The rough stone walls built by the Holy Fathers and the uneven stone floor had been covered with marble of the faintest green, cunningly worked along the edges in a great scroll pattern of gold mosaic. The scroll glittered in the light of four lamps hanging in the corners of the immense room, reflecting all the colours of the rainbow in their crystal chains and crystal drops. The drops and chains were reflected in a basin of pink marble in the centre of the room, and in five huge mirrors which the Arabian’s colossal vanity had caused her to place about. Gold and silver fish swam monotonously round and round in the marble basin, happily unconscious of the moment awaiting them when the woman would catch them in her dainty, henna-stained fingers and throw them on to the floor, for the mere pleasure of watching them die. The water for the marble basin was changed every few hours by prisoners, who toiled up and down the steep steps under the blazing sun and the lash of the overseer’s whip, all of which doubtlessly added to the enjoyment Zarah felt when she caught the fish in her merciless hands.
Persian carpets and countless cushions were spread upon the marble floor; stools and tables inlaid with ivory, gold and jewels stood upon them, also bowls of sweetmeats, trays of fruit and great vases of perfumed water, in all the profusion so dear to the heart of the wealthy Eastern. Two black and white monkeys chased each other all over the place, in and out of doors leading to other smaller rooms, which served as dressing-room and wardrobes, and up and down a slender steel staircase which reached to a platform built right across the north end of the room. The platform was two yards broad, the back made by the marble of the wall, the front protected by a fine broad-meshed gold netting which opened in the middle and swung back like a door. Covered with silken perfumed sheets, piled with cushions and hung with orange-coloured satin curtains, it was but a somewhat exaggerated replica of many Oriental beds, which are raised from the ground for the sake of coolness and also protection from that which crawls by night.
Inside the golden cage, with the slender steps safely drawn up from the floor, Zarah would lie o’ nights, either watching the dim shape of her lion cub as it prowled this way and that, or sleeping with the untroubled conscience of the heartless, or dreaming waking dreams of the man she had learned to love in the space of a few moments.
The lion cub, with neither teeth nor claws drawn, and which was a good deal nearer adolescence than a European would have considered healthy in a pet of that category, padded awkwardly backwards and forwards behind a divan upon which his mistress lay this night whilst listening to Al-Asad the half-caste, who, just returned from seeking information concerning the white man, sat cross-legged on the floor beside her.
“Tell me once again, O Asad, all that thou didst learn concerning the white man when, as one fleeing for his life, thou didst crave shelter in the Bedouin camp.”
Al-Asad frowned as he looked at the woman whom he served in love and who had had no word of praise for the arduous undertaking he had so successfully accomplished. He loathed himself for the love which so weakened him, causing him to tremble at her frown and almost to prostrate himself at her small feet when she gave him a smile. Longing to drive a knife through her heart to end it all, he held tight clasped instead the golden tassel of the cushion upon which she lay.
“Words repeated are but waste of time, but, as I have told thee, O woman, the old white man lies buried deep in the sands, safe from the birds and beasts of prey, who have left but the bones and tattered raiment of man and beast to mark where the ill-fated battle was fought. The young white man, even the one about whom thou art besotted in love, lives, being taken prisoner, with one Abdul, by the accursed Bedouins who fell upon us. He is likewise recovered from a great fever which befell him from the blow dealt him, O Zarah, in the midst of the fight, and the blow of a hoof upon the forehead which struck him as he lay upon the ground. He has been nigh dead of this fever, fighting in his delirium, calling ever loudly upon the woman’s name I cannot remember, shouting aloud his love for her.”
“Thou dullard,” broke in Zarah furiously. “Art as of little learning as the Bedouins who give him shelter for their own ends? Make yet another effort, even if thy tongue be too big for thy mouth, which is not over small.”
Al-Asad shook his head, taking no notice of the gibe at the expense of his negroid blood. “I cannot, O woman. Yet should I know it again if I but heard it. To pronounce it, must the mouth be opened and the word dropped out without movement of the lips.”
Zarah twisted herself round upon her elbows until her face was on a level with the man’s.