The Hawk of Egypt
There fell a silence, broken by the swaying, throbbing music from the
distant ball-room, causing the girl suddenly to stretch out her hands,
upon which shone the ring, and the man to stretch out his, though he
touched not hers at all.
"And to the left?"
"To the left, O woman whose eyes are like unto the pools of Lebanon at
night, to thy left, lies the desert. The desert, where the feet are
blistered by the gritting sands of passion and the eyes are blinded in
desire. The vast plain where knowledge walks hand-in-hand with death;
where the footprints of horror, fear, starvation, thirst, which are but
the footprints of jealousy and love desired and fulfilled, mark the
sands for one little second and then are gone; the desert, where there
is no shade, no cool waters, no content, no peace until the wanderer
lies still, with sightless eyes turned towards Eternity."
"And if a woman's feet trod upon it?"
"Then will she cut her feet upon the stones of pain; then will the
scorpion of bitter experience sting her heel; then will she die with a
smile upon her red mouth, for love will have come to her, maybe for a
day, maybe for a second of time, but a love which will mingle her soul
with the soul of her desert lover, or shatter her body, even as is
broken the alabaster vase of sweet perfume. Yet is it the _love of the
soul_ that endureth forever, yea, even if the body of the woman passeth
unto another's keeping."
The girl pulled her veil closely about her head and sat quite still,
her wonderful eyes hidden by the fringe of black lashes.
And yet did she not move when he sprang to his feet, intoxicated with
the mystery of her, afire with that love which is the heritage of the
desert.
Then he bent and caught her by the wrists and raised her to her feet.
"Take the path at thy right hand, woman; set not a foot upon the desert
sand, lest perchance a bird of prey swoop down upon thee, thou white
dove."
He pulled her hands up, holding them cruelly, as in a steel vise, so
that he had but to bend a finger's breadth to kiss them.
"Thy feet hesitate, woman. Why? What searchest thou?"
"Knowledge."
The man unconsciously laced his fingers in hers, crushing them until
she went white to the lips.
"Knowledge is pain, woman. What know'st thou of pain? Great pain.
How could'st thou endure it?"
Then he let her hands go and touched the silver tray of sand upon the
table beside him.
"Behold! Love shall be offered thee within the passing of a few hours,
the love of thy right hand, and thou shalt reject it. Searching for
that which thou desirest thou shalt, surrounded by thy women who love
thee, pass down the river even unto Thebes of the Hundred Gates. Yet
shalt thou not find it in the river, nor in the temples upon the east
bank of the waters, nor upon the west bank."
Drawing a square in the sand, the fortune-teller made a cross at the
south-east, upon which, to see it better, the girl drew close--so close
that the sweet perfume of her veils filled his nostrils.
"Then shalt thou, in thy search, go, even under the stars, to the Gate
of Tomorrow, and there shall thou find a mare descended from the mares
of Mohammed, the Prophet of Allah the one and only God. White is the
mare, and beautiful, yea, even is she like unto thee, thou woman of
ivory; her bit is of silver, her bridle of plaited gold, her
saddle-cloth encrusted with jewels. Thou wilt spring upon her, and
she, knowing her way, will bring thee to the Tents of Purple and Gold."
"Ah!" whispered the girl. "The Tents of the long-dead Queen! They are
the talk of Cairo, but nobody--at least, no foreigner--has seen them."
"No man but the servants, no woman but the mother of him who is the
master, has even set foot within the Tents of Purple and of Gold; no
one but the master has set foot in the tent which stands between them,
the Tent of Death."
"And in them--if I come, what--what should I find?"
"No harm shall befall thee, no smirching of thy fair name. The master
alone shall greet thee, and when thou hast found that for which thou
searchest, then shalt thou return, if so thou wilt."
"And peace--rest I think I mean--is it in your Tents of Purple and
Gold?"
"Peace is to be found within the Temple of Anubis, who is the god of
Death, and there only."
The girl shivered and lifted her head, as from some part of the hotel
there drifted the wonderful desert love-song which begins:
"My love for thee is as the sun at noon----"
Then she looked at the man whose face she had not plainly seen in the
passing of the hour.
"How am I to believe you? Will you give me a sign, something,
anything, so that I shall know that if I ever want to visit the
wonderful tents I shall find them?"
She only spoke to gain time.
Knowing that outside the curtain there stretched the path across the
Field of Content, she deliberately placed her foot upon the desert
sand, and whilst common sense urged her to get out of the room, she
listened to temptation and lingered, throwing safety to the four winds,
opening wide her arms to danger.
"By the sign of the black stallion who awaits thee at dawn near all
that remaineth upright of the City of On, shalt thou find the Tents of
Purple and Gold."
"But I don't ride any more," said Damaris. "I can't find a horse, a
good one, and I don't know where the City of On is."
"Thou shall know, thou ivory casket to which love is the key. And if
thou see'st one afar off as thou ridest into the desert at dawn, fear
not; for behold, is thy beauty spoken of, yea, even in the harem, and
it were not wise for thee to ride alone."
The girl put out her hand towards the silken curtain.
"How do you know who I am?"
"By thy voice, which is as the wind of dawn."
She hesitated, divided between a desire to know more about this man and
an innate courtesy which forbade her questioning.
"Search not, ask not, woman," said the fortune-teller, divining her
thoughts, "for I am not worthy of thy notice. Were I to cross thy
threshold, were I to lay my hand upon thee, as surely should I pollute
thee. There is that within me which cries aloud, urging me to lead thy
feet upon the burning desert sands; and, again, there is that within me
which would fain force thee, for thy happiness, upon the path running
through the Field of Content. Yet, behold, art thou all safe with me."
"Could I help you? If you were to tell me your trouble, perhaps it
would be easier?"
"The moment is not yet, woman, but, being a teller of tales, even as I
am a teller of fortunes, one day will I sit at thy feet and, for the
passing of an hour, will tell thee the story of the Hawk of Egypt."
"You have made this hour pass so pleasantly that I should--should like
to--to give you something so as--as to show you how pleased I am. But
I have nothing with me, nothing."
She put out her hands and turned them down.
The man looked down at her for a moment with blazing eyes.
"Give me--as a reward--Allah--give me----" They stood quite still as
the torrent surged, about them. "Give me the ring from off thy
finger," he added, gently.
The girl held out her hand.
"Take it, though it seems a poor reward for all you have promised me."
"Nay, give it thou to me."
She slipped it off and held it out, showing a bruise across the back of
her hand.
"Allah!" whispered the man, "that I should mark thee thus--and yet, in
love--in love!"
He took the ring, of which the dull-gold setting held an emerald in the
form of a scarab with heartshaped base.
The fortune-teller turned it over in the palm of his hand, then held it
out.
"Nay, this I cannot take. I thought it was a ring from the bazaar to
go with thy dress of fantasy. Behold, it is an amulet of the heart,
of--nay, I cannot tell thus quickly of what dynasty--with words of
power engraved upon it which read thus:
"'_My heart, my mother; my heart, my mother. My heart whereby I came
into being_.'"
The girl listened entranced, touching the ring with finger-tips which
felt as snow-flakes upon the man's hand.
"What is an amulet of the heart?"
"In the days of Ancient Egypt, when the heart had been taken from the
dead body for purposes of preservation, an amulet, a scarab, sometimes
heart-shaped, was placed within the body to ensure it life and movement
in the new life."
They both stood looking down upon the jewel, the girl's finger-tips
resting upon the man's hand.
"Keep it," she said softly. "Keep it."
"I will keep it to replace that which has gone from me. I will restore
it to its shape, I will take from it the golden setting of the ring. I
will wear it upon my breast." And, bending, he gently raised the
yashmak in both hands and pressed his forehead to the few inches which
had rested above her crimson mouth.
CHAPTER IX
"_Love is one and the same in the original, but
there are a thousand copies of it, and, it may
be, all differing from one another_."
LA ROCHEFOUCAULD.
Ben Kelham, disguised as Rameses the Great, laid a hand upon the girl's
shoulder as, passing to the left of the tent, she walked slowly towards
the door leading to the grounds, whilst sounds of wrath came from the
serried ranks of those who wished to pry into the future.
The fortune-teller had sent word that there would be no more reading of
horoscopes or hands that evening, and had absented himself therewith
through a back entrance.
"You _have_ been a long time," said Ben Kelham. He looked magnificent
as the great Sestoris, who had stood well over six feet in the days of
Ancient Egypt. "What was the man telling you?"
Damaris was disturbed, and it was most unfortunate that, under the spur
of inquietude, he should have chosen just this occasion and this moment
to allow a hint of authority to creep into his voice and a shadow of
proprietorship to show in his actions.
"How do you know who I am?" parried the girl coldly, as she shrugged
the proprietory hand off her shoulder.
"Wellington gave you away. He followed your trail to the tent and sat
growling at everybody until I came along and removed him."
"I wish you would leave the dog alone," said Damaris, with a certain
amount of acerbity. "He is my custos."
"But that is not the kind of guardian you want, Damaris--you are too
beautiful, you know. Let us sit here; it's lovely and warm, and the
stars look just like diamonds, don't they?"
"I would rather walk," said Damaris, who was longing to sit down.
But she sat down when Ben Kelham took her by the elbow and led her to
the seat; and she sat quite still when he suddenly took both her hands.
"Oh! don't, Ben," she said, when he pulled them up against his heart.
"I can't stand any more to-night." And he, being over-slow in the
uptak', failed to catch her in this slip of the tongue.
"I want you for my wife, dear," was all he said.
Then Damaris pulled her hands away and, removing the yashmak, looked up
into his face, whilst he drew a breath sharply at the beauty of her.
"I love you so, dear! I'm a clumsy fool at speaking, but I could show
you how I love you. I want to marry you and take you right away home.
Do you know, I--I don't know how to explain it, but I--somehow feel you
are in danger out here. I--will you------?"
Damaris looked to the right and looked to the left, hesitated and chose
the middle path.
"I can't answer you now, Ben. I'm--I'm not sure about loving you, and,
of course, one can't marry without that on both sides, can one?"
Oh, the blessed little ignoramus!
"Besides," she added as an afterthought, "I'm so young, and so are you."
"Oh, Damaris! Surely you don't want to wait until you find someone
who's had lots of experience, which only means that he hasn't been