In the coolness of the late evening, in the court of the caravanserai,her brother and his friends lounged with her and the two ladies of theirtouring and sketching party, while they drank their sherbet, andtalked of the Gerome colors of the place, and watched the flame of theafterglow burn out, and threw millet to the doves and pigeons strayingat their feet.
"My dear Venetia!" cried the Seraph, carelessly tossing handfuls ofgrain to the eager birds, "I inquired for your Sculptor-Chasseur--thatfellow Victor--but I failed to see him, for he had been sent on anexpedition shortly after I reached the camp. They tell me he is a finesoldier; but by what the Marquis said, I fear he is but a handsomeblackguard, and Africa, after all, may be his fittest place."
She gave a bend of her head to show she heard him, stroking the softthroat of a little dove that had settled on the bench beside her.
"There is a charming little creature there, a littlefire-eater--Cigarette, they call her--who is in love with him, I fancy.Such a picturesque child!--swears like a trooper, too," continued he whowas now Duke of Lyonnesse. "By the way, is Berkeley gone?"
"Left yesterday."
"What for?--where to?"
"I was not interested to inquire."
"Ah! you never liked him! Odd enough to leave without reason orapology?"
"He had his reasons, doubtless."
"And made his apology to you?"
"Oh, yes!"
Her brother looked at her earnestly; there was a care upon her face newto him.
"Are you well, my darling?" he asked her. "Has the sun been too hot, orla bise too cold for you?"
She rose, and gathered her cashmeres about her, and smiled somewhatwearily her adieu to him.
"Both, perhaps. I am tired. Good-night."