As soon as Daniel arrived at the Residency next morning he sent a
message to Lord Blair, asking that he might see him. He had hardly slept
at all during the night, and his haggard face showed the ravages of his
emotion.
Lying on his bed upon the rocks above his camp, he had striven to
examine the entire situation with an impartial mind; and he would not
admit that his philosophy had failed him. His reason strove to assert
itself, and to quell the tumult of his tortured heart; and again and
again he reminded himself that there was no such thing as sorrow of the
soul. It was only his body that was miserable; and could he but manage
to identify himself with the spiritual aspect of his entity, the pain of
the material world would be forgotten in the serenity of his spirit.
This was a first principle of his philosophy; and yet it seemed now to
be utterly beyond his attainment.
"I could not believe in a merciful God," he thought to himself, "unless
I believed that He had placed within the reach of every man the means to
overcome sorrow. Therefore the means must be at hand, if only I can take
hold of them."
And again: "My reason, my soul, is unconquerable. It stands above my
miserable body. If only I can look at this disaster with the calm eyes
of the spirit, I shall get the victory over the wretched torment of my
heart."
In itself the actual quarrel with Muriel had presented no insuperable
obstacle to their relationship. Had the trouble been an isolated
incident, it would not have been difficult for them to have kissed and
made friends; but Daniel realized that the differences between them had
been growing for some time, and for many days now it had seemed clear to
him that Muriel was too chained in the prison of her class ever to
understand the freedom of the desert. He despaired of her; yet he loved
her so deeply that their estrangement was, beyond all words, terrible to
him.
While he waited in his room for Lord Blair's reply, he paced to and fro;
and in his weary brain the battle which had raged all night came ever
nearer to a definite issue.
"I must get away from it all," he kept saying to himself. "I must go
back to the desert, for only there shall I find peace."
At length a servant came to him, saying that Lord Blair would receive
him; and thereat he betook himself to the Great Man's study, his
impulsive mind made up on the instant and eager to meet his destiny.
"Why, what is the matter, Daniel?" Lord Blair asked, as he entered the
room. "You looked troubled."
"I am more than troubled," said Daniel. "I'm in despair. It's about
Muriel: I'm afraid we've had a definite quarrel."
Lord Blair wiggled in his chair, apparently with annoyance, though
possibly with nothing more than an itch.
"Ah--a lovers' tiff ...," he commented; but Daniel stopped him with a
gesture.
"No, it's a total estrangement," he said, fiercely. "It's been growing
gradually, and now there's nothing to be done. I've come to give you my
resignation. I'm going back to El Hamran."
Lord Blair suddenly sat back in his chair, his eyes fixed on his friend,
the tips of his fingers touching the edge of the table as though some
movement had been arrested. "My dear Daniel," he said at last, and he
spoke sharply, "control yourself! This is an absurd situation."
"Oh yes, I know," Daniel replied, "you think I'm just a fool in love,
who's going off in a huff. No, that's not it. I want to go because I've
lost my happiness since I've been in Cairo: I'm utterly out of tune with
the people I meet. Why, yesterday at the Cavillands' I could feel myself
being a boor and a bore. I couldn't laugh.... Yes, that's it; since I've
been amongst all these witty people I've forgotten how to laugh. Good
God!--I hav'n't smiled for weeks. Out there in the desert, when my mind
was at peace, I was always full of laughter; I was always chuckling to
myself, just from sheer light-heartedness or whatever you like to call
it. But here my heart's in my boots, and I'm blue all day long. I can't
even whistle."
"I think--indeed, I am sure--you are taking things too seriously," said
Lord Blair.
"You're right," Daniel answered, quickly, interrupting him. "The gay
life makes me painfully serious; this fashionable stuff fills me with
gloom. It's all this blasted chase after amusement, this immense
preoccupation with the surface of things, that gives me the hump. You
see, to my way of thinking, light-heartedness only comes from a tranquil
sort of mind. It's something deep inside oneself; one doesn't get it
from outside--though, on the other hand, outside things do certainly
obscure one's inner vision. Real happiness--not just pleasure--seems to
be absolutely essential to life and to all human relations. It's the key
to diplomacy. You've got to see the fun of things, you've got to bubble
inside with happiness before you can really govern or be governed.
You've got to be the exact opposite of sinister, and nearly the opposite
of solemn, before you can get any punch into your dealings with your
fellow men, don't you think? And how, in God's name, can one be happy
unless there is the right mental atmosphere of truth, and sincerity, and
trust, and benevolence, and broad understanding?"
He spoke with intensity, and the movement of his hands added expression
to his words.
"But do you realize," said Lord Blair, "what an immense, what an
unqualified success your work here has been? And now you would throw it
all up just because a chit of a girl has annoyed you."
"No, you don't understand," Daniel replied. "I might have been able to
ignore all this miserable Society business; but when Muriel and I grew
fond of one another I was drawn into it. And then, gradually, I began to
see that that was her world. At first I hoped she would be the buffer
between me and that world, and a non-conductor, so to speak, but I find
that she transmits the shocks to me direct."
He told Lord Blair something of the more tangible trouble between them,
but he would not reveal all the bitter yearning of his heart. He might
have said "I love her, I want her to be wholly mine, I want her to come
over to my way of thinking so that I can show her where real happiness
is to be found." He might have said "I am distracted by her, and I want
to go away to forget her dear eyes, and the touch of her lips, and the
intoxication of her personality." But on these matters he was silent.
As he talked his mind was filled with a passionate desire for the peace
of the desert. He was like a monk, longing for the refuge of his quiet
monastery walls; and he seemed to hear in his heart the gentle voice of
the wilderness calling to him to come back into the sweet smiling
solitude, away from the sorrows of the superficial world.
"I must go back to El Hamran," he said. "I beg you not to stop me."
Lord Blair looked at him with pity. He was in the presence of an emotion
which he could not altogether understand, but the reality of which was
very apparent. "There must be no question," he said, "of your
resignation. Go away for a time, if you wish, but you mustn't play the
deserter."
An idea had suddenly come into his head, and he turned to Daniel with
relief in his anxious eyes. "Now listen to me," he said. "Go back to El
Hamran: I can send you there on business."
He hunted about amongst his papers, and presently produced the
memorandum which Benifett Bindane had handed to him. "Here are some
matters upon which Mr. Bindane desires information before he starts his
tour of the Oases in three or four weeks' time. You can send your
answers in to him on his arrival at El Homra; and after that you can
wait at El Hamran in case he comes there. After that I won't hurry you
to return: I can give you leave of absence. And then, when your mind is
more settled you can come back here. The winter season will be over, and
what you call 'Society' will have left the country for the summer."
Daniel fell in with the suggestion gladly. "You are very patient with
me," he said. "I don't deserve it: I feel I'm being very cranky."
"I don't want to lose you," the elder man replied, and his sincerity was
apparent. But he was much startled when Daniel asked if he might leave
at once.
"Today?" he exclaimed, in surprise.
"Yes, now," said Daniel, emphatically. "There are practically no
outstanding matters. I can put Lestrange wise about everything in ten
minutes."
Lord Blair looked at him, curiously. "Muriel won't be back from Mena
House until this evening," he said. "Don't you want to see her before
you go?"
"No," he replied, quickly and decisively, rising to go, "I have nothing
to say to her."
Lord Blair sighed as they walked to the door. "Daniel," he said, "all
this is a great blow to me."
Thus it came about that an hour after Daniel had arrived at the
Residency he was on his way back to the desert, his teeth set, and his
brain occupied, by force of will, with his plans. He did not dare to
look into the future: he was going, as a sick man goes to an operation,
to find by a path of pain the health of mind that he had lost. Perhaps
he would return to the Residency; perhaps he would not; but for the
present it was of paramount importance that he should master his
complaint, and regain the power to see clearly, the power to work
happily, the power to laugh.
By mid-afternoon his camp was struck, and he was ready to depart. A
camel-owner in the village of Kafr-el-Haram, near the Pyramids, had
supplied the necessary camels and men at a moment's notice, hastened by
the enthusiasm of Hussein and his brother, both overjoyed at the good
fortune which was to take them so suddenly back to their home. Some of
the tents and the unnecessary articles of furniture had been stored in
the village at the house of a native friend; and the remainder were
packed upon the camels.
As the afternoon shadows were lengthening the start was made. The
camels, grumbling and complaining, lurched to their feet; the three
dogs, barking with excitement, ran in circles around the company; and
Daniel, swinging into his saddle, took his place at the head of the
caravan. In single file, and at a slow trot, they moved away westwards,
their long shadows stretching out behind them; and soon they had
disappeared into the waste of sand and rocks, golden in the light of the
descending sun.
An hour later the picnic party, coming back from a point to the south,
rode towards the Pyramids. Muriel had been very silent all day; but
Kate, who was in her confidence, had helped her to conceal her
depression, and now was riding by her side, a little removed from the
others. The desert had had a soothing influence upon the raw wound which
the quarrel of the previous day had inflicted; and Muriel was already
somewhat happier in her mind.
"Don't you worry, old girl," said Kate. "Men have got to be managed, and
you'll soon put things ship-shape in the morning."
"But the morning is so far off," Muriel replied, pathetically.
She did not altogether understand what the trouble was about. Daniel had
attacked her so suddenly, just when she had been wholly engaged in
attacking him. So far as she could make out, he had been angry with her
because she had made a fuss about his relationship with Lizette. "I
suppose," she thought to herself, "he thinks a woman oughtn't to
question a man's movements, or know anything about what he is doing when
he is not with her. It doesn't seem fair somehow...."
She did not in the least realize that Daniel's hostility had been
aroused by her belief that there was anything between him and Lizette,
and by her readiness, in spite of that belief, to overlook his supposed
deception as soon as she had vented her feelings by a brief show of
temper. She felt that he had been harsh, and rather brazen about the
whole thing; and yet, so greatly did she yearn for his love, she was
prepared to forgive even his brutality.
She turned to her companion. "I don't think I can wait till the
morning," she said. "I'm going to ride over to his camp now, and say I'm
sorry. It's only a mile out of the way, and I'll be home almost as soon
as you."
Kate was sympathetic. "Go on, then," she replied. "I'll hint to the
others that you've got a stomach-ache or something, and have ridden on.
And let me see more colour in that old mug of yours when you get back."
She leant forward in her saddle, and struck her companion's horse with
her cane, so that he went off at a gallop across the sand.
Bearing off to the left, Muriel soon described the head of rock which
overlooked the camp; but approaching it thus from the south she knew
that the tents would not come into view until she had rounded this
ridge.
She had no idea what she was going to say. She thought only that she
would go into his tent, where she would probably find him writing at his
table; and she would put her arms about him, and tell him that she could
not live under his displeasure.
At last she reached the rocks; and, as she rode round them, she drew up
her reins and prepared to dismount. Then, with horrible suddenness, the
truth was, as it were flung at her. Where she had thought to see the
tents, there was only a patch of broken-up sand, a few bits of paper and
straw, and innumerable footprints.
She uttered a little cry of dismay, and, with wide, frightened eyes,
gazed about her. The footprints of the camels passed in a thin line out
to the west, and she could see them winding away into the silent desert.