CHAPTER XI

"_Give me that man that is not passion'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 pussy

mixed up with the nocturnal habits of the lion-headed goddess 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 duchess 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 duchess and Damaris entered the room; then he clenched

his hands under the table with an involuntary shudder of disgust.

It was the first time he had seen the girl he loved in evening dress,

and every instinct of the Oriental in him was outraged at the sight of

the gleaming neck and shoulders and hint of lace-shrouded virgin form.

She was not in full _décollétage_ by any means, but the waiter's sleeve

was but an inch from her satin skin when he bent over her, so that,

although he had long grown accustomed in Europe to the undraping of

woman o' nights, yet, because he loved the beautiful girl, he longed

for the right to walk across the room, pick her up in his arms, and,

smothering her in a _barku_, hide her forever from all male eyes but

his own.

Later, as he sat alone in a far corner of the ball-room, he twisted the

dagger of love this way and that in his tormented heart, whilst the

dogs of Billi worried the life out of the hall-porter as they fretted

and moaned for their master who tarried. He had never danced, himself,

loathing the idea of the propinquity of a stranger's body so close to

his own; of a stranger's mouth so near his own; of the animal odour of

the naked body, which no perfume can hide, within his nostrils; just as

he loathed the idea of a woman passing from one man's arms to another's

throughout the best part of a night.

He had no desire whatever to dance with Damaris, but all the Eastern in

him longed to make her dance for him; in the desert for preference;

under the light of the moon; with the insistent throbbing of the drum

keeping time to the rhythm of the slender feet upon the warm sand.

And he sat and dreamed under the palms, taking no heed of the sudden

cessation of music, the gathering of the dancers against the walls; the

half-suppressed, laughter and moistening of lip with furtive tongue and

the unusual feeling of expectancy in the heavy, perfumed air.

But he came back to earth when from some corner of the room there came

the faint tapping of a drum.

Three times there fell a single beat, then a gentle roll and a single

beat, bringing him to his feet as he recognised the measure, just as

the lights were switched off, excepting for one great beam which,

striking down from some device in the ceiling, made a silvery pool in

the middle of the floor.

"No!" he cried from the shadows, "this must not be. It is not seemly

for the eyes of women."

But the answer to this protest came in little jeering laughs and quick

remonstrance from those who feared that the whetting of their appetites

should be snatched from them, and a sigh of satisfaction went up when,

from the shadows, there sprang an Arabian youth, beautiful as a god,

supple as a snake, quick upon his feet as any fighting stallion.

He stood for a second with arms outflung to the men and women he knew

were watching his every movement outside the radius of the light, and

then he sprang back with that marvellous leap which is the gift of some

Arabian male dancers.

Ah me! you talk in pharisaic whispers of the Nautch girl; in righteous

anger against the dainty geisha; in horror of the weaving Salomes as

known in Western cities; wait, however, before you pour the last drop

from your vials of wrath and indignation until you have seen an Arab

dance "_al-fajr_" which, being translated, means the dawn. You can put

what interpretation you like upon it: the dawn of day, or love,

anything will do, but you most certainly ought not to watch it.

If, however, you persist in so doing, you should blush to the roots of

your hair--you will not, because it will be the perfect poetry of

motion you will be witnessing; also ought you, after the third

movement, to turn your back or flee the room--you will not, again,

because of the mocking sensuality which will keep you rooted where you

stand; again, you ought to stuff your ears against the throbbing of the

drum--but that will you not do because of the words of love which fall,

seemingly reft from the dancer's lips in the rapture of his movements.

It is the last word in sensual ecstasy, and should be prohibited for

public exhibition to Europeans, yet it is quite impossible to point at

any one movement and label it as the cause of the tumult within you.

But Hugh Carden Ali, standing under a palm, turned quickly when a

little sound of distress caught his ear, and put out his hand and

pulled the girl he had recognised in the dark by her perfume towards

him, so that the back of her head rested against his arm; and sensing

her nausea at the sight from which she had been trying to fly, and

knowing the sheer impossibility of keeping the eyes shut in a theatre,

he pulled his handkerchief from his sleeve and placed it across her

eyes.

Save for the back of her head resting just below his shoulder he did

not touch her, and if he bent his head so that the perfumed riot of her

curls swept his cheek, should it count as a grievous sin against him?

The stone beside each of us is quite likely to lie untouched throughout

our span of three-score plus ten.

At the last beat of the drum and just before the lights were switched

on, Damaris was alone, with a silken handkerchief in her hand, in one

corner of which, as she discovered later, was embroidered the Hawk of

Old Egypt.