Part 10 (1/2)

He protested. The thud, thud, thud of the _darabukkeh_ below kept time with the throbbing of his pulses, while the subconscious visualizing of the body-movements of the Sudanese dancers aided and abetted the woman in her designs.

”You know, dear, you are behaving very foolishly. I must never see you again if you do this sort of thing. It can only lead to terrible unhappiness for us both.”

She gently kissed his fingers, pressing her teeth against his knuckles--with all her education and fas.h.i.+onable clothes, a creature as primitive as any tent-dweller in the desert.

”Don't say you won't see me again. I won't be foolish, I promise. But I am very lonely, you don't know how lonely, Michael.”

”Poor little woman!” he said breathlessly; he was genuinely sorry for her. If her nature craved for love and affection, it was hard for her to live as she did, without it.

”It's Egypt,” she said, ”Egypt and the desert. I want you all alone, Michael, in the loneliest part of the loneliest desert in the world, and I want as many kisses as there are stars in the heavens--kisses that only my love and Egypt can teach you how to give!”

”I must leave you,” Michael said again, ”if you will speak like that.”

He got up to go. Mrs. Mervill also rose from her reclining position on her long deck-chair, and sat upright.

”I do, I do!” she said, while she held up her beautiful lips to his face. ”There is no one to see, there is no one to care! I want a kiss for every star there is in the heavens.”

The man could bear it no longer; all Egypt was tempting him. He bent his head and kissed her lips.

From the river below came the long cries to Allah of the Moslem boatmen and the clear music of an _'ood_ or lute; the deep note of the native drums had been silenced. It had given way to the song of an Arab tenor. The music of the _'ood_, whose seven double strings, made of lamb's gut, are played with a slip of a vulture's feather, drifted through the clear air. The tenor song was an outpouring of a lover's full heart. The pa.s.sion of the night had triumphed.

At their feet lay the black rocks and the swirling waters of Egypt's Aegean and the buried city of Syene, and in the distance, yet surely affecting their senses with its tragedy and grace, was Philae, the fairy sanctuary of the Nile. In the submerged temple of Philae lies the bridal chamber of the beloved Osiris and his wife Isis.

None of all this was lost upon Michael, whose nature was ever tuned to the concert pitch of his surroundings. a.s.suan affected him as a gorgeous orchestra affects a lover of Wagner.

But the sound of the hotel band, bringing a waltz to a close, made Mrs.

Mervill leave her lounge-chair and seat herself circ.u.mspectly on a more upright one. Michael did not sit down; he wandered about, speaking to her abruptly and unhappily at brief intervals.

She was answering one of his questions when Margaret Lampton, flushed and radiant with the excitement of dancing, came upon the scene; her partner was a little behind her. Mrs. Mervill neither saw her nor heard her footsteps; Michael had both seen and heard her. Margaret, thinking that he was alone, walked quickly towards him. Suddenly she heard a hidden voice say caressingly,

”I will promise you anything you like, Michael mine, and keep it, too, if you will try to see me as often as ever you can. Remember how lonely I am, and that I shall live for your visits.”

Margaret stopped. Egypt had become as cold as the Arctic. She felt lost. Her intention had been to remind Michael that it was almost supper-time. Her partner was now by her side. He knew Michael Amory and spoke to him.

Mrs. Mervill had risen from her chair and as she came forward, Margaret hated her, even while she thought that she was the fairest and most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Michael introduced the two women to each other, excellent foils as they were in their beauty and type.

As Margaret gave one of her steadfast honest looks right into the eyes of the delicately-tinted woman in front of her, she was conscious of an appalling dislike and fear of her. She was equally conscious of the woman's antagonism to herself, although her words had been charming and friendly.

”If she wasn't beautiful and tiny, I'd like to wring her neck and throw her to the crocodiles below!”

This was what might be interpreted as Margaret's true feelings as she answered Mrs. Mervill's question and succeeded in making some ba.n.a.l remarks about the view and the magnificence of the hotel. When she had said all that politeness demanded of her, she turned away, a trifle disconsolately.

”Please wait one moment, Miss Lampton,” Michael said. ”I think this is the supper-interval. Mrs. Mervill,” he said, ”can I take you back to your partner? I am engaged to Miss Lampton for supper.”

”No, thanks,” she said, ”I didn't engage myself to anyone for supper.”

Her eyes plainly expressed the fact that they had hitherto at these dances always enjoyed the supper-interval together. ”Will you be very kind and send a waiter out here with a gla.s.s of champagne and some sandwiches? That is all I want.”

Michael looked disturbed. ”But I don't like leaving you alone.”

”I prefer the company of the stars,” she said, ”to just anybody--really I do. I never feel that one comes to Egypt for these hotel dances.”

This was meant for Margaret, to make her feel frivolous and vulgar.