Burning Sands Part 44

"I'll lie down," she replied, "but I don't suppose I shall sleep. The very fact of being anywhere near you disgusts me too much to allow me to go to sleep."

"You must try to master that feeling," he said, with perfect seriousness. "It hurts n.o.body but yourself. I can quite understand your being angry; but I think Al Ghazzali, the Muslim philosopher, put the matter in a nutsh.e.l.l when he said: 'G.o.d loves those who swallow down their anger, and not those who have no anger at all.' It only makes you yourself miserable to be in a temper; but try to say to yourself that you won't let me be of such importance in your life as to have the power to upset you. You ought to say: 'Nothing that this fellow does can shake my equanimity: he has absolutely no power over my inner self.' If you can really say that to yourself you'll sleep all right. There'll be some tea going at half-past four."

She stared at him freezingly and went out of the room, while Daniel quietly settled down to his writing, refusing to allow himself any further thoughts in regard to her.

At tea-time he told her that he wanted her to come down into the Oasis with him. "It will take your thoughts off yourself," he said.

"Thank you," she replied. "I prefer to stay here in my prison. I wish you'd realize that your society is obnoxious to me. I hate the sight of you."

"I quite understand that," he said, "but, all the same, I want you to come, please."

"If I refuse," she retorted, "I suppose you'll drag me down by the hair?"

"No." he replied, "not by your hair: only by your hand."

She was too tired to put up any resistance, and soon they left the house together, descending by the rough path down the cliffs to the lower level, where the shadow lay deep.

Presently they entered the forest of palms, wherein, here and there stood a mud-brick hut or cl.u.s.ter of huts, upon the flat roofs of which the goats and chickens ran about, and sometimes a dog looked down at them and barked.

The shadow of the cliffs extended for some distance, like a blue veil, but further ahead the sun still struck down upon the Oasis, and the mellow light, seen between the tree-trunks and foliage, was made so rich by contrast with the cool tones of the shadowed foreground that Muriel was constrained to remark on its beauty. Pigeons fluttered to and fro amongst the trees, those close at hand being white as snow, but those in the sunlit distance appearing to flash before the eyes like gilded birds of a fairy tale.

Soon they pa.s.sed out of the shadow, and now the sunlight was sprinkled upon them from between the rustling palm-branches overhead, and the dust of their footsteps was like a haze of powdered gold. Before them, in a clearing, a number of rough buildings, some of them whitewashed, encircled an open s.p.a.ce of sun-baked ground wherein a number of natives sauntered to and fro. Here there were a few stalls, sheltered by tenting or tattered fragments of brown camel-cloth: grain being on sale at one of them; at another, basket-work; at another, pottery.

The loiterers and salesmen greeted Daniel with polite salaams, and to some of them he spoke a few words; but they were too well-mannered, or perhaps too indifferent, to show any particular interest in Muriel, and even when she paused to pat the shaven head of a little naked urchin, and to give him a piastre, there were few curious eyes upon her. The villagers seemed to be dawdling through a peaceful dream, unruffled by the ardours and eagerness to which the Westerner is accustomed; and Muriel had the feeling that she had come into a lull in the breeze of life, as when a sailing boat is becalmed and the sails flap idly. Even the tempest in her heart was quietened, and the warmth of the evening caused her to feel a languor that was temporarily almost serene.

Daniel led her across the open ground to a lane between the ramshackle buildings on the far side. Here, at a crazy-looking door, he paused.

"I want you just to shake hands with an old man," he said. "He acted as guide years ago to one of your father's predecessors."

"There's no need to say who I am, is there?" she asked, a little anxiously.

He smiled. "Your dragoman will have spread the news already."

"I told him not to," she answered.

Daniel made a gesture of impatience. "We must try to correct that," he said. "Secrecy is very unpleasant, though it is sometimes necessary.

You'll find it always best to be frank when you can."

In response to his knocking the door was opened by a small, smirking boy, and they entered a little yard, wherein a clean cow, several emaciated hens, and a couple of goats wandered about in front of a two-roomed house, the rear wall of which appeared to be about to collapse. Here a dim-eyed old man sat upon a native bedstead of split palm-branches, engaged in hunting for fleas in his cloak, and, as his gnarled old fingers plucked at the folds, his grey-bearded mouth was pursed and pushed forward in the manner of a monkey.

He rose, creaking, to his feet as he caught sight of his visitors, and, tottering forward, grasped Daniel's extended hand, who then introduced him to Muriel.

Daniel spoke to him in Arabic, and presently, turning to his companion, asked her to say something to the old man.

"What shall I say?" Muriel enquired.

"He is very old," Daniel replied. "Wish that G.o.d's face may shine upon him. Say you hope the evening of his life may be full of peace and blessedness."

"Yes, tell him that," she answered.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Oh, make up something for me," she replied.

"No," he answered, severely. "Please take your thoughts from yourself, and concentrate them on this old fellow. Think what is the best thing you can wish him. Think hard."

Muriel glanced at him in surprise, while her host turned his fading eyes to Daniel, asking what she was saying.

"She is trying to think what is the most blessed wish she can make for you," he replied, speaking in Arabic; and the old man beamed upon her.

Muriel made an effort, and, taking his h.o.r.n.y hand in hers, told him that she hoped he would keep his health and that his affairs would prosper.

With an eye on his cloak, she wanted to add that she hoped he would have good hunting, but she restrained herself.

Daniel translated the words into the native tongue, and, after a brief conversation, they took their departure.

As they walked down the lane Muriel asked him, freezingly, why he had so particularly wished her to make herself polite to the old man.

"I had no reason," he answered, "except that I wanted you to think of him and not of yourself."

"Why?" she asked with increasing ill-humor. "Am I usually selfish?"

"You have been trained to think first of yourself," he answered, with disconcerting candour, "though by nature you are not really selfish at all. During this fortnight I want you to think mostly of other people."

She had no time to reply before Daniel stopped at another and larger door, which he pushed open without a preliminary knock. Here, in a shed, two camels and a donkey stood feeding from a trough.

"This," he told her, "is my hospital for sick animals. Both these camels have saddle-sores, as you see, and the old moke foaled the other day, but the youngster died. She is very depressed about it."

Muriel was interested, and patted the donkey affectionately, while Daniel, stepping on to an inverted box, examined the camels' sores.

"Just hand me that bottle over there," he said. "It's my patent mixture of carbolic and lamp-oil. It keeps the flies off, and heals up the sores mighty quick."

Muriel haughtily gave him the bottle, and watched him as he poured a few drops on to the wounds. Her attention was presently attracted by a board nailed to the wall, upon which an inscription was written in large, flowing Arabic characters.

"What does that say?" she asked, forgetting for the moment that she was not really desirous of holding any communication with him.

"It is a quotation from the Koran," he told her. "I wrote it and stuck it up for a lesson to these people. It reads 'The _Prophet_ has written: There is no _beast_ on earth, nor bird that flieth, but the same is a people like unto you, and unto G.o.d shall they return.'"

"I like that," she said.

He fetched a broom from the corner of the shed and held it out to her.

"Would you mind just sweeping the ground a bit while I clean up the troughs?" he asked. "The native attendant is off duty today."

He busied himself with his work, and Muriel, making a grimace, did as she was bid. It was less awkward than standing still, and the cause was good though the job unpleasant.

They walked home in silence through the gathering dusk. Daniel offered her his hand to help her up the steep path which ascended the cliff to his house, but she frigidly refused it; and when, presently, she stumbled and nearly fell, she scrambled to her feet once more in surprisingly quick time, as though to avoid his proffered aid.

Later she sat down to the evening meal without uttering a word, and the silence was extremely oppressive.