Rumor had not outboasted the Arab girl's beauty; it was lustrous as ever was that when, far yonder to the eastward, under the curled palms of Nile, the sorceress of the Caesars swept through her rose-strewn palace chambers.

Only Djelma was as innocent as the gazelle, whose grace she resembled, and loved her lord with a great love.
Of her suffering her captor took no more heed than if she were a young bird dying of shot-wounds; but, with one triumphant, admiring glance at her, he wrote a message in Arabic, to send to the Khalifa, ere her loss was discovered--a message more cruel than iron.

He hesitated a second, where he lay at the opening of his tent, whom he should send with it.
His men were almost all half-dead with the sun-blaze.

His glance chanced to light in the distance on a soldier to whom he bore no love--causelessly, but bitterly all the same.

He had him summoned, and eyed him with a curious amusement--Chateauroy treated his squadrons with much the same sans-facon familiarity and brutality that a chief of filibusters uses in his.
"So! you heed the heat so little, you give up your turn of water to a drummer, they say ?" The Chasseur gave the salute with a calm deference.