Two or three approached the French ace, to hold speech with him about the exploit at the Ka'aba, but he withdrew from them to the extreme rear end of the gallery and remained for a long time in silent contemplation of the fading city, the Plain of Mina, and Mount Arafat, beyond.
As the vague purple haze of late afternoon deepened to veils that began to hide even the outlines of the mountain, he leaned both elbows on the rail and in his own language whispered: "_Nom de Dieu!_ The Pearl Star--the Golden Waterspout--the sacred Black Stone!" His face was white with pride and a fire of eagerness that burned within.

"Why, now we're masters of all Islam--masters of the treasure-houses of the Orient! "_Mais--nom de Dieu!_".