CHAPTER XXVIII
The recounting of which true episode has taken me from the evening when the sun had just slipped behind the edge of sand.
Jill sat motionless in a corner of her beautiful room, with a pucker of dissatisfaction on her forehead.
Jill, the girl who only a few moons back had taken the reins of her life into her own hands, and had tangled them into a knot which her henna-tipped fingers seemed unable to unravel. English books, magazines, papers lay on tables, the latest music was stacked on a grand piano, great flowering plants filling the air with heavy scent stood in every corner, the pearls around her neck were worth a king's ransom, the sweetmeats on a filigree stand looked like uncut jewels; in fact everything a woman could want was there, and yet not enough to erase the tiny pucker.
Months ago she had played for her freedom and lost.
This exquisite building had been built for her, horses were hers, and camels; jewels were literally flung at her feet.
She clapped her hands and soft-footed natives ran to do her bidding, flowers and fruit came daily from the oasis, sweetmeats and books each day from the nearest city. Her smallest whim, even to the mere passing of a shadow of a wish, was fulfilled, and yet———
A few months ago her mocking words had swung to the silken curtains of her chamber, and since then she had been alone.
Verily, there were no restrictions and no barriers, but the yellow sand stretched away to the East and away to the West, and obedience in the oasis was bred from love and her twin sister fear.
True, the girl had but to bid the Arab to her presence and the curtain would swing back.
But upon the threshold he would stand, or upon the floor he would seat himself, motionless, with a face as expressionless as stone.
By no movement, word or sign, could she find out if she was any more to him than the wooden beads which ceaselessly passed between his fingers.
Nothing showed her if he remembered the first night, when for a moment the man had broken through the inherited reserve of centuries. Had it been merely the East clamouring for the out-of-reach, longed-for West? Perhaps! Just a passing moment, as quickly forgotten, and against which forgetfulness the woman in her rebelled.
It had even come to her to lie awake during the night following the days in which the man had been away from his beloved oasis. The swift rush of naked feet, taking her as swiftly to the roof, where peeping between the carved marble she would look upon a distant scene, which could well have illustrated some Eastern fable.
Either the great camel would stalk slowly, solemnly out of the night, kneeling at a word; or a pure bred Arabian horse would rush swiftly through the palm belt, its speed unchecked as its master threw himself from the saddle.
She could even distinguish a murmured conversation between the eunuch and his master, guessing that he was inquiring as to her welfare, and issuing orders for her comfort, before passing out of sight to his own dwelling, she imagined, though she would rather have died than have asked one question of those around her.
She craved for the nights when he would send to inquire if she would ride, often from sheer contrariness denying herself the exercise she longed for.
In fact, feeling the mystery of love germinating within her, she showed herself rebellious and contrary, and infinitely sweet, surpassing in all things the ways of women; who, since the beginning of all time, have plagued the man into whose keeping their heart is slowly but surely slipping.
And as the shadows fell, so did the pucker of discontent deepen, and a tiny blue-grey marmoset sprang to the top of the piano, chattering shrilly, when a book swished viciously across the floor, and a diminutive gazelle, standing on reed-pipe legs, blinked its soft eyes, and whisked its apology of a tail when a henna-tipped finger tapped its soft nose over sharply, before the girl clapped her hands to summon her body-woman, who, as silently as a wraith, slipped into the room.
"Light all the lamps and come and tell me the news."
The little woman obeyed, and came to kneel beside the girl, gazing up at the fair white face with positive worship in her eyes.
"Great is the news, O! mistress."
"Tell it."
The words were sharp, and the faintest shadow of a smile glinted for a moment in the native's eyes.
"Behold, O! beautiful flower! Unto us, the slaves of our great master, under whose feet we are but as dust, it has been told that he upon whom may Allah's greatest blessings fall, is about to take unto himself a wife."
Silence! Save for a little breath indrawn too quickly.
"Well, proceed with the wonderful news!" The words were icy, but a smile flickered for a moment across the native's face, and was gone.
"Behold has he, the greatest man in Egypt and Arabia, before whom all are but shadows, and unto whom is offered the love and respect of all those who live within the bounty of his great heart, yea! behold has he deigned to look upon Amanreh, the thirteen year old daughter of Sheikh el Hoatassin, second only in wealth and prowess to our own master. Fair is she and young, in very truth meet to wed with him who rules us with a hand of iron, bound in thongs of softest velvet.
"Beautiful, yes! beautiful as the day at dawn, and straight as yon marble pillar, and as delicately tinted, rounded as the bursting lotus bud, and fit to carry the honour of bearing her master's children! In a few moons it———!"
"Begone!"
The word cracked like a whip through the scented room, but as the little hunchback crept swiftly through the curtains, the smile passed from the eyes to the mouth, as softly she whispered to herself:
"It is well done!"