"
The men went out, leaving Barbara alone with the dancer. Barbara
noticed how tired Nur-el-Din was looking. Heir pretty, childish
ways seemed to have evaporated with her high spirits. Her face
was heavy and listless. There were lines round heir eyes, and her
mouth had a hard, drawn look.
"Child," she said, "give me, please, my peignoir... it is behind
the door,... and, I will get this paint off my face!"
Barbara fetched the wrapper and sat down beside the dancer. But
Nur-el-Din did not move. She seemed to be thinking. Barbara saw
the hunted look she had already observed in her that evening
creeping over her face again.
"It is a hard life; this life of ours, a life of change, ma
petite! A great artiste has no country, no home, no fireside! For
the past five years I have been roaming about the world! Often I
think I will settle down, but the life holds me!"
She took up from her dressing-table a little oblong plain silver
box.
"I want to ask you a favor, ma petite Barbara!" she said. "This
little box is a family possession of mine: I have had it for many
years. The world is so disturbed to-day that life is not safe for
anybody who travels as much as I do! You have a home, a safe home
with your dear father! He was telling me about it! Will you take
this little box and keep it safely for me until.
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