The Bride of the Nile | Page 9

been her visitor, and
not only for the sake of her cakes, in water parties with his gay
companions--mostly Greek officers who now were all dead and gone or
exiles from the country--now did her the honor to come here so soon
after his return. Her facile tongue knew no pause as she told him that
she and her husband had gone forth with the rest to welcome him at the
triumphal arch near Menes' Gate, and Emau with them, and the little
one. Yes, Emau was married now, and had called her first child Orion.
And when the young man asked Dame Taus whether Emau was as
charming as ever and as like her mother as she used to be, she shook
her finger at him and asked in her turn, as she pointed towards the
young lady, whether the fickle bird at whose departure so many had
sighed, was to be caged at last, and whether yon fair lady. . . .
But Orion cut her short, saying that he was still his own master though
he already felt the noose round his neck; and the fair lady blushed even
more deeply than at the good woman's first question. He however soon
got over his awkwardness and gaily declared that the worthy Taus' little
daughter was one of the prettiest girls in Memphis, and had had quite as
many admirers as her excellent mother's puff-pastry. Taus was to greet
her kindly from him.
The landlady departed, much touched and flattered; Orion took up his
lute, and while the ladies refreshed themselves he did the maiden's
bidding and sang the song by Alcaeus which she asked for, in a rich
though subdued voice to the lute, playing it like a master. The young
girl's eyes were fixed on his lips, and again, he seemed to be making

music for her alone. When it was time to start homewards, and the
ladies returned to the barge, he went up to the inn to pay the reckoning.
As he presently returned alone the Arab saw him pick up a
handkerchief that the young lady had left on the table, and hastily press
it to his lips as he went towards the barge.
The gorgeous red blossoms had fared worse in the morning. The young
man's heart was given to that maiden on the water. She could not be his
sister; what then was the connection between them?
The merchant soon gained this information, for the guide on his return
could give it him. She was Paula, the daughter of Thomas, the famous
Greek general who had defended the city of Damascus so long and so
bravely against the armies of Islam. She was Mukaukas George's niece,
but her fortune was small; she was a poor relation of the family, and
after her father's disappearance--for his body had never been
found--she had been received into the governor's house out of pity and
charity--she, a Melchite! The interpreter had little to say in her favor,
by reason of her sect; and though he could find no flaw in her beauty,
he insisted on it that she was proud and ungracious, and incapable of
winning any man's love; only the child, little Mary--she, to be sure, was
very fond of her. It was no secret that even her uncle's wife, worthy
Neforis, did not care for her haughty niece and only suffered her to
please the invalid. And what business had a Melchite at Memphis,
under the roof of a good Jacobite? Every word the dragoman spoke
breathed the scorn which a mean and narrow-minded man is always
ready to heap on those who share the kindness of his own benefactors.
But this beautiful and lofty-looking daughter of a great man had
conquered the merchant's old heart, and his opinion of her was quite
unmoved by the Memphite's strictures. It was ere long confirmed
indeed, for Philip, the leech whom the guide had been to find, and
whose dignified personality inspired the Arab with confidence, was a
daily visitor to the governor, and he spoke of Paula as one of the most
perfect creatures that Heaven had ever formed in a happy hour. But the
Almighty seemed to have forgotten to care for his own masterpiece; for
years her life had been indeed a sad one.

The physician could promise the old man some mitigation of his
sufferings, and they liked each other so well that they parted the best of
friends, and not till a late hour.
CHAPTER III.
The Mukaukas' barge, urged forward by powerful rowers, made its way
smoothly down the river. On board there was whispering, and now and
again singing. Little Mary had dropped asleep on Paula's shoulder; the
Greek duenna gazed sometimes at the comet which filled her with
terrors,