|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 45
"But I shall not stay in the trap." Arlee spoke with desperate
resolve, her eyes on the sputtering candle, her palms against her
burning cheeks, her finger tips pressed into her throbbing temples.
"I shall not let him make me afraid like this. He must know he will
be found out--he cannot play like this with an American girl! I
shall face him to-morrow. I shall demand my freedom. I shall tell
him that I did tell people at the hotel--that he will be discovered.
I will make _him_ afraid!"
"You cannot. He watches what happens on the outside--he knows."
After a pause, "Oh, why did I come!" said Arlee in choking
bitterness.
The little dancer turned, and, sitting there cross-legged on the
couch like a squat little idol, her chin sunk in her palm, her dark
eyes staring unwinkingly at Arlee, gave the girl a long, strange
scrutiny.
"You do not like him?" she said.
"I hate him!"
"But you came to tea?"
"To meet his sister. To see the palace."
"His sister? Did he show you one?"
"Yes--a woman with red hair. A Turkish woman. She spoke French to
me."
"Ah--that would be Seniha!"
"Seniha? I don't know. She played the piano. Has he more than one
sister?"
But as she put the question a sudden flash of intuition forestalled
the dancer's mocking cry of "Sister!" And as Fritzi hurried on, "He
has no sister--not here, anyway," Arlee's thoughts ran back to the
beginning of that very evening which seemed so long ago when she had
plunged wildly into those unknown rooms, and saw again that
painted, jeweled woman with her outstretched arms.
"She is his wife," the Viennese was saying.
"I--I did not know that he was married."
"Oh, Turkish marriages." The other shrugged, with a contempt a
trifle droll in one who had dispensed with every ceremony. "She was
his second. The first was a little girl, he said. The match was made
for him. She is dead. This Seniha was her cousin, a cousin who was
divorced and she lived with the wife. And our pretty Hamdi made love
to her, and she was mad about him and so, presently, it happens that
he must marry her, for it would be terrible to have disgrace upon
the wife's family. Besides the first wife had no children. So he
married her. But _she_ had no children. It was all one fairy story."
Fritzi laughed under her breath in great enjoyment. "So Hamdi was
cheated and he has been a devil to her. The first little wife dies
and he shut the second up here, teasing her sometimes, sometimes
making love when he is dull, but forcing her to his will for fear he
will divorce her.... How she must have hated you, when she had to
play that sister. Except that she was glad that _I_ was being put
aside," the dancer added with quick spite. "I think she would put
poison in my meat if she did not fear Hamdi so.... And always she
hopes that he will come back to her. I have seen her waiting, night
after night----"
And Arlee thought of the jewels and the silks ... and the long,
long, silent hours.... Slowly she put out her hand and snuffed out
the smoking wick, then raised her eyes to where the painted bars
stretched black across the starry square of sky. "Won't _she_
help?" she asked.
"Not she! Hamdi would find her out.... Not through her can you get
word to your friends. For you have friends here? And they will help
you? And then you will help me?"
"Oh, yes, if I can get help," promised Arlee. "But I am afraid my
friends have gone up the Nile--and there are just--just one or two
left in Cairo that would help. And I must get word to them _at
once_. What is the best way? Couldn't I push a note through the
windows on the street? Someone might see that!"
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|