ertions emphasized his inertia, in which
presently the mind began to take part with the body. The Nile is
exquisitely monotonous. He was coming under its spell. Far off and near,
from the western and eastern banks of the river, he heard almost
perpetually the creaking song of the sakeeyas, the water-wheels turned
by oxen. They made the leit motiv of this wonderful, idle life. Antique
and drowsy, with a plaintive drowsiness, was their continual music,
which very gradually takes possession of the lonely voyager's soul. The
shaduf men, in their long lines leading the eyes towards the south, sang
to the almost brazen sky. And heat reigned over all.

Was this pursuit? Where was the _Loulia?_ To what secret place had she
crept against the repelling tide? It began to seem to Isaacson that he
scarcely cared to know. He was forgetting his reason for coming to
Egypt. He was forgetting his friend, his enemy; he was forgetting
everything. The heat increased. The puffs of wind died down. Towards
noon the Reis tied up, that the sweating crew might rest.

A table was laid on deck, and Isaacson lunched under an awning. When he
had finished and the Egyptian waiter had cleared away, Hassan came to
stand beside his master and entertain him with conversation.

"Are there many orange plantations on the Nile?" asked Isaacson,
presently, looking towards the bank, which was broken just here and
showed a vista of trees.

Hassan spoke of Mahmoud Baroudi. Once again Isaacson heard of him, and
now of his almost legendary wealth. Then came a flood of gossip in
pigeon-English. Hamza was presently mentioned, and Isaacson learnt of
Hamza's pilgrimage to Mecca with Mahmoud Baroudi, and of his present
service with "my Lord Arminigel" upon the _Loulia_. Isaacson did not say
that he knew "my Lord." He kept his counsel, and he listened, till at
last Hassan's volubility seemed exhausted. The crew were sleeping now.
There was no prospect of immediate departure, and, to create a
diversion, Hassan suggested a walk through the orange gardens to the
house they guarded closely.

Lazily Isaacson agreed. He and the guide crossed the gangway, and soon
disappeared into the Villa of the Night of Gold.

When the heat grew less, as the day was declining, once more the _Fatma_
crept slowly on her way. She drew ever towards the south with the
deliberation of a water-insect which yet had a purpose that kept it on
its journey.

She rounded a bend of the Nile. She di