Part 15 (1/2)

”G.o.d! What ails me!” he muttered, supporting himself with one hand against the black and crumbling wall near which he stood. ”Why should that melody steal away my strength and make me think of things with which I have surely no connection! What tricks my imagination plays me in this city of the Orient--I might as well be hypnotized! What have I to do with dreams of war and triumph and rapine and murder, and what is the name of Ziska-Charmazel to me?”

He shook himself with the action of a fine brute that has been stung by some teasing insect, and, mastering his emotions by an effort, walked away. But he was so absorbed in strange thoughts, that he stumbled up against Denzil Murray in a side street on the way to the Gezireh Palace Hotel without seeing him, and would have pa.s.sed him altogether had not Denzil somewhat fiercely said:

”Stop!”

Gervase looked at him bewilderedly.

”Why, Denzil, is it you? My dear fellow, forgive me my brusquerie! I believe I have got a stroke of the sun, or something of the sort; I a.s.sure you I hardly know what I am doing or where I am going!”

”I believe it!” said Denzil, hoa.r.s.ely. ”You are as mad as I am--for love!”

Gervase smiled; a slight incredulous smile.

”You think so? I am not sure! If love makes a man as thoroughly unstrung and nervous as I am to-day, then love is a very bad illness.”

”It is the worst illness in the world,” said Denzil, speaking hurriedly and wildly. ”The most cruel and torturing! And there is no cure for it save death. My G.o.d, Gervase! You were my friend but yesterday! I never should have thought it possible to hate you!”

”Yet you do hate me?” queried Gervase, still smiling a little.

”Hate you? I could kill you! You have been with HER!”

Quietly Gervase took his arm.

”My good Denzil, you are mistaken! I confess to you frankly I should have been with HER--you mean the Princess Ziska, of course--had it been possible. But she has fled the city for the moment--at least, according to the corpse-like Nubian who acts as porter.”

”He lies!” exclaimed Denzil, hotly. ”I saw her this morning.”

”I hope you improved your opportunity,” said Gervase, imperturbably.

”Anyway, at the present moment she is not visible.”

A silence fell between them for some minutes; then Denzil spoke again.

”Gervase, it is no use, I cannot stand this sort of thing. We must have it out. What does it all mean?”

”It is difficult to explain, my dear boy,” answered Gervase, half seriously, half mockingly. ”It means, I presume, that we are both in love with the same woman, and that we both intend to try our chances with her. But, as I told you the other night, I do not see why we should quarrel about it. Your intentions towards the Princess are honorable--mine are dishonorable, and I shall make no secret of them.

If you win her, I shall ...”

He paused, and there was a sudden look in his eyes which gave them a sombre darkness, darker than their own natural color.

”You shall--what?” asked Denzil.

”Do something desperate,” replied Gervase. ”What the something will be depends on the humor of the moment. A tiger balked of his prey is not an agreeable beast; a strong man deprived of the woman he pa.s.sionately desires is a little less agreeable even than the tiger. But let us adopt the policy of laissez-faire. Nothing is decided; the fair one cares for neither of us; let us be friends until she makes her choice.”

”We cannot be friends,” said Denzil, sternly.

”Good! Let us be foes then, but courteous, even in our quarrel, dear boy. If we must kill each other, let us do it civilly. To fly at each other's throats would be purely barbaric. We owe a certain duty to civilization; things have progressed since the days of Araxes.”

Denzil stared at him gloomily.