Part 36 (2/2)

The figure with the fluttering rags disappeared. It seemed as if it had vanished into the sands. Michael felt disappointed.

The shelter was taken down and packed up, the lunch-basket refilled and the camels harnessed. Ha.s.san appeared.

”_Ya, Sitt_, all is ready.”

Nothing had been said about Millicent's plans; nothing had been said about how she had contrived to meet Michael; no lecture had been delivered. The subject had been forgotten, forgotten by Michael at least, whose interest had been absorbed in the talk about the tomb and in the glimpse he had of the distant figure. Millicent had not forgotten the promised lecture, but it had been her object to make Michael forget it. She had gladly let the matter rest. Why wake sleeping dogs? She let them lie so undisturbed that not one bark had been heard. They slept so soundly that her heart was full of triumph and amus.e.m.e.nt when, seated on her camel, she took her place in Michael's cavalcade.

She had managed to get through the starting without his feeling any annoyance at her presence. He had simply forgotten his objection to her accompanying him.

[1] Weigall's _Akhnaton, Pharaoh of Egypt_.

[2] Weigall's _Akhnaton, Pharaoh of Egypt_.

CHAPTER II

It was not until their rest at sundown that anything of unusual interest happened to the travellers. Their short halt while they drank their tea had pa.s.sed without incident--in fact, Millicent had drunk hers alone on camel-back, for it had been carried in thermos flasks, their Amon-Ra, as Ha.s.san called the magic bottles whose contents retained the heat with no obvious aid.

Michael had spent the time, while he drank his refres.h.i.+ng cup, in consulting Abdul about their route. The camels were not unsaddled.

About this Millicent made no demur. She saw no earthly reason why they should not have rested for as long as they felt inclined, but she did not say so. If this treasure which Michael sought had lain in its safe hiding-place, out of sight of man, for more than two thousand years, why should it not wait there in safety for another couple or so of hours? This she kept to herself; it was her wise policy to remain _douce comme un lapin blanc_, which she did. The night might still see her an accepted part of Michael's cavalcade. The adventure thrilled her with excitement.

They had finished their evening meal, which Millicent had supplied--a very satisfying and delicate dinner. They had eaten it in the open desert during the cool hours which precede sundown. Michael had thoroughly enjoyed it. The evening light transformed the desert; a heavenly Jerusalem seemed very near. Even Millicent was obedient to the unseen.

As the sun sank lower and lower in the heavens, their conversation drifted towards the subject of Akhnaton's Aton wors.h.i.+p. The kneeling figures of the Arabs, praying in the desert before sundown, had introduced the topic.

They sat on until the globe of gold dropped behind the horizon--a wonderful sight in the desert. For a minute or two its sudden and complete disappearance leaves the world chill and desolate; a cold hand clutches at the human heart; a loneliness enters the soul. G.o.d has abandoned the world; the warmth of His love becomes a memory.

The afterglow was at its most flamboyant; its orange and yellow, streaked with black, suddenly became vermilion. Lights from the underworld struck across the desert like swords of fire; arms of flame broke the vermilion, soaring to heaven like the fires from h.e.l.l's furnace let loose. The anger and beauty and recklessness was appalling. Then with magic swiftness, during the flickering of an eye, the horizon became one vast lake of sacrificial blood.

The transition was so unexpected, so devastating to the human mind, that fear filled Millicent's heart. Instinctively she had drawn a little closer to Michael. She craved for arms to guard her, to protect her from the terror of the heavens.

Like a black silhouette against the lake of blood, a human figure rose up out of the desert, a John the Baptist, ”a burning and s.h.i.+ning light,” a voice calling in the wilderness.

As the sonorous words of the Koran were borne to them, Millicent said, ”Oh, Mike, it's my holy man! How mysterious he looks against that wonderful sky!”

Subconsciously Michael had been so grateful to Millicent for her silence during the stupendous glory of the sunset that his heart was full of gentleness towards her.

”Yes,” he said. ”I see him.” Something had told him that the figure which she had described to him during luncheon would appear again; he was not surprised when he distinguished the staff, with its tattered rags waving against the crimson light.

”Isn't it all wonderful, Mike!” Her voice was reverent; the awfulness of the heavens had humbled her. ”I was almost afraid--it seemed like the end of the world, the sky seemed all on fire. The destruction of the world had begun.”

”'Thy setting is beautiful, O living Aton, who guidest all countries that they may make laudation at thy dawning and at thy setting.'”

”Are those Akhnaton's words?”

”Yes, and his constant song was, 'O Lord, how manifold are Thy works.'

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