, held it up, then slapped it down
upon his knee.

"My word!" he added, smiling, and always searching her eyes with his.
"It is worse than to eat pig by daylight in Ramadan would seem to an
Egyptian."

"Do you dislike the English?"

"What must I say?"

"Say the truth."

"If it is the English ladies, I think them lovely."

"And the Englishmen?"

"Oh, they are all--good fellers."

He threw into the last two words an indescribable sound of half-laughing
contempt.

"They are all--good fellers. Don't you think so?"

"But what does that mean?"

"Splendid chaps, madame!"

He sat up straight, and threw out his chest and thumped it.

"Beef, plum pudding, fine fellers, rulers!"

"You mustn't laugh at my countrymen."

"Laugh--never! But--may I smile, just at one corner?"

He showed his rows of little, straight, white teeth, which looked strong
enough to bite through a bar of iron.

"The Englishman rules us in Egypt. He keeps saying we are ruling, and he
keeps on ruling us. And all the time he rules us, he despises us,
madame. He thinks us silly children. But sometimes we smile at him,
though of course he never smiles at us, for fear a smile from him should
make us think we are not so far below him. It is very wrong of us, but
somehow Allah permits us to smile. And then"--again he leaned forward,
and his chair creaked in the darkness--"there are some Englishwomen who
like to see us smile, some who even smile with us behind the
Englishman's back."

He spoke calmly, with a certain subtle irony, but quite without any hint
of bitterness, and in speaking the last words he slightly lowered his
voice.

"Is it very wrong of them, madame? What do you say? Do you condemn
them?"

She did not answer, but her mobile, painted lips quivered, as if she
were trying to repress a smile and were not quite succeeding.

"If they smile, if they smile--isn't that a shame, madame?"

He was smiling into her eyes.

"It is a great shame," she said. "I despise deceitful women."

"And yet who does not deceive? Everybody--except the splendid fellers!"

He threw back his head and laughed, while she looked at his magnificent
throat.

"You never talked like this on the _Hohenzollern_," she said.

"Madame, I was never alone with you. How could I talk like this? I
should not have been properly understood."

Not only in his eyes, but also in this assumption of a certain
comradeship and sympathy from which Nigel and Nigel's kind w