The Hawk of Egypt by Joan Conquest


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Page 26

There fell a silence.

And then the fortune-teller spoke in his own tongue, and too absorbed
were they in the game of make-believe to notice that he made use of
neither sand nor stars nor the lines upon her hands, which were clasped
above her heart, as he read her future in her eyes.

"Two paths lie before thee, O woman, and both stretch, through the
kingdom of love.

"The one to thy right hand has been marked out upon the Field of
Content by feet bound in the sandals of custom and convention. There
is shade upon this path, for, behold, the scorching sun of passion may
not penetrate the leaves of the trees of tranquillity; the storm breaks
not, neither do the biting winds of fear, nor the drenching torrents of
desire, encompass those who walk thereon.

"The river, the slow, full-blossomed river of patience, flows ever
beside it, on its way to the Ocean of Life in which all waters must
mingle in eternity."

There fell a silence, broken by the swaying, throbbing music from the
distant ball-room, causing the girl suddenly to stretch out her hands,
upon which shone the ring, and the man to stretch out his, though he
touched not hers at all.

"And to the left?"

"To the left, O woman whose eyes are like unto the pools of Lebanon at
night, to thy left, lies the desert. The desert, where the feet are
blistered by the gritting sands of passion and the eyes are blinded in
desire. The vast plain where knowledge walks hand-in-hand with death;
where the footprints of horror, fear, starvation, thirst, which are but
the footprints of jealousy and love desired and fulfilled, mark the
sands for one little second and then are gone; the desert, where there
is no shade, no cool waters, no content, no peace until the wanderer
lies still, with sightless eyes turned towards Eternity."

"And if a woman's feet trod upon it?"

"Then will she cut her feet upon the stones of pain; then will the
scorpion of bitter experience sting her heel; then will she die with a
smile upon her red mouth, for love will have come to her, maybe for a
day, maybe for a second of time, but a love which will mingle her soul
with the soul of her desert lover, or shatter her body, even as is
broken the alabaster vase of sweet perfume. Yet is it the _love of the
soul_ that endureth forever, yea, even if the body of the woman passeth
unto another's keeping."

The girl pulled her veil closely about her head and sat quite still,
her wonderful eyes hidden by the fringe of black lashes.

And yet did she not move when he sprang to his feet, intoxicated with
the mystery of her, afire with that love which is the heritage of the
desert.

Then he bent and caught her by the wrists and raised her to her feet.

"Take the path at thy right hand, woman; set not a foot upon the desert
sand, lest perchance a bird of prey swoop down upon thee, thou white
dove."

He pulled her hands up, holding them cruelly, as in a steel vise, so
that he had but to bend a finger's breadth to kiss them.

"Thy feet hesitate, woman. Why? What searchest thou?"

"Knowledge."

The man unconsciously laced his fingers in hers, crushing them until
she went white to the lips.

"Knowledge is pain, woman. What know'st thou of pain? Great pain.
How could'st thou endure it?"

Then he let her hands go and touched the silver tray of sand upon the
table beside him.

"Behold! Love shall be offered thee within the passing of a few hours,
the love of thy right hand, and thou shalt reject it. Searching for
that which thou desirest thou shalt, surrounded by thy women who love
thee, pass down the river even unto Thebes of the Hundred Gates. Yet
shalt thou not find it in the river, nor in the temples upon the east
bank of the waters, nor upon the west bank."

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Thu 26th Jun 2025, 7:37