Part 82 (1/2)

Margaret held her tongue. There was something so horrible about smallpox that, in spite of the woman's cowardly behaviour, she felt some sympathy for her.

”He had begged me to go before the saint turned up. I wouldn't. When the saint appeared he forgot almost everything else, and so for one whole day I remained confident in the belief that he had taken my presence for granted. And then,” she shuddered, ”he came to tell me that the holy man had smallpox.”

”And you forgot your love?” Margaret said.

”It was swallowed up in fear, in anger. I was so furious at Michael's rash generosity. I had warned him that the man might be suffering from some contagious malady, but I never dreamed of smallpox.”

”It was horrible!” Margaret said. ”And Michael has never said a word about it.”

”His charity is divine,” Millicent said. ”It is Christ-like, if you like.”

”It is true charity, for it is love, love for everything which G.o.d has created.”

”He is so happy that he can afford to love almost everything and everyone.”

”He is happy because he loves them.”

”I don't believe he has ever heard of h.e.l.l,” Millicent said. ”His religion's all heaven and beauty and love.”

”h.e.l.l!” exclaimed Margaret. ”But surely,” she paused, ”surely we're not primitives, we don't need the fear of such impossible cruelties to keep us from doing wrong? His great saint, or reformer, Akhnaton, had no h.e.l.l in his religion, and he lived, as you know, centuries before David. Even Akhnaton realized that human beings create their own h.e.l.ls. The other h.e.l.l, of fire and brimstone, which terrorized the ignorant people into obedience and order, belongs to the same category as the crocodile G.o.d and the wicked cat-G.o.ddess Pasht, of Egypt. It was necessary in its day.”

”You and Michael live on such a high plane!”

”Oh no, we don't. You know Michael is very human--that is why he is so understanding, so forgiving.”

”He will never forgive me--that would be expecting too much. But I had to come and tell you all that I know about his treasure. I have only just heard--I saw it in the Egyptian monthly Archaeological Report--that Michael never had the glory of discovering the Akhnaton chambers in the hills.”

”You didn't know that when I saw you in Cairo?”

”No, I never dreamed of it. If you had only told me that he hadn't, I should have explained, I should have told you about the man who absconded.”

Margaret looked at her searchingly, but she could learn nothing more than the voice told her, for Millicent's veil was still covering her disfigured face.

”I never wished to rob him of the honour of the discovery. If I had known when I saw you, I should have cleared my name, at least, of that contemptible deed.”

Margaret blushed. ”I couldn't tell you,” she said. ”I was too unhappy, too angry. I didn't want you to know of our disappointment.

I pretended that I had heard from Michael.”

”You led me to suppose that he had discovered it.”

”I know,” Margaret said. ”I didn't wish to add to your satisfaction by telling you of his disappointment. I was convinced that you knew, and that you had slipped off to the hills.” She paused. ”We were bluffing each other.”

”I was incubating smallpox. I was wearing a blouse and skirt which had been packed with the clothes I wore in the desert. Probably it had come in touch with some infected thing.”

”Were you very bad?” Margaret said. ”Where have you been all this time?”

Millicent s.h.i.+vered. ”I was just going to sail for England, but I was too ill when I reached Alexandria to go on board the boat--I had to stay behind. I have been hiding myself from the world ever since.

Yes, I was dreadfully ill, and now. . . .” Her voice broke. ”You don't know what I feel when I look at myself--my own face makes me sick.”

”I am so sorry,” Margaret said. ”You were so beautiful, such a wonderful colour!”