Part 17 (2/2)

”No wonder the Mohammedan poor don't fear death, if they expect to exchange their hovels for such quarters,” said Stephen. ”I wish I understood Arabic.”

”It's a difficult language to keep in your mind, and I don't know it well,” Nevill answered. ”But Jeanne and Josette Soubise speak it like natives; and the other day when Miss Ray lunched with us, I thought her knowledge of Arabic wonderful for a person who'd picked it up from books.”

Stephen did not answer. He wished that Nevill had not brought the thought of Victoria into his mind at the moment when he was recalling his old nurse's silly superst.i.tion. Victoria laughed at superst.i.tions, but he was not sure that he could laugh, in this barbaric land where it seemed that anything might happen.

XVI

Nevill had not sent word to Josette Soubise that he was coming to see her. He wished to make the experiment of a surprise, although he insisted that Stephen should be with him. At the door in the high white wall of the school-garden, he asked an unveiled crone of a porteress to say merely that two gentlemen had called.

”She'll suspect, I'm afraid,” he muttered to Stephen as they waited, ”even if her sister hasn't written that I thought of turning up. But she won't have time to invent a valid excuse, if she disapproves of the visit.”

In three or four minutes the old woman hobbled back, shuffling slippered feet along the tiled path between the gate and the low whitewashed house. Mademoiselle requested that ces Messieurs would give themselves the pain of walking into the garden. She would descend almost at once.

They obeyed, Nevill stricken dumb by the thought of his coming happiness. Stephen would have liked to ask a question or two about the school, but he refrained, sure that if Nevill were forced into speech he would give random answers.

This was being in love--the real thing! And Stephen dimly envied his friend, even though Caird seemed to have small hope of winning the girl.

It was far better to love a woman you could never marry, than to be obliged to marry one you could never love.

He imagined himself waiting to welcome Margot, beautiful Margot, returning from Canada to him. He would have to go to Liverpool, of course. She would be handsomer than ever, probably, and he could picture their meeting, seven or eight weeks from now. Would his face wear such an expression as Nevill's wore at this moment? He knew well that it would not.

”She is coming!” said Nevill, under his breath.

The door of the schoolhouse was opening, and Nevill moved forward as a tall and charming young woman appeared, like a picture in a dark frame.

She was slender, with a tiny waist, though her bust was full, and her figure had the intensely feminine curves which artists have caused to be a.s.sociated with women of the Latin races; her eyes were like those of her elder sister, but larger and more brilliant. So big and splendid they were that they made the smooth oval of her olive face seem small.

Quant.i.ties of heavy black hair rippled away from a forehead which would have been square if the hair had not grown down in a point like a Marie Stuart cap. Her chin was pointed, with a deep cleft in the middle, and the dimples Nevill had praised flashed suddenly into being, as if a ray of suns.h.i.+ne had touched her pale cheeks.

”Mon bon ami!” she exclaimed, holding out both hands in token of comrades.h.i.+p, and putting emphasis on her last word.

”She's determined the poor chap shan't forget they're only friends,”

thought Stephen, wis.h.i.+ng that Caird had not insisted upon his presence at this first meeting. And in a moment he was being introduced to Mademoiselle Josette Soubise.

”Did I surprise you?” asked Nevill, looking at her as if he could never tear his eyes away, though he spoke in an ordinary tone.

”Ah, I know you want me to say 'yes',” she laughed. ”I'd like to tell a white fib, to please you. But no, I am not quite surprised, for my sister wrote that you might come, and why. What a pity you had this long journey for nothing. My Kabyle maid, Mouni, has just gone to her home, far away in a little village near Michelet, in la Grande Kabylia. She is to be married to her cousin, the chief's son, whom she has always loved--but there were obstacles till now.”

”Obstacles can always be overcome,” broke in Nevill.

Josette would not understand any hidden meaning. ”It is a great pity about Mouni,” she went on. ”Only four days ago she left. I gave her the price of the journey, for a wedding present. She is a good girl, and I shall miss her. But of course you can write to ask her questions. She reads a little French.”

”Perhaps we shall go ourselves,” Nevill answered, glancing at Stephen's disappointed face. ”For I know Miss Ray can't be here, or you would have said so.”

”No, she is not here,” echoed Josette, looking astonished. ”Jeanne wrote about the American young lady searching for her sister, but she did not say she might visit Tlemcen.”

”We hoped she would, that's all,” explained Nevill. ”She's left her hotel in Algiers in a mysterious way, not telling where she meant to go, although she a.s.sured us she'd be safe, and we needn't worry. However, naturally we do worry.”

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