Part 49 (1/2)
”_Aiwah_, Effendi. They seldom go up to see the sky; perhaps they have never sung to the moon.”
”To every bird his nest is home, Abdul.”
”_Aiwah_, Effendi. But I will take you to the _Omdeh's_ house--we shall soon be out of this.”
”Is his house amongst these hovels?” Michael pointed to one particularly dark cavern. Unlike the ordinary desert peoples, the women were veiled; only their dark eyes were visible to the stranger whom they flocked to see. They showed great surprise when Michael spoke to one of the men in fluent Arabic.
At Michael's suggestion that the _Omdeh's_ house would be like one of the cave-houses, Abdul had flung back his head. His smile was scornful; a little annoyance was perceptible in his voice.
”_La_, Effendi. The _Omdeh's_ house is like a bower in paradise. The Effendi will enjoy a cup of caravan-tea and a long rest in the cool orchard, where water flows and caged birds sing.”
”He has an orchard in a cavern like this!” Michael steadied himself by catching hold of Abdul's staff; he had almost fallen over a baby.
”_Aiwah_, Effendi. The _Omdeh_ does not live in the rocks, like the bats. His house is just outside the village. He is very rich--he owns many camels and much cotton and he has a date-farm. He is ent.i.tled to three wives.”
”Very well, Abdul. I put myself in your hands.” Michael sighed.
”This village makes me feel rather sick--the whole thing is too horrible, too sad--G.o.d's blue sky just up above, and His sweet, clean desert sand, and down here this living death, these idle, dirty women, these sickly, fly-covered babies.”
”_Aiwah_, Effendi, it is custom.” Abdul shrugged his shoulders. ”Did the Effendi not say that to every bird his nest is home? These women were born here, their children will grow up here, they will have their children here. It is their home.”
”We must get out of it, Abdul. I can't stand it any longer!” Michael tried to walk faster. ”If I had only a fly-switch! I can't keep the beasts out of my mouth--it's disgusting!”
”_Aiwah_, Effendi, I told you it was not a wholesome village. I a.s.sured the Effendi it would be wiser for him only to pay his respects to the _Omdeh_ and not to pa.s.s through his village.” Abdul darted into one of the houses, whose open front was flush with the rock-wall of the street, which was simply a tunnel in a vast rock; he returned with a palm-leaf fan; a half-piastre had purchased it. He fanned his master with it until he saw the colour return to his cheeks. ”The Effendi is better?”
”Thank you, Abdul, I am all right. It was only this stifling atmosphere, and I've been feeling a bit off colour for the last few days--my usual powers of sleep have deserted me.”
”The Effendi has some trouble on his mind?”
”That is true, Abdul, but the trouble would not be there if I was feeling quite my usual self--I could banish it.”
”The Effendi's heart must not be distracted.”
”I have received no letters from the Valley, Abdul. What do you think has happened?”
”The Effendi must not ask for things impossible.”
”I suppose not, Abdul. When I left the Valley I agreed that I should not expect to receive letters--they were not to write unless there were things taking place which I ought to know, yet my heart is troubled--I have written so often.”
”May the Effendi's servant know the cause of his master's unrest? Will he permit two hearts to bear the burden?”
”I should feel at rest if I was certain that the Effendi Lampton had received my letter, if I knew that scandal had not been carried to the hut.” Michael paused. ”I wished to be the first to tell him that Madam was a member of our camp, that I met her unexpectedly, that fear sent her away. My happiness depended upon his answer, upon his absolute belief in my explanation.”
”_Aiwah_, Effendi, Abdul understands. The situation has complications--ill news travels apace.”
”I should not like the _Sitt_ to hear from other sources that Madam was with us.”
”But your letter should have reached the hut by this time, Effendi.”
”Has there been time to get an answer? Do you believe my letter reached Effendi Lampton, Abdul?” Michael asked the question interestedly. Had this seer any second knowledge on the subject? Had he the conviction that in the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings there was no misgiving, no fear, that Margaret's heart was undisturbed?
Abdul knew what his master meant, but with his native dislike of giving an unpleasant answer when a pleasant one would serve, he parried the question.