With that she went out reluctantly, turning at the door to look at her
enemy, who stood in his great height in the middle of the floor and
never so much as glanced in her direction.
*CHAPTER XXVI*
Both men continued to stand during the interview that followed--the one
in his white robes by the end of the sofa, resting two tapering fingers
upon it, the other in his General's uniform by the side of the desk,
except when in the heat of his anger he strode with heavy step and the
jingling of spurs across the space between.
"Now, sir, now," said the General. "I have urgent work to do, and not
much time to give you. What is it?"
"I come," said Ishmael, who was outwardly very calm, though his large
black eyes were full of fire and light, "I come to speak to you about
the order to close El Azhar."
"Then you come to the wrong place," said the General sharply. "You
should go to the Agency--the British Agency."
"I have seen the English lord already. He refuses to withdraw his
order. Therefore I am here to ask you--forgive me--I am here to ask you
not to obey it."
The General tried to laugh. "Wonderful!" he said. "Your Eastern ideas
of discipline are wonderful! Please understand, sir, _I_ am here as the
instrument of authority--that and that only."
"An instrument has its responsibility," said Ishmael. "If there were no
instruments to do evil deeds would evil deeds be done? It is not your
fault, sir, that the order has been issued, but it _will_ be your fault
if it is carried into effect."
"Really!" said the General, again trying to laugh. "Permit me to tell
you, sir, that in this case there will be no fault in question, neither
of mine nor anybody else's. El Azhar is a hotbed of sedition, and it is
high time the Government cleared it out."
"El Azhar," said Ishmael, "is the heart of the Moslem faith. Take their
religion away from them and the Moslems have nothing left. You are a
Christian, and when your great Master was on earth He fed the souls of
the people first."
"Yes, and He whipped the rascals out of the temple, and that's what the
Government is going to do now--to drive out the pretentious impostors
who are putting a lying spirit into the mouth of the people and making
it impossible to govern them."
The Egyptian showed no anger. "I am here only to plead for the people,
sir. Do not harden your heart against them. Do not send armed men
among an unarmed populace. It will be slaughter."
"Tell them to submit to the Government and there will be no harm done to
any one. It's their duty, isn't it? Whatever the Government may be,
isn't it their duty to submit to it?"
"Yes," said Ishmael. "We who are Moslems are taught by the Prophet
(blessed be his name!) that even if a negro slave is appointed to rule
over us we ought to obey him."
"Deuce take it, sir, what do you mean by that?" said the General.
"But Government is a trust from God," said the Egyptian, "and at the Day
of Resurrection the Most High will ask you what you have done to His
children."
"Damn it, sir, have you come here to preach me a sermon?"
"I have come to plead with you for justice--the justice you look for
from your Saviour. 'Be merciful to the weak,' He taught, and it is for
the weak I appeal to you. He was meek and lowly--will you forget His
precepts? 'Love one another'--will you make strife between man and man?
He is dead--shall it be said that His spirit has died out among those
who call Him their Redeemer?"
The General brought his fist heavily down on the desk as if to command
silence.
"Listen here, sir," he said. "If you imagine for one moment that this
tall talk will have any effect upon me, let me advise you to drop it.
Being a plain soldier who has received a plain command, I shall take
whatever military steps are necessary to see it faithfully carried out,
and if the precious leaders of the people, playing on their credulity
and fanaticism, should instigate rebellion, I shall have the
honour--understand me plainly--I shall have the honour to lodge them in
safe quarters, whosoever they are and whatsoever their pretensions may
be."
The Egyptian's eyes showed at that moment that he was a man capable of
wild frenzy, but he controlled himself and answered--
"I am not here to defend myself, sir. You can take me now if you choose
to do so. But if I cannot plead with you for the people let me plead
with you for yourself--your family."
The General, who had turned away from Ishmael, swung round on him.
"My family?"
"He that troubleth his own house, saith the Koran, shall inherit the
wind. Will you, my brother, allow your daughter to be separated from
the brave man who loves her? A woman is tender and sweet; all she wants
is love; and love is a sacred thing, sir. Your daughter is your flesh
and blood--will you make her unhappy? I see a day when you are
dead--will it comfort you in the grave that two who should be together
are apart?"
"They're apart already, so that's over and done with," said the General.
"But listen to me again, sir. My girl needs none of your pity. She has
done her duty as a soldier's daughter, and cut off the traitor whom you,
and men like you, appear to have corrupted. Look here--and here," he
cried, pointing to the broken sword and the medals which were still
lying where he had flung them on the floor. "The man has gone--gone in
disgrace and shame. That's what you've done for him, if it's any
satisfaction to you to know it. As for my daughter," he said, raising
his voice in his gathering wrath and striding up to Ishmael with heavy
steps and the jingling of his spurs, "As for my daughter, Helena, I will
ask you to be so good as to keep her name out of it--do you hear? Keep
her name out of it, or else----"
[Illustration: "Look here--and here," he cried, pointing to the broken
sword]
At that moment the men heard the door open and a woman's light footsteps
behind them. It was Helena coming into the room.
"Did you call me, father?" she asked.
"No; go back immediately."
She looked doubtfully at the two men, who were now face to face as if in
the act of personal quarrel, hesitated, seemed about to speak, and then,
went out slowly.
There was silence for a moment after she was gone, and then Ishmael
said--
"Do I understand you to say, sir, that Colonel Lord has gone in
disgrace?"
"Yes, for consorting with the enemies of his country and refusing to
obey the order of his General."
"Lost his place and rank as a soldier?"
"Soon will, and then he will be alone and have you to thank for it."
The Egyptian drew himself up to his full height and answered, "You are
wrong, sir. He who has no one has God, and if that brave man has
suffered rather than do an evil act, will God forget him? No!"
"God will do as He thinks best without considering either you or me,
sir," said the General. "But I have something to do and I will ask you
to leave me.... Or wait one moment! Lest you should carry away the
impression that because Colonel Lord has refused to obey his General's
order the order will not be obeyed--wait and see."
He touched the bell and called for his Aide-de-camp.
"Tell Colonel Macdonald to come to me immediately," said the General,
and when the Aide-de-camp had gone he turned to his desk for papers.
The Egyptian, who had never moved from his place by the sofa, now took
one step forward and said in a low, quivering voice--
"General, I have appealed to you on behalf of my people and on your own
behalf, but there is one thing more."
"What is it?"
"Your country."
The General made an impatient gesture, and the Egyptian said, "Hear me,
I beg, I pray! Real as life, real as death, real as wells of water in a
desert place, is their religion to the Muslemeen, and if you lay so much
as your finger upon it your Government will die."
He raised his hand and with one trembling finger pointed upwards. "Do
you think your swords will govern them? What can your swords do to
their souls? By the Most High God I swear to you that I have only to
speak the word and the rule of England in Egypt will end."
At that moment Colonel Macdonald, a large man in khaki, a Highlander,
with a ruddy face and a glass in his left eye, opened the door and stood
by it, while the General, whose own face was scarlet with anger, said--
"So! So that's how you talked to Colonel Lord, I presume--how you
darkened the poor devil's understanding! Now see--see what effect your
threats have upon me. Step forward, Colonel Macdonald."
The Colonel saluted and stepped up to the General, who repeated to him
word for word the order he had given to Gordon, and then said--
"You will arrest all who resist you, and if any resist with violence you
will _compel_ obedience--you understand?"
"Perfectly," said the Colonel, and saluting again he left the room.
"Now, sir, you can go," said the General to Ishmael, whereupon the
Egyptian, whose face had taken on an extreme pallor, replied--
"Very well! I have warned you and you will not hear me. But I tell you
that at this moment Israfil has the trumpet to his mouth and is only
waiting for God's order to blow it! I tell you, too, that I see
you--you--on the Day of Judgment, and there are black marks on your
face."
"Silence, sir!" said the General, bringing his clenched fist heavily
down on the desk. Then he struck the bell, and in a choking voice
called first for his servant and afterwards for his Aide-de-camp.
"Robson! See this man out of the Citadel! This damnable, presumptuous
braggart! Robson! Where are you?" But the servant did not appear and
the Aide-de-camp did not answer.
"No matter," said the Egyptian. "I will go of myself. I will try to
forget the hard words you have said of me. I will not retort them upon
you. You are a Christian, and it was a Christian who said 'Resist not
evil.' That is a commandment as binding upon us as upon you. God's
will be done."
With that Ishmael went out as he had entered, slowly, solemnly, with
head bent and eyes on the ground.
*CHAPTER XXVII*
The General was now utterly exhausted. Being left alone he leaned
against the desk, intending to wait until his breathing had become more
regular and he could reach the sofa. Standing there, he heard the
surging noise of the crowd that had been waiting outside for their Arab
prophet and were now going away with him. He wanted to call Helena, but
restrained himself, remembering how often she had warned him.
"Robson!" he called again but again the Aide-de-camp did not answer--he
must have gone off on some errand for Colonel Macdonald.
The General took up his medicine and gulped down a large dose, drinking
from the neck of the bottle, and then sank on to the sofa.
Some minutes passed and he began to feel better. The sunset was
deflected into his face from the alabaster walls of the mosque outside,
but he could not get up to pull down the blind of his window. So he
closed his eyes and thought of what had happened.
It seemed to him that Gordon had been to blame for everything. But for
Gordon's monstrous conduct they would have been spared all this
trouble--Lord Nuneham's crushing blow, his own humiliating action, so
wickedly forced upon him, and above all, Helena's sorrow.
In the delirium of his anger against Gordon he felt as if he would
choke. Thinking of Helena and her ruined happiness, he wondered why he
had let Gordon off so lightly, and he wanted to follow and punish him.
Then he heard the door open, and thinking Helena was coming into the
room, he rose to his feet and faced around, when before him, with a
haggard face, stood Gordon himself.
*CHAPTER XXVIII*
When Gordon Lord, after parting with Helena, had left the Citadel, his
mental anguish had been so intense as to deaden all his faculties. His
reason was clogged, his ideas were obscure, he could not see or hear
properly. Passing the sentry in his lodge by the gate, he did not
notice the man's bewildered stare or acknowledge his abbreviated salute.
The whole event of the last hour had overwhelmed him as with a terrible
darkness, and in this darkness he plodded on, until he came into the
streets, dense with people and clamorous with all the noises of an
Eastern city--the clapping of water-carriers, the crying of
lemonade-sellers, the braying of donkeys, and the ruckling of camels.
"Where am I going?" he asked himself at one moment, and when he
remembered that he was going back to his quarters--for that was what he
had been ordered to do, that he might be under arrest and in due course
tried by court-martial--he told himself that he had been tried and
condemned and punished already. At that thought, though clouded and
obscure, he bit his lip until it bled, and muttered, "No, I cannot go
back to quarters--I will not!"
At the next moment a certain helplessness came over him, and up from the
deep place where the strongest man is as a child, by the pathetic
instinct that keeps the boy alive in him to the last dark day of his
life and in the hour of death, came a desire to go home--to his mother.
But when he thought of his mother's pleading voice as she begged him to
keep peace with his father, and then, by some juggling twist of
torturing memory, of the first evening after his return to Egypt, when
he wore his medals and she fingered them on his breast with a pride that
no queen ever had in the jewels in her crown, he said to himself, "No, I
can never go home again."
His mind was oscillating among these agonising thoughts when he became
aware that he was walking in the Esbekiah district, the European quarter
of Cairo, where the ooze of the gutter of the city is flung up under the
public eye; and there under the open piazza, containing a line of
drinking places, in an atmosphere that was thick with tobacco smoke, the
reek of alcohol, the babel of many tongues, the striking of matches, and
the popping of corks, he sat down at a table and called for a glass of
brandy.
The brandy seemed to clear his faculties for a moment, and his aimless
and wandering thoughts began to concentrate themselves. Then the scene
in the General's office came back to him--the drawing of his sword from
its scabbard, the breaking of it across the knee, the throwing of the
wretched fragments at his feet, the ripping away of his medals and the
trampling of them under foot. The hideous memory of it all, so illegal,
so un-English, made his blood to boil, and when his beaten brain swung
back to the scenes in which he had won his honours at the risk of his
life--Omdurman, Ladysmith, Pretoria--the rank injustice he had suffered
almost stifled him with rage, and he swore and struck the table.
All his anger was against the General, not against his father, of whom
he had hardly thought at all, but the cruellest agony he passed through
came at the moment when his wrath rose against Helena. As he thought of
her he became dizzy; his brain reeled with a dance of ideas, in which no
picture lasted longer than an instant, and no emotion would stay. At
one moment he was seeing her as he saw her first, with her big eyes,
black as a sloe, the joyous smile that was one of her greatest charms,
the arched brow, the silken lashes, the gleam of celestial fire, the
"Don't go yet" that came into her look, and then his quickening pulse,
the thrill that passed through him, and the mysterious voice that
whispered, "It is She!"
Without knowing it he groaned aloud as he thought of the ruin all this
had come to, and at the next moment he was in the midst of another
memory--a memory of the future as he had imagined it would be. They
were to be married soon, and then, realising one of the dreams of his
life, they were to visit America, for his mother's blood called to him
to go there, to see the great new world--yes, but above all to stand,
with Helena's quivering hand in his, on that rock at Plymouth, where a
handful of fearless men and women had landed on a bleak and hungry
coast, afraid of no fate, for God was with them, and in two short
centuries had peopled a vast continent and created one of the mightiest
empires of the earth. Remembering this as a vanished dream, his
wretched soul was on the edge of a vortex of madness, and he laughed
outright with a laugh that shivered the air around him.
Then he was conscious that somebody was speaking to him. It was a young
girl in a gaudy silk dress, with a pasty face, lips painted very red,
eyebrows darkened, a flower in her full bosom which was covered with
transparent lace, and a little satchel swinging on her wrist.
"Overdoing it a bit, haven't you, dear?" she said in French, and she
smiled at him, a poor sidelong smile, out of her crushed and crumpled
soul.
At the same moment he became aware that three men at a table behind him
were winking at the girl and joking at his expense. One of them, a
little fat American Jew with puffy cheeks, chewing the end of a cigar,
was saying--
"Guess a man don't have no use for a hat in a climate like this--sun so
soft, and only ninety-nine in the shade."
Whereupon an Englishman with a ripped and ragged mouth and a
miscellaneous nose, half pug and half Roman, answered--
"Been hanging himself up on a nail by the breast of his coat, too, you
bet."
Putting his hand to his hair and looking down at the torn cloth of his
tunic, Gordon realised for the first time that he was bareheaded, having
left his helmet at the Citadel, and that to the unclean consciousness of
the people about him he was drunk.
At that moment he started up suddenly, and coming into collision with
the American, who was swinging on the back legs of his chair, he sent
him sprawling on the ground, where he yelled--
"Here, I say, you blazing----"