So Gregorio found a tomb. Nor did it remain unconsecrated, for beside
it Madam Marx knelt and spoke with faltering lips the remnants of the
prayers she had learned when a child. As she prayed she watched vaguely
a steamer disappear behind the horizon.
The khedival mail-boat _Ramses_ sped swiftly over the unruffled surface
of the sea. At the stern a tall fair Englishman sat looking on the level
shores of Egypt and the minarets of Alexandria. With a sad smile he
turned to the child who called to him by his name. They were a strange
pair, for the boy was dark, and foreign-looking, and there was something
of cunning in his restless black eyes. The man's large hand rested
softly on the raven curls of the youngster as he muttered to himself:
"For her sake I will watch over you, and you shall grow up to be a true
man."
So Xantippe's life had not been lived in vain, for she had loved and
been loved, and her memory was sweet to her lover. Moreover, Gregorio's
dreams of wealth for his son were to find fulfilment, and the sand of
the desert, maybe, lies lightly on him.
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