CHAPTER IV--A JACKAL IN A VILLAGE
Tired after the dance, Lady Muriel stayed upstairs next day until theluncheon hour. The long windows of her room led out on to a balconywhich, being on the west side of the house, remained in the shade formost of the morning; and here in a comfortable basket chair, she layback idly glancing at the week-old magazines and illustrated paperswhich the mail had just brought from England. While the sun was not yethigh in the heavens the shadow cast by the house was broad enough tomitigate to the eyes the glare of the Egyptian day; and every now andthen she laid down her literature to gaze at the brilliant scene beforeher.
The grounds of the Residency, with the rare flowering trees and importedvarieties of palm, the masses of variegated flowers and the fresh-sownlawns of vivid grass, looked like well-kept Botanical Gardens, andappealed more to her cultivated tastes than to the original emotions ofher nature. It was all very elegant and civilized and pleasing, andseemed correspondent to the charming new garment--all silk and lace andribbons--which she was wearing, and to the fashionable literature whichshe was reading. She, the balcony, the garden, and the deep blue skymight have been a picture on the cover of a society journal.
But when she raised her eyes, and looked over the Nile, which flowedpast the white terrace at the bottom of the lawn, and allowed her gazeto rest upon the long line of the distant desert on the opposite bank,the aspect of things, outward and inward, was altered; and momentarilyshe felt the play of disused or wholly novel sensations lightly touchingupon her heart.
So far she was delighted with her experience of Egypt. She enjoyed theheat; she was charmed by the somewhat luxurious life at the Residency;and the deference paid to her as the Great Man's daughter amused andpleased her. At the dance the previous night she had met half a dozenvery possible young officers; and the secretaries whom she saw every daywere pleasant enough, little Rupert Helsingham being quite amusing. Thatafternoon she was going to ride with him, which would be jolly....
There was, however, one small and almost insignificant source of uneasein her mind, one little blot upon the enjoyment of the last two or threedays. A ruffianly fellow had treated her in a manner bordering onrudeness, and in his presence she had felt stupid. He had shown at firstcomplete indifference to her, and later he had spoken with a sort ofeasy familiarity which suggested a long experience in dealing with hersex, but no ability to discriminate between the bondwoman and the free.And she had behaved as a bondwoman.
The recollection caused her now to tap her foot angrily upon the tiledfloor, and to draw the delicate line of her eyebrows into a puckeredfrown. The thought which lay at the root of her discomfort was this: shehad pretended that their previous meeting had been at the house of theDuchess of Strathness simply because she had been lashed into a desireto assert her own standing in response to his lack of respect. TheDuchess was her most exalted relative: she was a Royal Princess who hadmarried the Duke, and the Duke was cousin to her mother. She knew quitewell that she had not met Mr. Lane there: she had uttered the wordsbefore her nicer instincts had had time to prevail.
She had said it in self-defence--to make an impression; and his reply,whether he had meant it as a snub or not, had stung her. "I'm so bad atnames: what's she like?" Her Royal Highness Princess Augusta Maria,Duchess of Strathness! Of course it was a snub; and she had deserved it.He couldn't have made a more shattering reply: he couldn't have saidmore plainly to her "Now, no airs with me, please!--to me you are justyou."
The recollection of the incident was unpleasant; it made her feel small.She had behaved no better than the servants and shopkeepers who delightto speak in familiar terms of duchesses and dukes. However!... she didnot suppose that she would see the man again: he belonged to the desert,not to Cairo; and with this consolation, she dismissed the matter fromher mind.
When at last she descended the stairs at the sound of the gong, she cameupon General Smith-Evered, who had called to see Lord Blair upon somematter of business, and was just stumping across the hall on his wayout. He was a very martial little man. He greeted her with jocularitytempered by deference; he kissed her hand in what he believed to be avery charming old-world manner; he told her what a radiant vision shemade as she walked down the great staircase in her pretty summer dress;he described himself as a bluff old soldier fairly bowled over by heryouthful grace; and he slapped his leggings with his cane and gloves andkissed his fingers to England, home and beauty.
Muriel knew the type well--in real life, on the stage, and in the comicpapers; nevertheless, she felt pleased with the rotund compliments, andthere was a pleasurable sense of well-being in her mind as she enteredthe drawing-room. Here the sun-blinds shaded the long French windows,and the light in the room was so subdued that she did not observe atonce that she was not alone. She had paused to rearrange a vase offlowers which stood upon a small table, when a movement behind hercaused her to turn; and she found herself face to face with Daniel Lane,who had just risen from the sofa.
"Good morning!" he said, gravely looking at her with his deep-set blueeyes.
Her heart sank: she felt like a schoolgirl in the presence of a masterwho had lately punished her. "Oh, good morning," she answered, but shedid not offer him her hand.
She turned again to the flowers. "Are you waiting to see my father?" sheasked, as she aimlessly withdrew a rose from the bunch and inserted itagain at another angle.
"I've come to lunch," he said. "I'm early, I suppose. My watch isbusted."
Deeper sank her heart. "No, you're not early," she replied, "the gong'sgone."
"Good!" he exclaimed; "then you haven't got a party. I was shy about myclothes."
He was wearing the same clothes in which she had seen him the nightbefore, except that he appeared to have a clean collar and shirt, hishair was carefully combed back, and he had evidently visited a barber.
"Do sit down," she said.
"Thanks," he answered, and remained where he was, his hands deep in thepockets of his jacket, and his eyes fixed upon her.
There was an awkward pause, awkward, that is to say, to Muriel, whocould not for the life of her think what to talk about.
"Will you smoke a cigarette?" she asked, handing him the box as apreliminary to an escape from the room.
He took it from her unthinkingly, and, without opening it, put it downupon a table.
"I've remembered where it was we met," he remarked suddenly, as shemoved towards the door.
"Really?" There was a note of assumed indifference in her voice; and, asshe turned and came back to him, she made a desperate attempt to emulatethe cucumber. She felt that there was a challenge in his words, in faceof which she could not honourably run away.
"Yes," he said. "It was at Eastbourne, at your school. I came down tosee your head mistress, who was a friend of mine; and they let you comeinto the drawing-room to tea."
A wave of recollection passed over her mind. "Of course," she exclaimed,"that was it."
They had let her, they had _allowed_ her, to come into the drawing-roomto have the honour of making his acquaintance! She paused: the scene oftheir meeting developed in her mind. A girl had rushed into theschoolroom where she was reading, and had told her that she and one ortwo others were to go into the drawing-room to make themselves polite tothis man, who was described as a great scholar and explorer. She hadgone in shyly, and had shaken hands with him, and he had stared at herand, later, had turned his back on her; and, after he had gone, theheadmistress had commended her manners as having been quiet, ladylike,and respectful. Respectful!
He was smiling at her when she looked up at him once more. "You werewrong about it being at your cousin's," he said.
Muriel felt as though she had been smacked. "Oh, I only suggested that,"she replied, witheringly, "to help you out. I didn't really suppose thatyou knew her."
"I know very few people," he answered, unmoved. "I can't afford thetime. Life is such a 'brief candle' that a man has to choose one of itstwo pleasures--sociability or study: he can't
enjoy both."
She looked at him curiously. He must have a tough hide, she thought, tobe unruffled by a remark so biting as that she had made. For a momentshe stared straight at him, her hand resting on her hip. Then she caughtsight of herself in the great mirror against the wall, and her handslipped hastily from its resting-place: her attitude had been that of acommon Spanish dancing-girl. Her eyes fell before his.
"I'll go and find the others," she said, and turned from him.
As she did so Lord Blair hurried into the room. He was wearing ahot-weather suit of some sort of drab-coloured silk, straight from thelaundry, where, one might have supposed, the trousers had beenaccidentally shrunk. His stiff and spacious collar, and his expansivetie, folded in the four-in-hand manner and fastened with a large goldpin, detracted from the sense of coolness suggested by his suit; but arose in his buttonhole gave a comfortable touch of nature to anotherwise artificial figure.
"Ah, good morning, Muriel dear," he exclaimed, giving her cheek afriendly but quite unaffectionate kiss. "You've had a lazy morning, eh?Feel the heat, no doubt. Yes? No? Ah, that's good, that's capital! Goodmorning Mr. Lane, or Daniel, I should say, since you permit it. I hopeMuriel has been amusing you."
"She has," said Daniel, and Muriel blushed.
Rupert Helsingham entered the room; and, when he had made hissalutations, Muriel turned to him with relief, strolling with him acrossto the windows through which the warm scented air of the garden drifted,bringing with it the drone of the flies and the incessant rustle of thepalms.
"Please see that I don't sit next to that horrible man at lunch," shewhispered.
"There's no choice," he answered. "The four of us are alone today."
"Shall we go in?" said Lord Blair, nodding vigorously to Muriel; and thethree men followed her into the dining-room.
The meal proved to be less of an ordeal than she had expected. Theirvisitor talked at first almost exclusively to his host, who showed him,and discussed, the draft of his reply to the Minister of War; and Murielmade herself quite entrancing to Rupert Helsingham. Under ordinarycircumstances she was, in spite of occasional lapses into bored silence,a quick and witty talker; one who speedily established a sympatheticconnection with the person with whom she was conversing; and herlaughter was frequent and infectious. It was only this Daniel Lane whohad such a disturbing effect upon her equanimity; but here, at theopposite side of a large table, she seemed to be out of range of hisinfluence, and she rejoiced in her unimpaired power to captivate thelittle Diplomatic secretary.
"I am going to call you Rupert at once," she said to him; and, breakingin on the opposite conversation, "Father," she demanded, "d'you mind ifI call this man by his Christian name? Everybody seems to."
Lord Blair laughed, holding out his hands in a gesture which indicatedthat he took no responsibility, and turned to Daniel. "Do you think Iought to let her?" he asked.
To Muriel his remark could hardly have been more unfortunate, and amomentary frown gathered upon her face.
"I think it's a good idea," replied Daniel, looking quietly at her."Then if you quarrel you can revert to 'Mr. Helsingham' with tellingeffect."
Muriel made a slight movement, not far removed from a toss of her head,and, without giving any reply, continued her conversation to Rupert.
The meal was nearly finished when she became aware that her friend wasnot paying full attention to her remarks, but was listening to DanielLane, whose tongue a glass of wine had loosened, and who was speaking ina low vibrating voice, describing some phases of his life in the desert.At this she, too, began to listen, at first with some irritation, butsoon with genuine interest. She had supposed him to be more or lessmonosyllabic, and she was astonished at his command of languages.
As she fixed her eyes upon him he glanced at her for a moment, and therewas a pause in his words. For the first time he was conscious of a lookof friendship in her face; and his heart responded to the expression.The pause was hardly noticeable, but to him it was as though somethingof importance had happened; and when he turned again to continue toaddress himself to his host, there was a warm impulse behind his words.Muriel thereafter made no further remark to Rupert; but leaning herelbow upon the table, and fingering some grapes, gave her undividedattention to the speaker.
"It's always a matter of surprise to me," he was saying, "that peopledon't come out more often into the desert. You all sit here in thisgarden of Egypt, this little strip of fertile land on the banks of theNile, and you look up at the great wall of the hills to east and west;but you don't ever seem to think of climbing over and running away intothe wonderful country beyond."
Was it, he asked, that they were afraid of the roads that lednowhere-in-particular, and the tracks that wandered like meanderingdreams? Why, those were the best kind of roads, because they merely tookyour feet wherever your heart suggested--to shady places where you couldsprawl on the cool sand; or up to rocks where the sun beat on you andthe invigorating wind blew on your face; or down to wells of good waterwhere you could drink your fill and take your rest in the shade of thetamarisks; or along echoing valleys where there was always aninteresting turning just ahead; or into the flat plains where the miragereceded before you.
"You soon grow desert-wise," he said: "you can't get lost; and at lastthe tracks will always bring you to some Abraham's tent, and he'll liftup his eyes and see you, and come running to you to bid you welcome. Andthere's bread for you, and honey, and curds, and camel's milk, and maybevenison; and tobacco; and quiet, courteous talk far into the night,under the stars; and perhaps a boy's full-throated song.... I can'tthink how you can live your crabbed life here in Cairo, when there's allthat vast liberty so near at hand."
Muriel sipped her coffee, and listened, with a kind of excitement. Hisvoice had some quality in it which seemed to arouse a response deep inthe unfrequented places of her mind. It was as though she saw with herown eyes the scenes which he was describing. With him she ascended thebridlepath over the wall of the hills, and ran laughing down into thevalleys beyond, the wind in her face and the sun at her back; with himshe went sliding down the golden drifts of sand, or sprang from rock torock along the course of forgotten torrents; and with him she sat at thecamp fire and listened to the far-off cry of the little jackals.
He told of warm moonlight nights spent in the open, when the drowsy eyelooks up at the Milky Way, and the mind drifts into sleep, rocked, as itwere, in a cradle slung between the planets. He spoke of the first sweetvision of the opalescent dawn, when sleep ends in quiet wakefulness,without a middle period of stupor; and of the rising sun over the lowhorizon, when every pebble casts a liquid blue shadow and the shallowestfootprints in the sand look like little pools of water.
He told of blazing days; of long journeys across hills and plains; ofthe drumming of the pads of the camels upon the hard tracks; of deep,shadowed gorges, and precipices touched only at the summit by the glareof the sun; of the endless waves of the sand drifts, their sharp ridgesseen against the sky, like gold against blue enamel; of flaming sunsets,and mysterious dusks, when, by creeping over the top of a hillock, onemight look down at ghostly gazelle drinking from a pool, and mightlisten to the sucking in of the water.
And more especially he spoke of the freedom of the desert. "Ah, there'sliberty for you!" he exclaimed, and his eyes seemed to be alight withhis enthusiasm. "That's the life for a man! There are no clocks outthere, no miserable appointments to keep, no laying of foolishfoundation stones, or inspecting of sweating troops, no diplomaticspeeches, no wordy documents signifying nothing. Out there the men thatyou meet speak the truth openly, and do all that they have to do withoutcunning, and without fuss or frills. If you are wandering and hungrythey give you shelter and feed you; if they like you they treat you as abrother; and when they wish to kill you they tell you so, and give youfour-and-twenty hours in which to quit. They are free men, and to themall men have the status of the free; all partake, so to speak, of theliberty of the desert."
He stopped rathe
r abruptly: it was as though suddenly he had becomeconscious that he had engaged the attention of the company, and wasabashed.
"You make me quite restless," said Lord Blair, as they rose from thetable. "Some day you will find me, even conservative me, setting outinto that happy playground beyond the horizon. Aha! I grow lyrical,too!"
"I've stayed too long," said Daniel. "I must say good-bye at once. Ihave a lot of shopping to do, and I told my men to meet me with thecamels at five o'clock at Mena House."
"What!--are you going back at once?" exclaimed Rupert Helsingham,adjusting his eyeglass.
"Yes, I've had enough of Cairo," he laughed. "I feel like a fish out ofwater here, or rather, I feel like a jackal that has ventured into avillage and must make tracks over the wall and away. I've stolen asquare meal and I'm off again."
He stood at the door smiling at them. He seemed now to radiateimperturbable and rather disconcerting happiness: it was as though heregarded life as a quiet, good-natured comedy, and the friends beforehim as participators in the fun. His talking about the desert had, as itwere, softened his uncouthness, and had made him of a suddensurprisingly intelligible.
"I'm immensely obliged to you for coming," said Lord Blair, warmlyclasping his hand. "In fact I can't tell you how highly I value youradvice and friendship."
Muriel held out her hand. She saw this man in a new light, and herhostility was temporarily checked. His words had aroused in her a numberof perplexing sensations: it was like tasting a new fruit, in partsweet, in part bitter.
"I've enjoyed listening to you," she said, frankly.
"I've enjoyed talking to you," he replied, his voice sinking, but hiseyes fixed powerfully upon her.
There was something dominating in his manner which again caused her tobe perverse. "I thought you were talking to my father," she answeredcasually.
"No," he said, "I was speaking to _you_."