Burning Sands. Weigall Arthur Edward Pearse Brome

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She was decidedly attractive. Her grey eyes were tender and sympathetic; the expression of her mouth was kindly; and her dark hair, which was drawn down over her ears, was soft and alluring. She was wearing a low-necked black-velvet dress, and her slender throat and shoulders by contrast seemed to be very white.

      Her broken English, however, was her chiefest charm; and Daniel listened with pleasure as she talked away, candidly answering his somewhat direct questions in regard to her early life and adventures. She hailed originally, she told him, from Marseilles; but when her widowed mother had died she had found herself at the age of seventeen, alone and penniless. She had got into bad company, and at length had been advised by a well-meaning young British guardsman, on his way to Egypt, to ply her trade in Cairo. Here she had become a great favourite with his particular battalion, and in fact, was so monopolized by them that when she was seen in the company of a civilian her action was said to be “by kind permission of the Colonel and officers” of the regiment in question.

      “Good Lord, what a life!” said Daniel.

      “But what else can a girl do,” she asked, “after the little first mistake, eh? I get plenty good food; I not work eight hours, ten hours, every day to get thirty francs the week; I not live in the little top one room and cry: no, I have the beautiful appartements au premier étage, and I laugh always – plenty friends, plenty dresses, plenty sun.”

      At a table at the other side of the room, Daniel had noticed, while she was talking, a heavy-jowled, red-faced young officer who was seated alone, and whose sullen eyes appeared to be fixed upon him. The girl’s back was turned to this man; but presently she observed that her companion was not paying attention to her remarks, and, wondering what had attracted his attention, she looked behind her. Immediately she uttered a little angry exclamation, and made an impatient shrug with her shoulders.

      “That is a beast,” she said.

      “He’s drunk, I think,” Daniel remarked. “Is he a friend of yours?”

      She made a gesture of denial. “He hate me because I not let him come home with me ever.”

      “Why not?” he asked.

      “Because he very cruel pig-man. He beat his dog. I see him beat his dog.”

      They rose presently to leave the restaurant, and as they did so the objectionable officer floundered unsteadily to his feet, and placed himself across the doorway. As in the case of most men of gigantic physical strength, Daniel’s nature was gentle, and wanting in all bellicose tendencies; and, moreover, he had already once that evening used his muscles in a manner which did not conform to his principles. He therefore made an attempt to take no notice of the obstruction; but finding the way entirely barred, he was obliged to request the man to stand aside. The officer, however, stood his ground stolidly.

      Daniel raised his voice very slightly. “Will you kindly get out of the way,” he said.

      For answer the man shot out his hand, and made an ineffectual grab at the girl’s arm. She darted aside, and by a quick manœuvre slipped out through the glass doorway, standing thereafter in the entrance passage, watching the two men with an expression of anger in her alert eyes.

      It was now Daniel’s turn to bar the way, whereat his opponent thrust his red face forward and uttered a string of oaths, his fists clenched.

      “I don’t stand any nonsense from a damned civilian,” he roared. “Let me pass, or I’ll put my fist through your face.”

      Suddenly Daniel’s self-control for the second time deserted him. He blushed with shame for his countryman; he burnt with indignation at the arrogance of this product of a militaristic age; he felt like an exasperated schoolmaster dealing with a bully. With a quick movement he gripped the man’s raised arm, and seizing with his other hand the collar of his tunic, shook him so that his head was bumped violently against the wall behind him.

      “I don’t believe in violence,” he said, shaking him till the teeth rattled in his head, “or I’d really hurt you. I don’t believe in it.”

      In his tremendous grip the wretched man was, in spite of his bulk, as entirely powerless as the sentry at the Residency had been. His eyes grew round and frightened: he had never before come up against strength such as Daniel possessed.

      “Let me go,” he gasped.

      “Shut your mouth, or you’ll bite your tongue,” said Daniel, a grim smile upon his face, as he administered another shattering shake. Then with a contemptuous movement he flung him backwards, so that he fell to the floor at the feet of an amazed waiter who had hurried across the room.

      Daniel turned upon his heel, and, taking the girl’s arm, conducted her out of the building. She appeared to be too enthralled by the discomfiture of her enemy to utter a word.

      An empty taxi-cab was passing, and this he hailed.

      “Where d’you want to go to?” he asked.

      She gave him her address. “You are coming home with me?” she asked. “Please do.” Her expression was eloquent.

      “I’ll drive you as far as your door,” he replied.

      “But…?” There was a question in her eyes.

      He sat himself down beside her, and she put her arm in his, looking up into his face with admiration.

      “I never see a one so strong,” she whispered, with a kind of awe. “I think you very great man, very to be loved.”

      Daniel laughed ironically, “Oh, yes, of course you’re filled with admiration because you’ve seen me handle a poor drunken fellow-creature roughly. My girl, that is not the thing for which you should admire a man. I’m ashamed of myself.”

      “Ashamed?” she exclaimed, incredulously.

      “Yes,” he answered, shortly. “D’you think I’m proud that I can master any man in a fair fight? What I want to be able to do is to master myself!”

      There was silence between them, but he was aware that she did not take her eyes from him. At length he turned and looked at her and, seeing the admiration in her face, laughed aloud.

      “Why you laugh?” she asked.

      “I’m laughing at you women,” he answered. “How you love a little show of muscle! Good God, we might be living in the year one!”

      “I not understand,” she said.

      “No, I don’t suppose you do,” he answered. “But here we are: is this where you live?”

      They had stopped before some large buildings in the vicinity of the main station. She nodded her head.

      “Please don’t go away,” she said.

      “No,” he answered. “I’ve had enough of the world, the flesh, and the devil for one day. I guess we’ll meet again some time or other. Good night, my girl; and thank you for your company.”

      She held her hand in his. “Thank you,” she said, “for fighting that pig-man, Barthampton.”

      “Barthampton? Lord Barthampton?” he repeated. “Was that the man?”

      She nodded. “Why?” she asked, as he uttered a low whistle.

      “Gee!”

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