Part 14 (1/2)
The stallion lashed out, reared and stood still, ears p.r.i.c.ked, silken mane and tail flying in the wind.
Then _he_ answered, until the desert seemed filled with the calling of the n.o.ble beasts, as the girl sat with thudding heart and eyes fixed on the distant spot where fretted and fidgeted the mare ridden by the Arab.
Then something within her rebelled at this intrusion upon her privacy, causing her to be suddenly stricken with anger and confusion.
”Take me to the tents, Sooltan!” she cried, turning to look back.
”Take--but--why--oh! what an escape--a mirage--a----”
But the rest was lost in the sudden bound of el-Sooltan as he raced in obedience to his master's call.
The man waited until they were within a mile of him; then he wheeled the mare and took her back along her tracks, urging her to her topmost speed. Swiftly she fled and swiftly pursued Sooltan, the man not once turning in his seat.
And as they neared the outskirts of the oasis of Heliopolis Hugh Carden Ali urged the mare so that she gained upon the stallion, and beckoned to his groom, who had run hot-foot from the Obelisk to the edge of the desert with fear in his heart for the beast but not one whit for the girl. And he caught the shouted order as his master pa.s.sed him at full speed, and ran out, shouting in his turn to the stallion.
El-Sooltan, connecting the _sayis_ with the bucketsful of water he stood so badly in need of, stopped short, nearly unseating Damaris with the suddenness of his decision and then with the hand of the groom upon his heaving flank trotted docilely back to the Obelisk, where Wellington, risking curvature of the spine, turned himself into a canine picture of ecstatic welcome.
”To-morrow at the same hour,” said Damaris, feeding the stallion with sugar, ”he will know me better.”
”_Ma sha-Allah_!” murmured the servant to himself, praising the courage of this bit of a woman.
”_Bikhatirk.u.m_,” she said gently, as she moved off in the car.
”_Ma'a-s-salamah ya sitti_,” answered the delighted, astounded man as he salaamed almost to the ground before such unexpected graciousness.
CHAPTER XI
”_Give me that man that is not pa.s.sion's slave and I will wear him in my heart's core_. . . .”
SHAKESPEARE.
In his blindness and obstinacy and hurt Ben Kelham carried out his intention and went after lion, the report of which, for all he knew, might have been the outcome of some _fellah's_ vision of a tame p.u.s.s.y mixed up with the nocturnal habits of the lion-headed G.o.ddess Sekhet, who, so tradition avers, prowls about ruins by the light o' the moon, seeking whom she may devour.
The moon plays havoc with the strongest-minded, out yonder!
Anyway, love-sick, he left Heliopolis, placing the panacea of sport like a poultice upon his hurt.
Shortly after, one day during the noon hours, in the cool shadows of his great palace in Cairo, there came to Hugh Carden Ali an overpowering desire to see the girl he loved amongst her own people.
She was his at dawn in the desert, although miles of sand stretched between them; his in the rush of the wind, the glory of the sky and the thunder of the horses' hoofs; but to whom did she turn at night; in the maze of the dance; the hothouse atmosphere of the hotel; the crush of the winter visitors?
So, giving a twist to the dagger of love in his heart, he tucked the dogs of Billi in beside him and drove as the sun set to Heliopolis, and, guessing that the d.u.c.h.ess would have a table near the window, chose one on the opposite side of the dining-room, so that his presence should not be thrust upon the girl or the old woman who had known his mother.
He sat there, indifferent to or oblivious of the interest his presence aroused, unconsciously counting the vertebrae of the lady at the next table, who had evidently forgotten some essential part of her bodice.
He counted the vertebrae in the back of the lady who was dying to turn round, until the d.u.c.h.ess and Damaris entered the room; then he clenched his hands under the table with an involuntary shudder of disgust.