would vanish into it for ever. She was a desperate woman, beneath
her mask of smiling calm, when the _Loulia_ set sail and glided into the
path of the golden evening.

Nevertheless, directly she had descended the shallow steps, and come
into the luxurious cabin that was to be her boudoir, she was conscious
of a feeling of relief that was almost joy. The comfort, the perfect
arrangements of the _Loulia_ gave her courage. She was able to look
forward. The soul of her purred with a sensual satisfaction. She went on
down the passage to the room of the fountain and of the gilded ball. But
today the fountain was not playing, and the little ball floated upon the
water in the marble basin like a thing that had lost its life. She felt
a slight shock of disappointment. Then she remembered that they were
moving. Probably the fountain only played when the dahabeeyah was at
rest. The grotesque monster, like a dragon with a dog's head, which she
had seen on her first visit, looked down on her from its bracket. And
she felt as if it welcomed her. The mashrebeeyeh lattices were closed
over the windows, but the sliding doors that gave on to the balcony were
pushed back, and let in the light of evening, and a sound of water, and
of voices along the Nile. She sat down on the divan, and almost
immediately Hamza came in.

"You are going to show me how to make Turkish coffee, Hamza?" she said,
in her lazy and careless voice.

"Yes," he replied.

"Where shall we do it?"

He pointed towards the raised balcony in the stern.

"Out there!" she said.

She seemed disappointed, but she got up slowly and followed him out. The
awning was spread so that the upper deck was not visible. When she saw
that, the cloud passed away from her face, and as she sat down to
receive her lesson, there was a bright and hard eagerness and attention
in her eyes and about her lips.

Hamza had already brought a brazier with iron legs, which was protected
from the wind by a screen of canvas. On the polished wood close to it
there were a shining saucepan containing water, a brass bowl of freshly
roasted and pounded coffee, two small open coffee-pots with handles that
stuck straight out, two coffee-cups, a tiny bowl of powdered sugar, and
some paper parcels which held sticks of mastic, ambergris, and seed of
cardamom. As soon as Mrs. Armine was seated by the brazier Hamza, whose
face looked as if he were quite alone, with slow and almost dainty
delicacy and precis