The so-called tombs of "Beni Hasan," the Enchantress Isis stopped for us to see, in order that we might admire wall-paintings in rock chambers, and gabble about Queen Hatasu or King Seti and his mother Pakhet, the "Beautiful Lady of the Speos." But it was difficult to rouse emotion concerning things which we glided by without visiting.
Ruined temples were everywhere, "thick as flies," as I heard Harry Snell say to Enid Biddell; but why bother about them, when finer ones were waiting further down on the menu-card of the Nile-feast? Especially when there was a pretty girl to walk the deck with, meanwhile? As for Tell el-Marna, the Heretic King's great city, the general vote went against a visit to the ruins. Antoun Effendi praised it as one of the most interesting places near the Nile, because with the exception of Queen Hatasu and Rameses the Great, Amen-hetep IV was the most human personality in Egyptian history. But only Monny, who was making a hero of Aknator, really wished to delay at the Disc Worshipper's Utopia. It must have seemed strange to the Gilded Rose not to have her will prevail; but there was a "clique" on board who appeared to find pleasure in thwarting Monny. Her sacrifice to the Harlows was misunderstood. She had made it, said those who did not like her, in order to gain credit for unselfishness, or to have an excuse for displaying herself en route to the public bath, in a dream of a dressing-gown, and a vision of a cap, carrying a poem of a sponge bag. Rachel Guest was still mysteriously more popular than Monny, and was said to have had two proposals on the first day. She didn't want to get off the boat to see irrelevant painted pavements, in the harem of Aknaton's royal palace, and her laziness won, when the vote was taken. But what did anything matter, if the glamour of the Nile was in our blood?
Not one of us but thrilled to the droning cry of the shadoof men on the brown banks, as the dripping water jars went up and up, tier after tier above the river level. Not one but felt a strange allurement in the passing scene; the dark mystery of palm groves, whose slender stems were prison bars against the shining sky; the copper glow of the mud-bricks in piled-up villages; the colour of the flowing water, where secret gleams as from flooded gold mines seemed to glint through masses of dead violets, that floated with the tide. No eye so dull that it could not see how the shadows on land and water were painted at evening with a blue glaze, like the bloom on old scarabs and mummy beads, and broken bits of pottery that art cannot copy now.
In her way, even Miss Hassett-Bean felt the charm of the Nile, and its shores of brown and emerald and peacock-purple. "I don't call it scenery," she explained. "Except when the light is different, or there's some green stuff for cattle growing on the banks, everything's the same yellow-brown; and nothing happens but palms and mud villages, and shadoofs, and a few Arabs, or camels, or those ugly water buffaloes they say the devil made, to show what he could do. But the funny thing is, you can't bear to shut your eyes for a single minute for fear of missing a tree, or a mound, or one of those tall-masted gyassas loaded with white and pink pottery: they all seem so ridiculously important, somehow! Then, there's that bothersome north wind following you, and trying to freeze your spine, unless you pounce on the best seat where it can't reach. If you put on your fur coat you're too hot; if you don't you're too cold. At night your bed creaks, and so does everybody else's. You hear a creaking all down the line when people turn over, which gets on your nerves: but you soon forget; and the whole experience is so perfectly wonderful that I'd like to spend the rest of my natural life going up and down on a Nile boat!"
Through the opalescent dream of these first days and nights, shot the fiery thought of our mission in Asiut. I had been surprised at first that Anthony, who knew so well the dangers and mysteries of the East, encouraged Miss Gilder to meddle in so delicate an affair; and there had never been any explanations between us. But I told myself that his motive was sympathy with Monny's desire to help: or else he had been tempted to associate himself with her in an adventure where again, as once or twice before, he had been able to win her gratitude. Perhaps both motives combined.
As for Mrs. East, she frankly sulked. Intuition told me that she had never dared speak to "Antoun Effendi" about the proposal in hieroglyphics (so difficult for me to explain) which she attributed to him. Never had she dared say: "You have written me a love letter. Why don't you follow it up, and give me a chance to answer it, one way or the other?" But it was puzzling her, disappointing her, if not breaking her heart, that he avoided rather than sought her, on this glorified houseboat where "the Egyptian Prince" was more or less a hero with romantic women. While we four planned, in thrilling whispers, how to rescue the "Ship's Mystery," and Rachel Guest walked the deck with Bill Bailey or Harry Snell, Cleopatra was reduced to writing picture post-cards. I thought, if Sir Marcus had but the inspiration to reappear at some stopping place farther on, she might be ready to forgive him the false lotus flowers: and perhaps he would come, for the Lark type is as difficult to snub as Cleopatra's Needle. I was half inclined to send him a telegram, on some excuse or other.
We came to Asiut in the morning, and it was to be a long stop, for there was much to see, and every one was excited at the thought of our first Nile town, a town already of Upper Egypt, which made it seem that we had come a tremendous way from Cairo. For us, Egypt existed no longer as a country, but as a golden brown, purple-green river-bed and a flowing stream of history on which we floated; so it was fun for those having no special mission, to feel that once again bazaars and more or less sophisticated "Sights" awaited their pleasure. I had given my after-dinner lecture the night before, trying to behave as if I were not boiling with emotion, and had told those who deigned to listen that Asiut, "City of the Wolves," was the capital of a province. I had babbled, too, about the tombs which self-respecting tourists must see, even if they hurry over the inspection of carvings, cartouches, and representations of very small queens smelling very large lotuses (most Egyptian queens apparently spent much of their time, lightly clothed, and smelling lotuses, a ladylike pursuit for those about to have their portraits taken); in order to find time for the mummied cats, the bazaars, the silver scarves, the red and black pottery, and the images of wolves, crocodiles, and camels cheap enough to be freely bought for poor relations at home. "Antoun" and I hinted at business which must prevent our joining the sightseers, who would be chaperoned by the dragoman. Luckily, they got the idea into their heads that our affairs were connected with Sir Marcus, and the "trip." We were pitied, rather than blamed, but our real difficulty was with Mrs. East, as Monny did not wish Cleopatra to be let into the secret. If she knew, she would want to be in the adventure, and in Monny's opinion, Aunt Clara was a dear, but unfitted for adventures.
We planned that Brigit and Monny should call upon the wife of Rechid Bey, whose house would be easy to find. If they were admitted, they would try to bring her out, as if for a drive, for it seemed a case of now or never if she were to escape. In case she were able to come, they would take her straight to the American Consulate, which I was to visit meanwhile, in order to explain matters. But if the rescuers were refused admission, the Consul must be entreated to give active help. I, as a "diplomat," was considered a suitable person to deal with this side of the affair; and Antoun Effendi was to keep unobtrusive guard within sight of Rechid's house until Brigit and Monny, with or without a companion, should come forth safely. As I said, however, the difficulty was Mrs. East. She would expect her niece if not Brigit to go about with her, and would not be easily persuaded to join any other party. As for Rachel, we need not think of her, as she had been annexed by the Biddells, who would otherwise have lost Harry Snell. But Cleopatra! What to do with Cleopatra? It was Anthony who had an inspiration.
There lived near Asiut, it seemed, an Italian who bred Sicilian lap-dogs, said to be like those which had been favourite pets in the day of Cleopatra the Great. Indeed, Antony was supposed to have given one to the Queen. Now, Fenton asked permission to present a Sicilian lap-dog to Mrs. East, a dog so small, so polite, that he could be taken anywhere. Anthony could not go himself to select the gift, but would find an interpreter as a guide to the kennel and bring her back to the exploring party. Cleopatra, delighted with her hero's thoughtfulness, caught at the idea: and when the Set went tearing furiously away in arabeahs or on donkeys, Mrs. East followed sedately in a carriage with the elderly Greek interpreter, and Miss Hassett-Bean, who also fancied the idea of a Sicilian lap-dog, to replace the lamented Marmoset.