Upon a day towards the end of November, Daniel Lane was seated upon the
clean sand of the outer courtyard of the little mosque which stood at
the southern end of the Oasis of El Hamran. It was the hour of noon, and
the shadow cast by the small, squat minaret behind him extended no
further than his white canvas shoes, as he leaned his back against the
unbaked bricks, and stared before him across the glaring enclosure to
the palm-groves outside the open gateway.
In spite of the heat of the sun, the blue shadow in which he rested
still afforded a pleasant coolness; and clad in a somewhat frayed tennis
shirt, open at the neck, and a pair of well-worn grey flannel trousers,
held up by a stout leather belt, his figure gave the appearance of such
comfort and ease that his lazy reluctance to rise and go home to his
midday meal was understandable.
Five Bedouin Arabs who had been laughing and talking with him, were now
standing a few yards distant at the whitewashed door of the mosque, and
were engaged in removing their red shoes before entering the sacred
building; while, at the same time, they were conversing together in
undertones, as though discussing some matter of importance.
Daniel sprawled to his feet, and, pulling his hat over his eyes, walked
towards the whitewashed gateway which gleamed with dazzling brilliance
against the deep blue of the sky and the green of the palms; but as he
moved away his Bedouin friends hastened to him across the hot sand, and
one of the number, the white-bearded Sheikh Ali, the headman of the
Oasis, laid a hand upon his arm.
"My friend," he faltered, speaking in the liquid-sounding Arabic of the
western desert, "there is something I would say to you." He seemed to
hesitate.
"He is wise who listens to the wise," Daniel replied, taking hold of the
Sheikh's hand, in the native manner of friends.
The old man smiled. "The Prophet has written: 'Seek wisdom even if it
were only to be found in China'," he said.
Daniel looked into the kindly and, indeed, saintly face with perplexity.
He was wondering what was to come; and, raising his arms, he clasped his
two hands at the back of his neck, an attitude he was wont to assume
when he was puzzled.
The four others, who had been hovering shyly at a little distance, came
forward; and the Sheikh, as though emboldened by their support, bared
his heart without much further preamble. He pointed out, as Daniel well
knew, that there was a feud of many years standing in the Oasis, between
the family of the speaker and that of a former Sheikh who had been
dispossessed of his office. The quarrel had become almost traditional;
and though, up till now, no very serious incident had occurred, there
was a growing danger that a brawl might take place in which somebody
might be shot, and that thus the feud might become an endless vendetta
with its reciprocal crimes of violence.
Stripped of its pious and flowery decorations, the proposition put
forward by the Sheikh was of the simplest character. He proposed that
the Englishman should act as judge and mediator between the two
families, and should hold a court at which the whole trouble should be
ventilated; and so insistent was he that Daniel was obliged to
acquiesce.
"Praise be to God!" exclaimed the old man, when at length he had
received the definite answer he desired; and with many pious
ejaculations of gratitude he and his friends turned to enter the mosque,
while Daniel passed out through the gateway into the rustling palm-grove
beyond.
His way led him for four or five hundred yards through the shade of the
thickly growing trees--a dusty shade, pierced by innumerable little
shafts of sunlight; but presently he came out once more under the
dazzling sky, and, bearing off to the left, mounted a rugged path which
ascended the sloping side of a sandy hill, till, reaching the summit, it
passed over level ground towards his house which stood upon a spur of
rock overlooking the Oasis.
Two years ago, when he had come to reside at El Hamran to make, for the
Institute which had commissioned him, a study of the manners and customs
of the Bedouin, he had here found the abandoned ruins of an ancient
Coptic monastery, dating from the days when Christianity was still the
religion of the Egyptians; and he had established himself in their
shelter, and later had rebuilt some of the rooms, so that now his place
of abode had come to be a much-loved desert home, where month after
month was passed in quiet study, and the days slipped by in placid
contentment.
From the windows of his rooms he could look down over the whole extent
of the dreamy little Oasis, with its sun-baked palm-groves, some three
miles in length and half a mile in breadth, its houses and tents, its
dozen wells, its few acres of tilled ground, and its miniature mosque.
All these lay in a kind of basin, surrounded by the cliffs and low hills
of the vast desert; and from his vantage-point he could look over the
swaying green sea of the massed palm-tops to the barren plateau around
about, and on a clear day he could just discern, far away to the east,
the first of the ranges of the hills which rose between his isolated
home and the far-off valley of the Nile.
At the ruined gateway of his dwelling he was met by his three yellow
dogs who had been with him since they were puppies, and were fairly
well-mannered considering their low pariah breed; and while he was
playing with them, his servant, Hussein, came out to tell him that his
luncheon was served. Therewith he crossed the courtyard of the old
monastery, with its shattered row of cells to right and left, and its
still lofty walls of unbaked bricks, and entered the large refectory
which he had caused to be roofed over with palm-beams and dried
cornstalks spread in a loose thatch, and which now served as a kind of
entrance hall to his apartments. Upon its plastered walls some of the
ancient frescoes were still visible; and here and there a Coptic
inscription in dim red paint recorded the names of pious sentiments of
long forgotten monks; while over the ruined doorway there was an
indistinct figure of St. Michael, the patron saint of the place, whose
pale eyes and smudged lips seemed to look down on him with faded and
vacant mirth.
A rebuilt doorway in the right-hand wall led into his whitewashed living
room, at the northeast end of which two large casements framed the
splendid view over the Oasis and the desert.
In a corner of the room, on a small table, a simple but not uninviting
meal was spread upon a spotless tablecloth. Fresh poultry and eggs were
always plentiful in the Oasis; and on the store-room shelves there was a
large and varied supply of preserved foods, and even delicacies, which
had been brought over some months ago in a train of camels from Cairo.
Daniel sat down to his meal with good appetite; and as he munched his
food in silence his gaze travelled round the airy room and brought back
to his heart a glow of pleasant contentment. After all, what could the
outside world give him in exchange for the peace and comfort of his
desert home? Here he had the intellectual companionship of his books and
his work, the simple friendship of courteous, good-hearted men, who had
come to regard him as a kind of teacher, and the devotion of three
well-meaning, if somewhat degenerate, yellow dogs. Here the brilliant
sun, and the splendid north wind, which blew continuously from the
distant Mediterranean across the great intervening spaces of clean
desert, brought vigour and health to his body and a kind of laughing
enthusiasm to his brain. Here he could amuse himself by long rambling
walks in the freedom of the empty desert, or, with his gun, could make
exciting expeditions in search of gazelle. Here, on the flat roof at the
top of one of the ancient towers of the monastery, he slept each night
under the blazing stars, lying in his comfortable camp-bed, breathing
the purest air in all the world, and gazing up into the vault of the
heavens, till the calm sleep of a child descended upon him. And here
from golden sunrise to golden sunset the days slipped by, each brought
to perfection by that greatest of all human blessings, an untroubled
mind.
He rose from the table, and, lighting his pipe, sank luxuriously into a
deck-chair, a book of the poems of Hafiz in his hand, a cup of Turkish
coffee by his side, his feet resting crossed upon a wooden stool, and
the cry of the hawks and the drone of the bees making music in his ears.
The barking of the dogs outside, followed by a knock at the door,
aroused him; and his servant entered the room. "Sir," he said, "a
soldier of the Frontier Patrol has ridden in from El Homra, bringing a
letter for your Excellency."
Daniel threw down his book, and, making a broad gesture with his hands,
looked up at the smiling Hussein with a frowning pretence of anger.
"Curses upon his father!" he thundered. "Will his confounded masters
never leave me in peace? Bring him in to me."
A few moments later a smart, khaki-clad negro was shown into the room,
who saluted in military fashion, and produced a sealed envelope from the
breast pocket of his tunic.
Daniel saw at a glance that the letter was from Lord Blair, as he had
expected. He opened it with misgiving, and read it through without any
apparent change of expression, though it was noticeable that the pipe in
his mouth was allowed to go out. Then he slowly folded the sheets, and,
thrusting them into his pocket, rose from his chair.
"I cannot give you my answer until tomorrow morning," he said to the
messenger. "Go now and look after your camel, while Hussein prepares
food for you; and in the morning you may carry back my reply."
As soon as he was alone once more, he pulled the letter from his pocket,
and spreading it out upon the window-sill, stood bending over it, with
wrinkled brows and brooding eyes, his elbows resting upon the sill and
his head in his hands.
MY DEAR DANIEL,
You will be surprised to hear from me again so soon, and you
will, I dare say, think me something of a nuisance. I am sorry
to say that a sad calamity has befallen us. Poor young Rupert
Helsingham was accidentally drowned in the Nile not many days
after you returned to the desert; and we have all been very much
cut up, especially my daughter, Muriel, in whose presence the
tragedy occurred. You will recollect that Helsingham held the
position here of Oriental Secretary; and it now falls to me to
fill the vacancy. I have therefore decided greatly to extend the
functions of the post and to offer it to you; and I shall esteem
myself fortunate if you decide to accept it. As I am very
anxious to increase by every means the respect in which the
holder of the position should be held by the native population,
I would propose to recommend you to His Majesty's Government for
early elevation to Knighthood, an honour which your scholarly
attainments and your services to the Residency fully deserve. I
trust, my dear Daniel, that you will give me the reply that I
desire; and I am sure you will know what a personal pleasure it
will be both to me and to my daughter to have you at the
Residency.
Yours very sincerely,
BLAIR.
After reading through the letter two or three times, he stood for some
minutes staring before him with unseeing eyes. His first impulse had
been to reject the invitation on the instant, for he detested
officialdom and all its ways; and the thought of connecting himself with
the social life of the Residency was horrifying. But now, against his
inclinations, he obliged himself to consider the proposition with an
open mind.
To some extent it might be said that his work in the Oasis was finished:
his notebooks contained an enormous mass of information. Yet he was loth
to consider that his task was accomplished. El Hamran and its
inhabitants, and especially the saintly and benevolent Sheikh Ali, had
become very dear to him; and the detachment from the world made an
appeal to his nature which was very strong. His occasional journeys to
Cairo were always disturbing to the peace of his mind; and how then
could he expect to be happy in close daily contact with all that
produced unrest?
There was this girl Muriel Blair, who, against his reason, had made some
sort of impression upon him which was hard to eradicate. He had tried
his best, even to the point of rudeness, to ignore her; and yet he had
found himself interested in her welfare, and, on his return journey to
the Oasis, he had given more thought to her than he supposed she
deserved. And now he had to confess that Lord Blair's reference to her
in his letter had aroused the response it was intended to arouse.
During the whole afternoon he turned the matter over in his mind, and at
sunset he went out for a rambling walk into the desert behind his house;
nor did he return until his mind was made up.
As he entered his gateway in the gathering darkness, he was met by the
Sheikh, who had come to discuss further the subject which he had opened
that morning.
Daniel led him into his lamp-lit sitting-room, and bade him be seated;
but when the old man began to discuss the merits of his case and those
of his enemy, his host held up his hand.
"I would first ask your advice upon my own affairs," he said. "My heart
is sad tonight, my father."
"Let me share your sorrow," the Sheikh replied, with simple sincerity.
"My father," said Daniel, "you have told me that long years ago you
resided for some years in Cairo and other great cities."
The Sheikh nodded his head. "It is so," he replied.
"Were you happy there?"
"My son, I was young."
"I mean," said Daniel, "do you believe that happiness is to be found in
cities?"
The old man raised his hand and moved it from side to side. "No," he
answered, "not happiness--only pleasure. Why do you ask?"
"Because I received a letter today...."
"I saw the messenger," said the Sheikh.
"I have been offered a position of some importance in Cairo. My friends
want me to leave El Hamran, and to live in Egypt."
Sheikh Ali uttered an exclamation of distress. "What is your reply?" he
asked.
"Advise me, my father," Daniel answered.
The Sheikh leant forward and silently examined his red leather shoes.
For some moments no word was spoken. At length he looked up, and his
hand stroked his white beard. "What use is it for me to advise you?" he
said. "Your decision is already made. You will leave us; but it is not
the glory of office which attracts you, nor yet the call of your duty
which bids you depart."
"What then is it?" Daniel asked.
"My friend," he answered, after a pause, "no son of Adam, having
strength and vitality such as yours, and enjoying the springtime of
life, can remain a _dervish_, an ascetic. It is true that you care
little for the world, that you do not desire fine clothes, nor wealth,
nor possessions. Yet you are man, and man looks for his mate. You go to
choose for yourself a wife."
Daniel smiled. "You are mistaken," he answered. "I shall not marry for
some years to come."
The Sheikh shook his head. "No man knows the secrets of his own heart,"
he replied, "yet his friend may read them like a book written in a fair
hand. I say again, you go to choose for yourself a wife."
The ready denial was checked upon Daniel's lips. For a moment he paused,
and it seemed to him that a sidelight had been flashed upon the workings
of his brain: then he dismissed the thought as being something very
nearly fantastic.
"No," he said, "I am going because I believe it to be my duty. My
country needs me."
The Sheikh made a gesture which seemed to indicate the uselessness of
argument. "It is not good for a man to live alone," he answered, with a
sigh. "Some day, perhaps, you will return to us, bringing with you your
wife."
Daniel smiled again, but there was sadness in his face. "El Hamran is my
wife," he said. "When I go, my heart will remain here."
"When will your Excellency leave?" the Sheikh asked, becoming suddenly a
man of action.
"In a few days" the other answered; "as soon as this matter of feud is
set to rights." And therewith he turned the conversation into that
channel.
In the night as he lay upon his bed upon the tower-top, gazing up into
the immensity of the heavens, he repeated to himself, almost with
derision, the words of the Sheikh: "You go to choose for yourself a
wife." It was absurd, and yet somehow the thought made a way for itself
amongst the crowded places of his mind. To choose for himself a wife...!
"Good Lord!" he muttered; "what a horrible idea!"