The Hawk of Egypt by Joan Conquest


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Page 89

She moved away at a gentle trot, then stopped and looked back along her
satin flank towards the tent, in a vain hope of seeing her master just
once more; she did not turn completely round,--she obeyed where she
loved--she just looked back along her flank; then, doubtless recognising
her defeat, gave a little flick of her heels and trotted off again.

She was just midway between the tents and her stables when she stopped
dead, with ears pricked forward.

Save for the silvery mane and tail blown by the night-wind she might have
been a statue carved out of marble, so still was she.

Then she suddenly backed and reared a foot or two, then backed again;
wheeled; started towards the tents; stopped and wheeled again.

She trembled from head to foot, the beautiful terrified creature; great
eyes rolling, little feet sending the sand flying as she moved
continually on one spot.

There was nothing to see as she stood, looking east; the tents were
behind her, her stables in a straight line from them to the west; there
was absolutely no sound, none at all until she neighed.

She neighed until the desert rang with the sound, neighed until the
horses in the stables some miles away pulled at their halters and lashed
out on every side; then she reared and wheeled as she stood straight on
her slender hind-legs, then, crashing to the ground, with a convulsive
leap was off into the desert.

Neither did she return for many days; nor was she seen until that dawn
when her _sayis_ found her in front of the middle tent, snuffing at the
closed flap.

* * * * * *

But the flap was not closed this night, as Hugh Carden Ali sat on the
couch of wood and looked at the girl who sat beside him.

She stared down at her hands, which pleated and flattened and re-pleated
the satin of her skirt, and her face was as white as her neck and her
arms, which shone like lilies kissed by the sun, under the light of the
orange lamp.

He waited for her to speak, for it was not for him to guide or influence
her in any way by spoken word.

He led her to the wooden couch, which had perforce to serve as seat as
there was none other in the tent, and took her cloak, passing his hand
gently across the sable collar which encircled her throat; and he
glimpsed the hurt of her heart down in the depths of her eyes when she
looked up at him and put out her hand and stopped him when, murmuring
something about coffee, he turned to the entrance.

"I could not drink it, thank you," she whispered. "I--I want------" and
stopped and looked down and pleated the satin over her knee and flattened
it with her palm.

She was terrified at the desperate step she had taken--and well she might
be. She was strung to a great pitch of nervous excitement through the
exhilaration of her tearing ride; she was stubbornly determined to
prevent the finger of scorn from pointing in her direction; but she was
finding a subtle salve to the smart of the wound to her pride in the
romantic setting of the wonderful picture made by the man beside her.

In faith, I see no real excuse whatever in exoneration of her mad
impulse, unless it be in her education--or, rather, want of it--and in
the fact that she was younger than her years.

Educated in the hugger-mugger way in which are educated the girls who
will not have to use their knowledge to earn a livelihood; with, it must
be confessed, the great and rare--in these days--asset of perfect manners
and courtesy towards all mankind, yet had she never been taught the
rudiments of self-control and deliberation. She had a heart of gold,
truly, but she leapt to conclusions with closed eyes.

With her to think had always been to act. So that, having leapt far out
into a morass of incertitude, she sat perplexed, for 'tis no easy matter
to say, "Please will you marry me?" to a man, even if you know that he
worships the ground your shadow falls upon.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sun 18th Jan 2026, 13:22