The Night of Temptation

by Victoria Cross

When Everest was alone he often wondered himself how it was that, knowing so well and disliking so greatly, as he did, this woman's character and all her mentality, the physical charm of her presence, the sound, sight and touch of her could give so much pleasure. It seemed almost sometimes as if the fact that there was little sympathy, almost no point of union, between them, no attraction except the physical, seemed to heighten that physical attraction, increase its power. He knew perfectly well that, in order to please Regina and preserve her happiness, he ought to annihilate this new passion, which, insignificant as it really was with reference to his life as a whole, for the moment gave him so much pleasure; but then, was he bound to do this, he asked himself. How far do the rights of others go? How far ought he to deny himself, sacrifice himself that she might enjoy to the full her life, instead of him enjoying his?

She had given him the extreme of pleasure, it is true, but in return he had laid everything he had at her feet. That she had not accepted his gifts in full was not his fault. He had not withdrawn any of them, nor ever would. The first place in his life, in his soul, was for her. Then they were equally in debt to each other, and now what was to be done? He wanted to enjoy this new pleasure, have this new excitement, and not being in any way an ideal character, but only an extremely passionate and rather selfish individual with some few delightful traits, he determined to take it—determined, that is to say, in that vague and indefinite manner that one always determines such things, driven by physical impulses, led by forces of which we know nothing, compelled by unseen powers, like the helpless, whirling leaf before the gale. There was no deliberate purpose, plan or intention. Imperceptibly he had grown interested in Sybil's playing and singing after dinner; her quaint, inconsequent prattle in its novelty amused him, though he quite well recognised it would be intolerable once its newness had worn off, her face from its great beauty of line had always pleased him immensely, her ardent kiss, with those exquisitely carved scarlet lips, had shaken his reason, and so from out of all these had grown gradually desire, which is merciless, blind, relentless, savage, quick in its onward rush, rapid in its disappearance as any desert lion.

Regina sat at her tent door and thought over all these things, and the burnished glory of the golden desert swam before her in a mist of tears.

She had not read and studied and thought as she had without acquiring that philosophy that knowledge gives, but no philosophy could help her against the deadly pain now of her daily life. As far as the shooting went, the camp up till now had not been a success. Small game and birds of every sort and kind there were in limitless numbers, but the lion district, according to their native guides, was always somewhere beyond. This range of hills, that ridge to the west, the lions had always retreated there, but when the whole party had duly packed and moved there, the new camp on the range of hills or on the western ridge was equally devoid of lion.

The men, except Everest, went out every day and shot what they could find, largely antelope, but Everest always having been prompted by his own nature against the taking of defenceless life, since his intimacy with Regina, had lost all desire or capability of doing it. If they came upon a lion he would shoot, the sporting chance was equal there, the danger shared, the game well able to look after itself; but with the taking of the beautiful innocent life which abounded all round them he would have nothing to do. Regina revolted utterly from it, and would never visit the large tent at the back of the camp where the antelope were hung and the flamingo flung in heaps, dead and dying together, their exquisite plumage making it seem as if a sunset cloud had fallen there.

At first Everest and Regina had spent together a great deal of the time painting, and Sybil, who, though she could not hold a rifle straight herself, had no objection to seeing things killed, accompanied her brother and the others on their shoots. But latterly Everest had cared less about the sketching and had taken Sybil for camel rides in the desert, rides in which Regina could have joined had she been able to force herself to the pain of witnessing Everest's pleasure as he lifted his cousin on and off her camel, and the passion in his eyes as he spoke to and smiled upon her.

They had gone out to-day, and Regina had stayed in camp and practised her shooting all the morning. She could talk with the natives and she understood they were nearing the lion district, and she ardently longed if any occasion arose in which she could put her skill at Everest's service, or in his defence, to have it at her command, to show him all those dear lessons in the past happy time were not given in vain. She had shot splendidly. Not a single mark out of any of those which she had set herself had she missed, and her nerves, so excitable by all mental emotions, seemed to calm and steady themselves when her fingers closed on a rifle as they did when they took up her paint-brush.

Now she was tired, and she sat waiting for them to return, for the exquisitely painful pleasure of Everest's kiss, knowing that his lips had only recently left another's.

All the other three men were more or less in love with her in varying degrees, rather to Everest's amusement, but she only entertained a sick antipathy towards them and their blood-stained hands and clothes, such as any ordinary person feels on meeting a butcher coming out of his shambles.