CHAPTER XIII
THE SMILES OF MOURAKI PASHA
At the dinner-table Mouraki proved a charming companion. His officialreserve and pride vanished; he called me by my name simply, andextorted a like mode of address from my modesty. He professed raptureat meeting a civilised and pleasant companion in such anout-of-the-way place; he postponed the troubles and problems ofNeopalia in favour of a profusion of amusing reminiscences and pointedanecdotes. He gave me a delightful evening, and bade me the mostcordial of good-nights. I did not know whether his purpose had been tocaptivate or merely to analyse me; he had gone near to the former, andI did not doubt that he had succeeded entirely in the latter. Well,there was nothing I wanted to conceal--unless it might be somethingwhich I was still striving to conceal even from myself.
I rose very early the next morning. The Pasha was not expected toappear for two or three hours, and he had not requested my presencetill ten o'clock breakfast. I hastened off to the harbour, boarded theyacht, enjoyed a merry cup of coffee and a glorious bathe with Denny.Denny was anxious to know my plans--whether I meant to return or tostay. The idea of departure was odious to me. I enlarged on thebeauties of the island, but Denny's shrug insinuated a doubt of mycandour. I declared that I saw no reason for going, but must be guidedby the Pasha.
'Where's the girl?' asked Denny abruptly.
'She's up at the house,' I answered carelessly.
'Hum. Heard anything about Constantine being hanged?'
'Not a word; Mouraki has not touched on business.'
Denny had projected a sail, and was not turned from his purpose by myunwillingness to accompany him. Promising to meet him again in theevening, I took my way back up the street, where a day or two ago mylife would have paid for my venturing, where now I was as safe as inHyde Park. Women gave me civil greetings; the men did the like, or, atworst, ignored me. I saw the soldiers on guard at Constantine'sprison, and pursued my path to the house with a complacent smile. Myisland was beautiful that morning, and the blood flowed merrily in myveins. I thought of Phroso. Where was the remorse which I vainlysummoned?
Suddenly I saw Kortes before me, walking along slowly. He was relievedof his duty then, and Constantine was no longer in his hands.Overtaking him, I began to talk. He listened for a little, and thenraised his calm honest eyes to mine.
'And the Lady Phroso?' he said gently. 'What of her?'
I told him what I knew, softening the story of Mouraki's harshness.
'You have not spoken to her yet?' he asked. Then, coming a stepnearer, he said, 'She shuns you perhaps?'
'I don't know,' said I, feeling embarrassed under the man's directgaze.
'It is natural, but it will last only till she has seen you once. Ipray you not to linger, my lord. For she suffers shame at having toldher love, even though it was to save you. It is hard for a maiden tospeak unasked.'
I leaned my back against the rocky bank by the road.
'Lose no time in telling her your love, my lord,' he urged. 'It may bethat she guesses, but her shame will trouble her till she hears itfrom your lips. Seek her, seek her without delay.'
I had forgotten my triumph over Constantine and the beauty of theisland. I felt my eyes drop before Kortes's look; but I shrugged myshoulders, saying carelessly:
'It was only a friendly device the Lady Phroso played to save me. Shedoesn't really love me. It was a trick. But I'll thank her for itheartily; it was of great help to me, and a hard thing for her to do.'
'It was no trick. You know it was none. Wasn't the love in every toneof her voice? Isn't it in every glance of her eyes when she is withyou--and most when she won't look at you?'
'How come you to read her looks so well?' I asked.
'From studying them deeply,' said he simply. 'I do not know if I loveher, my lord; she is so much above me that my thoughts have not daredto fly to the height. But I would die for her, and I love no other. Tome, you, my lord, should be the happiest, proudest man alive. Prayspeak to her soon, my lord. My sister, whom you saw hold her in herarms, would have made me sure if I had doubted. The lady murmurs yourname in her sleep.'
A sudden irresistible exultation took hold of me. I think it turned myface red, for Kortes smiled, saying, 'Ah, you believe now, my lord!'
'Believe!' I cried. 'No, I don't believe. A thousand times, no! Idon't believe!' For I was crushing that exultation now as a mancrushes the foulest temptings.
A puzzled look invaded Kortes's eyes. There was silence between us forsome moments.
'It's absurd,' said I, in weak protest. 'She has known me only a fewdays--only a few hours rather--and there were other things to think ofthen than love-making.'
'Love,' said he, 'is made most readily when a man does not think ofit, and a stout arm serves a suitor better than soft words. You foughtagainst her and for her; you proved yourself a man before her eyes.Fear not, my lord; she loves you.'
'Fear not!' I exclaimed in a low bitter whisper.
'She said it herself,' continued Kortes. 'As her life, and more.'
'Hold your tongue, man!' I cried fiercely. 'In the devil's name, whathas it to do with you?'
A great wonder showed on his face, then a doubting fear; he camecloser to me and whispered so low that I hardly heard:
'What ails you? Is it not well that she should love you?'
'Let me alone,' I cried; 'I'll not answer your questions.' Why was thefellow to cross-examine me? Ah, there's the guilty man's old question;he loves a fine mock indignation, and hugs it to his heart.
Kortes drew back a pace and bowed, as though in apology; but there wasno apology in the glance he fixed on me. I would not look him in theface. I drew myself up as tall as I could, and put on my haughtiestair. If he could have seen how small I felt inside!
'Enough, Kortes,' said I, with a lordly air. 'No doubt your intentionsare good, but you forget what is becoming from you to me.'
He was not awed; and I think he perceived some of the truth--not all;for he said, 'You made her love you; that does not happen unless aman's own acts help it.'
'Do girls never rush uninvited on love, then?' I sneered.
'Some perhaps, but she would not,' he answered steadily.
He said no more. I nodded to him and set forward on my way. He bowedagain slightly, and stood still where he was, watching me. I felt hiseyes on me after we had parted. I was in a very tumult of discomfort.The man had humiliated me to the ground. I hoped against hope that hewas wrong; and again, in helpless self-contradiction, my heart criedout insisting on its shameful joy because he was right. Right orwrong, wrong or right, what did it matter? Either way now lay misery,either way now lay a struggle that I shrank from and abhorred.
I was somewhat delayed by this interview, and when I arrived at thehouse I found Mouraki already at breakfast. He apologised for nothaving awaited my coming, saying, 'I have transacted much business.Oh, I've not been in bed all the time! And I grew hungry. I have beenreceiving some reports on the state of the island.'
'It's quiet enough now. Your arrival has had a most calming effect.'
'Yes, they know me. They are very much afraid, for they think I shallbe hard on them. They remember my last visit.'
He made no reference to Constantine, and although I wondered rather athis silence I did not venture again to question him. I wished that Iknew what had happened on his last visit. A man with a mouth likeMouraki's might cause anything to happen.
'I shall keep them in suspense a little while,' he pursued, smiling.'It's good for them. Oh, by the way, Wheatley, you may as well takethis; or shall I tear it up?' And suddenly he held out to me thedocument which I had written and given to Phroso when I restored theisland to her.
'She gave you this?' I cried.
'She?' asked Mouraki, with a smile of mockery. 'Is there, then, onlyone woman in the world?' he seemed to ask sneeringly.
'The Lady Euphrosyne, to whom I gave it,' I explained with whatdignity I could.
'The Lady Phroso, yes,' said he, ('Hang his Phro
so!' thought I.) 'Ihad her before me this morning and made her give it up.'
'I can only give it back to her, you know.'
'My dear Wheatley, if you like to amuse yourself in that way I canhave no possible objection. Until you obtain a firman, however, youwill continue to be Lord of Neopalia and this Phroso no more than avery rebellious young lady. But you'll enjoy a pleasant interview andno harm will be done. Give it back by all means.' He smiled again,shrugging his shoulders, and lit a cigarette. His manner was theperfection of polite, patient, gentlemanly contempt.
'It seems easier to get an island than to get rid of one,' said I,trying to carry off my annoyance with a laugh.
'It is the case with so many things,' agreed Mouraki: 'debts,diseases, enemies, wives, lovers.'
There was a little pause before the last word, so slight that I couldnot tell whether it were intentional or not; and I had learnt toexpect no enlightenment from Mouraki's face or eyes. But he chosehimself to solve the mystery this time.
'Do I touch delicate ground?' he asked. 'Ah, my dear lord, I find frommy reports that in the account you gave me of your experiences you letmodesty stand in the way of candour. It was natural perhaps. I don'tblame you, since I have found out elsewhere what you omitted to tellme. Yet it was hardly a secret, since everybody in Neopalia knew it.'
I smoked my cigarette, feeling highly embarrassed and veryuncomfortable.
'And I am told,' pursued Mouraki, with his malicious smile, 'that theidea of a Wheatley-Stefanopoulos dynasty is by no means unpopular.Constantine's little tricks have disgusted them with him.'
'What are you going to do with him?' I asked, risking any offence nowin order to turn the topic.
'Do you really like jumping from subject to subject?' asked Mourakiplaintively. 'I am, I suppose, a slow-minded Oriental, and it fatiguesme horribly.'
I could have thrown the cigarette I was smoking in his face with keenpleasure.
'It is for your Excellency to choose the topic,' said I, restrainingmy fury.
'Oh, don't let us have "Excellencies" when we're alone together!Indeed I congratulate you on your conquest. She is magnificent; and itwas charming of her to make her declaration. That's what has pleasedthe islanders: they're romantic savages, after all, and the chivalryof it touches them.'
'It must touch anybody,' said I.
'Ah, I suppose so,' said Mouraki, flicking away his ash. 'I questionedher a little about it this morning.'
'You questioned her?' For all I could do there was a quiver of angerin my voice. I heard it myself, and it did not escape my companion'snotice. His smile grew broader.
'Precisely. I have to consider everything,' said he. 'I assure you, mydear Wheatley, that I did it in the most delicate manner possible.'
'It couldn't be done in a delicate manner.'
'I struggled,' said Mouraki, assuming his plaintive tone again, andspreading out deprecatory hands.
Was Mouraki merely amusing himself with a little 'chaff,' or had he apurpose? He seemed like a man who would have a purpose. I grew cool onthe thought of it.
'And did the lady answer your questions?' I asked carelessly.
'Wouldn't it be a treachery in me to tell you what she said?'countered Mouraki.
'I think not; because there's no doubt that the whole thing was only agood-natured device of hers.'
'Ah! A very good-natured device indeed! She must be an amiable girl,'smiled the Pasha. 'Precisely the sort of girl to make a man's homehappy.'
'She hasn't much chance of marriage in Neopalia,' said I.
'Heaven makes a way,' observed Mouraki piously. 'By-the-by, the deviceseems to have imposed on our acquaintance Kortes.'
'Oh, perhaps,' I shrugged. 'He's a little smitten himself, I think,and so very ready to be jealous.'
'How discriminating!' murmured Mouraki admiringly. 'As a fact, my dearWheatley, the lady said nothing. She chose to take offence.'
'You surprise me!' I exclaimed with elaborate sarcasm.
'And wouldn't speak. But her blushes were most lovely--yes, mostlovely. I envied you, upon my word I did.'
'Since it's not true--'
'Oh, a thing may be very pleasant to hear, even if it's not true.Sincerity in love is an added charm, but not, my dear fellow, anecessity.'
A pause followed this reflection of the Pasha's. Then he remarked:
'After all, we mustn't judge these people as we should judgeourselves. If Constantine hadn't already a wife--'
'What?' I cried, leaping up.
'And perhaps that difficulty is not insuperable.'
'He deserves nothing but hanging.'
'A reluctant wife is hardly better.'
'Of course you don't mean it?'
'It seems to disturb you so much.'
'It's a monstrous idea.'
Mouraki laughed in quiet enjoyment of my excitement.
'Then Kortes?' he suggested.
'He's infinitely her inferior. Besides--forgive me--why is it yourconcern to marry her to any one?'
'In a single state she is evidently a danger to the peace of theisland,' he answered with assumed gravity. 'Now your young friend--'
'Oh, Denny's a boy.'
'You reject everyone,' he said pathetically, and his eyes dwelt on mein amused scrutiny.
'Your suggestions, my dear Pasha, seem hardly serious,' said I in ahuff. He was too many for me, and I struggled in vain againstbetraying my ruffled temper.
'Well then, I will make two serious suggestions; that is a handsome_amende_. And for the first--yourself!'
I waved my hand and gave an embarrassed laugh.
'You say nothing to that?'
'Oughtn't I to hear the alternative first?'
'Indeed it is only reasonable. Well, then, the alternative--' Hepaused, laughed, lit another cigarette. 'The alternative is--myself,'said he.
'Still not serious!' I exclaimed, forcing a smile.
'Absolutely serious,' he asserted. 'I have the misfortune to be awidower, and for the second time; so unkind is heaven. She is mostcharming. I have, perhaps, a position which would atone for some wantof youth and romantic attractions.'
'Of course, if she likes--'
'I don't think she would persist in refusing,' said Mouraki with athoughtful smile; and he went on, 'Three years ago, when I came here,she struck me as a beautiful child, one likely to become a beautifulwoman. You see for yourself that I am not disappointed. My wife wasalive at that time, but in bad health. Still I hardly thoughtseriously of it then, and the idea did not recur to me till I sawPhroso again. You look surprised.'
'Well, I am surprised.'
'You don't think her attractive, then?'
'Frankly, that is not the reason for my surprise.'
'Shall I go on? You think me old? It is a young man's delusion, mydear Wheatley.'
Bear-baiting may have been excellent sport--its defenders sodeclare--but I do not remember that it was ever considered pleasantfor the bear. I felt now much as the bear must have felt. I roseabruptly from the table.
'All these things require thought,' said Mouraki gently. 'We will talkof them again this afternoon. I have a little business to do now.'
Saying this, he rose and leisurely took his way upstairs. I was leftalone in the hall so familiar to me; and my first thought was a regretthat I was not again a prisoner there, with Constantine seeking mylife, Phroso depending on my protection, and Mouraki administeringsome other portion of his district. That condition of things had been,no doubt, rather too exciting to be pleasant; but it had not made meharassed, wretched, humiliated, exasperated almost beyond endurance:and such was the mood in which the two conversations of the morningleft me.
A light step sounded on the stair: the figure that of all figures Ileast wished to see then, that I rejoiced to see more than any in theworld besides, appeared before me. Phroso came down. She reached thefloor of the hall and saw me. For a long moment we each rested as wewere. Then she stepped towards me, and I rose with a bow. She was verypale, but
a smile came on her lips as she murmured a greeting to meand passed on. I should have done better to let her go. I rose andfollowed. On the marble pavement by the threshold I overtook her;there we stood again looking on the twinkling sea in the distance, aswe had looked before. I was seeking what to say.
'I must thank you,' I said; 'yet I can't. It was magnificent.'
The colour suddenly flooded her face.
'You understood?' she murmured. 'You understood why? It seemed theonly way; and I think it did help a little.'
I bent down and kissed her hand.
'I don't care whether it helped,' I said. 'It was the thing itself.'
'I didn't care for them--the people--but when I thought what you wouldthink--' She could not go on, but drew her hand, which she had leftan instant in mine as though forgetful of it, suddenly away.
'I--I knew, of course, that it was only a--a stratagem,' said I. 'Oh,yes, I knew that directly.'
'Yes,' whispered she, looking over the sea.
'Yes,' said I, also looking over the sea.
'You forgive it?'
'Forgive!' My voice came low and husky. I did not see why such thingsshould be laid on a man; I did not know if I could endure them. Yet Iwould not have left her then for an angel's crown.
'And you will forget it? I mean, you--' The whisper died into silence.
'So long as I live I will not forget it,' said I.
Then, by a seemingly irresistible impulse that came upon both of us,we looked in one another's eyes, a long look that lingered and wasloth to end. As I looked, I saw, in joy that struggled with shame, anew light in the glowing depths of Phroso's eyes, a greeting of anundreamt happiness, a terrified delight. Then her lids dropped and shebegan to speak quietly and low.
'It came on me that I might help if I said it, because the islanderslove me, and so, perhaps, they wouldn't hurt you. But I couldn't lookat you. I only prayed you would understand, that you wouldn'tthink--oh, that you wouldn't think--that--of me, my lord. And I didn'tknow how to meet you to-day, but I had to.'
I stood silent beside her, curiously conscious of every detail ofNature's picture before me; for I had turned from her again, and myeyes roamed over sea and island. But at that moment there came fromone of the narrow windows of the old house, directly above our heads,the sound of a low, amused, luxurious chuckle. A look of dread andshrinking spread over Phroso's face.
'Ah, that man!' she exclaimed in an agitated whisper.
'What of him?'
'He has been here before. I have seen him smile and heard him laughlike that when he sent men to death and looked on while they died.Yes, men of our own island, men who had served us and were ourfriends. Ah, he frightens me, that man!' She shuddered, stretching outher hand in an unconscious gesture, as though she would ward off somehorrible thing. 'I have heard him laugh like that when a woman askedher son's life of him and a girl her lover's. It kills me to be nearhim. He has no pity. My lord, intercede with him for the islanders.They are ignorant men: they did not know.'
'Not one shall be hurt if I can help it,' said I earnestly. 'But--' Istopped; yet I would go on, and I added, 'Have you no fear of himyourself?'
'What can he do to me?' she asked. 'He talked to me this morningabout--about you. I hate to talk with him. But what can he do to me?'
I was silent. Mouraki had not hinted to her the idea which he hadsuggested, in puzzling ambiguity between jest and earnest, to me. Hereyes questioned me; then suddenly she laid her hand on my arm andsaid:
'And you would protect me, my lord. While you were here, I should besafe.'
'While!' The little word struck cold on my heart: my eyes showed herthe blow; in a minute she understood. She raised her hand from whereit lay and pointed out towards the sea. I saw the pretty trim littleyacht running home for the harbour after her morning cruise.
'Yes, while you are here, my lord,' she said, with the most pitiful ofbrave smiles.
'As long as you want me, I shall be here,' I assured her.
She raised her eyes to mine, the colour came again to her face.
'As long as you are in any danger,' I added in explanation.
'Ah, yes!' said she, with a sigh and drooping eyelids; and she went onin a moment, as though recollecting a civility due and not paid, 'Youare very good to me, my lord; for your island has treated youunkindly, and you will be glad to sail away from it to your home.'
'It is,' said I, bending towards her, 'the most beautiful island inthe world, and I would love to stay in it all my life.'
Again the pleased contented chuckle sounded from the window over ourheads. It seemed to strike Phroso with a new fit of sudden fear. Witha faint cry she darted out her hand and seized mine.
'Don't be afraid. He sha'n't hurt you,' said I.
A moment later we heard steps descending the stairs inside the house.Mouraki appeared on the threshold. Phroso had sprung away from me andstood a few paces off. Yet Mouraki knew that we had not stood thusdistantly before his steps were heard. He looked at Phroso and then atme: a blush from her, a scowl from me, filled any gaps in hisknowledge. He stood there smiling--I began to hate the Pasha'ssmiles--for a moment, and then came forward. He bowed slightly, butcivilly enough, to Phroso; then to my astonishment he took my hand andbegan to shake it with a great appearance of cordiality.
'Really I beg your pardon,' said I. 'What's the matter?'
'The matter?' he cried in high good humour, or what seemed such. 'Thematter? Why, the matter, my dear Wheatley, is that you appear to beboth a very discreet fellow and a very fortunate one.'
'I don't understand yet,' said I, trying to hide my growingirritation.
'Surely it's no secret?' he asked. 'It is generally known, isn't it?'
'What's generally known?' I fairly roared in an exasperation thatmastered all self-control.
The Pasha was not in the very least disturbed. He held a bundle ofletters in his left hand and he began now to sort them. He ended bychoosing one, which he held up before me, with a malicious humourtwinkling from under his heavy brows.
'I get behindhand in my correspondence when I'm on a voyage,' said he.'This letter came to Rhodes about a week ago, together with a mass ofpublic papers, and I have only this morning opened it. It concernsyou.'
'Concerns me? Pray, in what way?'
'Or rather it mentions you.'
'Who is it from?' I asked. The man's face was full of triumphantspite, and I grew uneasy.
'It is,' said he, 'from our Ambassador in London. I think you knowhim.'
'Slightly.'
'Precisely.'
'Well?'
'He asks how you are getting on in Neopalia, or whether I have anynews of you.'
'You'll be able to answer him now.'
'Yes, yes, with great satisfaction. And he will be able to answer someinquiries which he has had.'
I knew what was coming now. Mouraki beamed pleasure. I set my face. AtPhroso, who stood near all this while in silence, I dared not look.
'From a certain lady who is most anxious about you.'
'Ah!'
'A Miss Hipgrave--Miss Beatrice Hipgrave.'
'Ah, yes!'
'Who is a friend of yours?'
'Certainly, my dear Pasha.'
'Who is, in fact--let me shake hands again--your future wife. Athousand congratulations!'
'Oh, thanks, you're very kind,' said I. 'Yes, she is.'
I declare that I must have played this scene--no easy one--well, forMouraki's rapturous amusement disappeared. He seemed rather put outHe looked (and I hope felt) a trifle foolish. I kept a cool carelessglance on him.
But his triumph came from elsewhere. He turned from me to Phroso, andmy eyes followed his. She stood rigid, frozen, lifeless; she devouredmy face with an appealing gaze. She made no sign and uttered no sound.Mouraki smiled again; and I said:
'Any London news, my dear Pasha?'