The Figure In The Mirage | Page 3

a hurry. One would think he
was being pursued. Why, now he's gone!'
"She turned to her companions. They saw still the fairy houses of the
mirage standing in the haze on the edge of the fairy water.
"'But,' mademoiselle said impatiently, 'there's nothing at all now--only
sand.'
"'Mademoiselle dreams,' said Tahar. 'The mirage is always there.'
"They rode forward. That night they camped near Sidi-Okba. At dinner,
while the stars came out, they talked of the mirage, and mademoiselle
still insisted that it was a mirage of a horseman bearing something

before him on his saddle-bow, and riding as if for life. And Tahar said
again:
"'Mademoiselle dreams!'
"As he spoke he looked at her with a mysterious intentness, which she
noticed. That night, in her little camp-bed, round which the desert
winds blew mildly, she did indeed dream. And her dream was of the
magic forms that ride on magic horses through mirage.
"The next day, at dawn, the caravan of the Parisians went on its way,
winding farther into the desert. In leaving Sidi-Okba they left behind
them the last traces of civilisation--the French man and woman who
keep the auberge in the orange garden there. To-day, as they journeyed,
a sense of deep mystery flowed upon the heart of mademoiselle. She
felt that she was a little cockle-shell of a boat which, accustomed
hitherto only to the Seine, now set sail upon a mighty ocean. The fear
of the Sahara came upon her."
My companion paused. His face was grave, almost stern.
"And her relations?" I asked. "Did they feel----"
"Haven't an idea what they felt," he answered curtly.
"But how do you know that mademoiselle
"You'll understand at the end of the story. As they journeyed in the sun
across the endless flats--for the mountains had vanished now, and
nothing broke the level of the sand--mademoiselle's gaiety went from
her. Silent was the lively, chattering tongue that knew the jargon of
cities, the gossip of the Plage. She was oppressed. Tahar rode close at
her side. He seemed to have taken her under his special protection. Far
before them rode the attendants, chanting deep love songs in the sun.
The sound of those songs seemed like the sound of the great desert
singing of its wild and savage love to the heart of mademoiselle. At
first her brother-in-law and sister bantered her on her silence, but Tahar
stopped them, with a curious authority.

"'The desert speaks to mademoiselle,' he said in her hearing. 'Let her
listen.'
"He watched her continually with his huge eyes, and she did not mind
his glance, though she began to feel irritated and restless under the
observation of her relations.
"Towards noon Tahar again described mirage. As he pointed it out he
stared fixedly at mademoiselle.
"The two other Parisians exclaimed that they saw forest trees, a running
stream, a veritable oasis, where they longed to rest and eat their
déjeuner.
"'And mademoiselle?' said Tahar. 'What does she see?'
"She was gazing into the distance. Her face was very pale, and for a
moment she did not answer. Then she said:
"'I see again the Arab bearing the burden before him on the saddle. He
is much clearer than yesterday. I can almost see his face----'
"She paused. She was trembling.
"'But I cannot see what he carries. It seems to float on the wind, like a
robe, or a woman's dress. Ah! mon Dieu! how fast he rides!'
"She stared before her as if fascinated, and following with her eyes
some rapidly-moving object. Suddenly she shut her eyes.
"'He's gone!' she said.
"'And now--mademoiselle sees?' said Tahar.
"She opened her eyes.
"'Nothing.'
"'Yet the mirage is still there,' he said.

"'Valérie,' cried her sister, 'are you mad that you see what no one else
can see, and cannot see what all else see?"
"'Am I mad, Tahar?' she said gravely, almost timidly, to the dragoman.
"And the fear of the Sahara came again upon her.
"'Mademoiselle sees what she must,' he answered. 'The desert speaks to
the heart of mademoiselle.'
"That night there was moon. Mademoiselle could not sleep. She lay in
her narrow bed and thought of the figure in the mirage, while the
moonbeams stole in between the tent pegs to keep her company. She
thought of second sight, of phantoms, and of wraiths. Was this riding
Arab, whom she alone could see, a phantom of the Sahara,
mysteriously accompanying the caravan, and revealing himself to her
through the medium of the mirage as if in a magic mirror? She turned
restlessly upon her pillow, saw the naughty moonbeams, got up, and
went softly to the tent door. All the desert was bathed in light. She
gazed out as a mariner gazes out over the sea. She heard jackals yelping