The Hawk of Egypt
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hawk of Egypt, by Joan
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Title: The Hawk of Egypt
Author: Joan Conquest
Release Date: April 27, 2005 [EBook #15721]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
HAWK OF EGYPT ***
Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: Trembling from head to foot the girl stood before the
tent which no foot but his had trod.]
[Transcriber's note: the frontispiece page was too badly damaged to
produce a usable image.]
THE HAWK OF EGYPT
By
JOAN CONQUEST
Author of "Desert Love", "Leonie of the Jungle."
FRONTISPIECE BY
G. W. GAGE
NEW YORK
THE MACAULAY COMPANY
Copyright, 1922,
By The Macaulay Company
Printed in the United States of America
"IN LOVE AND GRATITUDE TO THE DEAREST OF WOMEN
'MIVES' MY MOTHER"
THE HAWK OF EGYPT
Author's Note: All names in this book are fictitious.
[Transcriber's note: A number of words in this book are Arabic, using
characters that require Unicode to render properly. Refer to the
transcriber's note at the end of this book for more information.]
THE HAWK OF EGYPT
CHAPTER I
"_For in the days we know not of Did fate begin Weaving the web of
days that wove Your doom_."
SWINBURNE.
". . . allahu akbar--la ilaha--illa 'llah!"
Across the golden glory of the sky floated the insistent call of the
muezzin just as Damaris, followed closely by Wellington, her bulldog,
turned out of the narrow street into the Khan el-Khalili. Shrill and
sweet, from far and near it came, calling the faithful to prayer,
impelling merchants to leave their wares, buyers their purchases,
gossips their chatter, and to turn in the direction of Mecca and offer
their praise to Allah, who is God.
As the entire male population of the native quarter knelt, the girl drew
back beneath an awning of many colours which shaded silken goods
from the rays of the sun, whilst curious eyes peeped down upon her
from behind the shelter of the masharabeyeh, the harem lattice of
finely-carved wood. Yards of silk of every hue lay tumbled inside and
outside the dukkan or shop in the silk-market; silken scarves, plain and
embroidered, hung from strings; silk shawls were spread upon Persian
carpets; a veritable riot of colour against the yellow-white plaster of the
shop walls, above which flamed the sky, a cloak of blue, embroidered
in rose and gold and amethyst.
The native women behind the shelter of the wood lattice or the
yashmak or the all-enveloping barku, talked softly together as they
watched the beautiful girl who serenely and quite unveiled walked
amongst men with an animal of surpassing hideousness at her heels.
She stood with her head uncovered--it is permissible at sunset--and
with her face lifted, as she listened to the call to prayer, so that a
sun-ray silting in through the silks blazed down upon the positively red
curls which rioted all over her head and were of a tone sharper than
henna, yet many times removed from the shades of red known as
carrots or ginger.
Her skin was matte, her mouth crimson, and curved, the teeth perfect,
and her heavily-lashed eyes of so deep a purple as to appear black. She
was slim and supple, unencumbered by anything more confining than a
suspender-belt, a fortnight off her eighteenth birthday and entirely
lovable in looks, ways and temperament in the eyes of all mankind,
which includes women.
The prayer over, and the men again about the business of the hour, she
enquired her way of the vendor of silks who, having quickly replaced
his shoes, had as hastily returned to his shop, his heart rejoicing at the
prospect of perhaps one or two hours' more bargaining--for where is to
be found the Oriental who knows the value of time?
Loving animals, Damaris wanted to find that corner near the
silk-market where can be purchased anything from a camel to a hunting
cheetah, a greyhound to a falcon.
It is not wise for European women to saunter about the old Arabian
quarter unaccompanied, especially if they have been blessed by the
gods in the ways of looks. Damaris Hethencourt most certainly ought
not to have been there, but you must perforce follow the path Fate has
marked out for you, whether it leads through country lanes, or
Piccadilly, or the Arab quarter of Cairo.
The vendor of silks salaamed deeply before her beauty and the
graciousness of her manner, for
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