em she
seemed to see again Hamza, with his beautiful and severe face, praying
upon the yellow ground.

Hamza, Ibrahim, Baroudi. They were all of Eastern blood, they were all
of the same faith, of the faith from the bosom of which emanated the
words which were written upon the _Loulia_:

"The fate of every man have we bound about his neck."

Of every man! And what of the fate of woman? What of her fate?

She opened her eyes, and saw Baroudi standing near her, leaning against
a rock and looking steadily at her.

For an instant she did not know whether she was startled or not. She
seemed to be aware of two selves, the conscious self and the
subconscious self, to know that they were in a sharp conflict of
sensation. And because of this, conflict she could not say, to herself
even, that the sum total of her was this or that. For the conscious
self had surely never expected to see Baroudi here; and the subconscious
self had surely known quite well that he would come into this hard and
yellow place of fire to be alone with her.

"Thank you so much for the carpet and the cushions."

The subconscious self had gained the victory. No, she was not surprised.
Baroudi moved from the rock, and, without smiling, came slowly up to her
over the shining ground that looked metal in the fierce radiance of the
sun. He wore a suit of white linen, white shoes, and the tarbush.

"_Puisque votre mari n'y est plus, parlons Francais_," he said.

"_Comme vous voulez_," she replied.

She did not ask him why he preferred to speak in French. Very few whys
stood just then between her and this man whom she scarcely knew. They
went on talking in French. At first Baroudi continued to stand in the
sun, and she looked up at him with composure from her place of shadow.

"Armant is in this direction?" she said.

"I do not say that, but it is not so far as the Fayyum."

"I know so little of Egypt. You must forgive my ignorance."

"You will know more of my country, much more than other
Englishwomen--some day."

He spoke with an almost brutal composure and self-possession, and she
noticed that he no longer closed his sentences with the word "madame."
His great eyes, as they looked steadily down to her, were as direct, as
cruelly direct, in their gaze as the eyes of a bird of prey. They
pierced her defences, but to-day did not permit her, in return, to
pierce his, to penetrate, even a little way, into his territory of
thought, of feeling. She re