They had started early, for it would be impossible to do anything but
lie off in the hours from eleven to three. In this part of the
world, few persons made such excursions in July. One day was amply
sufficient to reach the temple, and they wanted to enjoy the road and
the vistas and viewpoints in the cool of the morning. The ride was,
therefore, divided into two five-hour spells: one in the forenoon,
the other in the evening hours. Gregor and Diana had taken the lead
at first. But the guide persistently encroached upon their duologue,
expatiating upon his splendid qualities in an amazing mishmash of
languages. This disconcerted the pair, who by degrees allowed the
others to overtake them while they dropped to the rear.
The party had swelled to become a veritable caravan, for since the
tents and provisions for two days had been packed upon horses, the
six westerners required twelve orientals to act as grooms, servants,
and guides.
On the previous evening, Captain Kopp had arrived from Berlin to take
up his duties as naval attaché, the post having been vacant for
several weeks. He immediately presented himself to pay his respects
to the ambassador and his wife and to report for duty. His hosts
were equally nonplussed, and both cudgelled their brains for a means
of ridding themselves of the unwelcome guest. The count felt he
could not leave him with Eckersberg in charge at the embassy, for
though as military and naval attachés they would naturally be
antagonistic, their mutual distrust of "diplomats" would make them
allies in this field. First impressions are so important.... If, on
the other hand, Kopp came with the party to see the temple, an extra
pair of observant eyes would be following every incident.... The
countess was thinking: Here is a man who takes his work seriously;
he'll plunge into his job without delay so that, after the manner of
his kind, when his chief gets back he will be able to say: "I've
quite got the hang of things, Your Excellency." They had once before
had a man like that, who had often not left his office till late at
night, and she was determined that this particular evening there
should be no one about to spy upon her. Thus it was that, when the
subject of the morrow's excursion came up for discussion, at the
dinner table, she turned amiably to the newcomer, and said:
"Of course you will join the party, Captain Kopp? It will give you a
chance at the outset of making acquaintance with the interior, and
that is not always easy to manage in the height of summer."
"I should be delighted, if His Excellency will not mind my coming..."
Gregor, who had penetrated his wife's manœuvre, glanced at her now
across the table. She looked the picture of innocence, but he knew
this mood of assumed tranquillity just as well as all her other
ruses. He felt obliged to say something:
"A pleasure I assure you, if you feel that so soon after your long
journey... It is hard on those not accustomed to the climate...."
"If you have no objection, Sir, I'd like to come."
When their guest had gone, the count turned to his wife, asking
indifferently:
"How do you propose spending the next two days?"
"I hardly know."
"Paying calls?"
"No!"
"Expecting any one?"
"Nobody particular. Perhaps I shall ask young Seeland to look in."
"Alone?"
She raised her heavy head. She had hitherto been attentive and
watchful, trying to find out if he had any suspicions. Now, however,
she said very calmly:
"Of course, if I invite him he'll come alone. You know how much I
dislike having more than one guest at a time. Have you any
objection?"
"Good-night, Olivia."
"Good-night."
The baroness had at the outset taken possession of Captain Kopp, and
all had gone well until she tried to pump him for news of what was
going on at the Admiralty. Then, without obvious discourtesy, he
drew the Levantine guide into the conversation, plying him with
questions which the man was only too eager to answer. This suited
the captain, who had joined the party simply in order to learn.
The prince, who had a smattering of the language, liked to gossip
with camel drivers, fruit venders, and dragomans. Today, likewise,
he would have been better entertained in converse with the horse
drivers, but he had first of all to devote himself to the baron, who
wished to discuss international politics.
Gregor observed him from the rear and said to Diana:
"Just look at our long-legged prince. What a picture of misery he is
on his little Anatolian mount. His feet almost touch the ground.
From here he might well pass for Don Quixote--but then Linnartz would
have to be promoted to the rôle of Sancho Panza!"
It was eight o'clock. There were two good hours of cool before they
need stop; the sun was considerate and the dust not unbearable. The
parched, grey steppe stretched away into endless distance, and the
low range of hills where they planned to camp that night looked quite
unattainable. Diana had discarded the skirt which she had donned to
ride through the town, and was now in khaki breeches and jacket, with
leggings to the knee. There was nothing to distinguish her as a
woman save the soft white-silk collar which peeped above the loose
coat. She looked like a boy of sixteen whose parents, in the
fondness of their hearts, had not yet had the courage to clip his
curls. As always when exploring an unknown countryside, Diana was
silent for a while. Those camels on the sky-line looked like some
primeval phantasmagoria emerging from the dust-laden air. Then,
alert and observant, she plied her companion with questions. While
answering her, the count dropped half a length behind, and it seemed
to him as he looked at her that he was riding alongside his own son,
eager to know. He dwelt for a moment very pleasantly in this vision.
The ironical words he had indulged in anent the prince and the baron
were the first he had uttered of a personal nature. Even now she was
loath to be distracted from her contemplation of the landscape,
which, far from appearing monotonous, seemed filled with strange and
wonderful things. It was, therefore, with an effort that she
responded to his gayer mood.
"As far as misanthropical outlooks are concerned, our prince would
fit the part well, but he is too strongly disillusioned to be a
genuine Don Quixote. As for the baron, to turn him into a faithful
servitor..."
"You dislike him even more than I, it would appear, and perhaps..."
"Perhaps my dislike for him is greater than his for me? I'll wager
he's started intriguing against me already."
"Hardly. But I fancy he must have met you before."
Diana pulled up and forced the count to come alongside.
"Well?" she asked.
"Let me see--was it St. Petersburg he said?"
"He told you--he...?" Diana's tone was so strange that Gregor
pricked up his ears.
"Has he any reason to--if I may ask...?"
"Baron Linnartz has dared to..." said Diana, suddenly imitating the
shrill manner of an indignant dowager. But Gregor guessed that her
merry parody hid real mortification, and he felt incensed against the
man who had caused it by such preposterous warnings against her.
When next he spoke there was a note of resolution in his voice.
"Would it be too much to ask you for an explanation?"
She evaded the issue by laughing gaily, and setting spurs to her
mount.
The little Anatolian horse had been longing for a gallop over the
steppe, and eagerly responded to her mood. With curls dancing in the
breeze of her own going, she flew past the baroness and Kopp, flew
past the prince, the guide, and her personal enemy. Abdul,
electrified by this sudden departure, careered at her side, his black
ears flapping, his white hindpaws seeming to be several seconds in
advance of their dark brothers in front. He sped like a swarthy
cloud over the arid plain. For a moment the suddenness of her flight
took Gregor so much by surprise that he could only gaze after her,
thinking that she looked like a wild creature gone mad with love, or
an amazon raging to the attack. Then he, too, set spurs to his horse
and galloped after her. The company grew uneasy.
"The count seems to be having a little private racing party on his
own," said the baron, who was a poor horseman at the best of times.
"She has a fine seat," murmured the prince emphatically.
"Amazing," observed the captain.
"Yes, she rides well," added the baroness. "One might think one were
in a circus. I mean..."
Diana sped onwards, with half-closed eyes, unconscious of everything
except the swiftness of her flight and the hound at her side. When
at last the count overtook her, she laughed back at him, crying
through the dust and whirl raised by their movements, like some
uncanny sprite of the wilderness:
"Hello, Count Münsterberg! Hic et ubique! Small horses, but full of
fire! A whip! If only I had a whip!"
He tried to pass his to her, but she merely laughed and motioned it
away:
"Not now. Then!"
Her horse leapt forward again, and she said no more, though from time
to time Abdul's name dropped from her lips.
Gregor was a changed being. As he galloped he forgot the
conversation which had immediately preceded the mad ride; and
therefore the word "then" she flung at him about the whip was the
more puzzling. No matter! His youth rose once more within him with
all its madness. It was as if thirty years had fallen away, and he
was once more pursuing that woman on horseback--were they not riding
through an English park?--who had galloped before him, throwing him
words of love over her shoulder. Then, the lady's habit had flapped
against the horse's flank, and from under the brim of her stiff hat
two grey eyes had peered out, the eyes of a mature and passionate
woman. Memories crowded upon him, the wild career to the very door
of the house, the dash up the stairs, the tearing off of her riding
habit, ten minutes' frenzy, away again, somebody catching sight of
him, the challenge, two shots, the husband wounded...
"Am I indeed younger? Has this young amazon, luring me on through
the dust and over the steppe, has she gifts to give me such as those
of that older woman? I would like to--I will..."
Suddenly Diana's horse shied; it reared, and for a moment things
looked nasty. The count sprang to her side.
"Diana," he cried, seizing the rein and pacifying the little animal.
As they continued on their way, jogging along at an easy trot, Gregor
was a little perturbed at having unintentionally called her by name,
and felt distinctly embarrassed as he said:
"What a splendid horsewoman you are! I believe--I do hope you'll
forgive me--but you have such a lovely name. How do you like mine?"
"Gregor," whispered she, and he felt happy at the thought that
perhaps her lips had already framed the syllables in secret.
"Gregor," she repeated, crisply this time, with a glance in his
direction. "Something untamed and yet serious--maybe it suits you
well these days---- Forgive me my escapade, Count."
Like all men whose conquests have been easily achieved, Gregor was
full of hopes. The fact that she had spoken his name was sufficient
to confirm him in the belief that she had a liking for him. He
pressed closer, so that the horses' flanks were actually in contact,
and asked:
"Why don't you call me Gregor again--Diana?"
"Because we are no longer flying over the steppe."
"When shall we fly again?"
"Nikt nie wie."
"What does that mean?"
"It's Polish for: No one knows."
With the neat movement of a jockey, she turned in her saddle and
called to the others, though they lagged too far behind to hear her
words:
"Come on! Can't any of you ride? Is he the only one who can ride?"
Then she said abruptly, with a twinkle in her eyes:
"That reminds me. Baron Linnartz, St. Petersburg, Grand Hotel. I
owe you an explanation. Well, here goes! Some one with an
aggressively scrubby moustache keeps his eyes on me morning, noon,
and night, for a whole fortnight. Tries every method of approach.
Then one evening I come from the drawing-room, it's very late, I get
into the lift--the baron! I'd noticed him doing sentry-go as it were
for hours down below. He does not get out at his floor but at mine.
Follows me along the passage to my room. I open the door, enter, and
turn to close it again. Suddenly someone springs forward, comes
right into the room, seizes hold of me, throws me on to the sofa. It
takes me several seconds before I can get my teeth into his hand. A
bite, he kisses, lets go. I am still lying under him, but I get one
hand free, then the other. I grip him by the throat, so!--When his
face was blue and he began to gasp, I released him. I had no whip.
He slunk away.--Since then I never go about alone without this little
fellow." She drew a small revolver from her pocket, then in a loud
voice she exclaimed: "And that's the man, Count Münsterberg, who is
doing his best to discredit you at headquarters!"
Gregor quickly surveyed the situation. It placed the baron in a new
light, for the count never doubted the truth of the St. Petersburg
incident. He was more deeply than ever intrigued by the many-sided
personality of his companion. This was now the sixth time they had
seen each other, and at each encounter she had presented herself in a
different guise. How coolly she had related the unpleasant
adventure! And those last words, the way she had referred to
headquarters--only a person well versed in politics could have put
all the implications she had into that brief assertion. She seemed
disposed to be silent now, turned her horse about, and slowly rode
back to rejoin the others.
"Who won?" cried the prince as they drew near. "Abdul seems to have
doubled the parts of starter and judge!"
"Mademoiselle, of course; she won by I don't know how many lengths,"
said Gregor beaming at the prince. He was specially grateful that
Diana's escapade should have been so deftly handled and its apparent
hoydenishness masked by a well-turned joke.
They pitched their camp at noon beneath a cluster of tall eucalyptus
trees which were distinguishable from the all-pervading grey of the
surrounding vegetation only by their height and by the rustling of
their long, thick leaves. Otherwise everything seemed to consist of
sand and dust. The midday heat shimmered over the steppe; far away
on the horizon, faint, undulating lines were dimly visible. Could
they be hills? A few clay walls spoke of scattered villages nestling
among sparse clumps of trees. Grey horses and drab camels browsed in
countless numbers on the parched herbage, or stalked in long
processions like ghosts across the waste.
The guide had hoped to find a spring at this spot, where he could
water the horses. But there proved to be too little flow, and the
beasts had to be taken farther afield. The human travellers,
however, fared well, for they had brought every imaginable thing with
them, not forgetting the most important item of all: ice. The cloth
was spread in the marquee, and the food was appetizing. But the heat
was too oppressive for much talk; indeed, at this moment they were
all wishing they had not set forth on the excursion.
Diana had donned her skirt again, and was on her best behaviour,
demure, and endeavouring in every way to fall in with the baroness's
humour. Both Gregor and the prince were puzzled as to what she was
thinking about. "I wonder whether the recalling of that incident has
upset her," mused the count, "or whether the presence of the baron is
making her reserved?" When the meal was over, each one sought
relaxation, some in sleep, others in quiet talk. Kopp came over to
Diana and sat beside her, puffing away at his cigarette.
"I say, I'd give anything to ride like that," he began.
She laughed, trying to turn the matter off.
"I expect you won a prize or two in Kiel?"
"Yes, a few. I bet you know how to sail a boat."
"I'm fond of the sea."
"Been far afield?"
"Fairly."
"Indian Ocean?"
"No. The Atlantic."
"Some day you must go sailing in the Indian Ocean. That's the finest
of them all."
"Tell me about it."
Diana was a good listener as well as an eager questioner, so Kopp
began to tell his story, haltingly at first, in fragmentary fashion,
like others of the seafaring confraternity. And all the while she
was listening, her thoughts travelled vaguely to and fro. "Here I
lie in a tent on an eastern steppe, and this seafarer is telling me
of shellfish and pearls, of sharks and torches, while over there sits
the count discussing business matters with the baron, hate in his
heart, hated in his turn by Linnartz, and thinking of me by name.
Did he not call me by my name as if I were a friend of long standing,
as if he wished to guard me, and yet with the pertness of a boy?
Nikt nie wie!"
The count liked Captain Kopp. True, he had found the newcomer's bald
bullet head rather comical at first, but it did not take the count
long to detect the man's sterling worth. When they broke camp in the
cool of the afternoon, he made a point of riding next his naval
attaché.
"Have you had an opportunity for a talk with any of our people
lately, Captain?" he asked. "Seen the foreign secretary, for
instance?"
"About three weeks ago. Dinner together at the club. Hardly had a
word with him."
"He's said to be very pessimistic, eh?"
"I fancy he is. Some one who had just been having a long talk with
him said he saw everything through grey spectacles. Herr Scherer it
was who made the remark."
"Ah, yes. I know."
"A most interesting man, that."
"I feel sure he is.--What does Herr Scherer think about the situation
here?"
"Scherer has absolute confidence in what Your Excellency does."
As a rule the count disliked compliments; he knew too well their
insincerity, especially when paid to a man in his position. But this
captain with the bullet head was so simple and so obviously sincere;
Münsterberg could only be interested.
"Did Scherer say that?" he asked.
"Yes, he did."
The three words were spoken with the deliberation of a man who knew
how much worth his interlocutor would place upon them. Gregor was
satisfied. He broke off his talk with the captain in order to rejoin
Diana who was riding with the baroness. The younger woman had been
making vain attempts to draw the lady out. As the count came
alongside, he said:
"Have you ever made a study of archæology?"
"Oh no, I'm only an amateur."
"That's much the pleasantest way of getting to know things,"
commented the baroness with a note of hostility in her voice. "When
one is free to travel about the world--to study the world..."
"Yes, travelling is a good master," interrupted Diana, controlling an
impulse to retaliate, and speaking in quiet, conventional tones.
"But somewhat exhausting," said Gregor.
He and Diana trotted forward alone.
"So you have known Scherer some time," he said after a pause.
"Not long."
"Is he interested in artistic matters also?"
"He is a thinker."
Her answer disquieted Gregor. Somehow he felt she was making
comparisons, and his pride forbade him to accept a subordinate place
in the estimation of such a woman as Diana.
"How do you make that out...?"
She guessed that he was piqued, and answered soothingly:
"Surely his way of looking at the world is enough to prove it."
"Yes; but suppose some one has, by devoting his whole life, chary of
words but prolific in deeds, by his decisions and his enterprise,
supposing such a one, too, has built up a world...?"
"He'd just be a good business man," retaliated Diana, "and Herr
Scherer is that in addition to all his other qualities."
Gregor was not satisfied. He rode on for a while rather moodily, and
then resumed:
"Which sort do you prefer?"
"So much depends on the time and the place, upon the wind, and the
stars...."
"Let us say: Today!"
"Today I am thinking of the better rider," laughed Diana.
The steppe had cooled down, and riding was pleasant now. At certain
spots where water was abundant, the evergreen plants looked fresh,
and their stunted forms peeped through the trees and the stones.
There were tiny ilexes and myrtles; even a laurel here and there.
The shadows of the trees were lengthening over the plain, and the
hills seemed within a hopeful distance. Every one felt that the
worst part of the journey was over, that the reward of their efforts
was at hand, and that tomorrow's return to the town overlooking the
water would be easy. Soon after six, when the sun was sinking and
the plain was taking on a myriad new and glowing hues, when the fresh
breeze came from the hills, the spirits of the company rose, and
conversation flowed once more. They spoke sceptically of the
prospects of sleep under canvas that night; they sentimentalized
about the temple. Kopp said:
"I've been told that this place is red with poppies in April."
"But it is only at this time of the year that you find the place so
exquisitely covered with dust that it looks one vast uniform mass,"
added the prince. "Only now! I could ride for weeks on end through
this dusty steppe; heat and dust are such admirable adjuncts to muddy
thinking."
"You are pleased to be paradoxical," protested the baroness.
"Everything in this country is far more poetical in April."
"I am the enemy of all that smacks of poetry, Baroness; still more do
I hate the romantic. I'm thinking of starting an insurance scheme to
protect the world against falsification of nature by means of
moonrises, stars, colours, and the like."
Diana laughed heartily; the baroness tried to giggle, but the dust
had dried her throat and her effort was futile. Gregor was busily
going this way and that in search of a good camping ground. Nor
would he allow his three attachés to help him. Then he made them all
turn back a little way, and finally gave them leave to dismount.
There was a bustle of preparation, the horses were unsaddled and
watered, the tents were pitched. The count was suddenly pensive.
After a while he called out:
"There are four; that's fine!"
To which the baroness made reply:
"Yes, splendid. One for you, one for the prince, one for us two
women, and the fourth will be shared by the captain and my husband."
"Pas du tout, Madame," the count was quick to interpose, for he had
expected the baroness to suggest such an arrangement. "I could never
forgive myself if two married folk like you and my dear Linnartz were
divorced from one another's arms even for one night. You and your
husband must have the large tent; the other big one must be shared by
the prince and the captain--if they don't mind sleeping together?
Otherwise, I shall be delighted to berth with one or the other."
"Of course, of course," chimed in the two men with one voice.
"Very well; and I'll have the little one to myself." He stopped
abruptly, for he was loath to couple Diana's name with his own. But
the prince, realizing what was in his chief's mind, added with a
spice of malice:
"What about the fourth? Ah, yes, of course, I'm so sorry, of course
that will be for Fräulein de Wassilko."
For an hour past Gregor had been making his plans, and had chosen a
site that suited them admirably. It was a narrow strip of level,
lying in a semicircle intersected by mounds which cut the camp up
into sections. He contrived to have his tent pitched at the lower
end, then the other small one. The horses were to be littered down
next this, separating them from the two large tents at the other end
of the passage. But when the work was done and they came to inspect
it, he assumed a wrath he was far from feeling:
"What's this!" he exclaimed. "Those two little tents have been put
up in the place where I had ordered the big tent to be pitched.
We'll have to start over again. What a nuisance! Oh, well, perhaps
we can manage after all. Or shall I get them changed?"
"Capital as they are," some one exclaimed.
They ate their supper on the slope of a hill, and watched the
daylight fade while the moon rose. Diana was very quiet, almost one
might say absent-minded. She ran her fingers through the herbage,
picked the twigs from off her rug, whispered to the night-birds and
the beasts that came shyly peering round the rocks, stroked the long
velvety ears of the greyhound. They all sought their tents while the
night was young, for they wished to be afoot before sunrise. Gregor
called for a bowl of water, then sent the man away to sleep. He
himself kept vigil. Should he venture? Was he really more than
twenty-five? Was he his own son? He felt so young and could think
of nothing but the moment when she had uttered his name as she flew
over the steppe: "Gregor!"
Diana had closed her tent in order to discard her habit and slip into
a cool, silk kimono. Now she flung back the flap and sat on the
ground at the mouth of the tent in the crouching attitude of a gypsy.
She slowly rolled back her wide sleeves, thinking the while: "How
well this orange-coloured silk matches the tent and the steppe." As
her gaze travelled to the sky and over the moon-shriven land, she had
hardly a thought in her head. Then, suddenly, she was musing again:
"How otherwise account for all these preparations? ... Can a woman
ever truly know the man who desires her without first giving him what
he wants? ... He has a finely turned leg, and there's a look of youth
in his blue eyes, and he rides as well as I, better than any man I've
known since Bogdanoff, the maddest of lovers.... Of one thing at
least I am certain: grey locks make a stronger appeal to me this
night than any fair head could...."
Gregor made a tour of the camp before turning in. He took mental
note of where each tent stood. Then he secured Abdul to a tree at
the farther end of the camp, bidding him lie down and be quiet.
Slowly he returned to his tent. He waited. One by one the lights
were extinguished, silence brooded over the land, only the horses,
rubbing their heads together, made a soft, velvety sound. Diana's
tent was dark. Was she sitting within, dreaming? Or was she
waiting--for him? Had she not once spoken words of condemnation
against women who were "prim and prudish"? Was she unaware of the
effect such words would have upon a man of his temperament? There
had been no preliminary skirmishes. Everything would depend on the
success of one single move. He had to take a risk such as, owing to
his position, he had not ventured for at least twenty years--or was
it only fifteen since he had given chase to the beautiful Beata...?
This last memory stirred the fires of his imagination. He rose and
stood for a while at the mouth of the tent, listening. As if the
better to hear, he raised himself on the tips of his toes. Then he
fastened his tent from without, and crept softly towards the spot
where her tent reared its point into the night sky. Two resolute
strides brought him to the entry. He seized the tapes and secured
the flap behind him. He was inside.