"But you will find the going irksome even on Taffadaln, and so that you
may rest, beautiful woman, whose name even I do not know, Howesha,
which name, being translated, means that she is a past mistress in the
art of grumbling, carries all that will give you repose if you should
desire to stop before we reach our caravan."
And just as though she understood, Howesha the Grumbler, opening wide
her mouth, proceeded to give a series of very fine imitations,
including those of a nest of spitting snakes, a sobbing woman, and a
choking dog--all of which she concluded by her masterpiece, of a child
masticating sticky sweets, when her master, to stop her querulous
upbraidings, thrust dates between her polished teeth.
And then he turned to Jill, who was laughing delightedly, and stroked
her camel's coat.
"Later you shall have servants, many of them, who hand and foot, shall
do your bidding, and carry out your slightest wish, but to-night and
for ever I am your slave. Allah! to think that I, the worst feared man
in Egypt, whose word is law, who condemns to death by the lifting of a
finger, of a race who looks upon women as a useful plaything, at the
most as a potential mother of sons, _I_ crave to serve you from your
lying down in the heat of the day to your rising up, when the sunset
breeze shall blow the soft curls about your flower-face. Do you think
I would allow a servant, some low-born son of a bazaar-dweller, to
throw his shadow upon the ground over which your lovely feet must
tread, or to touch a vessel which your white fingers might hold, to
breathe the air which maybe has just passed from your sweet mouth, on
this night when you make your journey into Egypt, _real_ Egypt; for to
us, Cairo and other such places are but tourist centres which we give
to the foreigner readily, traversing many miles of sand and rock and
hills ourselves, before we can lie down upon the soft breast of our own
motherland.
"Come, woman! The moon tarries not, neither does the sun, and we have
many miles to go."
* * * * * *
With the exception of a twopenny ride at the Zoo, few Europeans ever
mount or ride a camel, thereby missing an art or a pastime or sport,
which to the novice, until he has been thoroughly and literally broken
in, is the most back, heart, and nerve-wearing means of locomotion he
could possibly choose in all the wide world.
Jill stood ankle-deep in flowers looking down at her mount, the prize
of the desert.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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