“Where was the harm? In London, ladies of good birth and breeding went in for ‘skirt-dancing,’ and no one presumed to breathe a word against their reputations; why in Cairo should not a lady go in for a Theban dance without being considered improper?” Why, indeed? There seemed no adequate reason for being either surprised or offended; yet surprised and offended most people were, and scandal ran rife, and rumor wagged all its poisonous tongues to spread evil reports against the Princess Ziska’s name and fame, till Denzil Murray, maddened and furious, rushed up to his sister in her room and swore that he would marry the Princess if he died for it. “They are blackguarding her downstairs, the beasts!” he said hotly. “They are calling her by every bad name under the sun! But I will make everything straight for her; she shall be my wife! If she will have me, I will marry her to-morrow!” Helen looked at him in speechless despair. “Oh, Denzil!” she faltered, and then could say no more, for the tears that blinded her eyes. “Oh, yes, of course, I know what you mean!” he continued, marching up and down the room excitedly. “You are like all the others; you think her an adventuress. I think her the purest, the noblest of women! There is where we differ. I spoke to her last night,--I told her I loved her.” “You did?” and Helen gazed at him with wet, tragic eyes,--“And she …” “She bade me be silent. She told me I must not speak--not yet. She said she would give me her answer when we were all together at the Mena House Hotel.” “You intend to be one of the party there then?” said Helen faintly. “Of course I do. And so do you, I hope.” “No, Denzil, I cannot. Don’t ask me. I will stay here with Lady Fulkeward. She is not going, nor are the Chetwynd Lyles. I shall be quite safe with them. I would rather not go to the Mena House,--I could not bear it …” Her voice gave way entirely, and she broke out crying bitterly. Denzil stood still and regarded her with a kind of sullen shame and remorse. “What a very sympathetic sister you are!” he observed. “When you see me madly in love with a woman--a perfectly beautiful, adorable woman--you put yourself at once in the way and make out that my marriage with her will be a misery to you. You surely do not expect me to remain single all my life, do you?” “No, Denzil,” sobbed Helen, “but I had hoped to see you marry some sweet girl of our own land who would be your dear and true companion,--who would be a sister to me,--who … there! don’t mind me! Be happy in your own way, my dear brother. I have no business to interfere. I can only say that if the Princess Ziska consents to marry you, I will do my best to like her, for your sake.”