finger, of a race who looks upon women as a useful plaything, at the
most as a potential mother of sons, _I_ crave to serve you from your
lying down in the heat of the day to your rising up, when the sunset
breeze shall blow the soft curls about your flower-face. Do you think
I would allow a servant, some low-born son of a bazaar-dweller, to
throw his shadow upon the ground over which your lovely feet must
tread, or to touch a vessel which your white fingers might hold, to
breathe the air which maybe has just passed from your sweet mouth, on
this night when you make your journey into Egypt, _real_ Egypt; for to
us, Cairo and other such places are but tourist centres which we give
to the foreigner readily, traversing many miles of sand and rock and
hills ourselves, before we can lie down upon the soft breast of our own
motherland.

"Come, woman! The moon tarries not, neither does the sun, and we have
many miles to go."

* * * * * *

With the exception of a twopenny ride at the Zoo, few Europeans ever
mount or ride a camel, thereby missing an art or a pastime or sport,
which to the novice, until he has been thoroughly and literally broken
in, is the most back, heart, and nerve-wearing means of locomotion he
could possibly choose in all the wide world.

Jill stood ankle-deep in flowers looking down at her mount, the prize
of the desert.

"I do not know how you will fare, woman of the West. I dare not put
palanquin on Taffadaln for fear that she might bolt from terror and