For a moment Kaid stood and looked at Zaida, rigid and stricken in that
awful isolation which is the leper's doom. Her eyes were closed, but her
head was high. "Wilt thou not die?" Kaid asked her gently.

She shook her head slowly, and her hands folded on her breast. "My
sister is there," she said at last. There was an instant's stillness,
then Kaid added with a voice of grief: "Peace be upon thee, Zaida. Life
is but a spark. If death comes not to-day, it will tomorrow, for thee--
for me. Inshallah, peace be upon thee!"

She opened her eyes and looked at him. Seeing what was in his face, they
lighted with a great light for a moment.

"And upon thee peace, O my lord, for ever and for ever!" she said
softly, and, turning, left the court-yard, followed at a distance by
Mahommed Hassan.

Kaid remained motionless looking after her.

David broke in on his abstraction. "The army at sunrise--thou wilt speak
to it, Effendina?"

Kaid roused himself. "What shall I say?" he asked anxiously.

"Tell them they shall be clothed and fed, and to every man or his family
three hundred piastres at the end."

"Who will do this?" asked Kaid incredulously. "Thou, Effendina--Egypt
and thou and I."