Concerning a "Yashmak"
tive spoke vehemently to Iskander, gesturing much with powerful hands. He seemed to be arguing something feelingly.
The Arab lowered his whip and swung away, to spring into the saddle of his horse. At this, Aravang held out the cloak and hood to Edith, signifying by dumb show that she should put them on. His dark, oxlike eyes wheedled her mutely. He looked so ridiculously unlike a lady's maid that Edith smiled and put on the garment. For the time being the question of the veil was ignored. But, later, Edith donned the Mohammedan yashmak of her own accord.
For a while she wondered at the necessity of the cloak. Being quick of thought, however, she did not fail to see that Iskander wished to disguise her.
So it was to escape prying eyes as the caravan flitted among the defiles—no longer ascending, as she noticed—that Iskander had given her the cloak! Then either one of two things had happened: they were pursued, at last; or they were approaching some point where Edith might be observed and her presence might provoke curiosity.
Drowsily Edith wondered whether she herself had not changed in aspect; the life of the caravan had become her life. She wore the cloak quite naturally.
She was always sleepy. If it had not been for her bodily strength, bred of an active outdoor life, the girl would have sickened and, perhaps, have died before this. Cold head winds, the swaying motion of the clumsy beast, the inevitable smells—one by one these things had stripped the softness of life's luxury from the girl.
From day to day she had dreamed, in a kind of stupor, of her other life, of the warmth and tranquil
85
