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"There," said the Sheik, "this was their greatness, now listen to their end."

He pointed to an inscription of six lines cut roughly upon the wall of the rocky platform on which they were, and read:

"Woe is come upon us, Woe. The plague is on us—the black plague. Our trade is at an end; our King has fled; our women and children lie dead in the streets; for the gods have forsaken us. The mountain is on fire and the river has receded, and in its place have I walked dry shod. I have placed the King's treasures in a safe place, and I go to tell him that the Captain of his guard, Hathi, is faithful."

Lower down was written:

"Alas, I am too late, I die, I die. The treasure is in the temple."

Thus abruptly ended these records of man in his magnificence and in his woe.

"Where is the temple?" inquired St. Just.

"There," said the Sheik, pointing to a passage on their right. "We go to it now."

The Sheik led the way, and, after traversing the passage, they entered a vast, ruined marble hall.

"The treasure is here?" asked St. Just.

"Nay," replied the Sheik, "for this is but the outer court."

"Is the fire always issuing from that crater?" inquired St. Just when they had retraced their steps to their companions. "And will it take long to destroy what remains of the city?"

"Years, at the rate it goes on now; for it is not always burning actively; sometimes for long periods it only smoulders. But, possibly, only hours, should there be a great increase in the outpour of the lava."

"And, if the lake above fell in on top?" suggested St. Just laughing.

"Seconds; there would be such an explosion as the world has never yet seen."

Their torches, which they had extinguished when they had been no longer needed, were now relighted, and they made their way back as rapidly as possible, musing in silence on all that they had seen.

The dawn of another day was breaking when they emerged on the spot from which they had started on the subterranean journey; and at once they started for the camp.

Three days later, St. Just left for Cairo, resolved first to marry Halima, and then, to gain possession of the treasure and return to France at the first opportunity. He had made some rough plans of the place, unknown to the Sheik, and these he took with him when he set out for Cairo.

CHAPTER XIII

It was on the fifth of March that St. Just started on his return journey to Cairo, accompanied by an escort of twenty of the old Sheik's followers and the lad Mahmoud, to whom, on account of his alertness and fidelity, he had become much attached. He was the bearer of a letter written in Arabic, from the Sheik to Buonaparte, its purport being that the wily Ibrahim, while declining to give any active assistance to the French Commander-in-chief, agreed, on the other hand, not forcibly to oppose him.

The Sheik also gave him letters of introduction to other sheiks in and on the way to Cairo, commending him to their protection and urging them to do all they could to forward him on his way.

In order to avoid the hardships of the desert, it had been decided that, so far as was possible, St. Just's route should be by the river; boats to make the journey in stages, it was believed, could be obtained from the various sheiks on the way. With this view, the party took no horses, but set out mounted on camels. The gray stallion, that St. Just had captured from the Arabs when he had slain its rider, and that had served him so faithfully during his wanderings in the desert, he presented as a parting gift to Halima's father. It was the only thing in his possession, and was but a slight return for all the old sheik had done for him from the time he had made a target of him for his followers. And Ibrahim had done much; had nursed him back to life, supplied him with money for his homeward journey, furnished him with letters of commendation to powerful sheiks he would fall in with by the way, given him a guard for his protection, accorded him his friendship, and, to crown all, was desirous of receiving him as his son-in-law.

And St. Just rightly appreciated the old man's kindness; he thanked him again and again at parting, and promised to return with Halima at the earliest possible moment. And the Sheik himself, with all his Arab undemonstrativeness, seemed much affected while he wrung the young man's hand, when the moment for the cavalcade to start had come.

"Farewell, my son," he said; "may Allah have you in his keeping, and bring you back here safe and sound, and, with you, the light of my old eyes, my daughter. I charge you watch over her and protect her from all danger. Keep your tryst with me, and I will keep faith with you and will give my child to you, and you shall be my son indeed. For I am old, and 'tis time she had some one to protect her, other than myself. And now, speed you all you can. Once more, farewell."

"Trust me," was St. Just's sole reply; then the party started.

Two days' traveling by easy stages brought them to the river bank at a point that marked the eastern boundary of the district occupied by Ibrahim's tribe. Here they were furnished with a boat sufficiently capacious to contain them all, as well as the men who were to take her back.

It was weary work this traveling down the Nile, for, though St. Just was in the company of others, he was practically alone; he could understand but little of the dialect of those who were about him, and what interested them, in no way appealed to him. Besides, they seemed to regard him with a certain degree of distrust, that, in some of them, amounted to dislike, which they took small pains to hide. This was only natural, for the uniform St. Just wore was a constant reminder that he was of the nationality of the invaders of their country. They endeavored to thwart and mislead him in every way, and, had it not been for information that Mahmoud gave him privately, his progress would have been slower even than it was. Arrangements could be made for boats or rafts, only for stated distances; and at the end of each of such stages there was renewed bargaining and haggling with a fresh set of people, St. Just's own followers doing their best privately with the proprietors to persuade them not to take them on. They were desirous of returning to the encampment of the tribe, and hoped, by raising so many difficulties to their progress, to wear out St. Just's persistence and cause him to forego his purpose. It was a pity they did not know all that was in his mind; for, had they done so, they would have realized the hopelessness of achieving what they had in view, and would have done all they could to advance, instead of to retard, him. Where he fell in with sheiks located on the margin of the river, to whom Ibrahim had given him letters, bargaining for boats was easy; but it so happened that most of the dwellers by the river were strangers.

Thus, from one cause and another, their progress was very slow. Then, something occurred that completely stopped it for a time; St. Just fell ill. He took a severe cold which he was unable to shake off. He struggled manfully with his increasing weakness, but in vain; ague set in, and he felt that he was in for a serious illness. He called the faithful Mahmoud and inquired of him whether any of the sheiks to whom he had letters were within reasonable distance. Fortunately for him, there was one encamped but a few miles away. So St. Just decided to land at once and make for this sheik's quarters. When he reached them, he had but time to deliver his credentials, when he fell down in a fainting fit. He was thoroughly exhausted.

For weeks he knew nothing. All the time, the trusty Mahmoud tended him assiduously, and, but for him, St. Just would never have recovered. The Sheik, too, who had a great respect for the more powerful Ibrahim, did all he could for him. At last, so weak that he could not raise his head, the young officer awoke to consciousness. Soon he began to pick up strength, and, a month afterwards, he felt himself sufficiently recovered to proceed. So he once more embarked upon the river and the weary round was recommenced; and, on the 9th of August, St. Just made his final landing on the river bank at a point near a village distant only a few hours' journey from Cairo, and within the sphere of French authority.

Here he dismissed the men who had formed his escort, retaining only the youth Mahmoud, with whom he made his way to a hut close by, where dwelt a man who had some camels. It was at this hut that the young officer caught a glimpse of himself for the first time for many months; for, hanging up against the wall, was a piece of looking-glass about four inches square, an article, it seemed, on which the owner set much store.

St. Just started with surprise at the unfamiliar visage in the mirror. He saw a thin, lined, haggard face, with a complexion almost as dark as an Arab's, set in framework of long, black, disheveled hair and unkempt beard, his mouth completely hidden by a strong deep fringe of moustache. His military headgear he had never seen since the moment of his fall from the rock after he had been shot at by Mahmoud; and he now wore a "haic," a sort of turban. Altogether he looked a thorough Asiatic, and to one who had known him only as the smart young officer of the Guides, he would have been unrecognizable. He still wore what remained of his uniform, but it was stained and worn and torn, with scarcely a morsel of gold lace left on it. Moreover, it hung loosely on him, for his thin face was the index of his whole frame, which was emaciated to a degree. He was horrified at his appearance, but he spent no time in vain regrets at the woeful spectacle he presented. With a short, hard laugh, indicative of a sort of amused disgust, he strode out of the hut to join the owner of the camels, whom he found chatting with Mahmoud.

After much chaffering, in which, on St. Just's side, Mahmoud bore the major part and displayed considerable acuteness, a bargain was struck.

They set out upon their journey shortly before noon, and proceeded slowly on their way, making no halt until just before dusk, when they dismounted for their evening meal. Not much time, however, was allowed for this, for, now that St. Just was nearing the goal he had been aiming at for months, his eagerness to reach it made him hurry on his men. But darkness came on so rapidly that they were compelled to postpone further progress till the following day.

At the dawn of day they resumed their march, and in about two hours St. Just's eyes were gladdened by the sight of a detachment of French infantry mounted on camels en route for Suez. Soon after this he entered Cairo.

CHAPTER XIV

General Buonaparte had just returned to Cairo after an absence of several months with the army, whose operations he had been directing in the field. From the moment of his arrival, he had been busy interviewing not only generals and other army officials, but all sorts and conditions of men in that part of the world—contractors, concessionaires, traders, slavers, interpreters, sheiks, the guardians of order in the City, breeders of horses, dealers in camels—in fact all who hoped to make money out of the French.

The last person he had seen was Yusuf, the man, it will be remembered, who, being the nephew of the sheik Ibrahim, attempted to abduct his uncle's daughter, the lovely Halima. He had been kept in confinement during the whole five months of Buonaparte's absence. In fact the General had forgotten him, and it was only on his return, when reminded that Yusuf was still in prison, that he remembered his existence. Then he at once ordered the man's release.

Given his liberty, Yusuf sought an interview with General Buonaparte for the purpose of asking to be enrolled in a band of Bedouins who acted as spies and scouts for the French Army,—at the same time that they did a little slave dealing on their own account; of course, under the rose—and his request was granted.

Scarcely had the Arab left his presence, when an officer came to inform the General that a strange looking man, who said he was the bearer of important despatches, desired an interview.

"Who is he? Where is he from?" was Buonaparte's sharp enquiry.

"He declines to give his name, Sir," was the reply. "He speaks French like a Frenchman and wears a ragged French uniform and a turban; but he looks like an Arab and says he is from the desert."

"Admit him," said Buonaparte shortly.

The officer withdrew and, in another minute, returned, followed by St. Just. The latter drew himself up, saluted and then removed his "haic" (his head-covering.)

Buonaparte made a movement with his hand for the officer to retire. Then he bent his gaze on the uncouth figure before him, scrutinizing him closely to see whether his features were familiar to him. Failing to recognize him, he said sharply.

"Your name, Sir? You have despatches. Where do you come from?" He drummed impatiently with his fingers on the table. With all his imperturbability, the answer he received surprised him.

"Henri St. Just, Captain in the regiment of Guides."

"What!" exclaimed Buonaparte. "St. Just? It was reported that you were dead by those who said they saw you shot."

He got up from his seat, and, coming up to the young officer, examined his features closely. The result satisfied him of St. Just's identity.

"You are indeed St. Just. Now, sit down and tell me all about it."

He resumed his seat, and St. Just also sat down, and, after detailing the circumstances with which the reader is acquainted, went on to say, "After my recovery and release, I started, with an escort furnished by the Sheik Ibrahim, from a place whose name I do not know, except that the people call it the Tombs of the Kings, with an answer from Ibrahim to your letter. It is for this reason, General, that I have ventured to present myself before you in this most unseemly garb and unkempt condition, for which I crave your pardon."

"It is granted; you have done quite right. Where is the letter?"

St. Just rose and handed it to him.

Buonaparte had just concluded reading it, when an aide-de-camp entered and, saluting, said, "A courier from Admiral Gantheaume, Sir."

"Admit him," was the answer.

In obedience, the aide-de-camp ushered in a young officer, in whom St. Just recognized his quondam acquaintance Garraud, now a smart looking Captain in St. Just's old troop.

Garraud advanced and, at Buonaparte's bidding, laid his despatches upon the table; then retiring, he took up his stand by St. Just and gazed intently at him. There was something about him that seemed familiar to him. All at once, the past came back to him, and, with a smile of pleasure, and, quite forgetful of his General's presence, he seized St. Just by the arm and exclaimed boisterously:

"Why, St. Just, my dear fellow, it's you I declare. How on earth did you get here, and in this strange garb, too? It was given out that you were dead."

"Silence, if you please, Sir," exclaimed Buonaparte. "Your congratulations may be deferred to a more fitting time. At present you will attend to me, important duties require your attention. The Englishman Smith (Sir Sidney), is he still on the coast?"

The color had mounted to Garraud's face at the reproof he had received, and he stammered in making his reply, "He—he is, Sir."

"How soon can you reach Alexandria, leaving at once?" Buonaparte went on.

"In three days, Sir, traveling night and day."

Then Buonaparte bent over the table and began to write rapidly. Meanwhile, neither of the others spoke, contenting themselves with exchanging meaning smiles and glances.

The document completed, Buonaparte folded and sealed it; then handed it to Garraud.

"Leave instantly," he said, "and make all speed."

Bowing to the General and giving St. Just a silent handshake, Garraud left the room, and soon they heard the clatter of his horse's hoofs outside.

When they were once more alone, Buonaparte began to question St. Just about his adventures since their last meeting. St. Just's answers appeared to please him, for he rose from his seat and shook his hand; then he pinched his ear, a way he had of showing friendliness, and addressed him.

"You have shown yourself worthy of your country, St. Just; you have done well, and I shall give you further opportunities for the exercise of your courage and fidelity. Meanwhile–" he broke off and strode to the door and flung it open. Then he called out, "Tremeau."

A young officer presented himself and saluted. "Take Major St. Just to your quarters and give him the means of making himself recognizable as a French officer. And you, St. Just, keep within the barracks till I give you leave to quit them. It is likely I shall want you. And you, too, Tremeau, I shall have work for you."

A glow of satisfaction had lighted up St. Just's face at hearing Buonaparte address him as Major, and, he with the other officer, was on the point of leaving the room, when the General resumed, "Stay."

He drew a paper to him and scrawled something rapidly upon it. Then, handing what he had written to St. Just, he went on, "Here is your commission as Major, with a letter to your Colonel to reinstate you in your old regiment; also an order to General Dupuy to furnish you with new uniforms and a horse, or the means of procuring them."

St. Just, his heart beating with gratitude and, almost, worship for his General, whom at that moment he regarded as a hero for whom he would willingly have laid down his life, bent over Buonaparte's hand and kissed it in his enthusiasm.

The evident spontaneity of the act and its devotion pleased the General and even touched his heart.

"Go along, you silly boy," he said, with a smile; "this is not a drawing-room, but a soldier's quarters. You should reserve such acts of homage for your mistress. Now, go; I shall not lose sight of your interests." And he gave him a friendly push towards his companion, who stood waiting statue-like by the door.

The door closed upon them, and Buonaparte was alone. In a moment a change came over his countenance; the smile vanished and, with knitted brow, and hands clasped behind his back, he stood in the center of the apartment, motionless, deep in thought.

"They must not meet yet," he muttered presently; "not until I have seen her and learned what she will tell him."

St. Just's return had brought Halima to his mind. For months he had seen nothing of her, nor had he communicated with her. In fact he had discarded her, as a child throws aside a toy of which he has grown tired. At the same time, although he considered himself in no way accountable to St. Just for his relations with her, he did not care that the former lovers should meet without preparation. He knew that Halima was in Cairo, for he had given orders that she was to be watched, though unknown to her, and not allowed to leave—a selfish precaution he had taken, in case he should care to renew his intercourse with her.

However, for the moment, there were weightier matters to engage his thoughts. He turned again to some papers he had received from Paris, his consideration of which had been interrupted by the despatches from Admiral Gantheaume.

After studying them for some time attentively, he spoke aloud. "Things seem going badly in Paris. Those directors are not to be trusted. Spite of all I have done for France, they are my enemies. They think to keep me in the background, to brush me aside. Ha! we shall see. They have reason to fear me. They shall know the stuff of which I am made. But Junot was right; I must go back to France at once."

He gathered up the documents, locked them up in a drawer; then strode quickly from the room.

CHAPTER XV

After what General Buonaparte had said and his orders that they were not to leave their quarters, St. Just and Tremeau naturally expected that, on the following day, or, at least, on that succeeding it, they would be entrusted with some mission, or be appointed to some position of importance.

But day succeeded day and they had no communication from the General, and now a week had elapsed and still they were confined to the barracks and not permitted to go about the city; and all, as it seemed, on the mere chance that Buonaparte might require the services of one or both of them. The young men found this period of confinement and inactivity particularly irksome and their former admiration and almost worship of their General were gradually changing to indignation and a conviction that, for some reason, they were being fooled by him.

St. Just had utilized the interval in procuring new uniforms and outfit; and he had been furnished with a charger, in conformity with Buonaparte's orders. Further, he had called in the assistance of the regimental barber, so that now he once more resembled the trim young officer of a twelvemonth earlier, the only difference being that he looked a little older, and a good deal thinner, as well as darker.

After the many months of hardship in the desert, he would have welcomed barrack life and his regimental duties as a delightful change, were it not for his uncertainty about Halima and his longing to be with her.

But, at ten o'clock one morning, an end was put to his suspense, for he and his companion were summoned to the General's presence. They found him listening attentively to a report an aide-de-camp was giving him. This aide-de-camp was Garraud, and he had come from Admiral Gantheaume, with the information that Sir Sidney Smith had left the coast, and, it was believed, for Cyprus.

It was this news that had caused Buonaparte to send for Tremeau and St. Just.

When they came in, without any preface he began, "In half an hour you will start in company, with despatches for Admiral Gantheaume. They are to prepare him for my coming. You will proceed with the utmost speed, for I shall set out but one hour after you. Make your preparations immediately and return here within the half hour, when my despatches will be ready."

The two young officers saluted and withdrew without a word. In less than the half hour they were back, their horses saddled at the door and everything ready for their ride. Five minutes later, they were on their way from Cairo, St. Just filled with distress and discontent, that kept increasing with every mile he put between the object of his passion and himself. It was clear that a fortnight must elapse before their meeting could take place; he prayed it might be no longer, but his General might, of course, take it into his head to send him on another mission.

St. Just and Tremeau met with no mishaps or adventures of any sort by the way, for this part of the country was in the hands of the French, whose line of communications extended from Cairo to the coast. They rode their best, but, for all that, did not reach the Admiral until four days afterwards, and only four hours in advance of Buonaparte.

Up to this moment, as has been seen, Buonaparte had contrived to keep St. Just and Halima apart, and even to conceal from her the fact that he was alive, and, further, was in Cairo. But for an accident, moreover, St. Just would have accompanied his General to France, when he, probably, would soon have forgotten his lady-love, in which case the incidents which follow would never have occurred.

But Dame Fortune has her own mode of arranging matters for her puppets, and in the case of Halima and St. Just, achieved her end in the way to be now described.

It so chanced that General Kleber, to whom Buonaparte had written with instructions that he was to meet him at the port, was not on the spot when he arrived. Doubtless Kleber would soon have come, but Buonaparte could brook no delay and, in his impatience, called out:

"Send for him; send for him at once."

On that, forth from the little house at Marabou, in which the General was issuing his last instructions, strode General Junot to find a messenger. Lounging outside the door, awaiting Buonaparte, was St. Just, his tall figure conspicuous amongst those who had formed the General's escort. To him Junot addressed himself.

"Ride, boot and spur, to Alexandria, and inquire at the citadel for General Kleber. When you see him, tell him the General impatiently awaits him here."

The dawn of the 23rd of August—the day whose close was to see Buonaparte set out for France to win new laurels—was breaking, when St. Just rode forth on this new mission.

Junot, having seen him start, returned to Buonaparte, whom he found pacing up and down in eager converse with General Menou.

"What news of Kleber?" asked Buonaparte impatiently, pausing in his walk when Junot entered.

"I have sent a messenger to Alexandria for him, Sir," replied Junot saluting.

"Pray Heaven he may arrive in time," was the reply.

St. Just had ridden with such despatch that it was but ten o'clock in the morning when he entered the gates of Alexandria. Forthwith he made his way to the citadel; only to learn, however, that his errand had been fruitless; General Kleber had left two hours before his arrival, unaware of Buonaparte's presence in the neighborhood.

St. Just handed over his despatches to one of Kleber's aides-de-camp, and then, tired out with the exertion of his rapid ride and prostrated by the heat, he lay down to rest himself before setting out on his return journey. Thinking that he might go to sleep, he left word with the soldier to whom he gave his horse, to arouse him in an hour, unless he, St. Just, first came to him.

Unfortunately, the man was called off to some other duty and forgot him. In consequence, the very thing St. Just had feared took place. He fell off into a profound slumber, from which he did not wake until nine o'clock at night. He had slept for quite ten hours!

Horrified at the discovery, and cursing the soldier in whom he had misplaced his trust, he sprang up and sought his horse, intending to start for Marabou at once.

But, no sooner had he set his foot outside, than he heard a rumor that Buonaparte's escort was approaching. And the rumor was justified by the fact; for, just when St. Just, standing by the citadel gate with reins in hand, was on the point of springing into the saddle, there came the sound of hoofs; next a detachment of Guides appeared, and, in their midst, a Turkish groom, whom St. Just knew well by sight, leading Buonaparte's favorite horse. But Buonaparte, to St. Just's surprise, was not with them. The groom recognized the young officer and called out to him in passing, "The General has sailed for France; set out at six to-night."

St. Just was staggered at the news, for he had never dreamed that Buonaparte's departure would be so rapid. What he had just heard was so bewildering to him, that, at first, he scarce knew what to do. It seemed to have upset all his plans. At least, he must think the matter over. So, instead of mounting, he led his horse along on foot, the while he strove to marshal his ideas.

Since his return to Cairo, a struggle had been going on within him between his ambition and his love, the former backed by the influence of his General, the latter by that of Halima. Of late he had nursed a sense of injury against Buonaparte for having, whether intentionally or not, kept him from visiting his mistress. This had tended much to modify his former devotion to the General, and, now that the latter was no longer present to push him forward in his military career, St. Just's interest in that career began to lessen, while his passion for Halima correspondingly increased.

He felt that the present was the turning-point in his existence. His yearning for the lovely Arab girl became almost irresistible. But, if he should yield to the dire temptation that was assailing him, it would be at a price—the highest a man could pay—his honor. Should he now turn his horse's head to Cairo, he would be regarded as a deserter, and a deserter in time of war; if caught, the penalty would be death—and dead with dishonor. Could he run so great a risk for a woman's smiles? Could he even live, a dishonored man, supposing he saved his life? Was Halima worth the sacrifice? Was any woman worth it? In the agonizing contest warring within him, the sweat came out in great drops upon his brow and streamed down his face. He put his hand into his pocket for his handkerchief, and, by accident, withdrew with it the locket containing the miniature of Halima—the locket that had turned aside Mahmoud's bullet and thus saved his life, and that he had preserved in all his wanderings.

He was standing beneath a swinging oil lantern at the time. He opened the locket and gazed upon the lovely features there displayed. That glance decided his future life; for one short moment, ambition and honor in the one scale, and love and dishonor in the other, trembled in the balance; then slowly the former rose, until it touched the beam, and dishonor had won the day. Alas, for poor weak man!

"The die is cast," he cried; "it is my fate. To Cairo and to her. But, oh! what a price I am paying for my love!"

Then he vaulted into the saddle and galloped off into the darkness.