Very soon after she had been brought to Ahmed Ben Hassan's camp she had
realised that Gaston's devotion to the Sheik had been extended to
herself, but since the night of the raid he had frankly worshipped her.
It was very airless even out-of-doors. She peered into the darkness,
but there was little light from the tiny crescent moon, and she could
see nothing. She moved a few steps forward from under the awning to
look up at the brilliant stars twinkling overhead. She had watched them
so often from Ahmed Ben Hassan's arms; they had become an integral part
of the passionate Oriental nights. He loved them, and when the mood was
on him, watched them untiringly, teaching her to recognise them, and
telling her countless Arab legends connected with them, sitting under
the awning far info the night, till gradually his voice faded away from
her ears, and long after she was asleep he would sit on motionless,
staring up into the heavens, smoking endless cigarettes. Would it be
given to her ever to watch them again sparkling against the
blue-blackness of the sky, with the curve of his arm round her and the
steady beat of his heart under her cheek? A stab of pain went: through
her. Would anything ever be the same again? Everything had changed
since the coming of Raoul de Saint Hubert. A weary sigh broke from her
lips.
"Madam is tired?" a respectful voice murmured at her ear.
Diana started. She had forgotten the valet. "It is so hot. The tent was
stifling," she said evasively.
Gaston's devotion was of a kind that sought practical demonstration.
"Madame veut du cafe?" he suggested tentatively. It was his
universal panacea, but at the moment it sounded almost grotesque.
Diana felt an hysterical desire to laugh which nearly turned into
tears, but she checked herself. "No, it is too late."
"In one little moment I will bring it," Gaston urged persuasively,
unwilling to give up his own gratification in serving her.
"No, Gaston. It makes me nervous," she said gently.
Gaston heaved quite a tragic sigh. His own nerves were steel and his
capacity for imbibing large quantities of black coffee at any hour of
the day or night unlimited.
"Une limonade?" he persisted hopefully.
She let him bring the cool drink more for his pleasure than for her
own. "Monseigneur is late," she said slowly, straining her eyes again
into the darkness.
"He will come," replied Gaston confidently. "Kopec is restless, he is
always so when Monseigneur is coming."