to her relationship to the future Sheikh, and the kind indulgence of the Emir, who treated her as a child.
The chief result of this feast was to increase my anxiety and to add to my determination to bring my business to an issue and depart.
Chapter XIII.
"Choose"
But now, alas! the attitude of the Emir, and of his all-important and powerful Vizier toward me began to change. They grew less friendly and my position less that of guest than prisoner-guest, if not prisoner.
The most foolish proverb of the most foolish nation in the world is, "When you get near women you get near trouble," but in this instance it seemed to apply.
Mary and Maudie were the trouble; for the Emir was undoubtedly falling in love with Maudie, and the Vizier with Mary.
I wondered what would have happened if they had both fallen in love with the same girl. I suppose one of them would have died suddenly, in spite of the fact that they appeared to be more like brothers than master and servant.
And there was no hope in me for Maudie. Maudie blossomed and Maudie bloomed. If ever I saw a wildly-quietly, composedly-distractedly, madly-sanely happy woman, it was our Maudie.
She grew almost lovely. How many of us have an incredibly impossible beautiful dream--and find it come impossibly true? Maudie had dreamed of attar-scented, silk-clad, compelling but courtly Sheikhs, ever since she had read some idiotic trash; and now an attar-scented, silk-clad, compelling but courtly Sheikh was (in Maudie's words) "after" Maudie!
And Miss Vanbrugh? She, too, seemed happy as the day was long, albeit capricious; and though she did not apparently encourage the Sheikh el Habibka, nor "flirt" exactly, she undoubtedly enjoyed his society, as well as that of the Emir, and rode alone with either of them, without fear. They must have been silent rides--with a strange dumb alphabet! Nor would she listen to my words of warning.
"Don't you worry, Major de Beaujolais," she would say, "I tell you they are all right. Yes, both of them. I am just as safe with them as I am with you. . . . And I'm awfully safe with you, Major, am I not?"
Women always know better than men--until they find they know nothing about the matter at all.
The next thing that I did not like, was the giving of feasts to which the girls alone were invited; and then feasts at which Mary alone, or Maudie alone, was the guest.
However, such invitations were commands, of course; the feasts were held in the Emir's pavilion, which was but a few yards from our tent; I took care that the girls had their pistols, and I always sat ready for instant action if I should hear a scream when either of them was there alone.
Nor was there any great privacy observed, for servants were in and out with dishes, and unless there was a strong gibli blowing, the pavilion entrance was open.
But more and more I became a prisoner, and now when I took my daily ride it was with Marbruk ben Hassan and an escort--for my "protection."
One night, as I lay awake, the horrible thought occurred to me of using Miss Vanbrugh and Maudie to farther my ends--and I was almost sick at the bare idea. Whence come these devilish thoughts into clean minds?
No. At that I drew the line. My life for France, but not a girl's honour. . . . I thrust the vile thought from me.
Soon afterwards I fell asleep and had a curious dream. . . .
I was in a vast hall, greater than any built by mortal hands. At the end to which I faced were vast black velvet curtains. As I stood gazing at these, expectant, they parted and rolled away, revealing a huge pair of golden scales, in each great cup of which was seated a most beautiful woman.
One, a noble and commanding figure, wore the Cap of Liberty and I knew her to be the Genius and Goddess and Embodiment of France. . . . The other, a beautiful and beseeching figure, I saw to be Mary Vanbrugh.
Each of these lovely creatures gave me a smile of ineffable sweetness and extended a welcoming hand. . . . A great voice cried "Choose," and, as I strode forward, the great curtains fell--and the dream became a nightmare in which a colossal brazen god stretched a vast hand from a brazen sky to destroy me where I stood in the midst of an illimitable arid desert. . . .
§ 2
Then to me, one night, came the Emir and the Vizier, clearly on business bent. There was no faddhling. As soon as I had offered them seats upon the rugs and produced my last Turkish cigarettes, the Emir got to business.
"Touching the treaty with your Excellency's great country," he began, and my heart leapt with hope. "I will sign it--on terms. . . . On terms further than those named hitherto."
He stopped and appeared to be enjoying the Turkish cigarette intensely.
"And they are, Commander of the Faithful and Shadow of the Prophet?" I inquired.
"That you take the treaty, signed and sealed by me, and witnessed by my Vizier and twelve ekhwan--and leave the two Sitts whom you brought here."
* * *
So it had come! I was faced with the decision of a lifetime!
"That is impossible, Emir el Hamel el Kebir," I seemed to hear myself reply, after a minute of acute agony, which bathed me in perspiration from head to foot.
The Emir raised his big black eyebrows and gave me a supercilious, penetrating hawk-stare of surprise and anger.
"And why?" he inquired quietly.
"Because they put themselves under my protection," I replied, "and I have put myself and them under yours. . . ."
"And I am merely suggesting that they remain there," interrupted the Emir.
"For how long?" I sneered.
"That is for them to say," was the reply.
"Then let them say it," I answered. "Emir, I have treated you as a Bedouin Chief, a true Arab of the Desert, a man of chivalry, honour, hospitality, and greatness. Would you, in return, speak to me of trafficking in women? . . ."
To Hell with their treaty and their tribes, . . .--and then the face of my uncle, the words of his letters, and memories of my life-work rose before my eyes. . . . Neither of these girls was a Frenchwoman. . . . I had not asked them to come here. . . . I had warned them against coming. . . . I had told them plainly that I was going on a mission of national importance. . . . And de Lannec. . . . "Exit de Lannec"! . . .
I strode up and down the tent, the two Arabs, calm, imperturbable, stroking their beards and watching me. . . . I reasoned with myself, as a Frenchman should, logically.
Glorious logic--the foe of sloppiness, emotionalism, sentimentality.
I can but hope, looking back upon this crucial moment of my life, that such matters as my utter ruin and disgrace; my loss of all that made life good; my
