Her father eyed her, and wished he had asked five camels.
The Sheik stretched out his right hand towards her.
"Are you pleased to come, my daughter, to the oasis of roses with
me?"
"My lord beholds his slave," answered Silka, and her eyes were full
of light, and her lips were curved in smiles.
"My camels, four of the best, will find their stable behind your
tent to-night," said the Sheik to her father, and he filled the cup
he had drunk from and handed it to the girl. Silka raised it to her
lips.
"Does it please my lord that he fetch me to-morrow, and leave me in
my father's tent to-night?"
The Sheik laughed good-naturedly, his eyes fixed on the pleading,
youthful face.
"It pleases me not to leave you; but if you ask me, little one, I
will not refuse. Let it be so."
As he spoke Silka drained the coffee-cup he had given her, and by
so doing bound herself to him henceforward.
There was no moon that night; it was dark with the darkness of the
desert, and the splendour of its million stars. As Silka came
softly from the tent she looked upwards; the wild heaving of her
bosom seemed repeated in that restless, pulsing light above. The
soft breath of the desert came to her; it whispered of Melun
waiting for her in the palm-grove. How happy she was! This was
life: one night of life was hers--no more.
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