During the warm weather an afternoon siesta is habitual to the residents
in Egypt, and Muriel at once lent her support to the custom with
undisguised approval. This was but her third day in Cairo, yet, as soon
as Daniel Lane had taken his departure, she went up to her room as
though to the manner born, and slipped off her dress.
The bed looked cool and inviting, and a mass of white roses upon a table
beside her pillow spread a gentle fragrance through the room; but this
she thoughtlessly dissipated by lighting a Turkish cigarette. She did
not particularly want to smoke, but she felt that the little gold-tipped
cigarette was in keeping with her state of dainty semi-undress, with her
somewhat exotic surroundings, and with the French novel which she had
selected as an inducement to sleep.
Anybody peeping at her through the keyhole as she lay upon the rose-bud
coverlet, bare arms and silk-stockinged legs asprawl, would have been
hard put to it to decide whether here rested the girlish chastity of
English tradition or the naughtiness of French fiction; for nowadays,
when the one has had the hardihood at last to claim its share of the
habiliments of the other, appearances are astonishingly deceptive.
Actually, however, Muriel was but an innocent production of that form of
upbringing which, while encouraging independence of action, accustoms
the minds to the standards of the seraglio.
She had moved freely in the segment of London society which patronizes
Covent Garden, hobnobs with the stage, and becomes ecstatic over the
latest painter, sculptor, poet, or dancer. She had been shown all the
little vices and failings of the world in their most attractive guise;
and for her special edification the ancient virtues had been rendered
even more seemingly ridiculous than the virtuous themselves had made
them. Obediently she had laid her thoughtless tribute at the altar of
the alluring goddess of today; and she had been shown the correct
posture of obeisance that was to be made to the World, the Flesh, and
the Devil.
She had been taught, if she had not actually mastered, all the short
cuts to that appearance of culture which is so highly appraised; and, in
matters of taste and form, she had been shown how to be bizarre without
being crude, audacious without being vulgar. She knew just what to say
about men of letters, and what books to leave lying about the room; and
in regard to politics, the church, and sport, she had been shown how to
lump the three together under the one heading of "Tradition."
It was now three years since this part of her education had begun; and
yet she had passed through the school with a surprisingly unsullied
mind. Like most pupils of her age, she was, of course, in complete
outward subjection to Mistress Fashion; but a spirit of mutiny still
plotted in the dark chambers of her heart.
She had not yet altogether stupefied herself into that chronic semblance
of light-heartedness which passes for happiness; and there were moments
when in inward revolt she sent her entire circle of friends to blazes.
At such times she was vaguely aware that, in some subtle manner, she was
in bondage; but so carefully had she been trained to wear her golden
chains with grace that the fleeting consciousness of their presence
induced little more than an extra yawn or two, and a more luxurious
enjoyment of any opportunity to kick up her heels.
As she lay now upon the bed, she was not conscious of any lack of
freedom in her life, and yet she was profoundly happy to be out here in
Egypt, where the day's routine was not so hide-bound as it was in
England.
The drone of the flies and the plaintive cry of the circling kites, the
incessant cawing of the crows in the garden, and the occasional song of
the boatmen on the Nile, soon lulled her to sleep; and it was four
o'clock before she arose to dress herself for her ride with Rupert
Helsingham. When she descended the stairs half an hour later, she was
wearing a new riding-habit of white linen and a wide-brimmed felt hat in
which she was conscious of appearing at her best.
Rupert, too, who awaited her at the tea-table in the drawing-room, was
aware of his own becoming costume; and the spurs upon his highly
polished boots clicked more frequently than was necessary. He was
certainly good-looking, if somewhat undersized.
"I've told them to meet us with the horses on the other side of the
water," he said. "We'll go across in the launch, which will save a long
round by the bridge."
After a hasty cup of tea, therefore, they walked through the garden to
the landing-steps, and were soon speeding over the river in the glare of
the afternoon sun, the cloudless heavens above them and the
swift-flowing waters of the ancient Nile shining beneath.
They landed amidst the cool shade of the palms on the opposite bank,
near a road along which many native carriages and English dogcarts were
passing to and fro, this being the fashionable hour for taking the air;
and many curious eyes were turned upon the immaculate couple as they
mounted their horses, for the white launch with its little Union Jack at
the stern, and the scarlet livery of the native attendants, revealed
their identity, and Lady Muriel's charms had already become a topic of
general conversation.
"Which way would you like to go?" asked Rupert. "By the native roads
across the fields, or straight along the main road out to Mena House?"
Muriel looked quickly at him. "Mena House?" she said. "Isn't that on the
edge of the desert, where Mr. Lane said he was starting from?"
Her companion nodded. "Yes," he answered. "We would probably run into
him. Shall we go the other way?"
Muriel drew rein for a moment. She would like to take her first view
over that garden wall of which Daniel Lane had spoken, and it might be
interesting to watch him ride away towards the setting sun. She might
even have an opportunity of firing a parting shot at him--something
about his rumoured harim of Bedouin women to whom he seemed so anxious
to return. She would like to hurt him.
"No, let's go to Mena House," she answered at length, and she gave as
her reason her anxiety to see the Pyramids which stand on the edge of
the desert, dominating the well-known Mena House Hotel.
Rupert looked at his watch. "It's nearly five," he remarked, without any
particular reason. He was not thinking of the hour of Daniel Lane's
departure.
But Muriel was thinking of it, and, for answer, she urged her horse
forward.
"I enjoy a good long gallop, don't you?" she said, as they turned into
the avenue of acacias which runs in a fine straight line out to the
desert, flanked by a riding-track of soft earth.
"It's a bit hot for anything strenuous, isn't it?" he suggested. He
wanted to ride quietly and talk to her as they went.
For some distance they trotted in silence, but at length Muriel
shortened her rein. "Come in!" she laughed, and therewith she gave her
restless Arab a touch with her heel, and instantly was off and away in a
cloud of dust, as though she and her horse had been discharged in one
piece from some monstrous gun.
Rupert swore peevishly, and followed in her wake, presently overtaking
her and galloping by her side. The tree-trunks on either hand seemed to
whirl past them, and the foliage, which met overhead, formed a sort of
tunnel pierced at one side by stabbing shafts of dazzling sunlight. The
effect was blinding, and soon Rupert, an excellent horseman, began to
feel as though he were the maddened villain of some flickering film of
the Wild West, whose career had soon to end in a frightful tumble.
"Isn't it lovely?" shouted Muriel, ecstatically. Her blood seemed to be
boiling in her veins; she glowed like a fiery immortal being, full of
tremendous excitement and enthusiasm. This was life!--this was youth!
She dragged her hat over her eyes, regardless of her own appearance,
regardless of the hat's. She felt entirely crazy, and presumably her
horse felt the same, for not for a moment did he slacken his thundering
speed. The warm wind whistled in her ears; occasional roadside villas
appeared to whirl past almost as soon as they were sighted; an
automobile, full of gesticulating Egyptians, raced them and had
difficulty in beating them; the electric tram from the Pyramids to Cairo
appeared to leap past them with wildly clanging bell; she caught sudden
glimpses of peasant carts and an occasional smart carriage, astonished
brown faces and smiling white ones. Her hair began to come down.
At last her horse had had enough, and his gallop decreased to a trot,
his trot to a walk. Her companion turned a laughing red face to her. He
had caught the infection of her spirits, and, like her, was conscious of
a burning sense of youth and strength. The perspiration was streaming
down his cheeks.
"Phew!" he exclaimed, and recklessly mopped his forehead with a coloured
silk handkerchief intended only for a breast-pocket ornament. "D'you
often get taken like that?"
Muriel laughed excitedly, and, twisting the reins around her arm, pulled
off her hat, thereby letting loose a tumbling mass of brown hair, which
fell about her shoulders. Then, handing the hat to Rupert to hold, she
raised her hands and coiled up the hair on to her head again, fastening
it with the few remaining hairpins.
Rupert uttered an ordinary, vulgar whistle. He, too, had been galloped
into naturalness. "By Jove!" he cried. "You have got glorious hair!"
Muriel settled her hat upon her head once more, and picked up her reins.
"I'll let it down properly for you some day," she said. At that moment
she would have stood on her head, had anybody dared her to do so. A law
should be passed prohibiting women from galloping.
"I'll kiss you if you do," replied Rupert. The law should, perhaps,
include young men as well.
He was startled at his audacity; but Muriel was not in a mental
condition to do otherwise than laugh.
Thus they arrived, like two flushed children, at the end of the road,
the hotel on their right, the mighty Pyramids rising up like hand-made
mountains on their left, backed by the descending sun. In front of them
stretched the desert--a ridge of white and yellow shelving rocks, and
great shadowed slopes of sand mounting to the clear sky. Southwards, at
the foot of the hills, stood a native village, the clustered white
houses and dignified groups of palms reflected in the still waters of
the inundation which, at this time of the year, cover the surrounding
fields.
Outside the hotel several Bedouin dragomans sauntered about or sat
smoking and chatting; and a few camels and donkeys, saddled in readiness
for hire, stood tethered near by.
Muriel hardly glanced at the Pyramids: they had been visible to her
through the trees during most of the ride, and they were just as she had
pictured them. But the Bedouin in their flowing silks, the betasselled
camels, and the background of the desert made a picture which delighted
her eyes.
"What's the time?" she asked. "I wonder if he has gone."
It was some seconds before Rupert took her meaning: he had forgotten
about Daniel Lane. He looked at his watch: it was half-past five.
"I'll ask some of these fellows if they've seen him," he said, perhaps a
little put out. A shadow had fallen upon the gay opening scene of his
romance.
He rode forward, and soon elicited the information that "the Englishman
who came in from the desert" had but a few minutes ago gone up the hill
to the rocky plateau above, where his camels were awaiting him.
"We've missed him," he said, returning to her. "He's just gone."
"Well, let's ride after him," she answered, and without further remark
she trotted up the short, winding road which led on to the higher
ground. Rupert followed her, musing upon the inscrutable ways of women.
The road lay in the shadow of the hillside, but as they reached the
summit they came into the full glare of the setting sun which was now
nearing the distant horizon. On their left the Pyramids towered up into
the blazing sky, but before them the rock-strewn plateau lay open and
vast, and over it the wind blew warm and mysterious.
Muriel arched her hand above her eyes and looked about her.
"There he is!" she cried at length, directing her companion to a little
group in a sandy hollow about a hundred yards distant, and therewith
they both trotted forward.
Daniel Lane was about to mount his camel as they approached. Muriel
waved her hand to him, whereat he pulled off his well-worn hat and
laughed aloud.
"That's odd!" he said. "I had a sort of feeling you'd come."
Muriel stared at him, and her responding smile died upon her lips.
"We rode in this direction quite at random," said she, coldly. "I don't
yet know one way from another."
"Well, you've found your way to the desert quickly enough," he replied.
"You know there are some people who seem to be drawn towards it at
once."
Muriel glanced about her. "I think it looks a horrid place," she said,
which was entirely untruthful. "I don't feel at all drawn to it."
She turned to Rupert Helsingham. He was slowly riding round the four
camels which crouched, grunting, on the sand, in charge of two lean and
wild-looking men of the desert, whose appearance was strikingly
different from that of the Bedouin of the Pyramids, grown prosperous in
their profession as guides and dragomans to the sightseers. Three of the
camels were saddled, the seat in each case being covered by a rough
sheepskin, and having on either side a coarsely embroidered bag
containing food, while a rifle and two water-bottles were slung across
the back. The fourth camel, which was to be led by one of the riders,
was lightly laden with stores and various purchases made in Cairo, and
two small water-skins depended at its sides.
"I travel light, you see," said Daniel, as Rupert returned to them.
"Yes, you couldn't otherwise have come in at the pace you did," he
answered. "Are you going back at the same rate?"
Daniel laughed. "Oh, no," he said. "I shall travel in easy stages,
taking five or six days probably--as long as the food lasts, in fact. We
can pick up water at the wells, and if we shoot anything we can take it
still slower."
Muriel looked curiously at him. "Then why were you in such a hurry to be
off?" she asked.
"One night in a Cairo hotel is enough for me," he answered. "I'm
starting now so as to get ten or fifteen miles away by bedtime, where I
can sleep peacefully on the clean sand, away from mosquitoes and bad
smells and noise. And then we can just saunter. So long as we plan to
reach a water-hole every two days, there's nothing to hurry us."
He turned towards the sunset and breathed in the pure air with evident
satisfaction. "It's splendid to think there's all that empty space in
front of one!" he exclaimed. "In a few minutes now I shall be swallowed
up in it! Gee! I'll think of you tonight, my girl, in your stuffy
bedroom; and you can envy me lying under God's heaven, talking with my
two good friends here about cities and slavery and civilization and
things, till we yawn ourselves to sleep."
Muriel's interest in him began to revive. "It sounds wonderful," she
said, doubtfully.
The sun had sunk behind the low line of the horizon when at length
Daniel bid good-bye and mounted his camel. Rupert, who was impatient to
be back, had already turned his horse's head and was slowly moving away
as the four camels, snarling and complaining in their wonted manner,
rose upon their long legs, lifting their riders high above the ground;
but Muriel remained for a moment or two, curbing her restless horse,
while Daniel looked down at her from his lofty seat.
"I've enjoyed meeting you," he said. "I'm afraid you think I'm very rude
and rough. I don't mean to be, only--"
"Only what?" she asked, as he paused.
"Yes?" She was all attention now.
"Only when I meet a girl like you--"
"Oh, I don't know," he said, and there came a look of great earnestness
into his eyes. "There's so much you've got to unlearn, my dear."
He struck his camel lightly with his stick, and trotted away. Then,
turning in his saddle, he put his hand to his mouth and called out to
her: "Why don't you break loose?"
Muriel made a gesture indicating that she did not understand, but his
head was again averted, and he did not look round. She watched him, as,
followed by the men, he slid silently away into the barren vastness of
the desert. He seemed to be riding straight into the glory of the
sunset.
Then she wheeled her horse around, and cantered after her companion. Far
off in front of her now the city was spread out amongst its trees and
luxuriant fields. From the high ground she looked down on distant roofs
of palaces and mansions, domes and cupolas, minarets and towers, and the
lights began to twinkle in the windows along the embankment of the Nile.
It looked like an enticing magic City of Happiness; and she glanced over
her shoulder with a sudden wave of terror at the darkening immensity of
the desert behind.