to receive encouragement. It was a joy to speak of
the subject that occupied all her thoughts, and wonderful to have a
confidante.
"He's a captain in the Chasseurs d'Afrique," she said. "But he's not
with his regiment. He's an expert in making desert wells, and draining
marshes. That's the business which has brought him to the far South,
now. He's living at Oued Tolga--the town, I mean; not the Zaouia. A well
had to be sunk in the village, and he was superintending. I watched him
from my roof, though it was too far off to see his face. I don't know
exactly what made me do it--I suppose it was Fate, for Cassim says we
all have our fate hung round our necks--but when I went to the Moorish
bath, between here and the village, I let my veil blow away from my face
as I passed close to him and his party of workers. No one else saw,
except he. It was only for a second or two, but we looked straight into
each other's eyes; and there was something in his that seemed to draw my
soul out of me. It was as if, in that instant, I told him with a look
the whole tragedy of my life. And his soul sprang to mine. There was
never anything like it. You can't imagine what I felt, Babe."
"Yes. I--think I can," Victoria whispered, but Saidee hardly heard, so
deeply was she absorbed in the one sweet memory of many years.
"It was in the morning," the elder woman went on, "but it was hot, and
the sun was fierce as it beat down on the sand.
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