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 more. It looked like a gigantic felt carpet, which would presently smother me. The sand was not white, but a yellow brown, and sulphurous fume ascended from it. I felt that in a few moments I should be dead. I did not rebel. I did not even try to cry for help, but wept quietly. Then I thought I became unconscious, and I dreamt that I had fallen asleep. In the dream of my dream I heard distant, soothing music—I remember thinking to myself—'Now they are playing at my funeral'—but the music grew stronger and stronger. I heard trumpets and bassoons and joyous flutes. Then I seemed to float through an atmosphere of wild music which came to me from everywhere, and again I thought to myself—'You must make haste and waken, or you will be late for the great feast.' And in my dream I woke. I stood again in the desert, but the music played on, and I heard a voice call 'Suleima!' I looked round, and saw far away on the horizon something white and shining, which came nearer and nearer in flying haste. Then I called out, 'My white Sheik, my bridegroom, my saviour.' All around me it grew brighter, the clouds lifted, leaving the dome of heaven clear and pure. I felt a fresh breeze, which came from a stream close by, and there in a whirl of music he rode towards me on his black horse, his white cloak flowing round him.

Then I awoke, and by my bed stood mother smiling and saying, 'You lazy girl, you have slept far into the morning, but you looked so sweet, while