From this itinerary it will be seen that the grass was not allowed to grow under our feet. Indeed, we had scarcely arrived in any one place before our remorseless leader hurried us away again. His anxiety to return to Europe was as great as it had been to reach Egypt. On land the trains could not travel fast enough; on board the yacht his one cry was, "Push on, push on!" What this meant to a man like myself, who had lately come so perilously near death, I must leave you to imagine. Indeed, looking back upon it now, I wonder that I emerged from it alive. Looked at from another light, I believe I could not have done so but for Pharos. Callous as he had been to my sufferings hitherto, he could scarcely do enough for me now. His first inquiry in the morning was as to how I felt, and his last injunction at night was to the effect that if I felt any return of fever I was to communicate with him immediately. From this show of consideration on his part it would probably be argued that I should at least have felt some gratitude toward himself. The contrary, however, was the case. Ever since he had announced the death of the Arab to me my fear and dislike of him had been intensified rather than diminished. I was afraid of him very much in the same way as a man is afraid of a loathsome snake, and yet with that fear there was a peculiar fascination which I was powerless to resist.
We had reached Constantinople early on Thursday morning and had left for Vienna at four o'clock in the afternoon. In the latter place we had remained only a few hours, had caught the next available train, and reached Prague the following morning. What our next move would be I had not the least idea, nor did Pharos enlighten me upon the subject. Times out of number I made up my mind that I would speak to him about it and let him see that I was tired of so much travelling, and desired to return to England forthwith. But I could not leave Valerie, and whenever I began to broach the subject my courage deserted me, and it did not require much self-persuasion to make me put the matter off for a more convenient opportunity.
Of the Fräulein Valerie, up to the time of our arrival in the city there is little to tell. She had evidently been informed of my illness at Karnak, for when I returned to the steamer she had arranged that everything should be in readiness for my reception. By the time we reached Cairo again I was so far recovered as to be able to join her on deck, but by this time a curious change had come over her, she was more silent and much more reserved than heretofore, and when we reached the yacht spent most of her days in her own cabin, where I could hear her playing to herself such wild, sad music that to listen to it made me feel miserable for hours afterward. With Pharos, however, it was entirely different. He, who had once been so morose, now was all smiles, while his inseparable companion, the monkey, Pehtes, for whom I had conceived a dislike that was only second to that I entertained for his master, equalled if he did not excel him in the boisterousness of his humour.
At the commencement of this chapter I have said that on this particular morning, our first in Prague, I was standing before the doors of the Teyn Kirche, beneath the story of the Crucifixion as it is told there in stone. My reason for being there will be apparent directly. Let it suffice that when I entered the sacred building I paused, thinking how beautiful it was, with the sunshine straggling in through those wonderful windows which in bygone days had looked down on the burial of Tycho Brahé, and had in all probability seen John of Nepomuc standing in the pulpit. Their light illumined the grotesque old organ with its multitude of time-stained pipes and dingy faded ornaments, and contrasted strangely with that of the lamps and candles burning before the various altars and shrines. Of all the churches of Europe there is not one that affects me so deeply as this famous old Hussite building. With the exception, however, of myself and a kneeling figure near the entrance to the Marian Capelle, no worshippers were in the church. I stood for a moment looking round the building. Its vague suggestion of sadness harmonised with my own feelings, and I wondered if, among all those who had worshipped inside its walls since the days when the German merchants had first erected it, there had ever been one who had so strange a story to tell as myself. At last, having screwed my courage to the sticking point, I made my way down the nave between the carved, worm-eaten pews, and approached the figure I have referred to above. Though I could not see her face, I knew that it was Valerie. Her head was bent upon her hands and her shoulders shook with emotion. She must have heard my step upon the stones, for she suddenly looked up, and seeing me before her, rose from her knees and prepared to leave the pew. The sight of her unhappiness affected me keenly, and when she reached the spot where I was standing I could control myself no longer. For the last few weeks I had been hard put to it to keep my love within bounds, and now, under the influence of her grief, it got the better of me altogether. She must have known what was coming, for she stood before me with a troubled expression in her eyes.
"Mr. Forrester," she began, "I did not expect to see you. How did you know that I was here?"
"Because I followed you," I answered unblushingly.
"You followed me?" she said.
"Yes, and I am not ashamed to own it," I replied. "Surely you can understand why?"
"I am afraid I do not," she answered, and as she did so she took a step away from me, as if she were afraid of what she was going to hear.
"In that case there is nothing left but for me to tell you," I said, and approaching her I took possession of the slender hand which rested upon the back of the pew behind her. "I followed you, Valerie, because I love you, and because I wished to guard you. Unhappily we have both of us the best of reasons for knowing that we are in the power of a man who would stop at nothing to achieve any end he might have in view. Did you hear me say, Valerie, that I love you?"