Part 118 (1/2)
The man went away. Slowly the morning pa.s.sed. Twelve o'clock came, but the messenger did not return. Mrs. Armine had lunch in her room, but she could scarcely eat anything. After lunch she ordered very strong coffee.
As she was drinking her second cup, there was a tap on the door. She cried, ”Come in,” and the messenger reappeared.
”Well?” she said. ”Well?”
The man looked at her as if her voice had startled him.
”The gentleman has not come in, ma'am.”
”When is he coming in?”
”I don't know, ma'am.”
”Is he in Cairo?”
”I don't know, ma'am.”
”What do you know? What's the good of you? What are you here for? Go back at once, and find out whether the gentleman is in Cairo or not.”
The messenger went out rather hurriedly.
Mrs. Armine was shaking. She had felt inclined to attack the man, to beat him for his stupidity, as slaves are often beaten by their masters when they do wrong. When she was alone, she uttered two or three incoherent exclamations. Her body was burning with a sort of cruel, dry heat. She felt parched all over. An hour pa.s.sed, and at length she again heard a tap. The messenger came in, and very sulkily said:
”The gentleman was in Cairo last night, ma'am.”
”What I want to know is whether he is in Cairo now!” she exclaimed, angrily.
”They don't know, ma'am.”
”Don't know! They must know!”
”They don't know, ma'am.”
”I tell you they must know!”
”They don't know, ma'am.”
She sprang up, tingling. She didn't know what she was going to do, but as she faced him the expression in the messenger's eyes recalled her to a sense of the proprieties. Without another word, she gave him some money and turned her back on him. When she heard the door close, she no longer controlled herself, until suddenly once more she remembered her ravaged face.
She went into her bedroom and after half an hour she came out dressed for driving. She was resolved to go herself to Baroudi's house. After all these months of slavish obedience and of fear, something rose up within her, something that had pa.s.sed for the moment beyond obedience and even beyond fear, that was fiercely determined, that was reckless of consequences. She engaged a victoria and drove to Baroudi's house. It was on the outskirts of Cairo, near the Nile, on the Island of Gezira. A garden surrounded it, enclosed by high walls and entered by tall gates of elaborately-wrought ironwork. These gates were shut and the coachman pulled up his horses. Inside, on the left, there was a lodge from which there now came a tall Arab. Mrs. Armine got quickly out of the carriage, pa.s.sed the horses, and stood looking through the gate.
”Is Mahmoud Baroudi in Cairo?” she said, in French.
The Arab said something in Arabic.
”Is Baroudi Effendi in Cairo?” Mrs. Armine said in English.
”Yes, I think,” replied the man, in careful English, speaking slowly.
”In the city?”