The Hawk of Egypt by Joan Conquest


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Page 32

There had been no sound; just out of the dark he had suddenly
materialised in the startling, silent way of the East.

Well does it behove us to remember that we have claimed the privilege
of giving lessons in morality, culture, good-breeding, manners, in
fact, in one word, civilisation to the world at large.

In the glaring sun of an Eastern mid-day you can sit with your feet
figuratively or literally on the table, if it pleases you; it will but
be accounted as one more eccentricity unto you; but in the shadows, an'
you would retain the position of teacher to the world at large, keep
the heels on the rail of your chair; for there are ears and eyes a-many
in the shadows and behind the silken curtain.

But it took a good deal more than the sudden appearance of a native to
make the old lady start.

She put out her cigarette with the toe of a red shoe, took another from
the snuff-box, rasped a match--not on the sole of her foot this
time--lit the fragrant weed and looked at the man, who salaamed.

"Yes?" she said courteously.

"I am the fortune-teller, great lady. In the sand, by the stars, or
the lines of your jewelled hand, if in your graciousness you will
permit me, I will tell you your future."

"My son, behold. I am near the sunset, the moment approaches when my
tired feet will advance still further upon the bridge which leadeth me
to my God and your God. What is past I know; what is, _is_; what is to
be, is so near that, behold, sometimes in the stillness of the night I
hear the angels whispering as they take counsel as to the moment when,
one shall tap me upon the shoulder, saying, 'Come!'"

He sank to the ground just at her feet and looked up in the splendid
old face with an agony of hurt born of misunderstanding in his own, so
that, suddenly realising that her refusal had been taken for antipathy,
she stretched out her hand, which, having first pulled a corner of his
white mantle between, he held upon the back of his own.

"Tell me, then, of those I love."

The fortune-teller looked her straight in the face.

"Thy hands are full of love-flowers, white woman; thy head is crowned
with them; thy feet pass upon them; thou art all love. Yea! even
though there are many upon the bridge who, having preceded thee, await
thy coming, yet art thou surrounded with love. And in the flowers in
thy hands is there one which thou cherishest, and for which thou
fearest.

"Fear not, wise woman; let thy heart beat tranquilly at dawn, at noon
and at the setting of the sun; for it is written that no harm shall
befall the flower, no stain shall mark the ivory petals of innocence;
no rude hand pluck it before its time. Thou art not the only one to
love the flower, wise woman. There is one also who loveth it and
watcheth it and will pluck it in due season; there is yet another who
loveth and watcheth, but from a great, great distance. If by the grace
of Allah, who is God, the flower should be placed even for the passing
of an hour within the hands of him who watcheth from afar, I tell thee,
for so it is written, fear not, for no harm shall befall the fragrant
blossom."

The old woman nodded her head so that the diamond leaves glistened, and
smiled gently and lifting her hand pulled aside the corner of the
mantle, and laid her hand again on his.

"Nay, touch me not, for fear I shall pollute thee, thou woman of one
great race; thou descendant of one unbroken line; thou noble with
unblemished shield."

Then she leant right forward, and laid both hands upon his shoulders.
"My son, my son, perchance could a very wise, very old woman help thee
in thy stress, for behold, she understands all things, having herself
passed through the troubled waters of life."

The fortune-teller shook his head as he gripped the little hands upon
his shoulders.

"For me there is no help, wise, all-loving woman. But she who loves
me, she whom I love and for whom I would die, even breaks her heart
through me, her first-born, in my desert home. Her beautiful eyes are
full of tears, she lifts not her head, and my father, whom I honour, is
far from her in her stress. Perchance in the golden mint of thy heart
hast thou a few coins of patience, wisdom and love to spare."

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Fri 27th Jun 2025, 12:17