Part 11 (1/2)

”I am your slave,” simply replied the Arab, as he placed Jill upon her feet in front of her tent, where she stood with her hand on his arm, rooted to the spot by the glory of the sky, whilst the man gazed down upon her, as the dying sun struck the gold of her hair, the blue of her eyes, and the cream of her neck.

”You, who are of those who are versed in music, and of those who can make poetry, describe that glory to me,” imperiously demanded Jill, after a moment of silence, with that suddenness and complete change of mood which falls occasionally upon all women, causing the meek to scratch like cats, and the strong to give in, often to their everlasting undoing.

”Bathe the white body of thy beloved in the blue-green of Egypt's river, so that the coolness and fairness may give delight to thee!

Drape the satin veil of deepest blue about the red glory of thy love's hair, and bind a band of gold, set deep is sapphires, above the twin pools of heaven, which are her eyes. Set turquoise, threaded with finest gold, a-swing in the rose-leaf of her ears, to fall and wind about the snow of her white neck.

”Fasten the blue flower which spies upon thee from the shelter of the golden corn, within the glory of her hair.

”Perfume her hair and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, anoint her hands and her feet, and wrap thy delight in a garment of pa.s.sion, sparing not the shades therein, for in them shalt thou find thy delight.

”Let the garment be heavy with the gold of love, rich with the purples of pa.s.sion, aflame with the crimson of thy desire, forgetting not the caress of the rose, nor the light mingling of opal and saffron, and the faint touch of amethyst and topaz, in which shall _she_ find _her_ delight.

”Bind thy love with the broad bands of the setting sun so that she cleaves unto thee, and carry her unto the twilight of thy tent, which shall slowly darken until the roof thereof is swathed in purple gloom, through which shall s.h.i.+ne the stars of thy beloved.

”And there lie down in thy delight, until the hour of dawn calleth thee to prayer.”

The voice was stilled, whereupon Jill lifted her face bathed in rosy colour, which might or might not have been the reflection from the sky, whilst her red mouth quivered ever so slightly, and her great blue eyes looked for a moment into those of the man, and as quickly looked away.

So seductive was she in her youth and utter helplessness that the man stepped back two paces, and saluting her for whom his whole being craved, gathered his cloak about him and departed to his tent.

And Jill also entered her tent, and having earlier and under the lash of terror departed therefrom in blind haste, stood amazed.

She had imagined a mattress, a rug, an earthenware basin on the ground, and sand over everything, and on the top of the sand scorpions, spiders, and all that creepeth and flieth both by day and by night.

Not at all.

A carpet of many colours stretching to the corners of the desert tent, which is not peaked like the European affair, into which you crawl fearing to bring the whole concern about your ears, when if you should be over tall you hit the top with your head. It was as big as a fair-sized room, high enough for a man of over six feet to stand erect, not so broad as long, with sides which, lifted according to the direction of the sun, and through the uplifted portion of which the faint delicious evening breeze blew refres.h.i.+ngly. A white enamelled bedstead covered in finest, whitest linen stood in the centre of the carpet, surrounded by a white net curtain hanging from the tent ceiling, each foot in a broad tin of water. In the corners were a canvas folding dressing-table, a full length mirror, a long chair and a smaller one, over which hung diaphanous garments of finest muslin, and a s.h.i.+mmering wrap of pearl white satin, and through a half-drawn curtain which hung across the narrower end of the tent, the vision of a big canvas bath filled with water, big white towels, and another canvas table upon which stood all the things necessary to a woman's toilet.

So that it was a very refreshed Jill who, wrapped in a loose Turkish bath-gown, with little feet thrust into heelless slippers, went in search of raiment. And wonderfully soft, simple things she found into which she slipped, and out of which she slipped again, holding them out at arm's length for inspection, then burying her face in the soft perfumed folds in very thankfulness.

And she laughed a delicious little laugh, of pure glee as she replaced the garments on the chair, and slithering hither and thither in her unaccustomed footgear, tidied the tent and made her bed, regarding ruthfully the torn mosquito curtain.

”Oh, for a maid,” she sighed, as she wrestled with the mattress, and ”Oh, for dear Babette,” she sighed again, as she wrestled with the ma.s.ses of her hair.

And the tent was filled with a blaze of light, as, wrapped in her bath-gown, she stood in front of the steel mirror, plaiting and unplaiting, twisting and pinning her hair, until with an exclamation of impatience she let it all down, holding great strands out at arm's length, through which she pa.s.sed the comb again and again, until the red-gold ma.s.s shone, and curled, and rippled about her like a cloak of satin.

It is hopeless to try and describe the s.h.i.+ning, waving ma.s.ses which curled round her knees, and fluttered in tendrils round her face, and it would have been hard to find anything anywhere so beautiful as Jill when, clad in the loose silk garment and soft satin wrapper, with her perfumed hair swirling about her, she stood entranced at the opening of her tent, until the sun suddenly disappearing left her in darkness, whereupon she clapped her hands quickly.

CHAPTER XX

Jill had finished the first of many evening meals she was to partake of in the desert, and was lying on a heap of cus.h.i.+ons listening to the clink of bra.s.s coffee utensils and porcelain cups, whilst sniffing appreciatively the aroma of Eastern coffee Easternly made, which is totally different to that which permeates the dim recesses draped with tinselled dusty hangings, and cluttered with Eastern stools and tables inlaid with mother o' pearl made in Birmingham, in the ubiquitous Oriental Cafe at which we meet the rest of us at eleven o'clock on Sat.u.r.day morning at the seaside; nor does it resemble in the slightest that which is oilily poured forth in London town by the fat, oily, so-called ”Son of the Crescent” who, wearing fez and baggy trousers, in some caravanserai West, Sou'-west or Nor'-west, has unfailingly been chief coffee-maker to the late Sultan, _vide_ anyway the hotel advertis.e.m.e.nts.

She was smiling as she lay stretched full length with her chin in her palms, thinking of the meal just eaten. Whilst waiting for it she had imagined a mess of pottage perhaps, or stewed kid as _piece de resistance_, with honey or manna as sweets, and a savoury of fried locusts, which she, with many others, imagined to be the all-devouring insect. She knew by now, and returned thanks, that the man neither ate with his mouth open nor gave precedence to his fingers and teeth over knives and forks, but in her wildest dreams she had never imagined that such exquisite things, served in such an exquisite way, could be laid before her in a desert.

When the light had suddenly closed down upon the two adventurers on the Road of Life, she had been led to the tent adjoining hers, a sudden shyness preventing her from asking where the Arab slept, which she found alight with the soft glow of many candles, and spread with a carpet upon which were many cus.h.i.+ons. The table had certainly been the ground, but everything upon it had been of the daintiest, and all that she had eaten, although she had had no notion of what it had consisted, might have been the outcome of some _cordon bleu's_ genius.

”Our life is one long picnic,” had replied the Arab to her question anent the cooking facilities in waste places. ”So why should we not all, high and low born, learn to make the picnic pleasant, for behold, we know not what a day may bring forth, nor in what place the night shall find us.”

And Jill came quite suddenly out of her reverie when asked if she would like to go outside for coffee and cigarettes. ”For though the moon in her youth has gone early to bed, the stars are s.h.i.+ning like your eyes.”