Out on to the balcony and back, this way, that way, to and fro, paced
Jill in her black room. Black skins lay upon the black marble floor,
black satin cushions upon the skins. Curtains of scented leather, as
soft and supple as satin, hung before the doors let into the walls of
black carved wood.
A long couch of ebony, untouched by silver or by gold, stood under one
of the gigantic black marble statues, which represented an Ethiopian
slave or some wild beast, holding in hand or mouth a lamp with shade of
flaming orange, the one touch of colour in the whole room.
There was no sound save for the occasional crackle of resinous log
burning in a brazier placed in a far corner, before which Jill suddenly
crouched, shivering, though the night was warm. Weary was she from
want of sleep, weary was her heart from loneliness, weary her mouth,
laden with unuttered words of the great love, which, day by day, hour
by hour, yea! even from the moment she had turned to find her fate
behind her, had been growing and expanding until naught was left of her
but love and fear. For fear had been her companion in the hours of the
night, which she had passed in restless pacing upon the balcony.
For two of these restless hours she had put on and discarded the
garments within her cupboards, until she had found that which she
desired. And an hour she had spent likewise in the adorning of her
beauty, before she stood satisfied in front of her mirror. The
voluminous trousers of softest black fabric, hardly revealing the
exquisite whiteness of her perfect limbs, were caught by heavy golden
anklets above the little feet, with henna-tipped toes and reddened heel.
Her bare waist shone like a strip of creamy satin above the belt and
stomacher of black leather encrusted in black pearls, her arms were
bare, also the supple back and glistening shoulders, but the rounded
glory of her breasts was hidden by a covering of soft interlaced
ribbon, sewn with pearls. Her hair wound round and round her head,
and, fastened by great combs, shone like a golden globe, and over it
she had thrown a flimsy veil, and around her a swinging cloak.
There was no touch of paint upon her face, nor did she, with the
exception of her anklets, wear loose jewels, or the ornaments which
cause that nerve-breaking clatter so beloved by the Eastern woman, and
so superlatively irritating to the Western ear. In fact she was the
most ravishing picture of delight imaginable, her first shyness and
awkwardness of her unaccustomed attire having long since vanished,
though, be it confessed, that until this night she had never intended
that human eye should rest upon her loveliness.
But the earth of discontent and the waters of loneliness make fertile
soil for the seeds of fear, even if those seeds be planted by the hand
of a misshapen slave; but a little smile and a sigh of satisfaction had
been the outcome of a prolonged scrutiny in a mirror, before which she
had stood whilst quoting certain words which ran thusly:
"Beautiful as the dawn, rounded as the bursting lotus bud." And then
she had shrugged her glistening shoulders and frowned, and smiled
again, before stretching her long arms towards the silken curtains
which, though she knew it not, gently blew against the figure of a man,
who, prone upon his face, clenched his fingers in the soft stuff,
striving to quieten the mad beating of his heart at the sound of the
footsteps or the rustle of the raiment of the woman he loved, yea, and
desired.
"Hahmed! Oh, Hahmed!"
As faint as the rose of the breaking dawn, as tender as the notes of a
cooing dove calling gently to its mate, as soft as the touch of a
flower-petal the words drifted through the curtain. With a whispered
cry to Allah, his God, the man was upon his feet. With the strength of
the oriental, which has its root in patience and its flower in
achievement in all that appertains to love, he had uncomplainingly
waited through month succeeding month, making no effort to further his
cause by either word or movement, content to leave the outcome to the
Fate which had inscribed upon the unending, non-beginning rolls of
eternity the moment when that voice should break across the desert
place in which lay his seed of love.
A rustle of the curtain, and he stood before the woman who loved and
desired him, until her soul waxed faint within her.
For a space they stood, the light from one great lamp striking down
upon the little veil-wrapped figure and the man in flaming orange cloak
over soft satin trousers and vest of black, one huge diamond blazing in
the turban upon his dark head.
Silently Jill pointed to a chair carved out of ebony, the ends of the
arms representing the snarling face of some wild beast, with great
fangs of ivory, and staring ruby eyes flashing in the lamplight.
As silently Hahmed sat down, never once removing his eyes from the girl
who stood motionless upon a black panther skin, looking back over her
half-turned shoulder at him for whom she was bidding against the
unknown. Have you ever watched a rosebud unfold in the warmth of the
sun, each petal quivering, widening, until the intoxicating scent of
the flower goes to your head like wine as you faintly perceive the rose
heart within?
In just such a way did Jill unfold her treasures to the Arab, sitting
as some carven image in the shadow. The veil from her head slipped to
the ground, leaving exposed her white face with its crimson mouth and
shadow-laden eyes; slowly the cloak dropped from her shoulders, so that
the whiteness of her skin blazed suddenly in the black marble room.
For one long moment she stood before her master in the strength of her
virginal beauty, and even as a faint sigh broke the stillness, she
moved.
Do not imagine for one moment that she copied the strenuous movements
of Salome as understood at the Palace Theatre, London, or the
disgusting contortions of certain orientals born in Montmartre, and
favoured by the denizens of Paris.
Of very truth she moved not her lower limbs at all, though her
exquisite body swayed as if by a passing breeze, her little hands
elaborating that which the body originated, the tiny feet punctuating
the love story of both.
By one slight movement of her right arm she had told the man she loved
him, by half-arrested gestures, a little shrug, an infinitesimal
undulation of her body, a faint tapping of the left foot or the right,
she described the delights of love, she who knew _nothing_, to him who
knowing _all_, had denied himself all.
Heaven alone knows if she really understood that which she described;
be that as it may, the man rose to his feet as she turned with
outstretched arms towards him, moving almost imperceptibly from the
waist, telling him that which her lips would not utter, until suddenly
with a great cry he sprang towards her, and sweeping her into his arms,
tore the coverings from her breasts, until indeed like a lotus-bud she
lay silent upon his heart. For one second he stood, and then he raised
her above his head upon his outstretched hands, so that the great pins
fell from her head and the perfumed hair like golden rain about his
shoulders, then he flung her upon the bed of cushions and stood above
her with blazing eyes and dilated, quivering nostrils.
And then he knelt beside her, covering her gleaming nakedness with the
cloak, and spoke softly in the Eastern tongue.
"I leave you, woman, to go and give orders for your journey to Cairo.
There shall you become my wife, my woman, for behold, I will no longer
wait.
"Let not your thoughts dwell upon caprice or tricks of woman, for if
you say me nay, _yet_ will I make you my wife, and force you unto me.
But you will not gainsay me, for behold you love me, so rest upon your
bed for the three weeks which must pass before the caravan is ready for
the journey, so that in health and strength and surpassing loveliness
you will come to me."
And having knelt to kiss the rosy feet, he withdrew from the presence
of his beloved, and the English girl turned on her face and sobbed, and
then, gathering her cloak around her so as to hide the dishevelment of
her raiment, passed to the roof above to hold conclave with the stars.