His Hour | Page 7

on purpose," she said. "He seemed very
long--and not fat. I suppose, as his hair was not very dark, he must be
an Englishman."
"Oh, dear, no!" exclaimed Tamara. "Not an Englishman." Then seeing
her friend's expression of surprise, "I mean, it isn't likely an
Englishman would lie on his balcony in pyjamas--at least not the ones
we see in Cairo; they--they are too busy, aren't they?"
This miserably lame explanation seemed to satisfy Millicent. It was too
hot and too disagreeable, she felt, clinging to the donkey while it
descended the steep path, to continue the subject further, having to turn
one's head over the shoulder like that; but when they got on the broad
level she began again:
"Possibly it was a madman, Tamara, sent here with a keeper--in that
out-of-the-way place. How fortunate we had the donkey boys with us!"
Tamara laughed.
"You dear goose, Millie, he couldn't have eaten us up, you know; and
he was not doing the least harm, poor thing. We should not have gone
that way; it may have been his private path."

"Still, no one should lie about undressed," Mrs. Hardcastle protested.
"It is not at all nice. Girls might have been riding with us, and how
dreadful it would have been then."
"Let us forget it, pet!" Tamara laughed, "and trot on and get some real
exercise."
So off they started.
Just as they were turning out of the hotel gate, late in the same
afternoon, a young man on an Arab horse passed the carriage. He was
in ordinary riding dress, and looked a slim, graceful sight as he trotted
ahead.
He never glanced their way. But while Tamara felt a sudden emotion of
sorts, Mrs. Hardcastle exclaimed:
"Look, look! I am sure that is he--the mad man who wore those
pyjamas."
CHAPTER III
The Khedive's ball was a fairly fine sight, Tamara thought, but driving
through the streets took such a ridiculously long time, the crowd was so
great. The palace itself was, and probably is still, like all other palaces
that are decorated in that nondescript style of Third Empire France--not
a thing of beauty. But the levée uniforms of the officers gave an air of
brilliance contrasted with the civilians of the Government of Egypt.
Tamara thought their dress very ugly, it reminded her of a clergyman's
at a children's party, where he has been decorated with caps and sham
orders from the crackers to amuse the little guests. It seemed strange to
see the English faces beneath the fez. She and Millicent Hardcastle
walked about and talked to their friends. There were many smart young
gallants in the regiments then quartered in Cairo, who enjoyed dancing
with the slender, youthful widow with the good jewels and pretty dress,
and soon Tamara found herself whirling with a gay hussar.
"Let us stop near the Royalties and look at the Russians," he said. "You

know, a Grand Duke arrived to-day, and must be here to-night."
They came to a standstill close to the little group surrounding the
Khedive, and amid the splendid uniforms of the Grand Duke's suite
there was one of scarlet, the like of which Tamara had never seen
before.
Afterward she learned it was a Cossack of the Emperor's escort, but at
the moment it seemed like a gorgeous fancy dress. The high boots and
long, strangely graceful coat, cut with an Eastern hang, the white
under-dress, the way the loose scarlet sleeves fell at the wrist, showing
the white tight ones, the gold and silver trimmings and the arms, stuck
in the quaint belt, all pleased her eye extremely; and then she
recognized its wearer as the young man of the Sphinx.
How dress changes a person! she thought. He looked at ease now in
this gorgeous garment, and a very prince for a fairy tale. That
accounted for the dreadful gray flannel--he was a soldier and
unaccustomed to wearing ordinary clothes. She had heard that in
foreign countries even the officers wore their uniforms habitually; not
as the English do, merely as an irksome duty.
He did not appear to see her, but when she began dancing again, and
paused once more for breath, she was close to him as he stood some
way apart and alone.
Their eyes met. His had the same whimsical provoking smile in them
which angered and yet attracted her. He made no move to bow to her,
nor did he take any steps to be introduced. She burnt with annoyance.
"He might at least have been presented; it is too impertinent
otherwise!" she thought.
She knew she was looking her best: a fair, distinguished woman as
young and fresh as a girl. Hardly a man in the room was unconscious of
her presence. Anger lent an extra brightness