Slowly he nodded his head.
"Yes," he said, "it is you, but where was it taken? How does it
happen that The Sheik's daughter is clothed in the garments of the
unbeliever?"
"I do not know," replied Meriem. "I never saw the picture until
a couple of days ago, when I found it in the tent of the Swede,
Malbihn."
Abdul Kamak raised his eyebrows. He turned the picture over and
as his eyes fell upon the old newspaper cutting they went wide. He
could read French, with difficulty, it is true; but he could read
it. He had been to Paris. He had spent six months there with a
troupe of his desert fellows, upon exhibition, and he had improved
his time, learning many of the customs, some of the language, and
most of the vices of his conquerors. Now he put his learning to
use. Slowly, laboriously he read the yellowed cutting. His eyes
were no longer wide. Instead they narrowed to two slits of cunning.
When he had done he looked at the girl.
"You have read this?" he asked.
"It is French," she replied, "and I do not read French."
Abdul Kamak stood long in silence looking at the girl.
Pages:
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404