Muriel was in a very subdued and reflective mood when she returned, and as she stood at the window of the living-room, listening to the wailing of the mourners in the distance, she wondered how best she could show her sympathy with Daniel in his loss, without in other respects unbending to him. He relieved her of the difficulty, however, when he came in; for he showed no outward signs of his grief, and seemed in no wise to be asking for her condolence. He spoke of the beauty of the Sheikh’s life, and of the serenity of his death; and when Muriel made some remark in regard to the sadness of the event he quietly corrected her.
“Death,” he said, “is not a calamity when a man has reached old age. It is like the ripeness of corn, as Marcus Aurelius says, when the soul drops out of the husk almost of its own accord. It is a natural action, just as birth is. It is only we who are left behind who are unhappy—because we have lost a friend; and as for that, why, I am not going to let my loss make me wretched.”
“That sounds extremely selfish,” she remarked, coldly.
“No,” he answered, “sorrow is selfish, not happiness. There’s never any use in pulling a long face.”
[CHAPTER XXX—THE REVOLT]
The funeral took place next morning, as is the native custom, and it was during the great gathering of the Sheikh’s friends that the adherents of the opposing faction made their feared coup. The event, and its serious consequences for Muriel and Daniel, was upon them so quickly that there was no time for preparation or retreat.
Muriel had not gone to the funeral, and she was sitting quietly writing in the living-room when Daniel flung open the door.
“Quick!” he said. “Get ready to start at once. Leave your dressing-case: you just want your water-bottle and a tin or two of food from the cupboard. We’ve got to ride like the wind. I’m just going to get the camels.”
She stared at him in amazement as he hastened away, and thought how extremely inconsiderate he was; but the realization that her extraordinary fortnight with him was now at an end led her to obey his instructions with alacrity. She was soon ready, but for some time she waited impatiently for his reappearance.
At last he came in, this time slowly and with careful serenity.