nderstand," she said, with an effort.

She shut her lips tightly and was silent, thinking of Nigel's return, of
her departure with him to the Fayyum, while this man, on his luxurious
floating home, went on towards the south. She had resolved to live for
the day. But when does any jealous woman live for the day? Jealousy
hurls itself into the past and into the future, demanding of the one
what was and of the other what will be. And--the canvas of a tent would
enfold her, would make her prison walls! Why, why had she tied herself?
A month ago, and she was utterly free. She could have gone to the south
on the _Loulia_. Her whole body tingled, revolting against the yoke with
which her will had burdened it. But when she spoke again her voice was
lazy and calm?

"I suppose you won't stay on the Nile for ever?"

Again her fingers closed mechanically on one of the boxes.

"But no! I shall have to go back to Assiut, and then to Cairo and
Alexandria, the Delta, too."

"And the Fayyum? Haven't you property there? Isn't it one of the richest
districts in Egypt?"

He looked at her and smiled, slightly pouting his thick lips.

"Even if I could go to the Fayyum, I don't think it would be much good,"
he answered.

He had no scruple in stripping her bare of subterfuge.

"I meant that your advice on Egyptian agriculture might be valuable to
my husband," she retorted, with composure.

Something in his glance, in his tone, seemed suddenly to brace her, to
restore her.

"Ah! that is true. Mr. Armeen would take my advice. In some ways he is
not so very English."

"Then it would be kind to come to the Fayyum and to give him the benefit
of your advice."

He leaned towards her, and said:

"Bella Donna is not so very subtle!"

"You think subtlety so necessary?" she asked, with a light tinge of
irony. "I really don't see why."

His eyes narrowed till they were only slits through which gleamed a
yellowish light.

"When is your French maid going?" he asked.

She moved, and sat looking at him for a minute without replying. Had he
read her thought of the morning?

"My maid!" she said at length. "What do you mean? Why should she go?"

"When is she going?" he repeated.

The brigand had suddenly reappeared in him.

"What an absurd idea! I can't possibly get on without a maid."

She still acted a careless surprise. An obscure voice within her--a
voice that she scarcely recognized, whispered to her, "Resist!"

"When is she