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Page 21
"That, O woman, is in the hands of Allah, who is God."
And he turned and left her, and she, having wept her heart out and her
beautiful eyes dim, took up the illustrated paper which was a volume of
the Book of Life, and turned the pages.
"Ah!" she said. "How beautiful!"
It was just a simple photograph of Damaris at a tennis tournament, and
underneath the information that the most popular and beautiful visitor
in Cairo would celebrate her birthday in a week's time, that in honour
of the occasion her god-mother, the Duchess of Longacres, had issued
invitations for a fancy-dress ball, after which social event she and
her god-daughter would proceed to the Desert Palace Hotel, Heliopolis.
"I wonder," whispered Jill, "I wonder if she would come to see me. She
was always such a wise old woman. I wonder if there is a way out"--and
she stretched her arms out towards the desert. "Hahmed!" she called,
"Beloved, I love you, and my heart is breaking,"--and she lifted her
head and listened to the sound of many horses running; then bowed her
head and wept.
The dawn was nigh to breaking, and yet the parade of horses was not
finished; whilst the trainer, the head groom, the stud groom, the
under-grooms and the rank and file of the stables tore their beards or
their hair as they endeavoured to please their master, whilst they
waited anxiously for the return of the man who had been hurriedly sent
to fetch in the mare, Pi-Kay, who was out to grass, and as wild as a
bird on the wing.
Singly, or in pairs, every priceless quadruped had been put through its
paces upon the track of tan imported from England.
Three coal-black stallions, brothers to el-Sooltan, even then in Cairo,
and famous throughout Egypt, tore past him like a cyclone and left him
indifferent; a chestnut brood mare, whose price was above that of many
rubies, trotted up at his call and snuffled a welcome in his sleeve,
searched for sugar in his hand and found it, and whinnied gently when
he turned away; bays, piebalds, roans, greys, trotted, galloped,
jumped, whilst their master smoked endless cigarettes and the stud
groom prayed fervently to Allah.
"By the patience of the Prophet," the master suddenly cried, turning on
the man, "hast thou nothing else? Is there no jewel amongst my horses?
Hast thou not in all my stables one of the Al Hamsa, a descendant of
the mares who found favour in the eyes of Mohammed the prophet of Allah
who is God? The mare Alia--has she been, perchance, as sterile as thy
wits?"
And then he stopped short and stood in silence, watching the loveliest
picture any human could wish to see.
Picking up her dainty feet as though she walked upon hot stones,
tossing her proud little head, with big, gentle eyes, spreading
nostrils and fine small ears almost touching at the tips, mane flowing,
tail set high and spread, came the snow-white mare, Pi-Kay.
Allah! but the loveliness of that picture as she stood, thoroughbred,
perfect, as proud as any queen, as scornful as any spoiled beauty, as
confused at the sight of her master as any bride!
Ten yards away and motionless she stood from this man who seemed to
take no notice of her, and then she wheeled, and flung up her heels;
then stopped and looked at him along her satin flank and piqued with
his indifference suddenly sped out into the desert.
Then, softly, melodiously, the man's voice called her, ringing like a
bell under the lightening sky, and behold, love awoke in the mare's
heart and she turned and raced back towards him, longing for his hand
and the grip of his knees upon her. But with her feet upon the tan,
she turned her back upon him and danced across towards the coal-black
stallions, causing their grooms to hold on to them with both hands;
then she came back to circle round about this man, who seemingly took
no notice of her vagaries, not even when she reared just behind him,
pawing the air, nor when she lashed out at a humble _sayis_, missing
him by a hair; until, at last, overpowered by curiosity and love,
curveting, rearing, throwing her feet and making a frightful to-do over
nothing at all, she came close up--oh! very close--and whinnied gently.
With one hand clutching the silvery mane and in one bound he was across
the bare back and away with her into the desert, gripping her with his
knees, calling to her by every love-name he could think of.
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