and Maudie, and they dropped their barracans, thus exposing the two Paris frocks which the latter had put in the portmanteau at Zaguig, the effect upon the two Arabs was electrical. They were as men dreaming dreams and seeing visions.
I thought the Emir was going to collapse as he looked at Mary; and I watched the Vizier devouring her with hungry eyes. I grew a little nervous.
"The Lady Sitt Miriyam Hankinson el Vanbrugh," said I, to make an imposing and sonorous mouthful of title, "and the Sitt Moad el Atkinson."
I suppose they were the first white women the Arabs had seen, and they were struck dumb and senseless by their beauty.
Nor was the effect of their hosts much less upon the girls. Miss Vanbrugh stared, fascinated, at the gorgeous figure of the Emir, while poor Maudie did not know whether she was on her head or her heels.
"Sheikhs!" she murmured. "Real Sheikhs! Oh, sir, isn't the big one a lovely man! . . ." The Emir, dragging his eyes from Mary, smiled graciously at the other fair woman, and murmured:
"Bismillah! Sitt Moad. Oua Aleikoume Esselema, 'lhamdoula!" and to me in his classic Arabic, "Sweet as the dates of Buseima is her presence," which I duly translated.
And then Mary found her voice.
"Well! Well! Major," she observed. "Aren't they sure-enough genuine Parlour Sheikhs of song and story!" and before I could stop her, she offered her hand to the Emir, her eyes dancing with delight.
Probably neither the Emir nor the Vizier had ever "shaken hands" before, but Mary's smile, gesture and "Very pleased to meet you, Sheikh," were self-explanatory, and both the Arabs made a good showing at this new ceremonial of the strange Roumis and their somewhat brazen, unveiled females.
Indeed the Vizier seemed to know more about holding Mary's hand than releasing it, and again I grew nervous.
When the Emir said to me, "Let the other Lady, the Sitt Moadi, lay her hand upon my hands also," and I translated, I thought Maudie would have swooned with pleasure and confusion. Not only did the Emir "shake hands"--he stroked hands, and I grew less and less happy.
An amorous Arab is something very amorous indeed. With these desert despots, to desire is to take, and if I were an obstacle it would be very easy to remove me. And what of the girls then? . . . As the meal progressed and the sense of strangeness and shyness wore off, I was glad that the Sheikh and his Vizier could not possibly know a word of English, for Miss Vanbrugh's criticisms were pungent and Maudie's admiration fulsome.
I was kept busy translating the Emir's remarks to the girls, and mistranslating the girls' remarks concerning the appearance, manners, and probable customs of their hosts.
At times I was in a cold perspiration of fear, as I thought of how utterly these two women were in the power of these men, and again at times, watching their faces, I saw no evil in them. Hard they were, perhaps relentless and ruthless, but not cruel, sensual nor debauched.
"Major," Miss Vanbrugh remarked, "d'you think these Parlour Sheikhs would like to hear a little song? . . . Tell them it's grace after meat," and before I could offer my views on the propriety of thus entertaining our hosts, or translating her remark, I once more heard the familiar air, but this time to the words:
"The Sons of the Prophet are hardy and bold, And quite unaccustomed to fear; But of all--the most reckless of life and of limb, Was Abdul the Bul-bul Emir! . . . When they wanted a man to encourage the van, Or to shout 'Attaboy!' in the rear, Or to storm a redoubt, They always sent out For Abdul the Bul-bul Emir! For Abdul the Bul-bul Emir!"
The Arabs stared, almost open-mouthed, and I explained that after-dinner singing was a custom with the Roumis and that the song, out of compliment to our hosts, described the greatness, wisdom, virtue, and courage of another famous Emir.
When we were at last permitted to cease from eating, and white-clad servants removed the remains of the diffa, the Emir bade me request Mary Vanbrugh to talk of her country and her home, that I might translate her words to him.
He then asked many questions through me.
Thereafter he directed that Maudie should talk.
But having almost realized the ambition of her life, Maudie was shy and could only stammer incoherently while gazing bright-eyed, flushed, with parted lips and quickened breathing, at the huge, handsome, and gorgeously arrayed Emir.
The Vizier, the Sheikh el Habibka, scarcely uttered a word the whole evening, but he hardly took his eyes from Miss Vanbrugh's face.
In the bad moments to which I have alluded, I felt that if the worst came to the worst, Maudie would be imprisoned in the Emir's hareem, and Mary in that of this Sheikh el Habibka--unless the Emir took them both. . . .
The sooner I could dangle before their eyes the million francs and the enormous advantages of an entente and an alliance with France, the better it would be; and the less they saw of the girls the better it would be also. . . .
"Well, Major, it's time you went to bed," said Mary. "Remember you're a sick man!"
"We can't move till the Emir gives the hint," I replied.
"Well, I wish he'd do it, the great old coot. Tell him what I'm saying, Major--that he fancies he's some punkins, but he's not the perfect little gentleman he thinks he is, or he'd see I'm tired to death," and she yawned heavily. . . .
Luckily the Emir shortly afterwards suggested that we might be weary, and though I told him that no one could be weary in his presence, he hinted that he was so in mine.
The leave-taking made it clear that Maudie's hand delighted the Emir, while that of Mary was precious in the sight of the Sheikh el Habibka. There was a look of determination in that man's eye. . . .
As we entered the Guest-tent I said to Miss Vanbrugh, "Scream if there's any trouble in the night."
"Scream? I shall shoot. Let the 'trouble' do the screaming. Good night, Major," was this independent and courageous young lady's reply.
§ 4
The next day I had an interview with the Emir, in the presence, as always, of the Vizier, and, after infinite meanderings around all subjects but the real one, we came to it at last.
I made it clear that what I offered him was the friendship of a most powerful protector, great wealth, and all the advantages that would ensue if a caravan-road were made and guarded from the Great Oasis to Zaguig, and trade-relations opened up between his people and the North.
I glanced at the possibility of our supplying him with arms, including machine-guns and, possibly, light artillery--later on.
I grew eloquent in showing him how the friendship of France could raise him to a safe independence, and how, in the rôle of protégé of France, he could benefit his people and give them the blessings of civilization.
The Emir repeated my phrase, but with a peculiar intonation.
"The blessings of civilization!" he mused. "Drink. . . . Disease. . . . Unrest. . . . Machine-guns. . . . Has the civilization of the Roumis always proved such a
