His Hour | Page 6

there, Millicent,
in the sand opposite the strange image, and it seemed to smile and
mock at all little things; it appeared perfectly ridiculous that we pay so

much attention to what the world says or thinks. I could not help
looking back to the time when you and I were at Dresden together.
What dull lives we have both led since! Yours perhaps more filled than
mine has been, because you have children; but really we have both
been browsing like sheep."
Mrs. Hardcastle now was almost irritated.
"I cannot agree with you," she said. "Our lives have been full of good
and pleasant things--and I hope, dear, we have both done our duty."
This, of course, ended the matter! It was so undoubtedly true--each had
done her duty.
After breakfast they started for a last donkey-ride, as they must return
to Cairo in time for the Khedive's ball that night, which, as
distinguished English ladies, they were being taken to by their
compatriots at the Agency. Then on the morrow they were to start for
Europe. Mrs. Hardcastle could not spare more time away from her
babies. Their visit had only been of four short weeks, and now it was
December 27, and home and husband called her.
For Tamara's part, she could do as she pleased; indeed, for two pins she
would have stayed on in Egypt.
But that was not the intention of fate!
"Do let us go up that sand-path, Millicent," she said, when they turned
out of the hotel gate. "We have never been there, and I would like to
see where it leads to--perhaps we shall get quite a new vista from the
top----"
And so they went.
What she expected to find she did not ask herself. In any case they rode
on, eventually coming out at a small enclosure where stood a sort of
bungalow in those days--it is probably pulled down now, but then it
stood with a wonderful view over the desert, and over the green world.

Tamara had vaguely observed it in the distance before, but imagined it
to be some water-tower of the hotel, it was so bare and gaunt. It had
been built by some mad Italian, they heard afterward, for rest and quiet.
It was a quaint place with tiny windows high up, evidently to light a
studio, and there was a veranda to look at the view towards the Nile.
When they got fairly close they could see that on this veranda a young
man was stretched at full length. A long wicker chair supported him,
while he read a French novel. They--at least Tamara--could see the
yellow back of the book, and also, one regrets to add, she was
conscious that the young man was only clothed in blue and white
striped silk pyjamas!--the jacket of which was open and showed his
chest--and one foot, stretched out and hanging over the back of another
low chair, was--actually bare!
Mrs. Hardcastle touched her donkey and hurried past--the path went so
very near this unseemly sight! And Tamara followed, but not before the
young man had time to raise himself and frown with fury. She almost
imagined she heard him saying "Those devils of tourists!" Then with
the corner of her eye ere they got out of sight, she perceived that a
blue-clad Arab brought coffee on a little tray.
She glowed with annoyance. Did he think she had come to look at him?
Did he--he certainly was quite uninterested, for he must have
recognized her; but perhaps not; people look so different in large straw
hats to what they appear with scarves of chiffon tied over their heads.
But why had she come this way at all? She wished a thousand times she
had suggested going round the pyramids instead.
"Tamara," said Mrs. Hardcastle, when they were safely descending the
further sand-path, with no unclothed young giant in view, "did you see
there was a man in that chair? What a dreadful person to be lying on the
balcony--undressed!"
"I never noticed," said Tamara, without a blush. "I am surprised at you
having looked, Millie--when this view is so fine."

"But, my dear child, I could not possibly help seeing him. How you did
not notice, I can't think; he had pyjamas on, Tamara--and bare feet!"
Mrs. Hardcastle almost whispered the last terrible words.
"I suppose he felt hot," said Tamara; "it is a grilling day."
"But really, dear, no nice people, in any weather, remain--er--
undressed at twelve o'clock in the day for passers-by to look at--do
they?"
"Well, perhaps he isn't a nice person," allowed Tamara. "He may be
mad. What was he like, since you saw so much, Millicent?"
Mrs. Hardcastle glanced over her shoulder reproachfully. "You really
speak as though I had looked