Burning Sands

  CHAPTER XXI--THE CLASH

  During the next three days Muriel flung herself into her socialengagements with desperation. She wanted to prevent herself fromthinking about Daniel, for her attitude towards him baffled her and puther out of conceit with herself. She was violently jealous of thisLizette, whoever she might be; but, somehow her jealousy did notestrange her from her lover. All the more passionately she wanted Danielto belong to her: she wanted to step into his life, to drive all elseout, and to take possession of him. It is true that she meant to hurthim, to punish him; but, even while being angry with him, she knew thatshe would ultimately forgive him.

  Had her training been other than that of the typical young woman of theworld, she would probably have regarded her relationship to him as at anend; but she had been brought up to the idea that men have to beindulged in their little peccadillos and excused for their excesses, andnow, somewhat to her own annoyance, she found herself exonerating him.She was hurt, she was offended, she was jealous, she was disgusted; butshe was not completely estranged. She declared to herself with her lipsthat she could never feel the same to him again; but her heart, by itsvery sorrows, gave the lie to her passionate mutterings.

  She did not have many opportunities of speaking to him during thesethree days, and she shunned the beginning of what she knew was going tobe a serious quarrel. But on the fourth day circumstances threw themtogether: and then the trouble began.

  They had both accepted an invitation to luncheon with Colonel and Mrs.Cavilland; and, Muriel's presence being the social feature of theoccasion, she did not feel that she ought to disappoint her hostess. Norcould she avoid driving to the house in Daniel's company; and it wasonly the shortness of the distance that prevented some sort of anoutburst.

  As it was, she was distant and preoccupied, and Daniel looked at herevery now and then, wondering what could be the matter.

  Lady Smith-Evered was one of the guests; and the question as to whetherthe Colonel should take her or Lady Muriel as his partner must have beenthe subject of much discussion. It had evidently been decided, however,that the daughter of Lord Blair took precedence of the wife of Sir HenrySmith-Evered; and Colonel Cavilland therefore led the former into thedining-room, and to Daniel fell the duty of giving his arm to thelatter.

  Lady Smith-Evered plainly showed her indignation at this outrage by amere colonel of Dragoons upon the martial dignity of theCommander-in-Chief; and for much of the meal she hardly spoke a word.Daniel was thus left to look about him; and he observed how gaily Muriellaughed and joked with her partner, and with Captain Purdett upon herother hand.

  Snatches of her conversation came to his ears; and he was conscious, asever, that the things she said in public had no relation to those meantfor his private hearing. When she was alone with him she spoke withfrankness and sincerity; but to other people she seemed to be strivingafter an effect, and just now, somehow, he would have liked to haveshaken her, even though she made him laugh.

  The colonel was talking about the recent discovery at Alexandria of aGreek papyrus, extracts from which had appeared in translation in theEgyptian Gazette.

  "It's a treatise on love," Colonel Cavilland was saying. "The Greekswere specialists on that subject."

  "Oh, I thought they were general practitioners," Muriel replied, and wasrewarded with a burst of laughter.

  He spoke of the passages quoted as being very charming, direct, andsimple; and Muriel remarked that she had always thought of the Greeks aswicked old men who sat on cold marble and made hot epigrams.

  "But in this case," he laughed, "the author seems to have been a poorshepherd."

  "Then no wonder his views were peculiar," said she. "'Poverty makes usacquainted with strange bedfellows,' they say."

  The colonel glanced at her apprehensively, but Muriel's face seemed toshow perfect innocence. "Oh, well, for that matter," she added,musingly, "I suppose wealth does, too."

  Her host's breath appeared to be taken away by her audacity. He was notused to the style of chatter current in what are called "smart" circles.He caught Daniel's eye, and, seeing that he had been listening, winkedat him; but Daniel turned quickly away, and made another abortiveattempt to engage Lady Smith-Evered in conversation.

  Mrs. Cavilland observed his difficulties, and helped him to enter thegaieties at her end of the table; but here, again, he felt himself to beout of harmony with the laughter, and he began to think himself a verysurly fellow.

  Mrs. Cavilland was amusing her neighbours by making fun of the wives ofthe minor officials in Cairo; and she was clever enough to rend them sogently that her feline claws were hardly to be observed, her victimsseeming, as it were, to fall to pieces of their own accord.

  "What a cat I am!" she laughed. "Mr. Lane, I can see your disapprovingeye on me."

  Lady Smith-Evered leant forward. "Mr. Lane disapproves of everythingEnglish," she said. "He prefers natives."

  "Oh, it's not as bad as that," Daniel replied, with a smile. "I've gotthe greatest admiration for my countrymen in the rough...."

  He checked himself. He felt that he was being a boor. He wanted to add:"but I detest the ways of this politely infamous thing called Society."

  It was Muriel, strangely enough, who came to his rescue. "Oh, don't takeany notice of him," she said, speaking across the table. "That's onlyhis fun."

  If she spoke with bitterness she concealed the fact; and Mrs. Cavilland,knowing that he had lived much of his life in America, presumed that hisform of drollery must be of that kind to which English people arenotoriously obtuse. She did not wish to be thought slow in the uptake,and she therefore laughed merrily, declaring that he was "a perfectscream," which so tickled Daniel that he, too, smiled.

  There was to be a garden party at the Residency that afternoon, which,owing to the anticipated presence of a number of native dignitaries, hewould be obliged to attend. As soon as luncheon was finished, therefore,he whispered to Muriel, suggesting that they should leave early, andthus have a little time together before the afternoon's function.

  "I _must_ have an hour alone with you, Muriel," he said. "I'm feelingall on edge."

  Muriel shook her head. "Can't be done," she answered casually. "I'vepromised Willie Purdett I'd go for a spin with him in his new car."

  "Well, tell him you've changed your mind," he said, deliberately. "Iwant you."

  "I'm afraid you're too late, my dear," replied Muriel, and turned awayfrom him.

  Later, at the garden party he watched her as she moved about the lawn;and he seemed to be unusually sensitive to the number of young men whohovered around her. His philosophy had wholly deserted him, and his mindwas disturbed and miserable.

  Once he joined a group in which she was the principal figure; and againhe was distressed by the tone of her remarks. It was almost as thoughshe were trying to offend his ear.

  Somebody had said "The good die young," but Daniel had not heard theearlier part of the conversation; and Muriel replied, "Yes, dullness isthe most deadly thing on earth, and the most contagious."

  He did not wait to hear more: he turned his back on her and walked away,his heart heavy within him. He was utterly out of tune with her.

  That evening she was to dine with the Bindanes at Mena House and tospend the night with them, so as to be ready for an early start nextmorning upon an all-day excursion into the desert. It was to be a largeand elegant picnic; and Daniel had been glad to be able to make his workan excuse for not joining the party.

  Soon after dark, therefore, he found himself driving out to the Pyramidswith Muriel and her maid; and on reaching the hotel he asked her to comeinto the garden for the half-hour before the first gong would ring.

  "Oh, it's so dark out there," she replied. "I want to have a talk toyou, too. Couldn't we find a corner in the lounge?"

  "No," he said, "it's stuffy inside."

  He took her arm, and led her towards the dense group of trees whichsurrounded the tennis court. She did not resist. This state of veiledhostility was in
tolerable, and she welcomed the thought of a pitchedbattle with him.

  The night was moonless; and the hot south wind which had been blowingduring the day had dropped, leaving the upper air so filled with a hazydust that the stars were dim. The darkness, when they had passed out ofthe range of the hotel lights, was intense; and it was with difficultythat they found their way to a bench upon the lawn, under the blacknessof the overhanging foliage.

  Here they seated themselves in silence; and, though they were close toone another, each could feel, rather than see, the presence of theother. The distant clanging of the tram-car bells, and an occasionalgrumble of an automobile, reminded them that civilization was not farremoved; but here in the obscurity all was hushed, and there was a senseof detachment from the busy ways of mankind which was accentuated by theominous hooting of an owl and by the gentle rustle of the trees, as theleaves were stirred by the dying wind.

  "Well?" said Muriel.

  "Well?" he replied. "Let's have it out."

  "Oh, then you know there's something wrong."

  "I know you have been trying to hurt me for the past two or three days,"he answered.

  He put his hand upon hers as it rested on her knee, and drew her towardshim; but she resisted the movement, and he noticed that her fingers,which pushed his own away, were cold.

  "Tell me," he said. "What has been the matter? You have made me veryunhappy."

  "There's nothing to tell," she answered. "Only ..."

  "Only what?"

  "I don't think you know what love is," she murmured, and her voice wasso low that her words were almost lost in the darkness.

  "But that is just what I was going to say to you," he replied.

  She uttered a little laugh. "It seems that we shall always interpretthings differently," she said.

  She turned to him, and in the obscurity his face seemed strange to her.She could not construct the features, nor supply the well-known linesnow lost in the shadow. She saw only the great forehead, faintly white,and the upper part of his cheeks; but his eyes were hidden in two deepcavities of blackness, and all expression was extinguished.

  "There will always be these misunderstandings," he told her, "so long asyou are tied to this sort of social life."

  "I prefer it to the underworld," she answered, and her heart beat, forshe was launching her attack.

  "What d'you mean by the 'underworld'?" he asked.

  "The world that Lizette belongs to," she replied.

  She had said it!--she had hurled her lightning, and now she waited forthe roll of the thunder. But there was no cracking of the heavens: onlysilence; and, as she waited, she could feel the beating of her pulse inher throat.

  At last he spoke, and his voice was quiet and clear.

  "Please tell me exactly what Cousin Charles has said about Lizette."

  She turned quickly on him. "Why should you think it was CharlesBarthampton who told me?"

  "Because I was with Lizette the day I first met him," he answered.

  "Then you don't deny it?"

  "Deny it?" he repeated, with scorn in his voice. "Why on earth should Ideny it?"

  She shrugged her shoulders. "A man generally denies that sort of thingto the girl he wants to marry," she said.

  "That only shows how little you understand me," he replied, and therewas despair in his words.

  "O, I understand you well enough," she answered, bitterly. "You are justlike all men. But what I can't understand is how you could be goingabout with that woman at the same time that you were making love to me."

  Again he was silent. It seemed that he had to turn her words over in hismind before their significance was clear.

  "You mean," he said at length, "that if I had told you Lizette was anold flame of mine now set aside, you would have condoned it?"

  "Women have to forgive a great deal in the men they love," she answered.

  "You mean," he went on, ruthlessly, "that you think me capable of comingto you with that woman's kisses on my lips?"

  It was she, now, who was silent for a while. "I've got to think youcapable of it," she said at last. "You were with her only a few daysago."

  "Yes," he answered. "I was with her, as you say, a few days ago. Well?"

  She moved restlessly in her seat. "That's not the way to ask myforgiveness," she said.

  Suddenly his shadowy bulk seemed to loom up above her. He gripped herwrist with his left hand, and drew her towards him; while the fingers ofhis right hand laid themselves upon her throat. His face came close tohers.

  "How dare you!" he whispered. "How dare you think of me like that? D'youmean to say that if all this were true, if I were living with thatwoman, you would be prepared to forgive me?"

  She did not speak. "Answer me!" he cried, and his arms crushed her tohim.

  "I don't know," she gasped. "I only know I love you, Daniel."

  He loosed his hold upon her. "Oh, you're tainted," he exclaimed."Intrigues, jealousies, deceptions, quarrels, reconciliations--they'reall part of your scheme of life. I suppose you revel in them, just asyou revel in the latest divorce case at your gossiping tea-parties, andthe latest dresses from Paris, and the latest dancing craze, and thelatest thing in erotic pictures or sensuous music...."

  Muriel put her hands over her ears. "I won't listen!" she cried. "Youdon't know what you're saying."

  He stood in front of her, his hands driven into the pockets of his coat.His massive head and shoulders shut out the misty stars, and as shelooked up at him he appeared to her as a black and vaporous elementalrisen from the ancient soil of Egypt.

  It was evident that he was trying to control his anger; and when hespoke again his voice was quiet and restrained.

  "I'm afraid I must seem to you very rude," he said, "but when one isspeaking out of the pit of despair the words one utters are black words.These last few days I've been seeing you with critical eyes: watchingyou, listening to you. And the result is ..."

  "What?" she asked, as he paused.

  "I realize more and more how I dislike all this fooling with the surfaceof things--surface emotions, surface wit, surface honesty. I can't getdown to the real You: the veneer is so thick. All that I have seen andheard belongs to the superficial. I'm beginning to think there's nothingreal or solid under it all. The things you say are clever empty things;the things you do...."

  She rose to her feet and faced him--a shadow confronting a shadow.

  "We seem to be getting further away all the time from the original pointof contention," she said, her voice rising. "I suppose that is what iscalled 'confusing the issue.' It is rather clever. But please try toremember that I am accusing you of deceit and disgusting duplicity. I amaccusing you of being with a woman whom even your obnoxious cousincouldn't stand seeing you with, so that he had to try to separate you."

  "Oh, he said that, did he?" Daniel's tone was apathetic.

  "Do you deny it?" she asked, quickly.

  "No," he answered. "If you believe the story, it has served itspurpose."

  "How can I not believe it?" she cried. "You don't deny it."

  "Why should I deny it?" he demanded. "It is not a compromise with you Iam looking for: I am looking for your trust."

  "Trust!" she scoffed. "You come to me and whisper to me of yourwonderful desert, and the wonderful times we shall have there together;you tell me that I am your mate, your sweetheart; your chosen one: andall the time you are carrying on a liaison with a wretched woman in aback street."

  "Yes," he answered, "and, believing that, you decide to have it out withme and then make it up. Oh, you sicken me! If I were to tell you thewhole thing were nonsense, you wouldn't believe me. You might even bedisappointed. The tale would have been found to have no point: itwouldn't be up to the standard of the stuff you read in your Frenchnovels."

  Muriel sat down upon the bench once more, and her hands fell listlesslyto her sides. "I don't think there's any use in talking," she murmured.

  "No, none," he answered. "I shall never get to th
e real you until youcut loose from all this. We belong at present to different worlds. I'mall at sea when I try to look at things from your point of view."

  "Very well, then," she said. "Please take me back to the hotel. I shallbe late for dinner."

  There was a complete silence between them as they made their way throughthe trees and along the gravel path towards the strongly-illuminatedveranda. Through open doors the lounge could be seen, and here groups ofvisitors were gathering in readiness for dinner. The chatter of voicesand little gusts of laughter came to their ears as they approached; andan elegant young man at the piano was lazily fingering the notes ofGeorges Huee's haunting _J'ai pleure en reve_.

  Daniel paused at the steps of the veranda, but Muriel walked on, and,without turning her head, passed into the house. He stood for a moment,after she had gone, staring into the brightly lit room with dazeduncomprehending eyes: then he turned towards the desert, and presentlywas engulfed in the night.