Her Royal Highness: A Romance of the Chancelleries of Europe Page 3

with a bright and wonderful moon.

  "Let's take a boat over to the Savoy?" Waldron suggested. "It's so hothere."

  Mademoiselle, who was in a simple, dead-white gown, with a touch of palesalmon at the waist, was instantly agreeable, for a stroll through thebeautiful gardens of the Savoy Hotel, over on Elephantine Island, wasalways delightful after dinner.

  So she clapped her hands, summoning one of the Arab servants namedHassan, and sent him to her room for her wrap. Then when he had broughtit in his big brown hands and placed it upon her shoulders, the pairdescended through the garden of the hotel, where some boats were waitingin the moonlight to take parties out for a sail in the light zephyrwhich always rises on the Nile about nine o'clock each night.

  "Good evenin', laidee," exclaimed the Arab boatman, salaaming, as thepair stepped into his boat, for the man had often taken them out onprevious occasions; then two young Arabs followed, the boat was pushedoff, and the big heavy sail raised.

  Waldron told the man where they wished to go.

  "Ver gud, gen'leman," the big, brown-faced giant replied, salaaming, andsoon they were speeding across the face of the wonderful river intowhich the moon and the lights of the town were reflected as in a mirror,while the only sound was the faint ripple of the water at the bows.

  "How delightfully refreshing after the heat," Lola exclaimed, pullingher wrap about her and breathing in the welcome air to the full.

  "Yes," replied her companion, lolling near her, smoking his cigarette.He had on a light coat over his dinner clothes, and wore a straw hat."There is nothing in Europe like this, is there?"

  "Nothing," she admitted.

  And what he said was true. The moon shone with that brilliancy onlywitnessed in the East, and the dead silence of the river and thelimitless desert beyond was wonderfully impressive after that gay andreckless circle which they had just quitted.

  Presently the two young Arabs, who had been conversing with each otherin an undertone, spoke to their master--who apparently gave consent.

  Waldron had offered each a cigarette from his case, receiving a pleasedgrin and a salaam, and all were now in the full enjoyment of smoking.They smoked on gravely until they had finished their gifts.

  "'Merican steamer, he come from Cairo to-night," the boatman announcedas they approached the quay at Assouan.

  "He means the new Hamburg-America passenger service," Waldron remarked,and then, turning to the Arab who was busy with their sail, preparing totack, he asked him some questions regarding the steamer.

  "He big steamer, gen'leman. _Reis_, he know me--he know Ali." And sothe Arab wandered on in his quaint English, for in Upper Egypt they areall inveterate gossips.

  Then the operation of tacking concluded, one of the younger men produceda great cylinder of sun-baked clay, across the top of which wasstretched a piece of parchment, and placing it across his knees beganstrumming upon it dexterously with his thumb, finger, and palm, afterwhich the dark-faced trio set up that long-drawn, plaintive song of theNile boatmen, in which Allah is beseeched to protect their beloved town,which has existed ever since the Pharaohs--the town of Aswan.

  The weekly steamer from Cairo, gaily lit and filled with Europeans, waslying at the landing-stage. Hearing the song which the trio in rhythmicunison took up, a dozen or so Europeans in evening dress crowded to theside to see who was passing.

  Lola, delighted, hailed them in English. They shouted back merrygreetings, and then Ali, their boatman, tacked again, and they were soonsailing straight for the long, dark river-bank, where one or two lightsshowed like fireflies among the palms, until they reached the darkly-litlanding-stage on Elephantine, that little island whence, in the dim agesof the Sixth Dynasty, sprang the Kings of Egypt, where the ancient gods,Khnemu, Sati, and Anuquet were worshipped, and where the Pharaoh,Amenophis III, built a temple. Upon the site where the orgies of Hathorwere enacted is to-day the modern Savoy, where one can obtain awhisky-and-soda or a well-mixed "Martini." Other times, other manners.

  On landing, Waldron and Lola strolled together along the moonlit,gravelled path beside the river, and presently sat beneath a greatflowering oleander amid the thousand perfumes of that glorious tropicalgarden with its wealth of blossom.

  He noted that she had suddenly grown grave and silent. Some people weresitting upon a seat near, laughing gaily and chattering in English,though in the deep shadow of the perfumed night they could not be seen.At their feet the broad Nile waters lapped lazily, while from a nativeboat in mid-stream came the low, rhythmic beating of a tom-tom as therowers bent to their oars.

  "You seem very melancholy," remarked her companion suddenly. "Why?"

  "I--melancholy?" she cried in her broken English, suddenly starting."I--I really did not know, m'sieur. Oh, please forgive me."

  "No, I will not," he said with mock reproach.

  "You mustn't be sad when I am with you."

  "But I'm not sad, I assure you," she declared. And then, noticing thathe was taking a cigarette from his case, she begged one.

  Lola seldom, if ever, smoked in public, nevertheless she waspassionately fond of those mild aromatic cigarettes which one gets insuch perfection in Egypt, and often when with her friend, thecosmopolitan diplomat, she would indulge in one.

  She hated the conventions which so often she set at naught--thus earningthe reputation of a tomboy, so full of life and vivacity was she.

  "Uncle is such a dreadful bore sometimes," she sighed at last, droppinginto French. "I rather wish we were, after all, going back to Paris."

  "He disagrees with you sometimes, eh?" laughed the man at her side."All elderly people become bores more or less."

  "Yes. But there is surely no reason for such constant watching."

  "Watching!" exclaimed Waldron in feigned surprise. "Is he annoyed atthis constant companionship of ours?"

  "Well," she hesitated; "he's not exactly pleased. He watches me like acat watches a mouse. I hate his crafty, stealthy ways. To-day I toldhim so, frankly."

  Waldron was considerably surprised at her sudden outburst of confidence,for through all the weeks of their close acquaintanceship she had toldhim but very little concerning herself. But from what she had said hegathered that she was entirely dependent upon her uncle, whosestrictness and eccentricities so often irritated her.

  "Yes," she went on, "I've really grown tired of being spied upon soconstantly. It is most annoying. Gabrielle, too, is always tellingtales to him--telling him where I've gone, and how long I've been away,and all that."

  The man at her side paused.

  "In that case," he said at last, "had we not better keep apart,mademoiselle--if it would render your life happier?"

  "I only wish I could get rid of that old beast," she cried wistfully."But, unfortunately, I can't. I'm entirely and utterly in his hands."

  "Why?" asked her companion slowly.

  But she remained silent, until he had repeated his question.

  "Why? Well, because I am," was her vague, mysterious reply.

  "Then he often complains of me?" Waldron asked.

  For answer she laughed a nervous little laugh.

  "He doesn't like me, I suppose. Well, there's no love lost between us,I assure you, mademoiselle. But if you think it best, then we willexercise a wiser discretion in future."

  "No, no," she replied hastily. "You quite misconstrue my meaning,M'sieur Waldron. You have been exceedingly kind to me, but--" and thenshe sighed without concluding her sentence.

  Again a silence fell between them.

  From across the broad dark waters, in the bosom of which the stars werereflected, came the low, strident voices of the Arab boatmen chantingtheir monotonous prayer to Allah to give them grace. The still air washeavy with a thousand sweet scents, while about them the big nocturnalinsects flitted and buzzed.

  A peal of English laughter broke from out the deep shadows, and fromsomewhere in the vicinity came the twanging of a one-stringed instrumentby an Arab, who set up one of t
hose low, haunting refrains of the Nilebank--the ancient songs handed down through the Pagan ages before thebirth of Christendom.

  Waldron was reflecting deeply. Old Gigleux had always been a mystery.That he was a crafty, cunning old fox was undoubted, and yet he had, heremembered, always treated him with marked friendliness. It wassurprising that he should, on the other hand, object to his niece beingso frequently in his company.

  Lola's companion questioned her regarding the mysterious old fellow, butall she would reply was:

  "There are certain matters, M'sieur Waldron, which I would rather notdiscuss. That is one of them."

  With this chilly rebuff her companion was compelled to be content, andno amount