THE DIVA'S RUBY
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO
ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO
MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED
LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal
signs=.
[Illustration: "Apparently looking down at his loosely hanging
hands."--Page 92.]
THE
DIVA'S RUBY
A SEQUEL TO
"PRIMADONNA" AND "FAIR MARGARET"
BY
F. MARION CRAWFORD
AUTHOR OF "SARACINESCA," "ARETHUSA,"
ETC., ETC.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
BY J. MONTGOMERY FLAGG
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1908
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1907,
BY F. MARION CRAWFORD.
Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1908.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"Apparently looking down at his loosely hanging hands" _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
"'Funny idea of honour,' observed the American" 62
"'You want my blessing, do you, Miss Barrack?'" 116
"Margaret gazed at him in surprise while she might have
counted ten" 154
"She was aware of his slight change of position without
turning her eyes" 170
"She grasped Lady Maud's arm" 198
"She watched him intently while he read the printed report" 226
"The two dined on deck" 284
"'What has happened?' she cried. 'Are you ill, dear?'" 294
"She buried her handsome face in the splendid flowers" 340
"Their eyes met" 348
"The man was not Boris Leven" 422
THE DIVA'S RUBY
CHAPTER I
There is a ruby mine hidden in the heart of the mountains near a
remote little city of Central Asia, unknown to European travellers;
and the secret of the treasure belongs to the two chief families of
the place, and has been carefully guarded for many generations, handed
down through the men from father to son; and often the children of
these two families have married, yet none of the women ever learned
the way to the mine from their fathers, or their brothers, or their
husbands, none excepting one only, and her name was Baraka, which may
perhaps mean 'Blessed'; but no blessing came to her when she was born.
She was much whiter and much more beautiful than the other girls of
the little Tartar city; her face was oval like an ostrich egg, her
skin was as the cream that rises on sheep's milk at evening, and her
eyes were like the Pools of Peace in the Valley of Dark Moons; her
waist also was a slender pillar of ivory, and round her ankle she
could make her thumb meet her second finger; as for her feet, they
were small and quick and silent as young mice. But she was not
blessed.
When she was in her seventeenth year a traveller came to the little
city, who was not like her own people; he was goodly to see, and her
eyes were troubled by the sight of him, as the Pools of Peace are
darkened when the clouds lie on the mountain-tops and sleep all day;
for the stranger was tall and very fair, and his beard was like spun
gold, and he feared neither man nor evil spirit, going about alone by
day and night. Furthermore, he was a great physician, and possessed a
small book, about the size of a man's hand, in which was contained all
the knowledge of the world. By means of this book, and three small
buttons that tasted of mingled salt and sugar, he cured Baraka's
father of a mighty pain in the midriff which had tormented him a whole
week. He brought with him also a written letter from a holy man to the
chiefs of the town; therefore they did not kill him, though he had a
good Mauser revolver with ammunition, worth much money, and other
things useful to believers.
Satan entered the heart of Baraka, and she loved the traveller who
dwelt in her father's house, for she was not blessed; and she stood
before him in the way when he went out, and when he returned she was
sitting at the door watching, and she took care to show her
cream-white arm, and her slender ankle, and even her beautiful face
when neither her father nor her mother was near. But he saw little and
cared less, and was as grave as her father and the other greybeards of
the town.
When she perceived that he was not moved by the sight of her, she
watched him more closely; for she said in her girl's heart that the
eyes that are blind to a beautiful woman see one of three things:
gold, or power, or heaven; but her sight was fixed only on him. Then
her throat was dry, her heart fluttered in her maiden breast like a
frightened bird, and sometimes, when she would have tried to speak,
she felt as if her tongue were broken and useless; the fire ran
lightly along her delicate body, her eyes saw nothing clearly, and a
strange rushing sound filled her ears; and then, all at once, a fine
dew wet her forehead and cooled it, and she trembled all over and was
as pale as death--like Sappho, when a certain god-like man was near.
Yet the stranger saw nothing, and his look was bright and cold as a
winter's morning in the mountains.
Almost every day he went out and climbed the foot-hills alone, and
when the sun was lowering he came back bringing herbs and flowers,
which he dried carefully and spread between leaves of grey paper in a
large book; and he wrote spells beside them in an unknown tongue, so
that no one dared to touch the book when he went out, lest the genii
should wake and come out from between the pages, to blind the curious
and strike the gossips dumb, and cast a leprosy on the thief.
At night he lay on the roof of the fore-house beside the gate of the
court, because it was cool there. Baraka came to him, before midnight,
when her mother was in a deep sleep; she knelt at his side while he
slept in the starlight, and she laid her head beside his, on the sack
that was his pillow, and for a little while she was happy, being near
him, though he did not know she was there. But presently she
remembered that her mother might wake and call her, and she spoke
very softly, close to his ear, fearing greatly lest he should start
from his sleep and cry out.
'The ruby mine is not far off,' she said. 'I know the secret place.
Rubies! Rubies! Rubies! You shall have as many as you can carry of the
blood-red rubies!'
He opened his eyes, and even in the starlight they were bright and
cold. She stroked his hand softly and then pressed it a little.
'Come with me and you shall know the great secret,' she whispered.
'You shall fill this sack that is under your head, and then you shall
take me with you to Egypt, and we will live in a marble palace and
have many slaves, and be always together. For you will always remember
that it was Baraka who showed you where the rubies were, and even when
you are tired of her you will treat her kindly and feed her with fig
paste and fat quails, such as I hear they have in the south all
winter, and Frank rice, and coffee that has been picked over, bean by
bean, for the great men.'
She said all this in a whisper, stroking his hand; and while she
whispered he smiled in his great golden beard that seemed as silvery
in the starlight as her father's.
'That is women's talk,' he answered. 'Who has seen mines of rubies?
and if you know where they are, why should you show them to me? You
are betrothed. If you had knowledge of hidden treasures you would keep
it for your husband. This is some trick to destroy me.'
'May these hands wither to the wrists if a hair of your head be harmed
through me,' she answered; and as she knelt beside him, the two little
hands held his face towards her very tenderly, and then one of them
smoothed the thick hair back from his forehead.
'You are betrothed,' he repeated, 'and I am your father's guest. Shall
I betray him?'
'I care nothing, neither for father, nor mother, nor brothers, nor
betrothed,' Baraka answered. 'I will give you the riches of Solomon if
you will take me, for I will have no other man.'
'There are no rubies,' said the stranger. 'Show them to me and I will
believe.'
The girl laughed very low.
'Did I not know you for a man of little faith?' she asked. 'I have
shown you my arm from the wrist to the shoulder. Is it not like the
tusk of a young elephant? Yet you have not believed. I have shown you
my ankles, and you have seen me span them with my fingers as I sat at
the door, yet you believed not. I have unveiled my face, which it is a
shame to do, but you could not believe. I have come to you in the
starlight when you were asleep, and still you have no faith that I
love you, though I shall be cast out to perish if I am found here. But
I will give you a little handful of rubies, and you will believe, and
take me, when I have shown you where you may get thousands like them.'
She took from her neck a bag of antelope skin, no larger than her
closed hand, and gave it to him with the thin thong by which it had
hung.
'When you have seen them in the sun you will want others,' she said.
'I will take you to the place, and when you have filled your sack with
them you will love me enough to take me away. It is not far to the
place. In two hours we can go and come. To-morrow night, about this
time, I will wake you again. It will not be safe to unbar the door, so
you must let me down from this roof by a camel rope, and then follow
me.'
When Baraka was gone the stranger sat up on his carpet and opened the
small bag to feel the stones, for he knew that he could hardly see
them in the starlight; but even the touch and the weight told him
something, and he guessed that the girl had not tried to deceive him
childishly with bits of glass. Though the bag had been in her bosom,
and the weather was hot, the stones were as cold as jade; and moreover
he felt their shape and knew at once that they might really be rough
rubies, for he was well versed in the knowledge of precious stones.
When the day began to dawn he went down from the roof to the common
room of the fore-house, where guests were quartered, yet although
there was no other stranger there he would not take the bag from his
neck to examine the stones, lest some one should be watching him from
a place of hiding; but afterwards, when he was alone in the foot-hills
and out of sight of the town, searching as usual for new plants and
herbs, he crept into a low cave at noon, and sat down just inside the
entrance, so that he could see any one coming while still a long way
off, and there he emptied the contents of the little leathern wallet
into his hand, and saw that Baraka had not deceived him; and as he
looked closely at the stones in the strong light at the entrance of
the cave, the red of the rubies was reflected in the blue of his
bright eyes, and made a little purple glare in them that would have
frightened Baraka; and he smiled behind his great yellow beard.
He took from an inner pocket a folded sheet on which a map was traced
in black and green ink, much corrected and extended in pencil; and he
studied the map thoughtfully in the cave while the great heat of the
day lasted; but the lines that his eye followed did not lead towards
Persia, Palestine, and Egypt, where Baraka wished to live with him in
a marble palace and eat fat quails and fig paste.
She came to him again that night on the roof, bringing with her a
small bundle, tightly rolled and well tied up. He wrapped his blanket
round her body, and brought it up under her arms so that the rope
should not hurt her when her weight came upon it, and so he let her
down over the edge of the roof to the ground, and threw the rope after
her; and he let himself over, holding by his hands, so that when he
was hanging at the full length of his long arms he had only a few feet
to drop, for he was very tall and the fore-house was not high, and he
wished to take the rope with him.
Baraka's house was at the head of the town, towards the foot-hills;
every one was sleeping, and there was no moon. She followed the stony
sheep-track that struck into the hills only a few hundred paces from
the last houses, and the stranger followed her closely. He had his
sack on his shoulder, his book of plants and herbs was slung behind
him by a strap, and in his pockets he had all the money he carried for
his travels and his letters to the chiefs, and a weapon; but he had
left all his other belongings, judging them to be of no value compared
with a camel-bag full of rubies, and only a hindrance, since he would
have to travel far on foot before daylight, by dangerous paths.
The girl trod lightly and walked fast, and as the man followed in her
footsteps he marked the way, turn by turn, and often looked up at the
stars overhead as men do who are accustomed to journeying alone in
desert places. For some time Baraka led him through little valleys he
had often traversed, and along hillsides familiar to him, and at last
she entered a narrow ravine which he had once followed to its head,
where he had found that it ended abruptly in a high wall of rock, at
the foot of which there was a clear pool that did not overflow. It was
darker in the gorge, but the rocks were almost white, so that it was
quite possible to see the way by the faint light.
The man and the girl stood before the pool; the still water reflected
the stars.
'This is the place,' Baraka said. 'Do you see anything?'
'I see water and a wall of rock,' the man answered. 'I have been here
alone by day. I know this place. There is nothing here, and there is
no way up the wall.'
Baraka laughed softly.
'The secret could not have been kept by my fathers for fourteen
generations if it were so easy to find out,' she said. 'The way is not
easy, but I know it.'
'Lead,' replied the traveller. 'I will follow.'
'No,' returned the girl. 'I will go a little way down the gorge and
watch, while you go in.'
The man did not trust her. How could he tell but that she had brought
him to an ambush where he was to be murdered for the sake of his money
and his good weapon? The rubies were real, so far as he could tell,
but they might be only a bait. He shook his head.
'Listen,' said Baraka. 'At the other side of the pool there is a place
where the water from this spring flows away under the rock. That is
the passage.'
'I have seen the entrance,' answered the traveller. 'It is so small
that a dog could not swim through it.'
'It looks so. But it is so deep that one can walk through it easily,
with one's head above water. It is not more than fifty steps long.
That is how I found it, for one day I wandered here alone in the
morning for shade, when the air was like fire; and being alone I
bathed in the clear pool to cool myself, and I found the way and
brought back the stones, which I have hidden ever since. For if my
father and brothers know that I have seen the treasure they will
surely kill me, because the women must never learn the secret. You
see,' she laughed a little, 'I am the first of us who has known it,
since many generations, and I have already betrayed it to you! They
are quite right to kill us when we find it out!'
'This is an idle tale,' said the traveller. 'Go into the pool before
me and I will believe and follow you under the rock. I will not go and
leave you here.'
'You are not very brave, though you are so handsome! If they come and
find me here, they will kill me first.'
'You say it, but I do not believe it. I think there is a deep hole in
the passage and that I shall slip into it and be drowned, for no man
could swim in such a place. I have but one life, and I do not care to
lose it in a water-rat's trap. You must go in and lead the way if you
wish me to trust you.'
Baraka hesitated and looked at him.
'How can I do this before you?' she asked.
'I will not go alone,' the man answered, for he suspected foul play.
'Do as you will.'
The girl took from her head the large cotton cloth with which she
veiled herself, and folded it and laid it down on the rock by the
pool; then she let her outer tunic of thin white woollen fall to the
ground round her feet and stepped out of it, and folded it also, and
laid it beside her veil, and she stood up tall and straight as a young
Egyptian goddess in the starlight, clothed only in the plain shirt
without sleeves which the women of her country wear night and day; and
the traveller saw her cream-white arms near him in the soft gloom, and
heard her slip off her light shoes.
'I will go before you,' she said; and she stepped into the pool and
walked slowly through the water.
The traveller followed her as he was, for he was unwilling to leave
behind him anything he valued, and what he had was mostly in the
pockets of his coat, and could not be much hurt by water. Even his
pressed herbs and flowers would dry again, his cartridges were quite
waterproof, his letters were in an impervious case, and his money was
in coin. When he entered the pool he took his revolver from its place
and he held it above the water in front of him as he went on. With his
other hand he carried the sack he had brought, which was one of those
that are made of Bokhara carpet and are meant to sling on a camel.
Baraka was almost up to her neck in the water when she reached the
other side of the pool; a moment later she disappeared under the rock,
and the traveller bent his knees to shorten himself, for there was
only room for his head above the surface, and he held up his revolver
before his face to keep the weapon dry, and also to feel his way, lest
he should strike against any jutting projection of the stone and hurt
himself. He counted the steps he took, and made them as nearly as
possible of equal length. He felt that he was walking on perfectly
smooth sand, into which his heavily shod feet sank a very little.
There was plenty of air, for the gentle draught followed him from the
entrance and chilled the back of his neck, which had got wet; yet it
seemed hard to breathe, and as he made his way forward his imagination
pictured the death he must die if the rock should fall in behind him.
He was glad that the faint odour of Baraka's wet hair came to his
nostrils in the thick darkness, and it was very pleasant to hear her
voice when she spoke at last.
'It is not far,' she said quietly. 'I begin to see the starlight on
the water.'
The passage did not widen or grow higher as it went on. If it had been
dry, it would have been a commodious cave, open at each end, wide at
the bottom and narrowing to a sharp angle above. But the pool was fed
by a spring that never failed nor even ebbed, though it must sometimes
have overflowed down the ravine through which the two had reached the
pool.
They came out from under the rock at last, and were in the refreshing
outer air. The still water widened almost to a circle, a tiny lake at
the bottom of a sort of crater of white stone that collected and
concentrated the dim light. On two sides there were little crescent
beaches of snow-white sand, that gleamed like silver. The traveller
looked about him and upward to see if there were any way of climbing
up; but as far as he could make out in the half-darkness the steep
rock was as smooth as if it had been cut with tools, and it sloped
away at a sharp angle like the sides of a funnel.
Baraka went up towards the right, and the bottom shelved, so that
presently the water was down to her waist, and then she stood still
and pointed to a dark hollow just above the little beach. Her wet
garment clung to her, and with her left hand she began to wring the
water from her hair behind her head.
'The rubies are there,' she said, 'thousands upon thousands of them.
Fill the sack quickly, but do not take more than you can carry, for
they are very heavy.'
The traveller waded out upon the beach, and the water from his clothes
ran down in small rivulets and made little round holes in the white
sand. He put down his revolver in a dry place, and both his hands felt
for the precious stones in the shadowy hollow, loosening small
fragments of a sort of brittle crust in which they seemed to be
clustered.
'You cannot choose,' Baraka said, 'for you cannot see, but I have been
here by daylight and have seen. The largest are on the left side of
the hollow, near the top.'
By the stars the traveller could see the pieces a little, as he
brought them out, for the white rocks collected the light; he could
see many dark crystals, but as to what they were he had to trust the
girl.
'Do not take more than you can carry,' she repeated, 'for you must not
throw them away to lighten the burden.'
'You can carry some of them,' answered the traveller.
He broke up the crust of crystals with a small geologist's hammer and
tore them out like a madman, and his hands were bleeding, for though
he was a philosopher the thirst for wealth had come upon him when he
felt the riches of empires in his grasp, and the time was short; and
although he knew that he might some day come back with armed men to
protect him, and workmen to help him, he knew also that to do this he
must share the secret with the over-lord of that wild country, and
that his portion might be the loss of his head. So he tore at the ruby
crust with all his might, and as he was very strong, he broke out
great pieces at once.
'We cannot carry more than that, both of us together,' said Baraka,
though she judged more by the sound of his work than by what she could
see.
He lifted the sack with both his hands, and he knew by its weight that
she was right. Under the water it would be easy enough to carry, but
it would be a heavy load for a man to shoulder.
'Come,' Baraka said, 'I will go back first.'
She moved down into the deeper water again, till it was up to her
neck; and feeling the way with her hands she went in once more under
the rock. The traveller followed her cautiously, carrying the heavy
sack under water with one hand and holding up his revolver with the
other, to keep it dry.
'I begin to see the starlight on the water,' Baraka said, just as
before, when they had been going in.
When she had spoken, she heard a heavy splash not far off, and the
water in the subterranean channel rose suddenly and ran past her in
short waves, three of which covered her mouth in quick succession and
reached to her eyes, and almost to the top of her head, but sank again
instantly; and they passed her companion in the same way, wetting his
weapon.
'Go back,' Baraka said, when she could speak; 'the rock is falling.'
The traveller turned as quickly as he could, and she came after him,
gaining on him because he carried the heavy sack and could not move
as fast as she. He felt his damp hair rising with fear, for he
believed that, after all, she had brought him into a trap. They
reached the opening and came out into the pool again.
'You have brought me here to die,' he said. 'Your father and your
brothers have shut up the entrance with great stones, and they will go
up the mountain and let themselves down from above with ropes and
shoot me like a wolf in a pit-fall. But you shall die first, because
you have betrayed me.'
So he cocked his revolver and set the muzzle against her head, to kill
her, holding her by her slender throat with his other hand; for they
were in shallow water and he had dropped the sack in the pool.
Baraka did not struggle or cry out.
'I would rather die by your hand than be alive in another man's arms,'
she said, quite quietly.
He let her go, merely because she was so very brave; for he did not
love her at all. She knew it, but that made no difference to her,
since no other woman was near; if they could get out alive with the
rubies she was sure that he would love her for the sake of the great
wealth she had brought him. If they were to starve to death at the
bottom of the great rock wall in the mountains, she would probably die
first, because he was so strong; and then nothing would matter. It was
all very simple.
The traveller fished up the sack and waded out upon the tiny beach,
and again the water ran down from his clothes in rivulets and made
round holes in the white sand. He looked up rather anxiously, though
he could not have seen a head looking down from above if there had
been any one there. There was not light enough. He understood also
that if the men were going to shoot at him from the height they would
wait till it was daylight. Baraka stood still in the water, which
was up to her waist, and he paid no attention to her, but sat down to
think what he should do. The night was warm, and his clothes would dry
on him by degrees. He would have taken them off and spread them out,
for he thought no more of Baraka's presence than if she had been a
harmless young animal, standing there in the pool, but he could not
tell what might happen at any moment, and so long as he was dressed
and had all his few belongings about him, he felt ready to meet fate.
Baraka saw that he did not heed her, and was thinking. She came up out
of the water very slowly, and she modestly loosened her wet garment
from her, so that it hung straight when she stood at the end of the
beach, as far from the traveller as possible. She, also, sat down to
dry herself: and there was silence for a long time.
After half-an-hour the traveller rose and began to examine the rock,
feeling it with his hands wherever there was the least shadow, as high
as he could reach, to find if there was any foothold, though he was
already sure that there was not.
'There is no way out,' Baraka said at last. 'I have been here by day.
I have seen.'
'They will let themselves down from above with ropes, till they are
near enough to shoot,' the traveller answered.
'No,' replied Baraka. 'They know that you have a good weapon, and they
will not risk their lives. They will leave us here to starve. That is
what they will do. It is our portion, and we shall die. It will be
easy, for there is water, and when we are hungry we can drink our
fill.'
The traveller knew the people amongst whom he had wandered, and he did
not marvel at the girl's quiet tone; but it chilled his blood, for he
understood that she was in earnest; and, moreover, she knew the place,
and that there was no way out.
'You said well that I had brought you here to die,' she said
presently, 'but I did not know it, therefore I must lose my life also.
It is my portion. God be praised.'
He was shamed by her courage, for he loved life well, and he held his
head down and said nothing as he thought of what was to come. He knew
that with plenty of good water a man may live for two or three weeks
without food. He looked at the black pool in which he could not even
see the reflections of the stars as he sat, because the opening above
was not very wide, and he was low down, a good way from the water's
edge. It seemed a good way, but perhaps it was not more than three
yards.
'You will die first,' Baraka said dreamily. 'You are not as we are,
you cannot live so long without food.'
The traveller wondered if she were right, but he said nothing.
'If we had got out with the treasure,' continued Baraka, 'you would
have loved me for it, because you would have been the greatest man in
the world through me. But now, because we must die, you hate me. I
understand. If you do not kill me you will die first; and when you are
dead I shall kiss you many times, till I die also. It will be very
easy. I am not afraid.'
The man sat quite still and looked at the dark streak by the edge of
the pool where the water had wet it when the falling boulder outside
had sent in little waves. He could see it distinctly. Again there was
silence for a long time. Now and then Baraka loosened her only garment
about her as she sat, so that it might dry more quickly; and she
quietly wrung out her thick black hair and shook it over her shoulders
to dry it too, and stuck her two silver pins into the sand beside her.
Still the traveller sat with bent head, gazing at the edge of the
pool. His hands were quite dry now, and he slowly rubbed the clinging
moisture from his revolver. Some men would have been thinking, in such
a plight, that if starving were too hard to bear, a bullet would
shorten their sufferings in the end; but this man was very full of
life, and the love of life, and while he lived he would hope.
He still watched the same dark streak where the sand was wet; he had
not realised that he had been so far from it till then, but by looking
at it a long time in the starlight his sight had probably grown tired,
so that he no longer saw it distinctly. He raised himself a little on
his hands and pushed himself down till it was quite clearly visible
again, and he looked at the rock opposite and up to the stars again,
to rest his eyes. He was not more than a yard from the water now.
The place was very quiet. From far above a slight draught of air
descended, warm from the rocks that had been heated all day in the
sun. But there was no sound except when Baraka moved a little.
Presently she did not move any more, and when the traveller looked he
saw that she was curled up on the sand, as Eastern women lie when they
sleep, and her head rested on her hand; for her garment was dry now,
and she was drowsy after the walk and the effort she had made.
Besides, since there was no escape from death, and as the man did not
love her, she might as well sleep if she could. He knew those people
and understood; and he did not care, or perhaps he also was glad. He
was a man who could only have one thought at a time. When he had left
the house of Baraka's father he had been thinking only of the rubies,
but now that he was in danger of his life he could think only of
saving it, if there were any way. A woman could never be anything but
a toy to him, and he could not play with toys while death was looking
over his shoulder. He was either too big for that, or too little;
every man will decide which it was according to his own measure. But
Baraka, who had not been taught to think of her soul nor to fear
death, went quietly to sleep now that she was quite sure that the
traveller would not love her.
He had been certain of the distance between his feet and the water's
edge as he sat; it had been a yard at the most. But now it was more;
he was sure that it was a yard and a half at the least. He rubbed his
eyes and looked hard at the dark belt of wet sand, and it was twice as
wide as it had been. The water was still running out somewhere, but it
was no longer running in, and in an hour or two the pool would be dry.
The traveller was something of an engineer, and understood sooner than
an ordinary man could have done, that his enemies had intentionally
stopped up the narrow entrance through which he had to come, both to
make his escape impossible, and to hasten his end by depriving him of
water. The fallen boulder alone could not have kept out the overflow
of the spring effectually. They must have shovelled down masses of
earth, with the plants that grew in it abundantly and filled it with
twining threadlike roots, and they must have skilfully forced
quantities of the stuff into the openings all round the big stone,
making a regular dam against the spring, which would soon run down in
the opposite direction. They knew, of course, that Baraka had led him
to the place and had gone in with him, for she had left all her outer
garments outside, and they meant that she should die also, with her
secret. In a week, or a fortnight, or a month, they would come and dig
away the dam and pry the boulder aside, and would get in and find the
white bones of the two on the sand, after the vultures had picked them
clean; and they would take the traveller's good revolver, and his
money.
He thought of all these things as he sat there in the dim light, and
watched the slow receding of the water-line, and listened to the
girl's soft and regular breathing. There was no death in her dream, as
she slept away the last hours of the night, though there might not be
many more nights for her. He heard her breath, but he did not heed
her, for the water was sinking before him, sinking away into the sand,
now that it was no longer fed from the opening.
He sat motionless, and his thoughts ran madly from hope to despair and
back again to hope. The water was going down, beyond question; if it
was merely draining itself through the sand to some subterranean
channel, he was lost, but if it was flowing away through any passage
like the one by which he had entered, there was still a chance of
escape,--a very small chance. When death is at the gate the tiniest
loophole looks wide enough to crawl through.
The surface of the pool subsided, but there was no loophole; and as
the traveller watched, hope sank in his heart, like the water in the
hollow of the sand; but Baraka slept on peacefully, curled up on her
side like a little wild animal. When the pool was almost dry the
traveller crept down to the edge and drank his fill, that he might not
begin to thirst sooner than need be; and just then day dawned suddenly
and the warm darkness gave way to a cold light in a few moments.
Immediately, because it was day, Baraka stretched herself on the sand
and then sat up; and when she saw what the traveller was doing she
also went and drank as much as she could swallow, for she had
understood why he was drinking as soon as she saw that the pool was
nearly dry. When she could drink no more she looked up at the rocks
high overhead, and they were already white and red and yellow in the
light of the risen sun; for in that country there is no very long time
between dark night and broad day.
Baraka sat down again, on the spot where she had slept, but she said
nothing. The man was trying to dig a little hole in the wet sand with
his hands, beyond the water that was still left, for perhaps he
thought that if he could make a pit on one side, some water would stay
in it; but the sand ran together as soon as he moved it; and
presently, as he bent over, he felt that he was sinking into it
himself, and understood that it was a sort of quicksand that would
suck him down. He therefore threw himself flat on his back, stretching
out his arms and legs, and, making movements as if he were swimming,
he worked his way from the dangerous place till he was safe on the
firm white beach again. He sat up then, and bent his head till his
forehead pressed on his hands, and he shut his eyes to keep out the
light of day. He had not slept, as Baraka had, but he was not sleepy;
perhaps he would not be able to sleep again before the end came.
Baraka watched him quietly, for she understood that he despaired of
life, and she wondered what he would do; and, besides, he seemed to
her the most beautiful man in the world, and she loved him, and she
was going to die with him.
It comforted her to think that no other woman could get him now. It
was almost worth while to die for that alone; for she could not have
borne that another woman should have him since he despised her, and if
it had come to pass she would have tried to kill that other. But there
was no danger of such a thing now; and he would die first, and she
would kiss him many times when he was dead, and then she would die
also.
The pool was all gone by this time, leaving a funnel-shaped hollow in
the sand where it had been. If any water still leaked through from
without it lost itself under the sand, and the man and the girl were
at the bottom of a great natural well that was quite dry. Baraka
looked up, and she saw a vulture sitting in the sun on a pinnacle,
three hundred feet above her head. He would sit there till she was
dead, for he knew what was coming; then he would spread his wings a
little and let himself down awkwardly, half-flying and
half-scrambling. When he had finished, he would sit and look at her
bones and doze, till he was able to fly away.
Baraka thought of all this, but her face did not change, and when she
had once seen the vulture she did not look at him again, but kept her
eyes fixed, without blinking, on her companion's bent head. To her he
seemed the most handsome man that had ever lived. There, beside him,
lay his camel bag, and in it there were rubies worth a kingdom; and
Baraka was very young and was considered beautiful too, among the wild
people to whom she belonged. But her father had chosen her name in an
evil hour, for she was indeed not blessed, since she was to die so
young; and the man with the beard of spun gold and the very white skin
did not love her, and would not even make pretence of loving, though
for what was left of life she would have been almost satisfied with
that.
The hours passed, and the sun rose higher in the sky and struck deeper
into the shady well, till he was almost overhead, and there was
scarcely any shadow left. It became very hot and stifling, because the
passage through which the air had entered with the water was shut up.
Then the traveller took off his loose jacket, and opened his flannel
shirt at the neck, and turned up his sleeves for coolness, and he
crept backwards into the hollow where the ruby mine was, to shelter
himself from the sun. But Baraka edged away to the very foot of the
cliff, where there remained a belt of shade, even at noon; and as she
sat there she took the hem of her one garment in her hands and slowly
fanned her little feet. Neither he nor she had spoken for many hours,
and she could see that in the recess of the rock he was sitting as
before, with his forehead against his hands that were clasped on his
knees, in the attitude and bearing of despair.
He began to be athirst now, in the heat. If he had not known that
there was no water he could easily have done without it through a long
day, but the knowledge that there was none, and that he was never to
drink again, parched his life and his throat and his tongue till it
felt like a dried fig in his mouth. He did not feel hunger, and indeed
he had a little food in a wallet he carried; but he could not have
eaten without water, and it did not occur to him that Baraka might be
hungry. Perhaps, even if he had known that she was, he would not have
given her of what he had; he would have kept it for himself. What was
the life of a wild hill-girl compared with his? But the vulture was
watching him, as well as Baraka, and would not move from its pinnacle
till the end, though days might pass.
The fever began to burn the traveller, the fever of thirst which
surely ends in raving madness, as he knew, for he had wandered much in
deserts, and had seen men go mad for lack of water. His hands felt red
hot, the pulses were hammering at his temples, and his tongue became
as hot as baked clay; he would have borne great pain for a time if it
could have brought sleep, for this was much worse than pain, and it
made sleep impossible. He tried to take account of what he felt, for
he was strong, and he was conscious that the heat of the fever, and
the throbbing in his arteries, and the choking dryness in his mouth
and throat, were not really his main sensations, but only accessories
to it or consequences of it. The real suffering was the craving for
the sight, the touch, and the taste of water; to see it alone would be
a relief, even if he were not allowed to drink, and to dip his hands
into a stream would be heaven though he were not permitted to taste a
drop. He understood, in a strangely clear way, that what suffered now
was not, in the ordinary sense, his own self, that is, his nerves, but
the physical composition of his body, which was being by degrees
deprived of the one prime ingredient more necessary than all others.
He knew that his body was eight-tenths water, or thereabouts, but that
this proportion was fast decreasing by the process of thirst, and that
what tormented him was the unsettling of the hydrostatic balance which
nature requires and maintains where there is any sort of life in
animals, plants, or stones; for stones live and are not even
temporarily dead till they are calcined to the state of quicklime, or
hydraulic cement, or plaster of Paris; and they come to life again
with furious violence and boiling heat if they are brought into
contact with water suddenly; or they regain the living state by slow
degrees if they are merely exposed to dampness. The man knew that what
hurt him was the battle between forces of nature which was being
fought in his flesh, and it was as much more terrible than the mere
pain his fleshly nerves actually suffered from it, as real death is
more awful than the most tremendous representation of it that ever was
shown in a play. Yet a stage tragedy may draw real burning tears of
sorrow and sympathy from them that look on.
The traveller was a modern man of science, and understood these
things, but the knowledge of them did not make it easier to bear
thirst or to die of hunger.
Baraka was not thirsty yet, because she had drunk her fill in the
morning, and was not used to drink often; it was enough that she could
look at the man she loved, for the end would come soon enough without
thinking about it. All day long the traveller crouched in the hollow
of the ruby cave, and Baraka watched him from her place; when it grew
dark the vulture on the pinnacle of rock thrust its ugly head under
its wing. As soon as Baraka could not see any more she curled herself
up on the white sand like a little wild animal and went to sleep,
though she was thirsty.
It was dawn when she awoke, and her linen garment was damp with the
dew, so that the touch of it refreshed her. The traveller had come out
and was lying prone on the sand, his face buried against his arm, as
soldiers sleep in a bivouac. She could not tell whether he was asleep
or not, but she knew that he could not see her, and she cautiously
sucked the dew from her garment, drawing it up to her mouth and
squeezing it between her lips.
It was little enough refreshment, but it was something, and she was
not afraid, which made a difference. Just as she had drawn the edge of
her shift down and round her ankles again, the man turned on his side
suddenly, and then rose to his feet. For an instant he glared at her,
and she saw that his blue eyes were bloodshot and burning; then he
picked up the heavy camel bag, and began to make his way round what
had been the beach of the pool, towards the passage through which they
had entered, and which was now a dry cave, wide below, narrow at the
top, and between six or seven feet high. He trod carefully and tried
his way, for he feared the quicksand, but he knew that there was none
in the passage, since he had walked through the water and had felt the
way hard under his feet. In a few moments he disappeared under the
rock.
Baraka knew what he meant to do; he was going to try to dig through
the dam at the entrance to let the water in, even if he could not get
out. But she was sure that this would be impossible, for by this time
her father and brothers had, no doubt, completely filled the spring
with earth and stones, and had turned the water in the other
direction. The traveller must have been almost sure of this too, else
he would have made the attempt much sooner. It was the despotism of
thirst that was driving him to it now, and he had no tool with which
to dig--it would be hopeless work with his hands.
The girl did not move, for in that narrow place and in the dark she
could not have helped him. She sat and waited. By and by he would come
out, drenched with sweat and yet parching with thirst, and he would
glare at her horribly again; perhaps he would be mad when he came out
and would kill her because she had brought him there.
After some time she heard a very faint sound overhead, and when she
looked up the vulture was gone from his pinnacle. She wondered at
this, and her eyes searched every point and crevice of the rock as far
as she could see, for she knew that the evil bird could only have been
frightened away; and though it fears neither bird nor beast, but only
man, she could not believe that any human being could find a foothold
near to where it had perched.
But now she started, and held her breath and steadied herself with one
hand on the sand beside her as she leaned back to look up. Something
white had flashed in the high sun, far up the precipice, and the
sensation the sight left was that of having seen sunshine on a moving
white garment.
For some seconds, perhaps for a whole minute, she saw nothing more,
though she gazed up steadily, then there was another flash and a small
patch of snowy white was moving slowly on the face of the cliff, at
some distance above the place where the vulture had been. She bent her
brows in the effort to see more by straining her sight, and meanwhile
the patch descended faster than it seemed possible that a man could
climb down that perilous steep. Yet it was a man, she knew from the
first, and soon she saw him plainly, in his loose shirt and white
turban. Baraka thought of a big white moth crawling on a flat wall.
She was light of foot and sure of hold herself, and could step
securely where few living things could move at all without instant
danger, but she held her breath as she watched the climber's descent
towards her. She saw him plainly now, a brown-legged, brown-armed man
in a white shirt and a fur cap, and he had a long gun slung across his
back. Nearer still, and he was down to the jutting pinnacle where the
vulture had sat, and she saw his black beard; still nearer by a few
feet and she knew him, and then her glance darted to the mouth of the
cave, at the other end of which the man she loved was toiling
desperately alone in the dark to pierce the dam of earth and stones.
It was only a glance, in a second of time, but when she looked up the
black-bearded man had already made another step downwards. Baraka
measured the distance. If he spoke loud now she could understand him,
and he could hear her answer. He paused and looked down, and he saw
her as plainly as she saw him. She knew him well, and she knew why he
had come, with his long gun. He was her father's brother's son, to
whom she was betrothed; he was Saäd, and he was risking his life to
come down and kill her and the man whom she had led to the ruby mines
for love's sake.
He would come down till he was within easy range, and then he would
wait till he had a fair chance at them, when they were standing still,
and she knew that he was a dead shot. The traveller's revolver could
never carry as far as the long gun, Baraka was sure, and Saäd could
come quite near with safety, since he seemed able to climb down the
face of a flat rock where there was not foothold for a cat. He was
still descending, he was getting very near; if the traveller were not
warned he might come out of the cave unsuspiciously and Saäd would
shoot him. Saäd would wish to shoot him first, because of his
revolver, and then he would kill Baraka at his leisure. If he fired at
her first the traveller would have a chance at him while he was
reloading his old gun. She understood why he had not killed her yet,
if indeed he wanted to, for it was barely possible that he loved her
enough to take her alive.
After hesitating for a few moments, not from fear but in doubt, she
gathered herself to spring, and made a dash like an antelope along the
sand for the mouth of the cave, for she knew that Saäd would not risk
wasting his shot on her while she was running. She stopped just under
the shelter of the rock and called inward.
'Saäd is coming down the rock with his gun!' she cried. 'Load your
weapon!'
When she had given this warning she went out again and stood before
the mouth of the cave with her back to it. Saäd was on the rock, not
fifty feet above the ground, at the other side of the natural wall,
but looked as if even he could get no farther down. He was standing
with both his heels on a ledge so narrow that more than half the
length of his brown feet stood over it; he was leaning back, flat
against the sloping cliff, and he had his gun before him, for he was
just able to use both his hands without falling. He pointed the gun at
her and spoke.
'Where is the man?'
'He is dead,' Baraka answered without hesitation.
'Dead? Already?'
'I killed him in his sleep,' she said, 'and I dragged his body into
the cave for fear of the vulture, and buried it in the sand. Be not
angry, Saäd, though he was my father's guest. Come down hither and I
will tell all. Then you shall shoot me or take me home to be your
wife, as you will, for I am quite innocent.'
She meant to entice him within range of the stranger's weapon.
'There is no foothold whereby to get lower,' he answered, but he
rested the stock of his gun on the narrow ledge behind him.
'Drag out the man's body, that I may see it.'
'I tell you I buried it. I killed him the night before last; I cannot
dig him up now.'
'Why did you run to the mouth of the cave when you saw me, if the man
is dead?'
'Because at first I was afraid you would shoot me from above,
therefore I took shelter.'
'Why did you come out again, if you were in fear?'
'After I had run in I was ashamed, for I felt sure that you would not
kill me without hearing the truth. So I came out to speak with you.
Get down, and I will show you the man's grave.'
'Have I wings? I cannot come down. It is impossible.'
Baraka felt a puff of hot air pass her, just above her right ankle,
and at the same instant she heard a sharp report, not very loud, and
more like the snapping of a strong but very dry stick than the
explosion of firearms. She instinctively sprang to the left, keeping
her eyes on Saäd.
For a moment he did not move. But he was already dead as he slowly
bent forward from the rock, making a deep obeisance with both arms
hanging down before him, so that his body shot down perpendicularly to
the sand, where it struck head first, rolled over and lay motionless
in a heap. The traveller's was a Mauser pistol that would have killed
as surely at five hundred yards as fifty; and the bullet had gone
through the Tartar's brain.
Baraka sprang up the sandy slope and ran along the narrow beach to the
body. In an instant she had detached the large brown water-gourd from
the thong by which it had hung over Saäd's shoulder, and she felt that
it was full. Without a thought for herself she hastened back to the
mouth of the cave where the traveller was now standing. His face was
dripping with perspiration that ran down into his matted golden beard,
his eyes were wild, his hands were bleeding.
'Drink!' cried Baraka joyfully, and she gave him the gourd.
He gripped it as a greedy dog snaps at a bit of meat, and pulling out
the wooden plug he set the gourd to his lips, with an expression of
beatitude. But he was an old traveller and only drank a little,
knowing that his life might depend on making the small supply last. A
gourd of water was worth more than many rubies just then.
'Are you very thirsty yet?' he asked in a harsh voice.
'No,' answered Baraka bravely; 'keep it for yourself.'
His hand closed round the neck of the gourd and he looked up towards
the rocks above. The vulture had come back and was circling slowly
down.
'You had better bury the body, while I go on working,' said the
traveller, turning back into the cave and taking the gourd with him.
Baraka had marked the place where he had tried to dig for water and
had almost disappeared in the quicksand. She took from the body the
wallet, in which were dates and some half-dry bread, and then dragged
and pushed, and rolled the dead man from the place where he had
fallen. The vulture sat on the lowest ledge where his claws could find
a hold, and though he watched her with horrible red eyes while she
robbed him of his prey, he did not dare go nearer.
The body sank into the moving sand, and Baraka had to roll herself
back to firmer ground in haste to escape being swallowed up with the
dead man. The last she saw of him was one brown foot sticking up. It
sank slowly out of sight, and then she went to the hollow where the
ruby mine was and took up a piece of the broken crust, full of
precious stones, and threw it at the vulture as hard as she could. It
did not hit him, but he at once tumbled off the ledge into the air,
opened his queer, bedraggled wings and struck upwards.
Then Baraka sat down in the shade and slowly brushed away the dry sand
that had got into the folds of her linen garment, and looked steadily
at the mouth of the cave and tried not to realise that her throat was
parched and her lips almost cracking with thirst, and that the
traveller had a gourd almost full of water with him. For she loved
him, and was willing to die that he might live a little longer;
besides, if he succeeded in digging his way out, there would be plenty
to drink, and when he was free she was sure that he would love her
because she had made him so rich.
The sun rose higher and at last shone down to the bottom of the chasm,
and she sat in the narrow strip of shade, where she had passed most of
the previous day. She was very thirsty and feverish, and felt tired,
and wished she could sleep, but could not. Still the traveller toiled
in the darkness, and from time to time she heard sounds from far away
as of stones and loose earth falling. He was still working hard, for
he was very strong and he was desperate.
Baraka thought that if he was able to dig through the dam the water
would run in again, and she watched the sand for hours, but it was
drier than ever. The shadow broadened again, and crept up the rock
quickly as the afternoon passed.
It was a long time since she had heard any sound from the cave; she
went to the entrance and listened, but all was quite still. Perhaps
the traveller had fallen asleep from exhaustion, too tired even to
drag himself out into the air when he could work no longer. She sat
down in the entrance and waited.
An hour passed. Perhaps he was dead. At the mere inward suggestion
Baraka sprang to her feet, and her heart beat frantically, and stood
still an instant, and then beat again as if it would burst, and she
could hardly breathe. She steadied herself against the rock, and then
went in to know the truth, feeling her way, and instinctively shading
her eyes as many people do in the dark.
A breath of cool air made her open them, and to her amazement there
was light before her. She thought she must have turned quite round
while she was walking, and that she was going back to the entrance, so
she turned again. But in a few seconds there was light before her once
more, and soon she saw the dry sand, full of her footprints and the
traveller's, and then the hollow where the mine was came in sight.
She retraced her steps a second time, saw the light as before, ran
forward on the smooth sand and stumbled upon a heap of earth and
stones, just as she saw the sky through an irregular opening on the
level of her face. Scarcely believing her senses she thrust out her
hand towards the hole. It was real, and she was not dreaming; the
traveller had got out and was gone, recking little of what might
happen to her, since he was free with his treasure.
Baraka crept up the slope of earth as quickly as she could and got
out; if she had hoped to find him waiting for her she was
disappointed, for he was nowhere to be seen. He had got clear away,
with his camel-bag full of rubies. A moment later she was lying on the
ground, with her face in the little stream, drinking her fill, and
forgetful even of the man she loved. In order to deprive them of water
the men had dug a channel by which it ran down directly from the
spring to the ravine on that side; then they had blocked up the
entrance with stones and earth, believing that one man's strength
could never suffice to break through, and they had gone away. They had
probably buried or burnt Baraka's clothes, for she did not see them
anywhere.
She ate some of the dates from the dead man's wallet, and a bit of
the dry black bread, and felt revived, since her greatest need had
been for water, and that was satisfied. But when she had eaten and
drunk, and had washed herself in the stream and twisted up her hair,
she sat down upon a rock; and she felt so tired that she would have
fallen asleep if the pain in her heart had not kept her awake. She
clasped her hands together on her knees and bent over them, rocking
herself.
When nearly an hour had passed she looked up and saw that the sun was
sinking, for the shadows were turning purple in the deep gorge, and
there was a golden light on the peaks above. She listened then,
holding her breath; but there was no sound except the tinkling of the
tiny stream as it fell over a ledge at some distance below her,
following its new way down into the valley.
She rose at last, looked upward, and seemed about to go away when a
thought occurred to her, which afterwards led to very singular
consequences. Instead of going down the valley or climbing up out of
it, she went back to the entrance of the cave, taking the wallet with
her, dragged herself in once more over the loose stones and earth,
reached the secret hollow where the pool had been, and made straight
for the little mine of precious stones. The traveller had broken out
many more than he had been able to carry, but she did not try to
collect them all. She was not altogether ignorant of the trade carried
on by the men of her family for generations, and though she had not
the least idea of the real value of the finest of the rubies, she knew
very well that it would be wise to take many small ones which she
could exchange for clothing and necessaries with the first women she
met in the hills, while hiding the rest of the supply she would be
able to carry in the wallet.
When she had made her wise selection, she looked once more towards the
quicksand, and left the place for ever. Once outside she began to
climb the rocks as fast as she could, for very soon it would be night
and she would have to lie down and wait many hours for the day, since
there was no moon, and the way was very dangerous, even for a Tartar
girl who could almost tread on air.
High up on the mountain, over the dry well where Baraka and the
stranger had been imprisoned, the vulture perched alone with empty
craw and drooping wings. But it was of no use for him to wait; the
living, who might have died of hunger and thirst, were gone, and the
body of dead Saäd lay fathoms deep in the quicksand, in the very maw
of the mountain.