l hMWIUUUUUWMMB*»WUL«JJJL ' JJ- I BH l UL«»W"a^^ 
 
 il! HHl l l l lM l iH ltWHt<WW9gy-W>^<v;>w;<M"f>r<,<»"
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 ROBERTSON & MULLENS 
 
 BOOKSELLERS
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma
 
 Copyright by Brown, Langham, and Co., Ltd. 
 
 Published . . . August, igob 
 Second Edition , . October, lQo6 
 
 Printed in England
 
 PR 
 
 TO MY TWO DEAREST : 
 
 W. D., 
 
 WHO CHEERED AND ENCOURAGED ; 
 AND LITTLE 
 
 C. H. D. D., 
 
 WHO BAFFLED AND HINDERED — 
 
 EACH WITH EVERY ART 
 
 AT HIS COMMAND
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 PART I 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE little blue waves lapped against the ruined 
 shore : the children were shouting, tumbling, 
 playing amongst the mosaics : suddenly up started 
 Fatma, the gayest of them all, shading her eyes to 
 seaward. 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! What is then that ? " 
 On the distant azure waters a gracious white 
 thing moved ; its like the children of Cherchel had 
 never seen before, and probably have never since. 
 When they watched how it veered slowly round and 
 seemed to be making for their own small harbour 
 they were struck dumb with a fearful joy. But one 
 of the tiniest of them, remembering its mother's 
 tales of storm days and water-spirits and the like, 
 ran to Fatma and pushed its little fist in hers and 
 then felt brave with the best of them once more. 
 
 A minute later, at a signal from Fatma, they all 
 scampered after her and the little child she had lifted 
 in her arms, up the hill to where the harbour-master's
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 bungalow stood, watching over the waters, beneath 
 the shadow of the palms. 
 
 A man was leaning on the terrace wall looking 
 through a telescope in the direction of the beautiful 
 white incoming mystery. Satisfied at last, he turned 
 to the band of children on the hill square whose 
 eager faces were all uplifted to his own. 
 
 " Keep cool ! " he said smilingly, " it is an English 
 yacht ; that is to say, a vessel not such as you know 
 them, for hard labour and rough work, but a thing 
 for rest and pleasure only. . . . Ah, these English, 
 they need must be a Uttle everywhere." 
 
 And he sighed and smiled and shrugged his 
 shoulders all in one. " But such as M. the exile, 
 they are always welcome," he added, as an amend- 
 ment or an afterthought. 
 
 " He is not English, he is Scotch," said Fatma, 
 " which is another and a better thing, or so the 
 Scotchmen say themselves. But the English ! Oh, 
 tell me then," and she clapped her small brown 
 hands for joy : " M. the exile, he lent us a book, 
 and Lois and I have been reading it together, and it 
 was of the English, English ! Oh, so prim, so correct, 
 so as they think they ought to be, are those dear 
 English ! The heroine's mother scolded her bitterly 
 because at a ball she danced three times with the 
 man she loved, and the beautiful heroine promised 
 never to offend in that sort again. But oh, what 
 will you ? M. the exile himself, he says that the 
 sun so rarely shines kindly at all yonder in their
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 poor land ; thus much must be forgiven them, these 
 dear Enghsh." 
 
 And Fatma's dark, dehcious eyes sparkled with 
 fun as they cast around on the shimmering sea for 
 the proud mystery, flying the ensign of the R.Y.S., 
 and little recking surely of the merry Franco-Arab 
 maiden who bought such scorn of the pleasant land 
 it came from. 
 
 " Ah, Fatma ! " smiled the harbour-master, 
 " these same dear English have a dangerous way 
 with them, I fancy to have heard. We shall see. 
 For myself, I should not be surprised if before the 
 twilight falls even Fatma were at their feet ! " 
 And with that the worthy cynic made with all speed 
 for his observatory, taking care to turn the key in 
 the door behind him. 
 
 Fatma threw a terrible threat after him, and a 
 handful of little mosaic stones which one of the 
 children had dropped. Then she turned to the loyal 
 band who hung so adoringly on her every word and 
 glance and gesture. 
 
 " Look you, that is a yacht, and it is coming 
 straight for us. Now you, all of you, run down to 
 the quay and watch. If she casts anchor alongside 
 it will be very interesting. The decks will be white 
 and trim and smooth, not wet and piled up with 
 anchovy, sardines, and mullet, like our own Cherchel 
 decks are. If she draws too much water to come 
 inside, I will row you ou' to her later on. Now I 
 cannot stay. I must take Lota home, and do other 
 
 3
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 things too. Good-bye, and be less wicked than you 
 look." 
 
 And Fatma waved them off in her imperious way, 
 the way they loved, so grand it was, and yet so 
 guiltless of aught that might offend. 
 
 She left the child Lota with its mother, and then 
 climbed up a long narrow path through eucalyptus 
 bushes on a steep decline which overhung the sea. 
 At the top a small dwelling-place made of banana 
 and bamboo canes showed, and into it, pushing 
 aside the heavy curtain that shielded the entrance, 
 Fatma without word or preface entered. 
 
 A man was lying on a roughly built divan there, 
 and though the seal of death was on his face, he still 
 was young and fair to see. At Fatma's greeting 
 life and joy leapt up within him. 
 
 " You come ! " he said. 
 
 " It seems so," she smiled back in return. " If 
 you lean hard on my arm, can you manage to get 
 outside to the edge of the cliff, do you think ? The 
 absinthe smells so strong and sweet to-day. Besides 
 ... I \y\\\ show you something." 
 
 Very willingly, but in pain, he went. He was 
 knocking at the door of death, and they knew it both. 
 Between the eucalyptus trees and the clusters of 
 absinthe and plumbago they reached a little opening 
 that looked over the warm sea and the fair white 
 yacht that now was nearing the harbour below. 
 
 " Do you see her flag ? " whispered Fatma, then 
 waited, half afraid. 
 
 4
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 A dark flush stained his cheek as he focussed his 
 gaze where Fatma's was. 
 
 " Yes, yes," he said, wondering greatly. " What 
 brings her here ? Fatma, I have not seen that flag — 
 
 the Union Jack we call it — for nine years It takes 
 
 my breath away. It speaks of all the things of 
 home — of country, of friends and days that will 
 never be again." 
 
 " And of the fog, and sleet, and damp, and — how 
 do you say ? — of penny buns, n'est-ce pas, and of 
 the winters wild, and, ah, so unkind." 
 
 He smiled at her as at a child much spoilt, yet 
 dear beyond all words to say. 
 
 " Of winters wild, yes. Yet, will you believe it, 
 Fatma, it sets my blood all tingling to see that flag 
 once more ? It makes me feel I still can conquer 
 sickness and walk to victory across the world." 
 
 " I understand." 
 
 " It is like the sight of your face at evening, when 
 the day has been long." 
 
 "... comprends pas." 
 
 " No ? "
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THERE was no mystery concerning him whom 
 his o\vn and common consent called the exile, 
 except such as those around chose of their own 
 accord to weave. 
 
 He was rich, but preferred the life and being of 
 the poor man, and so made his wealth of no account. 
 In his native land he might have consorted with all 
 that was noble, charming, wise, or otherwise, in 
 society there, but he loved better the simple rough 
 occasional company of the toilers of land and sea, 
 of the pleasant frugal rentiers who collected their 
 " antiquities," planted their vineyards, and were 
 profoundly happy in the time of plenty, and not 
 cast dowTi in that of scarcity; of the one or two 
 necessary and harmless officials who, being them- 
 selves in tune with the village life of Cherchel, saw 
 well to it that no man's life was a burden to him by 
 reason of their presence there : of Fatma, and her 
 sweet daring buoyancy, her unwearying loving- 
 kindness, and the challenge she held so proudly out 
 to life, just as though she said to it : " Show me 
 sorrow if you will. And I tell you I will smile — 
 quand meme." 
 
 6
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Yes , he, the exile, who had wandered up and 
 down the world seeking health and the peace which 
 is her handmaiden where he found them not, when 
 he happened on the sun-swept, palm-shadowed 
 village on those matchless north African shores, 
 fairer in its ruins than cities numberless where 
 Prosperity and her many inventions rule day and 
 night with a relentless hand, knew that at last his 
 weary quest was done. 
 
 Some years before his doctors had warned him 
 that his life was a stricken one. He accepted their 
 verdict, then turned to look this matter of death 
 squarely in the face. Alone the thought of his 
 great possessions troubled him. Not because the 
 signal was up against his continuing to enjoy them, 
 but because it seemed to him, seeing clearly and 
 without prejudice as he did, that they bade fair to 
 stand between his latter days and the disinterested 
 love he would fain have gathered round him in that 
 declining time. 
 
 The optimist's creed that selfless love is always 
 round about one in the world, to be had like light 
 and air for the most casual seeking, was not the 
 creed of Eric Harben. That such love lived at all 
 unless in the heart of parent, wife, or child, or of the 
 rare especial friend who may be as true and almost 
 as dear as those, seemed to him a likelihood less vain 
 by far. No close tie held him in its bondage, sweet 
 or otherwise, and the friend of friends was dead. 
 So it was his whim to take his numbered days to a 
 
 7
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 far-off spot where he was all unknown, where none 
 should think to value him according to the measure 
 of the riches that he had, where such kindness as 
 befell him should be the outcome of common human 
 feeling, or dispensed with altogether. 
 
 By strange paths far and wide he wandered, 
 gaining here a span of health to lose it there, until 
 that new glad day which brought him round in the 
 little fishing tug from Algiers to Cherchel. All the 
 sweet piquancy of spring was in the air, and on the 
 ruined shore, playing with the village children 
 amongst the tiny glowing mosaic stones, was Fatma, 
 her dark curls tossing in the wind, her merry eyes 
 growing slowly sober as they saw draw near a 
 stranger, spent and weary, who looked around him 
 in a helpless, heartless way that roused all her girlish 
 cliivalry to the first instincts of a sympathy that 
 was afterwards found never wanting. 
 
 Later, when the friendship between them was a 
 firm, cemented thing, he would say to her, with a 
 reference to that day : "I hesitated, I landed, I was 
 lost." 
 
 " Or rather found, perhaps ? " she would ques- 
 tion, with her delicately traced eyebrows, and the 
 least whisper of a smile. 
 
 So it was that his quest was ended. No man 
 knew of his riches, and every one was kind to him, 
 Fatma chiefest of them all. Without thought or 
 stint she gave of her fresh young life to sit with him, 
 laugh, read, talk with him. As he ailed the more,
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 the more watchful, the wiser, did she grow. It was 
 her way. The more one asked of her in danger, 
 sorrow, weariness, or joy, so much the more she 
 gave. In England he knew of one, a cousin, fair, 
 bewitching, and of the world most worldly, who 
 now and then would have forced herself to snatch 
 a week from her rounds of pleasure to watch by his 
 side and play the ministering angel there. And 
 whilst her lips would say all charming, kindly 
 things, he knew quite well that in her heart the 
 reigning thought would be : " How long, how long 
 before the end comes ? " For then the greater 
 part of his revenues would pass into her husband's 
 hands, and clamouring creditors would be for a time 
 appeased, and she would taste the sweetness of 
 ruling as queen where she was otherwise but a none 
 too influential guest. When he had told her of his 
 near departure for a foreign tour, he remembered her 
 concern, knowing exactly how much of it was for 
 his sake and how much for her own. He was a man 
 who hated to give anxious hours to any one ; but 
 his freedom was his own, and his will wcis firm to 
 keep it fetterless until the end. 
 
 So under the Algerian skies he was ministered to 
 by Fatma.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THAT evening the village doctor was dining at 
 the chateau. Besides himself there was only 
 the countess, his hostess, her daughter Lois, and her 
 adopted daughter Fatma; and their talk together 
 was of the yacht then lying moored and anchored 
 at the little rough quay below. Lois, who had 
 walked on the terrace for a few minutes before 
 dinner, thought that she had never seen anything 
 more beautiful than that white, slender, strongly- 
 cut thing resting on the moveless waters at her feet : 
 which dropped its ensign at the sunset, whose brass- 
 work shone like gold in the light that lingered, from 
 whence faint sounds of music rose and fell as though 
 from a choir invisible. To her its coming was a 
 poem, a piece of fairyland incarnate, and her 
 spiritual face was touched \vith eager admiration. 
 Fatma, on the contrary, was undisguisedly amused. 
 These stately English, who glide to and fro as though 
 they own the world and all that is therein, they had 
 also found out little Cherchel. Could nothing es- 
 cape them, nothing ? What interested the countess 
 most was to know if there were any ladies on board, 
 
 10
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 and what costumes they would be wearing. She 
 remembered to have read that the yachting attire 
 of the English lady was at once the smartest and the 
 neatest in the world. 
 
 The doctor said but little, and his impassive face 
 said less. As a matter of fact, his thoughts were 
 with another theme, and this the countess in her 
 gracious way divined, and gently she got at the root 
 of his pre-occupation. 
 
 He was the only physician for some leagues around, 
 and in a little Arab settlement a few kilometres off 
 a bad sort of malaria had broken out. He wanted 
 tonics, he wanted medicines, disinfectants, three 
 trained nurses from Algiers, the services of an 
 expert to report on the water-supply, and so on ; 
 and he had no money in hand, none, and the munici- 
 pality could not make him a grant ; and so — what 
 would you ? — the poor things must struggle on, 
 accepting their sufferings patiently, and without 
 a moan — Kismet ! It is Destiny ! 
 
 Fatma and Lois, of course, instantly volunteered 
 themselves as nurses, but were curtly told that 
 things were quite bad enough without two victims 
 more to tend. 
 
 The countess asked how much was needed for the 
 relief. The doctor knew her generous nature, and 
 for a moment hesitated. He also knew a good deal 
 of her personal affairs, and of the small economies 
 that were so gaily hidden. 
 
 " A thousand francs," he said, conscious that the 
 II
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 sum would be quite out of her power to give, 
 " would see us through the worst. Anything less," 
 he added firmly, " would be of no use at all." 
 
 Then, regretful that he might have cast a shadow 
 over that pleasant meal, he hastened to other 
 themes, conscious that though the countess and 
 Lois followed him, Fatma was fast locked in an 
 impenetrable train of thought of her own. " \Vliat 
 is it ? " he asked her presently. She gave him one 
 of her swift bright looks. " Mischief only," she 
 answered, after a moment's pause. 
 
 " Tell me something I do not know," he suggested 
 gently. 
 
 An unaccountable crimson signal flared suddenly 
 in her either cheek. " I could do even that," she 
 answered, and in her voice a delicious softness was. 
 
 He besought her, " Do." 
 
 " But I will never. ... I will not," she said. 
 
 Dates and coffee were served on the terrace, and 
 wliilst these were being leisurely enjoyed Fatma 
 vanished. When in about a quarter of an hour she 
 appeared again, arrayed in glorious wise, tall and 
 straight and slender as the palms through wliich she 
 came, she was a picture beautiful as that tender night 
 itself to look on. She had laid aside her little French 
 frock for the costume of her mother's people. 
 Wound about her head and breast was a snow- 
 white haik with threads of gold and blue. Except 
 for her shining eyes her face was hidden. Her 
 shimmering gossamer robe fell from her shoulders 
 
 12
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 in clinging folds which seemed as though they loved 
 the form they wrapped around. On her bare 
 feet little jewelled sandals were strapped, and her 
 girdle was a chain of gold studded with pearls and 
 amber. 
 
 She went up behind the countess and leaned over 
 her with her arms on the back of her chair. 
 
 " Dear ! " she said. " It seems a long time since 
 I was an Arab maid, though indeed it was but three 
 days ago, was it, Lois ? And I have promised to 
 take the children to see that yacht. You will spare 
 me for an hour when you think of the impatience 
 stirring in their little souls, won't you ? And an 
 idea has struck me — oh, an idea ! So, when I come 
 back it may be that I shall have news for you." 
 
 Then she waved them gaily "Au re voir," and 
 the glory of the evening went with her. 
 
 " There is more of her mother than her father in 
 that child after all," said the countess, stifling a 
 sigh, as she thought of her gallant cousin, Fatma's 
 father, an officer of the Chasseurs d'Afrique, who, 
 against odds and protestations innumerable, had 
 wedded with a beautiful Arab girl, whose life for six 
 months he had compassed round with every form 
 of worship and loving-kindness, until he fell mortally 
 wounded in a skirmish with a hostile tribe. 
 
 " Or," said Lois, thinking of the mother, heart- 
 wounded also unto death, so that even her baby 
 when it came could keep her alive no longer, " per- 
 haps it seems so because her generosity is such that 
 
 13
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 her chief sympathy must be always with the con- 
 quered race." 
 
 " Yet, mark you well," mused the doctor, as he 
 watched out of sight the carriage of her head under- 
 neath its snowy veil, " very hard \\ill it go with her 
 ere she herself is other than of those who conquer." 
 
 " No two persons see us in the same light, do 
 they ever ? " said the countess : " this to me is on 
 the whole a consoling thought. Because if to my 
 maid I seemed this morning a most unreasonable 
 creature, that old lemon hawker yonder to whom I 
 gave a new basket the other day would vow in my 
 defence that I was an angel of light. Now Fatma, 
 for all her gaiety of heart, seems to me a little gentle, 
 sensitive soul, needing a wonderful deal of tender- 
 ness, care, and freedom, while to you I have no doubt 
 she is a spoilt, wilful girl, sadly lacking a firm hand 
 and a tight rein." 
 
 The doctor did not answer. He was making rings 
 of smoke and watching them vanish in the thin cool 
 air. 
 
 Meanwhile in the ruined harbour below, where 
 the yacht had found a rather doubtful mooring, its 
 owner, having dined in lonely state, was pacing the 
 decks with slow short strides, wondering idly whether 
 the state of his mind was a bored one, a contented 
 one, or a merely blank one. 
 
 He called to him his chief steward, John, an 
 old and trusted servant to whom were allowed 
 iiberties in the matter of speech and address which 
 
 14
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 would probably not for a moment have been tolerated 
 in a member of the household less dependent on his 
 master's goodwill and care. 
 
 " John," he said, " we seem to have reached the 
 end of all creation," 
 
 " It do look a bit rum, your lordship, but we ain't 
 touched the bottom yet, sir, never fear." 
 
 " Send some one ashore to find out if there's a 
 casino, a harem, a caf6, any decent bits of ruins — 
 anything at all in fact." 
 
 At that moment rang out the shrill whistle of a 
 small steamboat from the farther end of the port. 
 With a great deal of splash, and fuss, and effort, 
 heavily laden with sardine and anchovy for Algiers, 
 she came steaming down through the gloom of the 
 harbour, when, just at the neck of it, her propeller 
 caught in the rope which was despotically flung 
 across the entrance not a foot under water, to keep 
 the English yacht steady at her anchorage. After 
 several ineffectual snorts and puffs, and angry 
 protests, the works of the little steamboat seemed 
 as it were to suddenly run down, and she was forced 
 to a reluctant standstill. 
 
 The English skipper, who was down below at 
 his supper, asked, when they told him of the mis- 
 hap, what the devil those rascally Frenchmen meant 
 by it. The master of the Algerian boat stormed 
 away from his bridge in no chosen words. Who 
 were these dogs of English that they dared to come 
 and seek shelter in a harbour of another land, and 
 
 IS
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 then act as though they were the masters of the 
 port, the lords of the httoral, the chieftains of the 
 coast ? — and so on, until he could say no more. His 
 little crew was with him to a man. . . Indeed, yes, 
 these dogs, these sons of dogs, this rubbish of the 
 English, let them learn a few simple rules of harbour 
 navigation, and the fore-and-aft seamanship of a toy 
 yacht ere they go blundering up and down the world 
 with their men-of-war and talk of their navy as 
 though it were the unconquerable heavenly host 
 itself. 
 
 " Tell 'em to keep their thatch on, and steam 
 straight ahead, and they'll get clear right enough, 
 the parlez-vooing fools," shouted the English 
 skipper, who got the more annoyed as he realized 
 the more how he alone and entirely was to blame for 
 the occurrence. There was no one to interpret, 
 which was possibly as well, and the interchange of 
 invective in Algerian patois and the British tar's 
 vernacular went on for several minutes without 
 slackening. Eventually, however, with the French- 
 men it became a serious question, for a long delay 
 meant that their cargo would reach Algiers too late 
 for transhipment to Marseilles. As the minutes 
 sped on they looked with rueful eyes at the shining 
 perishable heaps which to them meant toil and 
 toil's reward, and they cursed the Englishmen over 
 every known and every unknown sea that a mariner 
 could name. 
 
 During this time Lord Somerfeild, the owner of 
 i6
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 the yacht, stood leaning against the binnacle, watch- 
 ing with a vague amusement the progress of the 
 scene. There had been occasions before when he 
 had been none too sure of his skipper, who was 
 comparatively new to him, and he now waited to 
 see what the man would do in a trifling dilemma 
 like the present. Vituperation seemed the only 
 resource at the skipper's disposal, and his lordship's 
 attention was beginning to languish somewhat when 
 John came to him bearing a tray with whisky and 
 soda. 
 
 " That skipper is a weary sort of fool, John," 
 remarked his master. 
 
 The old servant looked around him sympatheti- 
 cally. 
 
 " 'Tis his idea of showin' fight and keepin' up 
 the dignity of the hempire, your lordship," he 
 said. 
 
 " If he could do a real good smashing swear, it 
 wouldn't be so bad, like those rolling, American up- 
 country swears — do you remember, John? — things 
 to make your hair stand on end for a fortnight, 
 things that for all their unspeakableness, it often 
 wanted a real scholarly mind too to turn out." 
 
 John smiled grimly at the remembrance of hose 
 crimson-painted days. Entertainment then was of 
 a unique order certainly. 
 
 " If you'U turn your head round to port for a 
 moment, your lordship," he said, with view to 
 consolation, " you'll see something carrying about 
 c 17
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 as pretty a bit of canvas as you've clapped eyes on 
 this many days." 
 
 His lordship directed his monocle on to the quay 
 where a crowd of children were gathered together, 
 and to where, in the midst of them, fair as the snow, 
 calm as the stars, stood Fatma. 
 
 i8
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 AROUND her the children clustered, a mighty 
 throng. Children of every size and shape, 
 small and big, weak and strong, boys and girls, 
 French and native, well-favoured and ill-favoured, 
 the whole young and infant world of Cherchel, their 
 draperies of indigo, vermilion, russet, and many 
 shades, fluttering in the breeze, and all the night 
 alive with their cries and murmurs of admiration. 
 
 " And this, John," remarked his lordship solemnly, 
 after a lengthy survey through his monocle, " is 
 what they call a childless nation." 
 
 It was the long glowing line of incandescent 
 electric lamps on the main and the shade decks, 
 and the groups of electric light at each mast, such 
 lights as only shine in heaven or fairyland they 
 thought, that took their little hearts at once by storm 
 and strung their minds to the highest pitch of trans- 
 port. 
 
 " Ce sont les etoiles du paradis," shouted a French 
 boy in his happy wonder. 
 
 " Ce sont les bijous du prophete, que son nom soit 
 louc," sang an Arab child, jealous for the faith he 
 held to. 
 
 19
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Tais-toi done avec ton prophete," retorted the 
 French boy, and there might have been shght con- 
 sequences had not Fatma drawn near at that mo- 
 ment, and her smile swept over the two httle zealots, 
 a smile of such merry sweetness, that after it had 
 passed them by their differences could stand no 
 more. Near by, two other little souls of the poorest 
 order discussed the situation. 
 
 " On dit que ce sont des Anglais." 
 
 " Bah, oui ! Est-ce qu'on ne le voit pas au 
 drapeau ? " 
 
 " Dis done ! Ce sont les Anglais qui ont vaineu 
 Napoleon ? " 
 
 " Va t'en, imbecile ! C'est que le grand Napoleon 
 lui, il ne voulait pas se salir les mains du sang d'une 
 telle canaille." 
 
 " Ah, 9a, sais-tu, je voudrais etre canaille, moi, si 
 j 'avals un bateau comme celui — la." 
 
 " Parbleu, moi aussi ! Seulement, faut pas le 
 dire. ..." 
 
 And they straightened up and drew their little 
 rags closer round them, and winked at each other, 
 a fine air of wickedness twinkling in their eyes, as 
 though they said, " A fig for patriotism, eh ? when 
 pleasure is the stake." 
 
 The master of the fishing tug had come ashore, 
 and had been talking with Fatma, who from her 
 constant ministrations to Monsieur the exile knew 
 something of the speech these English used. Him- 
 self, he said, he had tried alike in vain w^ords of the 
 
 20
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 most polite and of the most robust, especially of the 
 most robust ; but what would you ? A mere man, 
 and none too skilled a one at that, what could he do 
 against that solid coating of insular indifference, 
 cocksureness, insolence, call it what you would ? 
 "Now, if mademoiselle, ah, mademoiselle, for ex- 
 ample, if . ,, ," 
 
 Whereupon, after a little hesitation and with a 
 nervous heart, Fatma walked slowly through the 
 bands of watching children to the edge of the quay, 
 and from there she addressed one who would seem 
 to be the monseigneur himself of this palace of the 
 waters ; undoubtedly yes, a great monseigneur he, 
 mais que diable avait-il a I'oeil ? 
 
 The buzzing and the murmurs dropped to nothing 
 as Fatma's clear voice sounded, speaking in a strange 
 mixture of French and English that the eager chil- 
 dren could with difficulty follow. 
 
 " Monsieur, il parle Frangais ? " she asked. 
 
 Then did his lordship send to hearty condemnation 
 that classic shrine of learning on whose playgrounds 
 Waterloo may or may not have been won, but where 
 they never taught an English boy how to talk in her 
 own tongue to the prettiest French girl in the world. 
 
 " Nonn," he said, " nonn pas. Je regrette trcs, 
 tres beaucoup. ..." 
 
 Fatma did not smile. She stood silent for a few 
 seconds, wondering whether her English or the 
 stranger's French would best carry her through. 
 Then she said : 
 
 21
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 "A thousand times pardon, but you are Monsieur 
 le proprietaire here ? " 
 
 " Oh, oui, je suis, je suis," he told her graciously. 
 
 "Then would he not of his charity send a boat 
 with some of his men to unwind or cut the cable 
 which kept that little boat of fish a prisoner at the 
 port ? Yet a quarter of an hour, and it would be too 
 late : her cargo would be for ever lost." 
 
 The thing seemed hardly sooner said than done, 
 as though a magic spell had been cast around. A 
 dinghey and a gig were lowered, and the skipper, to 
 his abounding wrath, at the word of a little 
 Arab maid, was peremptorily told to do what he 
 should have done at least an hour before. 
 
 While these things were happening his lordship's 
 eyes followed Fatma untiringly. 
 
 " Your pretty bit of canvas is in cruising trim," 
 he observed to John, as that worthy was flattering 
 himself, with reason, that he had broken up his 
 master's ennui for a space. " Now why has she 
 made for the far end of the quay with all that un- 
 savoury flock round her, when I particularly wanted 
 our conversation to go on and prosper ? It's very 
 annoying, though, when your head is full of decent 
 things to say, that the only French you can knock 
 together is some confounded grammar-book nonsense 
 to the effect that your aunt's pockethandkerchief 
 has been found in the garden of your neighbour, 
 masculine ; and even if I tried as far as that, I have 
 no doubt that my French would be as questionable 
 
 22
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 as the morality of the remark. . . . What's up with 
 them all ? Why, the devil, John, they are going to 
 dance ! " 
 
 Fatma in the meantime had been quietly musing 
 on the wealth of which that dainty, well-manned 
 yacht, with all its rich appurtenances, was the token. 
 And then her thoughts went back by contrast to 
 those of her own, her mother's people, lying sick to 
 death in that fever of the marshlands which is so 
 sore and hopeless. Soon the doctor would be riding 
 again across the moonlit plains to spend the watches 
 of the night amongst them, like a soldier fighting 
 against desperate odds, armourless, weaponless, 
 companionless. And the grief of it drove a rather 
 wild scheme into her busy brain. These rich lords 
 English, who, when the fancy takes them, throw 
 their money round like water, ah, well ! we are going 
 to see. 
 
 She made a little speech to the children, and in 
 glee they passed the words of it on and on to the far- 
 thest child, and down their ranks eyes grew bright, 
 and many a bare foot and braceleted ankle was ting- 
 ling to be up and dancing, and they shouted loud : 
 " Pour les malades et pour I'amour de Mademoiselle 
 Fatma," the which when Fatma heard she tried in 
 vain to stay their voices. One whose fingers were 
 exceeding skilful on his violin ran to seek jt ; another 
 his Jew's harp ; another his tink ing cymbals ; and 
 many twisted together aromatic torches out of 
 strings of dried sea-weed and twirled them gaily 
 
 23
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 round their heads to the tunes of folk-songs of olden 
 times. 
 
 At a signal from Fatma they began their dance. 
 The night was dark and moonless, and only the 
 fitful glow of their torches, or when they came within 
 the radius of the light of the yacht's electric lamps, 
 showed their small forms circling eagerly in the half- 
 barbaric figures of the festive round. The fishing 
 boat having been released, the English sailors at 
 the fore end of the yacht caught the spirit of the 
 thing, and mustering together their musicians 
 struck up gallant, giddy measures which inspired 
 those myriad little feet upon the quay to exertions 
 and endurances they had not kno\\Ti before. 
 
 From his lounge on deck Lord Somerfeild watched 
 the merry-makers, and noted the steps of the more 
 skilled among them with the critical appreciation 
 of the connoisseur. But most constantly his eyes 
 were fixed on one who moved so graciously up and 
 down their midst, not dancing much herself, but 
 guiding, restraining, encouraging, smiling her ap- 
 proval here, frowning her displeasure there, the 
 captain, the mainspring, the life, the stay, of all 
 that variegated company. A certain gravity was on 
 her brow, earnest, perhaps, of thoughts that might 
 not be told : something in that slightly upturned, 
 delicately stained face which proclaimed a faithful- 
 ness that probably would be reckless were that the 
 only way to win the end in sight. 
 
 As Lord Somerfeild watched and hstened and 
 24
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 waited, his mind attuned to less idle thinking than 
 its wont, he became aware of a pause in the enter- 
 tainment : a hundred little hands were outstretched 
 to him, those who wore any headgear doffed it, and 
 held it forth with a suggestion which there was no 
 mistaking, a multitude of eager voices cried to 
 monseigneur of his charity, whilst, concerned only 
 that their pleading should take effect, that radiant 
 white picture moved up and down amongst them, 
 her smiles their first, their dear reward. 
 
 Lord Somerfeild drew a handful of small coins 
 from his trouser pocket. He carefully selected the 
 silver pieces, and put them back again ; then he 
 flung the coppers on to the quay, where the children 
 seized them in frantic haste, each lucky finder run- 
 ning immediately to drop his mite into a tambourine 
 held out for the purpose by Fatma. 
 
 " God bless my soul ! " ejaculated his lordship, 
 who was strangely puzzled by this last step of the 
 children, and stung to a distinct annoyance that he 
 had eliminated the silver pieces when he saw the 
 droll uplifting of Fatma's eyebrows, and guessed 
 rather than heard her questioning " AUons done ! 
 C'est tout ? " 
 
 Undismayed, she roused the children to a new 
 effort, and as they danced they sang — a wonderful 
 legend of Oriental colouring, a medley of haunting 
 harmonies and sunbright store of imagery and runes 
 of endless wisdom, a song of the world in ecstasy, 
 a song of a blessed isle where wels a nightingale who 
 
 25
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 so loved a rose that with the passion of his song he 
 availed to bestow on her the fadeless life unending. 
 
 Then once again these children of the Eastern 
 morning held their brown hands towards Mon- 
 seigneur of the cold north country, where many 
 may be rich but few are gay, where — or so at least 
 it is said — they have enough religion to make them 
 miserable, but not enough to make them happy. 
 
 A shower of silver was his lordship's answer. 
 The sailors at the fore end of the yacht contributed 
 also of their store, and each child shrieked with 
 delight as he or she fell on a shining piece, and 
 hastened with it to Fatma, looking up into her face 
 for the smile which each one felt was for himself 
 alone. They were poor, all of them ; many were 
 greedy ; a few perhaps were none too burdened 
 with precious scruples : but when Fatma bade them 
 hearken while she besought them of that goodness 
 on which she had never called in vain so to play and 
 dance and sing before these illustrious strangers 
 that they might win from them help for those 
 stricken unto death — not one of them but felt that 
 he was called to play the hero in the passing hour, 
 that the honour of a valiant cause was in his hands, 
 no thought of petty private gain disturbing the 
 bravery of his sentiment. And no' even themselves 
 knew these things better than did their leader. Very 
 graciously she waited, slowly turning over the coins 
 in her tambourine witli the tips of her dainty fingers, 
 with downcast eyes wrapped seemingly in what 
 
 26
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 might have been either a silent struggle or a deep 
 abstraction. 
 
 " Damn it all i " muttered his bewildered lord- 
 ship, his hot gaze riveted on her face ; "is she the 
 village banker, or wha' is she ? I could swear she 
 isn't collaring the stuff for herself. Do they per- 
 haps live as the apostolic lot did, sharing all things 
 in common ? " 
 
 And the while he wondered Fatma turned and 
 left her laden tambourine in the care of one of the 
 children near her and called on them all again. 
 
 " Listen, then ! It is not yet enough I myself 
 will now dance a step alone, and maybe I will sing, 
 and you, those of you who can, shall play me a 
 measure slow or quick, as I will signify to you. 
 And may God's dear luck be with us all." 
 
 2;
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 SURELY so it was. Under the starry influence, 
 on the ruined mosaics of the quay, Fatma's Httle 
 feet twinkled through Oriental measures full of fire 
 and spirit with a grace that could be neither spoken 
 nor surpassed. Like a tall white flower on a slender 
 stalk, her fair body seemed to recline against the 
 sweet air that stirred where sea and land met one 
 another. A feast it was to eyes as well as mind 
 to watch those fine improvised movements which 
 flashed forth, each one with new life and charm, and 
 turns and tricks as delightful as they were unfore- 
 seen. Points of light sparkled from her jewelled 
 ankles and her girdled waist, and made as though 
 fireflies trembled round her. All touch of constraint 
 or self-consciousness slipped away from her in the 
 glory of her own delight at what she did, for she 
 brought to her task that rare spirit of abandonment 
 and perfect joy, earnest of its success, sure token of 
 its radiant accomplishment. When her dance was 
 done, she loosened the folds of her haik a little from 
 about her throat, and then she sang : a folk-song 
 of the ruined village in the days when wealth and 
 martial glory and great names and architecture 
 
 28
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 and statuary beyond price proclaimed it indeed a 
 brave city. Her singing, if possible, was more 
 exquisite than her dancing. All the joy of morning, 
 the exultation of youth, the magic of the skies, were 
 in that proud, clear voice which rang with mournful 
 sweetness or a passion of gaiety across the mildness 
 of the waters. 
 
 The rich lord English leaned over the deck-rail of 
 his yacht, and his soul burned hotly within him. At 
 any price now he would have her close to himself, that 
 he might know what manner of girl or woman this 
 was with her skill, her beauty, her energy, carriage, 
 dauntlessness; also her humility, and her anxious con- 
 cern for the contributions of charity great or small. 
 He held out his hand with two gold pieces glittering 
 in the palm, and smiled a sign to her that she should 
 step on board to fetch them. She interpreted aright 
 his signals, and bowed a lowly courtesy of thanks, 
 then sent a small child to receive the coins in her 
 place. 
 
 But that rich lord English was not to be defrauded 
 of the sort. 
 
 " Most certainly not," was his emphatic reply to 
 the awed little messenger. " Dites votre made- 
 moiselle a venir elle-meme," he shouted, in distress 
 of mind and grammar both. The words reached 
 Fatma on the ruined flags of the quay, and a little 
 curl adorned her lips for less than a moment's 
 space. 
 
 "They hke their money's worth, these dear 
 29
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 English," she thought, but she gathered her white 
 folds round her, and holding her head high with 
 apparent unconcern, advanced to the gangway, 
 where his lordship met her eagerly, and handed her 
 on to a carpeted square where soft lounges and 
 a small table set out with wines and fruit were. 
 
 " This is as much an honour as it is a pleasure," 
 he said in very humble French ; and then, as Fatma 
 looked straight at him with the dark eyes in which 
 a man could scarcely tell whether sorrow, mischief, 
 love, anger, or amusement? reigned there at the 
 moment, he stumbled through his remark again. 
 
 " Ceci est aussi beaucoup une honneur. ..." 
 
 " I understand, monsieur, I understand, and for 
 your generosity, in the name of our sick, I have to 
 thank you a thousand times." 
 
 " Ah," he said, lifting his eyebrows, " it is for 
 that ? " 
 
 " Monsieur, it is for that." 
 
 " Not for these ? " He laughed, lightly touching 
 the little chain of topazes that shone on her wrist. 
 " Not for more of them ? " 
 
 A rush of anger went near to choke her. All 
 things of scorn burnt for a moment on her face, and 
 with a gesture of disdain she moved to go back to 
 the children ; but in a sharp confusion he stepped 
 before her : 
 
 " Ah, no ! " he entreated her, " forgive me such a 
 mad remark. Try and think of it as a mere idle 
 word spoken as such words are, without care or 
 
 30
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 heed, the outcome of a casual passing thought. I 
 couldn't say all that in French, not even to win your 
 forgiveness. But do you understand, do you for- 
 give ? " 
 
 His penitence was so obvious that the bright 
 danger-signals died slowly down in Fatma's face. 
 
 "It is nothing," she answered gravely, " but I 
 should not detain monsieur." 
 
 " Please stay for one minute," he besought her ; 
 " there are so many things I would ask you. But 
 first of all, and to show me that my forgiveness is 
 complete, will you let me have the pleasure of hand- 
 ing you this that you so kindly came for ? " 
 
 Fatma took the coins gravely, though they burnt 
 red-hot in her small brown palm. 
 
 " Have you many sick about you ? Sickness 
 should lie far from such a pleasant place," he said 
 in tones that had drawn the hearts of many women 
 towards himself. 
 
 The glint of a smile was on Fatma's face. " The 
 sickness is surely far away," she told him. " In- 
 land, where the land lies low, and the winter floods 
 are not drained off, there is a bad fever in a small 
 Arab settlement, and our doctor fights it all alone. 
 It is for them that we have taken of your charity 
 to-night." 
 
 " I owe them one of the sincerest pleasures of my 
 life, then. But for a poor sick Arab beggar some 
 miles off I might never have heard your voice or 
 seen that picture of your dancing. ..." 
 
 31
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Or made such a bad mistake," she interrupted 
 softly, concerned only to stem the tide of flattery. 
 
 *' Was that quite generous ? " 
 
 " I am never generous." 
 
 " Your face is written large with falsehoods then." 
 
 " Faces are masks." 
 
 " But eyes are not." 
 
 " Believe me, eyes most chiefly so of all." 
 
 " I cannot talk to you of your eyes, because I am 
 sure I should offend again. Will you tell me what 
 your plans are for the relief of these sick Arabs ? 
 Are you going to dance and sing any more ? If so, 
 you can reckon on one enthusiastic patron." 
 
 " We have no plans, monsieur. It was only this 
 night that I heard of the distress. And as for the 
 dancing and the singing, if the greatest artist that 
 lived came to Cherchel, of welcome and of worship 
 there would be great store, but of money, nothing, 
 none." 
 
 " Ah ! And without money, what will you do ? " 
 
 " The best that we can, monsieur." 
 
 " How much is needed for, say, temporary relief, 
 medicines and things ? " 
 
 " From eight hundred to a thousand francs." 
 
 " And you have already in hand ..." 
 
 " Hardly at all a hundred, monsieur." 
 
 He poured her out some wine, which she took 
 gravely, but without lifting the glass to her lips. 
 Then he pressed luscious nectarines and other 
 dainties on her. She smiled indulgently. 
 
 32
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " I cannot eat, monsieur." 
 
 " Money is all you want — money for this most 
 excellent cause ? " he added hastily, as he felt the 
 velvety darkness of her eyes penetrating far into his 
 soul. 
 
 " Monsieur has said it well." 
 
 So fair and desirable she looked, standing there in 
 the dark warm night, that the charm of her kindled 
 a fierce longing in his lordship. He ordered John 
 to see that bonbons, nuts, and fruits were thrown 
 without stint on to the quay amongst the throngs of 
 scrambling children, which order pleased Fatma 
 mightily, for her eyes danced, and her lips parted in 
 a most sweet content. 
 
 " They have always hunger," she smiled at him, 
 moving to take her farewell. 
 
 " Wait. Please don't go. Come and have a 
 little quiet talk with me in my room. Don't 
 bother about the babies, they're all right, I have 
 a sort of idea how that money can be raised for 
 your sick, if you ... if you will listen," 
 
 He held open the door of the deck-house, at whose 
 side they had been standing, and Fatma walked in. 
 She loved all things beautiful, and looked around 
 with interest on the silken hangings, the domed and 
 decorated ceiling, the carved panels, and the rare 
 water-colours of the place. 
 
 " C'est bien beau ! " she said. 
 
 *' You make it so," he was pleased to tell her. 
 
 She looked straight at him, and decided that he 
 D 33
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 distinctly gave her ennui, this merry Arab girl who 
 of the exquisites of society knew not one alone. 
 
 " It is of the affairs that we must speak, is it not, 
 monsieur ? " 
 
 Monsieur laughed. He imagined that from under 
 that demure countenance, where the roses and 
 alabaster met, there could flash forth sparks of 
 devilry which it might be delightfully worth his 
 while to call out. 
 
 " There are affairs, and also, as you say, affairs of 
 the heart, are there not ? " 
 
 Fatma stared. 
 
 " And in the common day of life those of the 
 heart are the only ones worth considering, don't 
 you think ? " 
 
 That haughty stare, tempered with a certain 
 bewilderment, was still the only answer. 
 
 " Indeed, you must pardon me. I have known 
 you for less than an hour. But each moment that 
 I look on your face it grows more and more entrancing 
 to me. And say this I must and will — if you will 
 let me hold you fast in my arms, and embrace 
 you with many kisses, and grant me one only in 
 return, I will give you now at once all that you need 
 for those sick people of yours. You will then be able 
 to have skilled nursing, medicine, doctor " 
 
 " Monsieur," she stammered, while pain and 
 anger drove all the blood from her heart to her fair 
 face ; " monsieur, je vous prie ! " 
 
 *' I have asked nothing wrong of you. What's 
 34
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 the trouble ? Surely our lips can meet for a mo- 
 ment without sin. It is but a fancy of mine, and 
 as I have told you, I am wilHng to pay a high price. 
 If you really care for those poor beggars you can 
 make a small sacrifice on their behalf, though, 
 believe me, I do feel bitterly that it should be a 
 sacrifice to you at all." 
 
 Silent and scarlet she stood before him. He looked 
 at her with hungry eyes, and taking gold and silver 
 and notes from his pockets till they made a goodly 
 pile on the table, he said : 
 
 " It is all yours on the trifling little condition of 
 which I have made mention." 
 
 Mirth had fled, and tears were in her eyes, but her 
 control nothing could unseat. Pictures bright and 
 hideous swept before her mind, lips soiled, but a big 
 load slipping off a weary back, and the heart of one 
 lifted high with honest satisfaction. Slowly reso- 
 lution dawned, struggled, conquered in her face. 
 Pausing between each broken word in pain and 
 shame, she said : 
 
 " I will take the notes and money first, if I may, 
 and then for one little moment you may do as you 
 have said," thinking in making this request that 
 when the ordeal was over she could rush from him 
 without a moment's waiting or delay. 
 
 Monsieur laughed agam, a laugh that stung 
 Fatma's spirit to madness. 
 
 " I have no objection whatever ; but you need not 
 doubt the word of an Enghsh gentleman." 
 
 35
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Of English gentleman I have met but cne, and 
 you, monsieur, you are not he." 
 
 A cold fury gathered in his eyes, and something 
 like remorse touched him. 
 
 " I ask you, was that generous ? When a bargain 
 has been agreed on, is it fair that one, while still 
 adhering to the terms of it, should revile the other ? " 
 
 " I have said that I am not generous. But mon- 
 sieur's last words are right. I have had wrong." 
 
 Her voice was very low, and the sorriest of smiles 
 shone for a moment under the misery of her face. 
 His lordship could not decide whether her humility 
 called more strongly on him than her pride. But he 
 was mercilessly firm, and his eyes glittered. 
 
 " So you will take the money now," he said. 
 
 She gathered the notes, the heavy gold and silver, 
 under the folds of her haik into the bosom of her 
 dress, lingering painfully as she did so. Then she 
 straightened herself up, and set her Ups tight. Her 
 arms hung lifelessly at her side, and she turned her 
 dark eyes, and the soft scarlet of her cheeks, to him. 
 
 " Now, please — quickly ! " she said. 
 
 36
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 AT that little word he caught her in his arms and 
 pressed ashower of kisses on her lips, her cheeks, 
 her eyes, her neck. He held her in a grip of passion, 
 then whispered words to her that she might not hear, 
 words that she did not understand. She only knew 
 that they were insults, and the blast of them seemed 
 to scorch her soul. Until that moment she had not 
 known what she was doing or suffering to be done, 
 and in a flash of horror the great gulf that is fixed 
 between good and evil was made manifest to her : 
 some crystal spring of joy, it seemed, was so snapped 
 in her that nothing on earth might mend it — that 
 innocence could wash her heart in its white waves no 
 more again for ever. 
 
 One sharp scream of fear, and a hundred children 
 would have stayed their joyous shouts and scram- 
 blings and have rushed as one man to her rescue. 
 But to her there was ignominy in this course, for 
 fearlessness was the talisman she wore at all times. 
 Besides, she had given her proud word to a bargain, 
 and at its fulfilment she might not flinch. But this 
 long enfolding was surely in excess of both the terms 
 and the spirit of the bargain. 
 
 37
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Cease, then, monsieur, I do you pray," she 
 stammered, in sick anger, as he loosened his grasp 
 around her for a moment. 
 
 " My httle beauty ! " he laughed hoarsely, " I 
 have surely paid you well. Don't you think, in 
 common justice, that you ought to be more generous 
 now on your part ? " 
 
 At that, with the supreme effort of strength born 
 of a sense of danger, she took her courage in both 
 hands, wrenched herself free, and sped down the 
 polished deck to the gangway where, once more 
 amongst the children that she cared for, her heart 
 beat less painfully, and the strain smoothed itself 
 slowly out from the fairness of her face. 
 
 His lordship, who had followed her from the 
 deck-house, stood watching, dumb with protests, 
 admiration, surprise, wrath, and a host of feelings 
 new and strange to his languid soul. 
 
 He heard her bidding the children break up and 
 go home quietly, telling them, with a little shake in 
 her clear voice, that they had done marvellously 
 well for the suffering sick ones, calling down good- 
 night blessings on them from the good God, and 
 Mahomet, who is His prophet. He noticed how the 
 band dispersed without a murmur, and how, with 
 a little child's hand in hers, the lonely tall white figure 
 that he had held in his arms moved off at last with- 
 out one backward glance. He watched till the 
 flutter of her draperies was lost in the gloom, and 
 then he touched a bell. 
 
 38
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Tell the skipper that we may stay here for a 
 day or two. You see, John, I didn't score a complete 
 success with that tidy bit of canvas of yours. Wants 
 a deuced lot of handling." 
 
 " There's been a foul at the start," thought John. 
 But he merely said : " Mayhap there'll be a fairer 
 wind to-morrow, when your lordship will only 
 have to sail right over the course." 
 
 " No straight sailing over that course. Con- 
 founded shallows where you least expect them, 
 depths that no sounding line could fathom, an un- 
 known coast, and never a chart to steer by." 
 
 John looked grave, and very sympathetic. He 
 reckoned that this was the first time that his master 
 had alluded to a woman or her ways as so much un- 
 known coast. Presently he appeared with a salver, 
 serving a tiny glass of the rarest liqueur, which as a 
 rule was only brought forth when princes of the 
 blood or the elect of great nations were pleased to 
 board the white decks of the Crystal Star. 
 
 " We seem to be going the pace this evening, 
 John," said his lordship, as he gratefully sipped the 
 wondrous tonic, and felt calm and healing restored 
 to his soul. " Liqueur at a guinea a glass, and kisses 
 at — well, say, five pounds apiece. After this a mere 
 glass of stout for lunch and a pint of dry Heidsick 
 for dinner for a week, please." 
 
 Meanwhile John's bit of canvas, having disposed 
 of the child at her side, walked up the dark olive 
 and myrtle grown slopes to the chMeau, her hands 
 
 39
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 as heavy with gold and silver as her high heart was 
 with grievous pain. She who walked through life 
 so merrily, yet in her dainty way so close also to the 
 secrets of God, knew well that her feet had fared 
 perilously near the mire which clings to and sadly 
 hampers those who err and stray therein. She to 
 whom the moments of life were charged all with 
 health and joy and wonder, knew now that a few of 
 those fair moments had been snatched away from 
 the hours of gold, and were lying broken, wounded 
 by the way, smirched with a little stain which no 
 sweet waters of forgetfulness might wash away. 
 And her step lagged heavily, and on her mouth a 
 poison burned and stung. 
 
 Suddenly a strong, decisive tread beat towards 
 her, and out of the thick gloom, at the entrance to the 
 grounds of the chateau, the doctor came forth. 
 
 " Stop ! " he bade her shortly as they met. " I 
 am glad it is yourself, though, strangely enough, I 
 did not recognize your footstep." 
 
 " I am tired. I have been dancing." 
 
 " Tired — you ! And dancing ? Where and 
 why ? " 
 
 " On the quay, before the rich lord English of 
 that yacht. Singing too." 
 
 " I asked you, why ? " 
 
 " Why ? Oh — for — money, I suppose." 
 
 " Again I ask you, why ? " 
 
 " Again I say, for money, I suppose. At least, 
 please not to be so stern. It was indeed for a good 
 
 40
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 cause. It was for the sick people over there. For 
 nurses, medicines, new tents, a second horse, what 
 you will, on their behalf, enfin." 
 
 There was a sharp silence. The doctor cut it 
 through. 
 
 " Damn the sick people ! " he said, without 
 apology or remorse. 
 
 Fatma laughed delightedly. This was the man, 
 she remembered, who was spending his life without 
 heed or stint for theirs. 
 
 " What you have spoken I have thought," it was 
 on her lips to say ; but instead she asked, while the 
 witchery of her eyes made a sweet marvel of her 
 brilliant face : 
 
 " Oh, now why ? " 
 
 The doctor's face grew hard. " The countess is 
 getting anxious. You had better be hurrying back," 
 he said. 
 
 There was the least possible shrinking in the 
 slight form under the white cloud of gossamer and 
 broideries ; then it stiffened. 
 
 " I am going. First will you take this ? It is so 
 dreadfully heavy, and my hands are all hot and aching, 
 et puis 9a m'ennuie," she added, in the inimitable 
 phrasing for which there is no meet translation. 
 
 The doctor drew back in amazement at sight of 
 the store of gold and silver held out to him in the 
 gloom by those little brown palms. 
 
 " Parbleu ! " he exclaimed ; " I do not under- 
 stand," and his face was swept with a sudden flush. 
 
 41
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Indeed you do. This is sent direct to you from 
 the owner of the big white yacht yonder in the 
 harbour for help with the fever-sick Arabs. All the 
 village children have parts in the offering, for they 
 have been dancing their best steps and singing their 
 best glees, and each child to-night as he falls asleep, 
 his heart will be swelling with pride to think what 
 he has been able to bring about. So now, relieve 
 me of it quickly, please, for it is heavy in my hands, 
 so heavy." 
 
 It was said of the doctor's face as it once was 
 said of the diplomatic language of anothelsi that it 
 was given him wherewith to cloak his thoughts. In 
 ordinary times its expression was one of a slight 
 severity and sang-froid, presenting a blank wall 
 alike to friend or foe, an expression not altogether 
 unnatural or unbecoming in one whose daily fight 
 without help, change, or release, was against 
 poverty, sickness, hypocrisy, vice, ignorance, and 
 the sorry children born of these. But on that dark 
 evening, when Fatma pleaded before him with 
 heavy hands outstretched, a careful observer might 
 have watched emotions many and various driving 
 swiftly over his countenance as clouds across a cool 
 and sober sky. Surprise, relief, vexation, suspicion, 
 temper, restraint, amusement, anxiety, admiration, 
 all were there. But he was a man scarce for the 
 most part of words, and those not always glaringly 
 to the point. 
 
 " It seems very kind of you, very kind in- 
 42
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 deed," he said, but there was no graciousness in 
 his voice. 
 
 " I shall thank the children, then, on your behalf. 
 And please thank them too yourself. They will be 
 prouder than ever." 
 
 " Do I understand that you sang and danced alone, 
 or only in leading the children ? " 
 
 " I danced a measure and sang one little song 
 alone, just at the end." 
 
 "I see. What have I to thank the children for 
 then ? " 
 
 Tears struggled in Fatma's voice, and goaded her 
 to a fine brave power in her next utterance. " Vrai- 
 ment ! " she retorted, curling her little lip, " in 
 a charity appeal for a good cause we surely do not 
 stop to wonder who gives the most or who the mite. 
 It is the united love of all that we are thankful for ; 
 and if indeed in this instance the whole offering came 
 to you from my hands and efforts, as it distinctly 
 does not, pray what is that to you ? " 
 
 The doctor started. He did not answer for a full 
 moment, and then he smiled t " Exactly. What is 
 it to me ? " But his heart smote him sorely at the 
 note of disorder in her sweet voice, and he took the 
 heavy coins from her hands, and turned to walk 
 with her up the long dark avenue to the chateau. 
 
 But first " Good night " she bade him. 
 
 " Not for a few minutes. I am coming back with 
 you." 
 
 " Thank you many times, but you are not." 
 
 43
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " But I am." 
 
 " But I say no." 
 
 " And I, yes. Have you ever known my will to 
 fail unless I intended that it should ? " 
 
 They looked at each other with bright, straight, 
 mocking eyes, only the doctor's were very sleepy, 
 Fatma made him a lowly curtsy, while her gossamer 
 folds swept the ground. 
 
 " Then, dear sir, in this instance," she said, " I 
 trust that you will put your will into your legs and 
 run." 
 
 With that she sped up the avenue like a white 
 cloud driven before a gale, she who was the swiftest 
 runner in Cherchel, and the doctor looking after her 
 knew that he might more easily catch the wind itself 
 than Fatma of the \\dnged sandals. Remembering 
 that between him and the sick ones for whom her 
 voice had sung and her feet had danced so gaily 
 many miles of travel lay, he turned him round to his 
 work again, being a man with whom an iron common 
 sense was wont at all times to prevail. 
 
 In her high, narrow chamber at the chateau 
 Fatma, explanations and good-night caresses being 
 over, sat in solemn self-communing, her hands 
 clasped round her knees, her toes curled up in little 
 pink crescents on her snowy bed. On the white 
 walls emblems of two great religions shone in the 
 harmony of contrast together, for mottoes from the 
 holy Koran, strong and fateful, and of the grave 
 philosophy wliich by ignoring pain fast denies it, 
 
 44
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 were painted ; while a silver crucifix depending from 
 a chain of threaded small mosaics seemed to pro- 
 claim that the way royal is nevertheless the way of 
 hardness. 
 
 Fatma thought of the two men with whom the 
 evening had brought her face to face, the rich lord 
 English and the doctor of Cherchel. She decided 
 that it would be very hard to say which of the two 
 was the more purely detestable. But a smile of 
 radiant womanliness grew suddenly upon her brow 
 as though she brooded over an angel infant or some 
 sweet secret all her own. 
 
 " I pray," she murmured, as she fell asleep, " that 
 had I again to go through the hours just over, I 
 should do as I have done." 
 
 45
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 WHEN the next day's sun was still low yet 
 bright upon the roses where Fatma, having 
 drunk her early chocolate, walked amongst them, 
 two little pencilled notes were brought to her. One 
 was from the doctor. 
 
 " Excuse this,''^ it said, " as I write it in the 
 saddle. Directly you ran away from me this evening 
 I felt that I had not thanked you as I sJiould have done. 
 Forgive the gruff ways of a churlish fellow, who now 
 rides off with a lighter heart than since many days to 
 take relief and good tidings from your hands to the sick 
 ones for whoyn you have done so well.^' 
 
 The other was from Monsieur the exile. 
 
 " I would ask you, my dear Fatma, to come over to 
 7ne after breakfast. I have a very special thing to 
 plead of you. I fear my strength will not let me walk 
 down th' path to meet you. But you will pardon :he 
 omission. — Eric Lorimer-Harben." 
 
 One of the notes Fatma folded with dreamy eye- 
 lids, and tucked carefully into the bosom of her 
 dress. The other, after reading it through two or 
 three times, she tore into little pieces, and threw 
 
 46
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 them where they fluttered amongst the fallen rose 
 leaves. 
 
 Compassion was written deep on her brow as she 
 wandered back through the scented gardens, yet 
 every now and then, as though something moved 
 her that was stronger than herself, her eyes danced 
 gaily, and her lips curved into smiles of infinite 
 content. 
 
 On the topmost terrace Lois was feeding her 
 pigeons under the sweet border of citron trees that 
 faced the entire length of the chateau. As the two 
 girls met Lois turned her arm within that of Fatma, 
 and they strolled together towards the house, 
 making in the ancient place a picture of delicacy 
 and brilliancy to wait on the pleasant hour. Both 
 were tall ; but while Fatma, with all her slenderness, 
 had the surpassing grace and gaiety of strength, 
 Lois was fair and white and frail, with wistful eyes 
 shining from under a low brow, over which her hair 
 curled back to a crown of cloudy gold. Lois wore 
 a little morning frock of grey, demure and dainty, 
 while Fatma's was a faint rose-coloured cambric, 
 relieved with touches of snowy white. 
 
 " Was he like a great knight, such as we used to 
 read of, Fatma, sans peur et sans reproche ? " 
 asked Lois, with her eyes on the tall, square-rigged 
 sticks of the white yacht still at anchor in the 
 ruined port below. 
 
 " I cannot say that he was, dear," smiled Fatma. 
 " You must remember that once or twice we have 
 
 47
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 read too of the other sort of Enghshman, the beef 
 and beer sort, for instance, who may spend their 
 money Hke water, and yet be selfish entirely, who 
 live for pleasure only, and yet are always bored — 
 and bores." 
 
 Lois caught her breath. Such talk savoured of 
 treason ; for that fair yacht yonder, and all that 
 its beauteous lines might compass round, was as 
 the incarnation of the finest poem to her. 
 
 " Oh, surely not ! " she gasped. 
 
 " Well, I do not go so far as to say that this last 
 is a true picture of your great lord English la-bas. 
 For one thing, champagne and truffles would better 
 become his dignity perhaps, while as to the rest, 
 tu sais ..." and here Fatma shrugged her shoulders 
 with an irresistible little air, then wheeled round to 
 bestow an impulsive kiss on Lois's cheek; for she 
 was always gentle to her cousin's dreams and fancies, 
 even when she encouraged them the least. 
 
 " Still, he was good to look at," pleaded Lois. 
 
 " Mon Dieu, yes, if you like the style. Very big, 
 with a big blonde moustache, a lordly walk, highly 
 varnished, of course ; and, my dear Lois, if you ever 
 come in contact with him, I would advise you not 
 to crack through that varnish, for underneath you 
 might find a clay so common and a soul so cheap 
 as would soon make sorry play with your fair 
 imaginings." 
 
 " I shall not see him. He will sail away," said 
 Lois, with scarlet signals flaming in her delicate face. 
 
 48
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 She could in no wise excuse or account to herself for 
 the strange longing that had arisen in her to hear the 
 voice of this great lord English, and to look once 
 upon his face. 
 
 " Good luck to him, and better still to us attend 
 on his departure then," said Fatma, all careless of 
 the reproach in Lois's eyes. 
 
 " But he was so good to you for the sick," said 
 this latter wonderingly. 
 
 " A vain superfluity of money, dear, on his part," 
 answered Fatma, " that was all." 
 
 Heartless enough this seemed to Lois. She had 
 never known Fatma to judge with bitterness or 
 hardness, and her spirit rose up in a mute defence 
 of the absent lord whose generosity was running the 
 gauntlet of such a mocking tongue. 
 
 " I am tarrying shamelessly," said Fatma, who 
 seemed to wish not further to discuss the matters of 
 the lord of the yacht ; " for I am bidden forth to 
 Monsieur the exile, who is ailing sadly again." 
 
 " Take my love with you to him. He will be 
 better as soon as he sees you, Fatma. And I will 
 get to my painting, for," hesitating a little, " I am 
 fain to sketch that glimpse of the yacht, and the 
 corner of the lighthouse hill that we get from the 
 terrace here before .... before they go away." 
 
 Fatma laughed. " The lighthouse hill will stay. 
 And for the yacht, if it is the offspring of memory 
 alone it will be a likeness fair enough, I fancy." 
 
 At that she ran within, and in due course re- 
 E 49
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 appeared, canying a basket of jelly, grapes, and a 
 cool drink wrapped round with ice leaves for 
 Monsieur the exile. She gathered a bunch of sweet 
 roses on her way, and left the grounds of the 
 chateau by a side-walk which led to the thyme- 
 and absinthe-flov^ered hills, where the sick man's 
 bungalow lay. 
 
 The cool of evening was on the garden when 
 Fatma came once more again. The doctor was 
 sitting under the great cedar on the lawn, talking 
 with the countess and Lois. He was still worn 
 from the work and travel of the night, and in the 
 peace of the fair garden, and above all in the com- 
 pany of the gentle womenkind who reigned there, 
 he was steeping for a while his tired soul. 
 
 After greeting them all, Fatma sank into a low 
 chair near the countess, and laid her hand on the 
 latter's knee. Her brilliant colouring was firm and 
 clear, but her eyes, as they wandered from one to 
 another of the three friends whom she had known 
 and trusted since her babyhood, had a strange stare 
 in them, as though they looked on things unreal or 
 unseen ; and the corners of her lips dimpled fit- 
 fuUy. 
 
 " Can you come back with me to Monsieur the 
 exile after dinner ? " she asked suddenly, turning 
 to the doctor. 
 
 " I shall be quite ready," he told her. 
 
 " You will let me watch through the night with 
 50
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 him ? " she slowly said, turning to the countess. 
 " He is dying. He has no more any doubt of it. 
 I promised too." 
 
 The countess demurred. She would send old 
 Jeannette. Fatma must not spend her young 
 strength too lavishly. The poor exile. It was a 
 thousand pities. She had always felt much sym- 
 pathy with him. It was not surely true that he 
 was dying ? 
 
 Fatma stirred uneasily in her chair, and looked 
 to the wide calm skies as though she wanted more 
 air and light than the darkening spaces gave her. 
 She glanced at the doctor, and a moment's hesitation 
 or uncertainty took hold of her. When this was 
 subdued she addressed them all, saying bravely, 
 with bright eyes and the colours flying steadily in 
 her face : " Indeed, please, but I must go. For 
 to-morrow, if he lives still, I am to marry him, 
 Monsieur the exile." 
 
 5»
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 NOTHING had been further from Fatma's 
 thoughts than to be dramatic. But her 
 statement was as a starthng coup de thMtre to her 
 little audience. Lois gazed with wide eyes at 
 Fatma; the doctor stared hard at her as though, 
 perhaps, he wondered, from a scientific point of view, 
 how the shock might tell on her highly strung 
 organism. The countess was the first to recover 
 speech. 
 
 " What new form of entertainment was the gaiety 
 of Fatma perpetrating now ? " she asked, with a 
 smile, adding more gravely that it was surely hardly 
 comely to be making fun, when the victim of it — or 
 should she say the hero of it ? — lay so heavily stricken, 
 so helpless. 
 
 This attitude of the countess was disconcerting 
 enough to Fatma. 
 
 " Oh, but help me," she pleaded, wrestling in 
 secret with distracting thoughts. " C'est bien vrai. 
 Monsieur the exile is indeed dying. He wishes 
 me to marry him at once. And I have given 
 my word." 
 
 In her voice there was that which carried con- 
 52
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 viction to her hearers, and scattered playful speeches 
 from their minds. 
 
 " What does it mean ? " asked the bewildered 
 countess. " You have been as dear as Lois to me 
 since you were both tiny babies together, and now, 
 without first seeking one word of advice or opinion 
 from me, you suddenly tell me — this ? " 
 
 " Monsieur the exile sent many apologies to you, 
 and hopes that your kind presence will be with us 
 to-morrow morning, dear. You see, it was a matter 
 of yes or no, of life or death, because, unless he knew 
 beyond a doubt that he stood on the edge of dying, 
 as he says, he would never have asked this of me. 
 Which, now that I consider it, seems hardly a gallant 
 compliment to pay me ! " she added, a merry flash 
 shining for a moment through the set composure of 
 her face. 
 
 "But still I cannot understand," repeated madame. 
 " Why did you say Yes ? What is the idea ? He 
 is dying, unknown, poor. Everything is against it. 
 You could have nursed him without marrying him. 
 What, I ask, is the idea ? " 
 
 The countess was a woman in whom a worldly 
 disposition was joined to the best of hearts and a 
 strong common sense. Fatma, glancing wistfully 
 at her, remembered these things, and the sense of 
 oppression that was on her lifted somewhat. 
 
 " But this is it," she said hopefully. " He is not 
 unknown, he is not poor. He is of a famous British 
 race. He is — ah, what is now the word ? — a lord, a 
 
 53
 
 The Gaiety of Fat ma 
 
 peer, a baron, of long descent and standing. He is 
 Lord Eric Lorimer-Harben. And I, he says, I shall 
 be Her Ladysheep ! " she added in an indescribably 
 droU, almost awestruck way. 
 
 " Dis done, mais c'est trop fort," said the countess, 
 now thoroughly alive and keen. " How can we 
 know that it is true ? For who, being great and 
 rich, would live in such voluntary poverty and 
 simplicity, unless he were a friar or a monk of holy 
 orders, or the hero of some impossible romance ? 
 Et quand meme, how can a wedding be without 
 trousseau, cake, corbeille, fete, or satin robes ? " 
 
 " We shall need none of these things, dear. It 
 will not be a joyful, only a very solemn occasion. 
 It is, so to speak, a marriage between life and 
 death." 
 
 " Oh, hush, Fatma ! Why a marriage at all ? 
 That is above everything what I wish to hear." 
 
 " Because he whom we call Monsieur the exile, 
 while he has been living without state or luxury in 
 these past years, his income, which he has scarcely 
 touched, has accumulated into a large sum, which 
 he wishes to leave to me as his wife. It is, he says, 
 the whim perhaps of a dying man, but still it is the 
 fixed idea day and night in his aching head. More- 
 over, as his wife or as his widow I shall have the 
 sum of two thousand pounds (that he says is fifty 
 thousand francs) a year for the rest of my life, and 
 a lovely old dower-house, with gardens and orchards 
 round it, in that dull Scotland of his. If he dies 
 
 54
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 unmarried, these riches and things will all go to 
 swell the estate of the incoming heir. And he has 
 the fancy that instead they shall be mine." 
 
 They looked at her curiously. It was not the 
 usual speech that fell from those merry, richly cut 
 lips, this businesslike flow of cold facts and things 
 financial ; but her voice was kinder than her words 
 would seem to be, while in her eyes was a dazed, 
 fixed look as of one who had come to a decision in 
 a matter that was nevertheless too hard for her. 
 
 " If this is all true, darling, it is quite idle for me 
 to pretend that I do not congratulate you heartily," 
 said the countess. " It is absurd to deny that for 
 a little unknown maiden like yourself to pass at 
 once from absolute simplicity of life into a high 
 place, with wealth, notice, title, and influence, is 
 anything but the most wonderful occasion of a life- 
 time. Only that I cannot realize it or understand 
 it, or get it into my head at all," 
 
 " Don't try to, then," smiled Fatma anxiously. 
 " Just think instead that it is a dying man with a 
 dying wish above all other wishes in his head, and 
 that some one is going to stay with him as his wife, 
 holding his hands through the shadows till at last 
 the end comes." 
 
 " Why talk about the end with such certainty ? " 
 asked the doctor very slowly, while the steady irony 
 of his gaze pierced Fatma through and through. 
 " It has been often enough on record that the 
 consummation of some much-desired aim has re- 
 
 55
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 stored an apparently dying man to health and 
 vigour." 
 
 Fatma's eyes grew dim, and she shivered as she 
 looked towards the sea. Her buoyancy and her 
 brilliancy drooped as those of a bright rare flower 
 which a scorching wind has shrivelled up. At that 
 moment the great gong sounded from the chateau 
 for the evening meal. 
 
 "I am so hungry." she said gently. "Let us go in." 
 
 " It is the beginning of a fairy tale amongst us," 
 
 said Lois, as they wandered towards the house, 
 
 " and whatever the end will be, Fatma will be sure 
 
 to make it beautiful." 
 
 56
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 IN the calm of the blue day that followed 
 Fatma was married to Eric Lorimer-Harben, 
 of 47 Mayfair Square, London, of Greatorex Castle, 
 in the county of Warwickshire, England, and of the 
 Cluny and Lorimer estates and mansion, in Perth- 
 shire, Scotland. There were present besides, the 
 Comtesse de Beaurepaire and her daughter Lois, 
 the mayor, the burgomaster, and the public notary 
 of Cherchel, with whom all necessary legal and 
 official business in the matter had been settled on 
 the evening before. The doctor, who had been 
 watching with the bridegroom for some time before 
 the marriage hour, and had given him a strong tonic 
 as he went off, was not present at the ceremony, 
 owing to the call and stress of other duties. 
 
 Tears shone in the eyes of the countess as she 
 pressed the slender form of the newly made "lady- 
 sheep " to her when the knot was tied. To Lois it 
 was still the fairy tale which was opening bravely 
 with the fairest of frontispieces in the girl-bride, 
 herself in her long soft white robe with one great 
 rose at her waist, and the steady shining of her 
 wonderful eyes, and the tender, quiet way of her 
 
 57
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 which cloaked the gaiety that was in ordinary times 
 so supremely hers at heart. 
 
 The countess and Lois stayed with Fatma and 
 Lord Eric until the afternoon grew late. Fatma 
 made delicious chocolate, foaming with cream, over 
 the little charcoal stove, and did the honours of the 
 rough bungalow with the same peace and charm of 
 manner that she would have shown in entertaining 
 a splendid company in one of her great English 
 homes ; and they ate of bonbons and delicate fruits, 
 which Lord Eric, in his thought, had cabled for to 
 Algiers on the previous day, when Fatma's little 
 hand had stayed in his fevered clasp, and when, with 
 a magnificent recklessness, which yet had its roots 
 in a depth of heart and resolution all unsuspected 
 and unseen, she had given him in that strange hour 
 of life the promise of herself. 
 
 They were so merry and so kindly in their talk 
 that they made Lord Eric forget his sickness, and 
 as he lay back among the pillows he told them 
 tales of his youth and travels, of the favourite haunts 
 of his home in Scotland, which, by the way, he added, 
 would belong absolutely to Fatma at his death, 
 being his private property, and as such not included 
 in the entailed estates. He spoke of a property 
 worth fifteen thousand pounds ; of jewels worth 
 a king's ransom ; presented them to Fatma with 
 no more ado than had they been a basket of peaches ; 
 and she perhaps was the one maiden of his know- 
 ledge who would accept the one wdth the same sweet 
 
 58
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 carelessness and content as the other. But Madame 
 la Comtesse had several times to draw her breath 
 in convulsive bewilderment at the dazzling prospect 
 before her little Fatma. No thought of grudge or 
 grief once entered her head that it was not her own 
 fair Lois that had been called to the splendour of 
 this high estate. Keen and practical as she was, 
 a singularly happy nature kept thoughts unfair and 
 small far away from her, and how well it was for 
 Fatma that her childhood's impressionable years 
 had all been spent by the side of such sterling 
 worth no one could definitely say ; for these things 
 are not written down in words, but in the finer 
 language of character, manner, and the small un- 
 conscious doing of every day. 
 
 Soon after the ancient gun had boomed out the 
 hour of sunset from the fort, while the reveille 
 rang sharp and clear from the barracks on the hill- 
 side, the countess, with Lois, took leave of Lord Eric 
 and Fatma. 
 
 " Au revoir till the morning," she smiled, holding 
 the sick man's hand in hers. " I only hope the 
 talking and excitement haven't been too much for 
 you, Fatma will take care of you very gently now, 
 I know. And before nightfall I will send old 
 Jeannette to watch in turns with her. You must 
 have but one thought in your head, to get better, 
 always to get better. Directly the doctor says that 
 you can be moved, you must come to us. And who 
 knows ? Perhaps he will let you come to-morrow." 
 
 59
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 As Fatma stood at the door and watched them 
 disappear round the corner of the myrtle-bordered 
 path a sudden bhnd and wild desire surged up in her 
 to rush after them, to force them to put their arms 
 around her, to hold her and to keep, until this tyranny 
 raging in her heart was overpast. She turned her 
 face back to the darkening room ; and the sight of 
 Lord Eric smiling wistfully at her, sick and helpless, 
 and but for her alone, smote her with a stinging 
 sense of her unworthiness in giving nothing whilst 
 taking all. The last words of the countess were 
 still warm and soft on the air : "Fatma will take care 
 of you very gently now, I know." It is well for 
 us to know that there are eyes of those we love 
 so faithful and so full of courage into which we 
 dare not look if faith and courage are with us 
 no more. 
 
 A little low chair was placed against the head of 
 the bed. Fatma went to it, and leaned towards 
 Lord Eric with her elbows on the quilt and her face 
 between her hands. 
 
 " We are alone, dear," he said, after a short 
 silence. " We are alone, and you are mine." 
 
 " Yes," she whispered. 
 
 " You are not frightened ? " 
 
 " No " 
 
 " You feel perhaps lonely, heavy-hearted, do you, 
 dear ? " 
 
 " No, no, I don't." 
 
 " It has been so strange, so sudden for you. I 
 60
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 more than understand. And you have been so 
 wonderfully kind." 
 
 " Please, please don't. If you only knew what 
 I felt like. It shames and tortures me past bearing 
 when you call me kind." 
 
 " I see. Well then, you are quite the unkindest 
 little wretch who ever wound herself round the heart 
 of a dying man. . . . For it is dying, Fatma. I hope, 
 for all your sakes, that I am not an unconscionable 
 time about it. Yet this afternoon, watching your 
 face smiling up and down the room, it seemed to me 
 for a while that the world was so full of a new sweet- 
 ness and a new meaning that I simply could not die. 
 A great anguish rushed over me, and I could have 
 cried aloud in my distress. I wanted life as I never 
 wanted it before, a long, fine life to live for you, in 
 God's good time to live with you. It was only a 
 passing madness, and as such you will not mind my 
 telling you of it. In the days to come you will 
 think always kindly still of me, the happy days when 
 the man of your heart shall call you his wife, as I 
 may never call you mine, when your children will 
 cluster round you for tales of other times. I see 
 them, the happy, sturdy, fun-loving treasures of your 
 home. For these dear things will come to you as 
 the lilacs come in England with the springtime rains. 
 Over all your face and being is written the promise 
 of a womanhood which love shall touch and glorify 
 into the fairest of fulfilments. And in those happy 
 days, think kindly of me, always, dear ; for though 
 
 6i
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 it is such talk as a child might utter, yet the grave 
 seems to me a cold and a lonely place." 
 
 The tears ran fast down Fatma's face. Her lips 
 were closed by the very weight of the sweet words 
 she \^dshed to say. " If only I had a little love to 
 give!" she thought; "if only I had!" She laid her 
 hand in Lord Eric's fever-hot palm, together with 
 the rose that had been fastened all day at her 
 waist. 
 
 " Don't talk of graves or dying," she whispered 
 between her tears, " think rather of that life of 
 which you spoke just now " 
 
 " Between you and me, dear, in all our grave or 
 merry talk together, there has never been occasion 
 for pretence or hiding of the truth ; and now, in the 
 parting hours, we will be true, as we have always 
 been with one another." 
 
 " I cannot hear you say you have no hope, no 
 wish to live. And is it quite kind of you to make 
 me feel such a barbarian ? " 
 
 " If I lived, dear, I should have won you by a 
 false pretence. I owe it to my death at hand that 
 you are here, that you are mine, and your trust in 
 me, that I at least may call you my wife, that I may 
 know that you will be the queen of my best-loved 
 far-off home. See what brilliant capital I have made 
 out of this coming death. These are wondrous 
 debts indeed, and death was the coin I was to pay 
 them with. If I, having won the prizes, shirk now 
 the price, I am of all men the most contemptible. 
 
 62
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Let there be nothing but the truth between us, and 
 do not cry, my kind, dear love — or unkind, wasn't 
 it?" 
 
 " No man wants to die. Life is wonderful, new 
 every day." 
 
 " With you and health it would be." 
 
 *' Ah, I forgot ! " and here her eyes and voice 
 grew very pitiful — " without health there is no 
 wealth." 
 
 " Without health and you, I said." 
 
 " Did you ? With me it would soon grow stale — 
 ennuyeuse — very." 
 
 " But I know otherwise." 
 
 " In any case, in health or sickness, we should be 
 together." 
 
 " You could not live in my house with me if your 
 love were in the house of another, dear." 
 
 " My love in the house of another ! " she stam- 
 mered, with slowly flaming cheeks. " What is it 
 that you wish to say ? " 
 
 " Nothing serious, my flower. Only that your 
 love, as far as I know it, would be always in the old 
 chateau, with those you have loved in innocence 
 and gladness all your life, in Cherchel and the chil- 
 dren, in the mosaics, the citron groves, and the ruined 
 ways. Tell me truly. Would it not ? " 
 
 " It is so cold, so triste chez-vous ! " she mur- 
 mured, with eyes grown merry once again. 
 
 He looked at her steadily through a dimmed gaze, 
 and controlled a sigh beneath a smile. 
 
 63
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " And yet," he said, " I see you by the side of the 
 man you love. The day is bitter and the way all 
 hard and frozen ; your feet are bare and bleeding, 
 but underneath the frowning sky your face is radiant 
 with a joy that nothing in the cold world can quench. 
 Or I see you on the burning desert, still beside that 
 man. Though the vultures hover overhead, and 
 the water-springs are far from nigh, yet you know 
 no fear, for every time you look into one another's 
 eyes you find your oasis there. It doesn't matter 
 whether your way is towards the frozen poles or 
 over the Sahara plains, for where two hearts meet, 
 there the gods are gathered together. And oh, 
 how good it must be, dearest, to hear along life's 
 dusty highway the feet of one's beloved keeping 
 step with one's own ! — since only when the heart is 
 lonely does the way seem long. How good to be 
 able to sit down by the roadside for a little pause, 
 with one's hand held tight in the beloved's hand! 
 When the road is lost in the cloudy, vague horizon, 
 no fear encompasses the heart at life's terrors, 
 mysteries, and pains, when hand gives answering 
 clasp to hand. These are the lessons you shall 
 learn of life and love, counting cost as nought in the 
 learning of them." 
 
 Fatma watched him with dilated, faintly smiling 
 eyes. How wonderful, she thought, to tread the 
 ways of that school of life beside the loved one, and 
 to learn the gallant lessons there laid down for the 
 ruling of those who fare therein ! And her heart was 
 
 64
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 lifted high with ecstasy, and in the dim room a sweet 
 hght seemed to break and shine. 
 
 " What you say, I shall remember myself of it 
 always — always," she whispered. " But in that 
 polar cold I should be cold, oh, of the coldest ! " 
 
 " Only a figure of speech, dear ! " He smiled. 
 " Life should not oppress you overmuch. That 
 charming, careless bonhomie of yours, which I know 
 to be the cloak for inward graces of the highest 
 price, should carry you serenely through the dis- 
 tracting thoughts and smallnesses which beset the 
 lives of women less richly endowed. What I meant 
 was that in smooth ways or in hard, love will never 
 call on you in vain." 
 
 Her lips contracted in a swift remorse and pain. 
 " If I were but a thousandth part of what you think 
 me ! " she murmured. " Oh, listen, hsten — if I hurt 
 you terribly, I still must tell you. Not half an hour 
 ago I wanted to run away with Madame de Beaure- 
 paire and Lois. I was troubled. . . . And it was only 
 to watch here with you for a little while in your sick- 
 ness. There I was, I, moi, of whom you say these 
 kind, proud things." 
 
 " That you should have hesitated was the most 
 natural thing in the world. It only goes to show the 
 perfect woman that you will some day be — perfect, 
 that is to say, because of your imperfections." 
 
 Fatma threw up her little hands, and smiled 
 through her great moist eyes. 
 
 " You are hopeless quite," she said. " I can do 
 F 65
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 nothing, nothing more. Whatever my confession 
 was, you would make the most reckless excuses for 
 me. To you my worst sins would be little white 
 failings only. What can I with a person of the 
 sort ? " 
 
 It was the time for his medicines. Very deftly 
 she arranged the pillows under him, bathed his 
 hands and brow with cool toilet vinegar, gave him 
 his dose, prepared his beef-tea, and made her 
 presence most tenderly felt, with a sorry ache at 
 her heart all the time that she could not comfort him 
 with a lie, and change " how much I like " into " how 
 much I love " you. Ah, that tongue of the English, 
 so precise, so of the most particular, so hopeless in 
 the things of life where a little diplomacy availeth 
 much. Thus did Fatma commune with herself; 
 Fatma, who went straight as a die to her purpose 
 when she had one, who rarely chose honeyed words 
 for her speech where simple ones would do, who held 
 fast to her promises, either spoken or silent, with 
 a flawlessness which might not deny itself, which 
 fashioned from the tedious or the troublesome hour 
 a thing of duty, clear and jewel-bright. 
 
 " Now, will you try to sleep ? " she asked Lord 
 Eric, who lay watching with hungry eyes the ebb 
 and flow of feelings on her mobile face, the quiet 
 grace of her movements up and down the room. 
 
 " Soon I will," he said. " But I am very happy 
 as it is." 
 
 " No pain ? " 
 
 66
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " None. But it is a ghastly thing to be so weak. 
 Are you not tired, dear, yourself ? " 
 
 " Not in the least. I believe I could move moun- 
 tains." 
 
 " I believe you could, the more so the more tired 
 you were." 
 
 " If you get better, and we are together," she 
 said presently, with a little effort, while hot and 
 cold waves surged within her, " I should like to 
 think you would be always proud of me." 
 
 His hand sought hers on the coverlet. 
 
 " Proud ! oh, my dear ! You cannot dream how 
 proud I am to-day to know that when I am gone 
 you will wear my name for a little while, until you 
 wear the happier name of the best-loved one of all. 
 We Englishmen are perhaps rather stupidly proud 
 of our names. I know of no great lady in the far-off 
 world, nor ever have, that I should care to think 
 would be carrying still my name with her. I only 
 know of you. And I see the beautiful things that 
 through you will adorn the name I leave behind. 
 Idly and carelessly enough I may have worn it 
 myself, but you, whether you take it to stately 
 homes or the cottages of the humble, to royal 
 gatherings, where you may be bidden, to the bed- 
 sides of the sick or the brightest scenes of land or 
 sea, there I know will go with it kindliness, courage, 
 mirth, a fine spirit, and a stainlessness that may 
 never be in vain. These things I know and believe 
 of you as I believe in God Himself." 
 
 67
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Fatma only shook her head protestingly where it 
 lay bowed over her hands and his own. She did not 
 speak. She was perhaps praying that in days to 
 come, as the necessity for them should arise, the 
 mantle of these fair gifts indeed might fall upon her. 
 
 Very still and solemn grew the hour, the silence 
 broken only by the fluttering of a night moth round 
 the shaded lamp, and the distant gurgle of the waters 
 at the base of the cliffs. A great peace wrapped 
 round the hearts of those two so strangely joined 
 together for a few hours or for long years of life. 
 It was just then that to Fatma came her first glimpse 
 of what marriage might be, and indeed was ; its 
 majesty and mystery of union ; the sweet and 
 comforting things it should embrace ; the circle 
 of gifts and graces that shine around that wonderful 
 and high estate. But Lord Eric Lorimer-Harben 
 was not the bridegroom. The irony of life is a 
 factor to be reckoned with. 
 
 Footsteps were heard grinding the fine sand of 
 the little path outside ; there was a light tap on the 
 half-opened door, and the doctor came in. He 
 nodded gravely to Fatma, then went to Lord Eric's 
 bedside, and began a keen and careful professional 
 inspection. 
 
 " How do you find me now ? " asked the patient 
 straightly, at its close. Fatma's gaze was fixed and 
 low on her husband's face. The doctor paused be- 
 fore he spoke, and a moment's uneasy pain seemed 
 to stir indefinably within the room. Perhaps the 
 
 68
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 doctor intended that it should. He was a man who 
 could be merciless when he chose. 
 
 " You are no worse," he said. 
 
 " We want to move him to the chateau as soon as 
 possible," said Fatma quickly, without lifting her 
 eyes. " Will you give us hope to do so to-morrow ? " 
 
 " No, you mustn't think of it. The only chance 
 lies in absolute stillness, no movement, and as little 
 conversation as possible. Are you going to watch 
 alone through the night ? " 
 
 " I would like to, but Aunt Gabrielle said old 
 Jeannette should come." 
 
 " It is best so. Keep you your strength for the 
 day." 
 
 " It all sounds too formidable," said Lord Eric, 
 with a smile. " You remember, doctor, how you 
 told me the other day, speaking as man to man, that 
 the game was up, and the end close at hand ? " 
 
 The doctor's face grew sterner than its wont, 
 while for a moment there flashed across it the look 
 of one whose confidence has been betrayed. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " we were speaking then as man 
 to man. Things are changed, however, now. And 
 we are going to show a good fight. And who shall 
 say what the end may be ? It will not be the first 
 time in my experience that a sudden turn in the 
 shape and colour of things lias made death think 
 better of it at the last." 
 
 Lord Eric had but one thought, to spare Fatma 
 misgiving or suspense. Professional ones apart, 
 
 69
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 the doctor had but one, to make her feel these things 
 acutely. So the invisible struggle between the two 
 men went on, and the victory was to the fitter, 
 while Fatma sat motionless between them, chilled to 
 death, then burnt and stung to life, cast down, but 
 never for a moment crushed, beggared it would 
 seem of happiness, yet a very queen of earth, for 
 the spirit's daring and the radiance dauntless, in- 
 extinguishable in the heart. 
 
 " I would ask you, doctor, not to speak more hope- 
 fully than you can feel," said Lord Eric, for the sake 
 of his silent little wife, who in truth was becoming 
 acquainted with emotions that went nigh to quench 
 her gaiety entirely. " By the way," he added, 
 " it seems to me that I ought to have appointed 
 you as a sort of guardian to Fatma — when I am 
 gone. It is too late perhaps to do so legally now, but 
 will you take the moral responsibility upon your- 
 self ? Will you advise her, help her, watch over her 
 and her interests for me in Cherchel ? She is going 
 to build a little hospital for you here. It is to be 
 one after your own heart in every way, and there 
 will be a sanatorium in connexion with it. We 
 talked it all out well together two days ago. But 
 there will be sites to choose, plans to lay, and all 
 manner of things dependent in no small measure 
 for their success on your counsel and suggestions. 
 I may know that she will have the help of these all 
 the time, may I not ? " 
 
 The doctor's tired eyes flickered, and for a brief 
 70
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 moment shone. It was his dream of years, a 
 hospital, a convalescent home, better appliances, 
 better weapons in the pursuit of that art of healing 
 of his, so sorely handicapped, hemmed in by poverty, 
 indifference, and all the things that hurt the heart 
 of the good physician, and lay low at times his pride 
 in his profession. 
 
 " You may know it indeed," he said humanely. 
 " But there must be no more talking — none what- 
 ever : do you both understand ? I am going to 
 change your medicine, and you must have nourish- 
 ment every three-quarters of an hour. Early in the 
 morning, as I come back from the marshes, I shall 
 be here again. Now I must say good night. I will 
 send up the other medicine. Keep a bright hope 
 in your heart. You yet may be her — her — what is 
 it ? — her ladyship's guardian yourself." 
 
 " There goes nothing short of a hero," said Lord 
 Eric, as the latch of the little garden gate clicked 
 behind the doctor. 
 
 " Such a disagreeable one though," added Fatma, 
 smiling through her still tear-bright eyes. 
 
 " Dearest ! When he is going to watch all night 
 with the sick and dying in those dismal places ! " 
 
 " Ah, yes, I had forgotten ! But there was to be 
 no more talking, was there — not a single word ! To- 
 morrow I will tell you a story. But now we must 
 hush — hush — hush ! " 
 
 And the darkness and the peace of night fell over 
 Fatma's wedding-day. 
 
 71
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE luxury of a confession to Lord Eric was 
 often on Fatma's lips during the two or three 
 days that followed, but she restrained herself bravely. 
 It would have been so much easier for her to say : 
 " There was a stranger on a yacht in the port below. 
 He held me in his arms and kissed me, and gave me 
 a thousand francs for doing so," than to have kept 
 silence on the thing that still troubled her so at 
 heart. But for all her youth and femininity she was 
 stronger than her impulses ; weakness was to her 
 the sin unforgivable ; thus she held her peace. 
 
 Late on the afternoon of the third day, being 
 wearied out with continual watching, and marking 
 that Lord Eric seemed to be asleep, she lay down 
 on a couch at his side, and in a few moments was 
 fast in a deep and dreamless slumber. Lord Eric, 
 who was not asleep, was watching her with a huge 
 content. She seemed peculiarly his own where she 
 lay sleeping at his side, with the abandonment, the 
 innocent trustfulness, of a little child. 
 
 Presently entered to them, with a soft tread, the 
 doctor. " I see," he smiled, " the nurse has fallen 
 asleep while the invalid keeps watch." 
 
 7^
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 The two men looked long at Fatma where she lay, 
 with one hand tucked in the embroideries at the 
 throat and bosom of her pink gown. There were 
 dark violet shadows round her eyes, and the brilliance 
 of her flower-face was somewhat dimmed. Her 
 quiet breathing filled the room like the murmur of 
 a song. 
 
 " Thank God, yes. She has fallen asleep at last," 
 said Lord Eric in a whisper. " If you think this 
 strain and nursing are too much for her, will you 
 order her away from me ? " 
 
 At that the doctor's look towards his patient grew 
 infinitely gentle. It was a new thing in his ex- 
 perience that a dying man should ask to have what 
 was dearest to him taken from him at the last. 
 
 " You forget, I think," he said softly, in reply, and 
 with a humorous movement of his lips, " that there 
 lies a lady who is more prone to give orders than to 
 receive them. A lady too with still somewhat of 
 conscience left, I should like to think." 
 
 Lord Eric looked straight at the doctor. " No- 
 thing could pain me more," he said, " than to know 
 that it was either thought or spoken that any lack 
 of conscience made Fatma stoop to be my wife. On 
 the contrary, it gives me a bad twinge every now 
 and then to wonder whether I did not prey unduly 
 on her fine young sense of duty when I dwelt so on 
 all the good she could sow around her, the happiness 
 and light that she could bring into other lives, the 
 work she could provide for those who needed work, 
 
 71
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 the relief for those who could work no more, the 
 better care of the dying and the sick. You would 
 hardly have known her sunny face, gro\vn all earnest 
 even to tears as she asked me, ' And must I marry 
 you first ? ' Such was the fancy of a dying man, I 
 told her. Ah, doctor, if I were to get better now, 
 I should feel the most conscienceless wretch on 
 earth." 
 
 Clearly enough it was borne in upon the doctor 
 that the only chance left him of prolonging the life 
 of his patient was through the agency of the mind. 
 The ravages on a constitution all torn and wracked 
 could only now be stilled for a while through the 
 sovereign remedy of a quiet mind. He roused 
 himself with an effort. 
 
 " On the contrary," he said cheerfully, " in a few 
 months' time you might make her the happiest 
 mortal on earth. For with a woman, I understand, 
 you never quite know where you are ; that when the 
 question is of such, it is never safe to say what are 
 the odds, either for or against a given possibiHty." 
 
 There was something so whimsical and old- 
 fashioned in the expression and attitude of the 
 doctor as he delivered his little homJly on the sub- 
 ject of the Eternal Woman that Lord Eric's straitened 
 features resolved into a smile. 
 
 " You have studied the matter ? " he inquired. 
 
 " Only between whiles in a desultory way, and, 
 as it were, from afar." 
 
 " Ah, closer quarters have still to be." 
 74
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " And then good-bye to study. You can only 
 bear meekly or enjoy blindly." 
 
 " Which may prove either of them to be better 
 parts than mere impersonal abstractions." 
 
 " I am not so sure." 
 
 " In any case, when the time comes you will not 
 hesitate to make sure." 
 
 " There are times that do not come," said the 
 doctor, with a happy resignation in his voice, 
 although his eyes grew suddenly dark. " In the 
 meantime, may I have your pulse ? " 
 
 " Weaker ? " asked Lord Eric, after the silent 
 moments had flown. 
 
 " Yes," said the doctor slowly, " weaker." 
 
 " Once more, as man to man, is there any hope ? " 
 
 " As man to man, I should be afraid to say there 
 was," came the answer, hushed, hesitating, deep with 
 pity. 
 
 " Thank you. My mind seems more at rest. 
 Suspense is such an awkward thing. I have been 
 wounded and out of the ranks for so long. It is 
 only now a matter of being carried off the field 
 altogether." 
 
 " Whichever way it may be, you will brave it 
 well. Life holds such chances, and Death — such 
 rest." 
 
 " To you the chances, then ! And when the 
 brightest comes of all, may the luck be yours, doctor, 
 not to miss it through any blindness of hesitation, 
 or failing of the spirit or the flesh." 
 
 75
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 A far-off smile lit up the doctor's face, the smile 
 of eyes that look through years of time when all may 
 at last be well. With a sharp turn he fell to wonder- 
 ing at his patient's amazing vitality. Though the 
 lamp of the body burned so low and fitfully, that of 
 the mind was clear, untarnished, steady with a 
 perfect radiance. 
 
 " I am mshing," he murmured comically, " that 
 your mind and body could change places for a spell, 
 or rather should I say, that the vigour and vitality 
 of your spirit could enter into your physical being, 
 that there should be a fairer division of the good 
 thing in short." 
 
 " Are you wishing that ? " asked Lord Eric 
 dreamily. " I myself was thinking that I would 
 change places with the veriest clod on earth to have 
 health and strength to stand for a space beside my 
 darling there." 
 
 " No you would not. For the heart of that veriest 
 clod might be brutal, most untender, as unmanly as 
 his bodily strength was large." 
 
 Lord Eric looked up at the doctor. " How wise 
 you are ! " he said, after a little silence. " Well then, 
 look here, if only for a while I could change places 
 with yourself, could have your sound, stout strength, 
 together with your good heart and your clear 
 mind — ah, if only ! " 
 
 " No, it will not do either. You would soon be 
 wishing to dodge my restless heart and brain. And 
 for the other, it would want something more than 
 
 76
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 muscle and a straight gait to win a lady — ^such as her 
 ladyship there asleep ! " 
 
 " That is so," said the sick man gratefully ; " none 
 the less, give me health and a day. Why, man alive, 
 put yourself for a minute into my shoes, my empty 
 shoes, by the way, and say to yourself, If she were 
 yours, all your own, and you were strong to hold 
 and love her, and the world and life lay bright and 
 beckoning before you — ah, how would you feel 
 then, I wonder ? " 
 
 The doctor drew a sharp breath. Then a comical 
 alarm overspread his somewhat massive features. 
 " I am sorely afraid that in such an extreme I 
 should not in the least know what to do with the 
 lady," he said softly. " For what would be one 
 man's bliss unspeakable might be another's — well, 
 another's most distressing embarrassment, you 
 see." 
 
 At that moment the fair sleeper stirred, as if in 
 protest at anything ungallant which might have 
 been in the speech of the good physician. The two 
 men looked at her each in his own way appre- 
 hensively, but she had only stirred to fall into a 
 deeper slumber than before. 
 
 " That I cannot pretend to understand. It 
 seems to me that all men who know her must love 
 her as surely as I have done," said Lord Eric wist- 
 fully ; " however, you will remember your promise : 
 you will help her if you can, protect her if need be ? " 
 
 " I shall remember." 
 
 77
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Youth, beauty, innocence, generosity, for all 
 they sound so bravely, are not perhaps the surest 
 weapons for life's battles." 
 
 " Joined with a good deal of natural shrewdness, 
 they carry far, very far indeed." 
 
 " It seems to me that you are fainer to ascribe 
 the plain than the heroic gifts and virtues to my 
 dearest there asleep." 
 
 " I have known her for so long, you see. As 
 a baby she was a terribly fractious little mortal. 
 In the ailments of her early childhood and girlhood, 
 when it was necessary to prescribe for her, I have 
 known her throw my medicines from her casement, 
 then afterwards pretend to me, with the wryest face 
 in the world, that they were terrible things to swallow. 
 She got better all the same, amazingly quickly too. 
 But stiU, you understand, a doctor has his feelings 
 as well as his prescriptions. And feeling will bias 
 judgment in a man as in a woman." 
 
 Lord Eric was vastly amused. In the midst of 
 his enjoyment the doctor prepared for him his 
 measure of wine and beef extract. " I shall take 
 good care that you don't throw it out of the window 
 too," he announced. " By the way, I trust indeed 
 that her ladyship has never tried to persuade you to 
 adopt her rebeUious ideas on these matters ? " he 
 inquired, glancing sharply at the row of medicine- 
 bottles on the shelf above the bed. 
 
 " Perish your thought ! Why, she obeys every 
 least hint and word of yours in the strictest manner 
 
 78
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 possible. I sometimes think, doctor, that she is 
 just the least httle bit afraid of you." 
 
 " In that case, I enjoy amongst men a unique 
 distinction," said the doctor proudly, after a mo- 
 mentary silence. 
 
 " Where so many love, it is but just that one 
 should fear, perhaps." 
 
 " So many love ? " echoed the doctor in a dreary 
 sort of wonder, though his thoughts were of the one 
 who, was it said ? who feared. 
 
 " Oh, without a doubt, yes. It has always struck 
 me that Fatma and yourself, each in your own way, 
 possessed the love of all Cherchel. Now that I 
 chance to think of it, is it rivals that you are, or do 
 you pull together ? " 
 
 " As little of the one as of the other, I should 
 say," laughed the doctor eloquently. " Rivalry or 
 the reverse implies a certain nearness of life and 
 aim." 
 
 " Which I should have thought that in a sense 
 you and Fatma had. Where you must carry medi- 
 cines she takes in a merry heart, and we hear on the 
 best of authority that the latter does good even as 
 the former." 
 
 " Quand mcme, my dear sir ; yet the way of the 
 mere medicine-man may be very remote from the 
 shining path of the merry heart." 
 
 After which, with many injunctions and minute 
 directions to be followed out until he came again, 
 the doctor made haste slowly to take his leave. 
 
 79
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 IT was four days later that Lord Eric Lorimer- 
 Harben, with Fatma's hand in his, passed 
 away to the sleep which is without pain or waking. 
 The flush of dawn was over the moveless waters, 
 and a strange quietness was borne up to Fatma 
 where she sat alone, holding the cold hand of her 
 dead. Though the patient had been sinking and 
 growing weaker day by day, the end was there with 
 startling swiftness, and Fatma, with the warm life 
 beating passionately in her young body, was moved 
 to a tender pity for the life which had gone out in 
 loneliness to its heritage of everlasting light or dark- 
 ness, as the great Beyond alone shall show. 
 
 " You were so brave and gentle, and your trust 
 was in the God that your mother and your father 
 had told you of," she whispered to the ear that 
 could hear no more. " You used to say your life 
 had been in vain, but that it never was, and never 
 shall be, since I too am going to be brave and gentle, 
 dear, and trust in that same God always in memory 
 of you." 
 
 Tears strolled down her face, tears for which a 
 certain remorse and shame possessed her, for had 
 
 80
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 she loved him her eyes, she knew, would have been 
 dry with the agony she could not utter. While the 
 sun was still low over the waters, the doctor came, 
 and in one surprised, swift glance saw how tearful 
 life watched over silent death, and that they two 
 were alone together. He felt his intrusion with a 
 sharpness which he would not have known had life 
 instead of death been Lord Eric's portion still. He 
 asked no idle questions, and offered no word of 
 sj^mpathy. " C'est done fini," was all he said, as 
 he laid his hand on the other cold one of the dead ; 
 but the slow, hushed voice in which he said the little 
 words trembled with unfeigned regret. 
 
 " And has no one been near to help you ? " he 
 asked her a few minutes later. 
 
 " Jeannette left at midnight," she said. " Lord 
 Eric felt better then." 
 
 He looked at her. About the joyous, rosy maiden 
 of the olive groves and the sunny shores was a new, 
 indefinable suggestion of stateliness and sadness 
 which made him pause to wonder whether it were 
 more meet to treat her as a great lady whose tears 
 were but the jewels which enhanced her greatness 
 rather than as the mere child in distress which his 
 heart proclaimed her to him to be. 
 
 Chill breezes of early morning swept into the 
 room ; marks of fatigue and cold were on the fair 
 face of the young widowed ladyship ; her radiant 
 comeliness was stricken low. For two full hours the 
 doctor knew she must have been waiting alone by 
 G 81
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 her dead in the sohtary hillside chamber. Her 
 patience, courage, silence, in that dread time called 
 to him somewhat in mitigation of the sentence he 
 had inwardly pronounced upon her when in the 
 garden of the chateau she had announced without a 
 tremor or a scruple her coming marriage day. 
 
 " You must come back with me now to the 
 chateau," he said gently, " and get something hot 
 to eat and drink, and then lie down to sleep. For 
 the rest, leave everything to me." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you indeed. But for the 
 present I must stay with him. Almost his last 
 conscious words were, ' Don't leave me.' I fancy 
 he thought I was going to fetch you or some one, as, 
 in truth, I was when he seemed to be growing worse. 
 But he would not have it at all. ' Do not leave me,' 
 he said again and again." 
 
 " I see," said the doctor, and then was silent for 
 a moment. " But now," he continued, " now, 
 I am convinced that were he able to know and speak 
 he would urgently bid you come back with me, as 
 I ask you. Common sense was a virtue to which 
 he ever had a marked leaning." 
 
 " It is surely so unkind to leave him here alone ? " 
 
 " We show best our kindness to the dead by 
 faithfully carrying out what we know would have 
 been their wishes. I know so well what he would 
 wish for you, could he see you as I see you, tired 
 and cold and hungry. And you know too." 
 
 Fatma lifted her eyes to the doctor's. A little 
 82
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 unanswered smile danced in them for less than a 
 moment. Then she got up. " I will come," she 
 said. 
 
 But first she went to a bureau, and took from a 
 drawer a richly coloured silken flag of the Union 
 Jack which Lord Eric had bought on some of his 
 wanderings. Softly they arranged it over the face 
 and body of the dead, and passed Out together into 
 the morning. Faint fires of dawn burned low in 
 the east, shining dimly through the silver haze that 
 overhung the sea. On shore the white mosques, 
 bungalows, and buildings rose up like pearls from 
 the midst of relic-strewn groves and gardens cool 
 and fair. The diamond morning sparkled clean and 
 wholesome to the eye. The beauty of the familiar 
 scene spoke soothingly to those two hearts, each 
 tried and heavy in its separate way. In silence 
 they trod the jewelled floors of the dew-besprinkled 
 liillside stretches. A few days earlier, and had they 
 been travelling by the same fine ways heartwhole 
 laughter and mischief would have crowned the hour ; 
 they would have joined hands, perhaps, or rushed 
 in gleeful chase along the lonely paths. " Oh, my 
 little Fatma, vous avez change tout cela. Et pour- 
 quoi ? " it was on the doctor's lips to say. For 
 now, and as it were in another world, a man in- 
 clined to satire walked beside a lady inclined to 
 grief, who would seem to have left her former self 
 far, far behind her in some happy land, to be re- 
 membered henceforth only in songs without words, 
 
 «3
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 thoughts mthout tears, memories with, or \\dthout ? 
 regrets. 
 
 As they neared the topmost terrace of the chateau 
 gardens, at a sharp curve in the avenue, which gave 
 on to the harbour, Fatma saw with a sudden start 
 and cheeks of fiame that the fair white yacht of the 
 rich lord EngUsh was still at anchor there below. 
 Neither the start nor the betraying fires were 
 lost upon the doctor. His pity passed, and 
 grimly and shamelessly he told himself that her 
 ladyship would now be able to practise her subtle 
 arts anew, and add yet a yacht and another husband 
 to her already manifold worldly treasures. Had his 
 penetration in this matter been as subtle as the arts 
 he ascribed to Fatma, this good physician might 
 have divined that surprise, fatigue, a little anger of 
 remembrance too, perhaps, had caused that shock, 
 and stained the dainty face beside him with that 
 nervous glow. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " your friend of the gallant yacht 
 and the generous heart is still here. He was visiting 
 yesterday at the chateau, I believe. But Lois will 
 tell you all about it." 
 
 Fatma looked straight before her with blazing 
 eyes, in which the wonder all lay hidden. She was 
 taking a leaf from the doctor's own weU-fingered 
 book of impassiveness. 
 
 "Is it necessary that Lord Eric's funeral should 
 be to-morrow, or will the day after do as well ? " 
 she inquired, with icy dignity, and then was vaguely
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 troubled that she had sheltered an ungentle answer 
 behind a name synonymous with all things gentle 
 and of good report. The doctor crossed swords with 
 her no more. " It had better be to-morrow," he 
 said remorsefully. " Perhaps you will let me know 
 as soon as possible what spot you will select ? " 
 
 " I think in the old graveyard below the mosque 
 under the olive trees. They always spoke to him 
 of peace, the olives, just as his own Scotch firs 
 would speak of storm. Of course his body will be 
 embalmed ? " 
 
 " Of course, yes. And under the olives it shall 
 be then." 
 
 And so the walk in the tender dawn drew near 
 its close. At the chateau the shutters still were 
 mostly drawn against the force of the rising sun, 
 but the heavy entrance doors stood aj ar, and a little 
 spire of smoke curled up from the kitchen chimney 
 into the luminous blue air. " Good ! " said the 
 doctor, as he hailed with joy the comfortable sign. 
 " Now will you get some hot chocolate or coffee at 
 once, then a warm bath and a little sleep ? Think 
 that you are doing what he most would wish you to." 
 
 " I am not sure. I think if the dead could feel, 
 he would like to know that I was watching still 
 beside him, holding his hand in mine." 
 
 " Exactly. But you will be able very soon to go 
 back to him with a new health for the hours ahead. 
 Strength helps where weakness hinders. That is 
 one of the things I notice every day of my life." 
 
 85
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 And the doctor drew his hand across his eyes with 
 a gesture in which there was a good deal of un- 
 conscious weariness. 
 
 "It is yourself who should have food and rest," 
 said Fatma suddenly. " Come in now with me, 
 and, well, see at least that I get my drink." 
 
 " Thank you. I cannot stay. But I shall trust 
 you." 
 
 " I am not to be trusted, ever, as you know. 
 Tiens ! Her ladyship commands you. Come." 
 And mirth shone in her deep dark eyes. 
 
 " She would play the coquette in her very coffin," 
 thought the obdurate doctor, entirely without 
 reason and against science. Aloud he said : " Your 
 ladyship will find me at all times an obedient servant 
 — when I do not find it necessary to disobey her." 
 
 Fatma had intuitions that were wonderfully 
 sharp, correct, and clear. " When I am sad," she 
 thought, " how kind he is ! If I try to recover my 
 cheerfulness at all though, he gets at once un- 
 bearable." Thereupon, with a little inclination of 
 her head, in which disdain and mournfulness were 
 blended equally, she swept from him into the wide 
 hall and the inner courtyard, beyond where the 
 bright mosaics were dim with shadows, and the 
 fountain played to solitude and the stillness of 
 the fair new day. 
 
 Her chocolate was shortly brought to her there, 
 and as she sat sipping it, a casement from above, 
 which gave on to the open inner space, was throAMi 
 
 86
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 back, and Lois' tumbled golden head shone through. 
 She exclaimed in wonder at the sight of her cousin 
 below. 
 
 " Lord Eric is dead, cherie," Fatma told her 
 gravely, " and I am no man's wife, nor ever shall 
 be now any more at all. It is too triste and solemn 
 an undertaking altogether. I have come back to 
 you and Aunt Gabrielle to be again just as I was 
 before — Fatma only." 
 
 " Oh, Fatma, dear, you will be ours always. 
 But don't be sad. Life lies all before you fair and 
 glad, and one long triumph till the end. How 
 contented, too, you made him at the last ! All this 
 week it has been such a happy face to watch and 
 see." 
 
 " I am glad you thought that." 
 
 " Some day now you will go to England, Fatma ! 
 The England of the lord of the yacht ! He was here 
 yesterday. But I may hardly talk to you of joy, 
 may I whilst Lord Eric lies there alone and cold ? " 
 
 " Hardly, dear, perhaps. But I am coming 
 upstairs to you. I cannot see for sleep. Wake 
 me in two hours. And gather me roses from the 
 garden, yellow and red and white, so that I can lay 
 them round him when I go again. The roses of 
 Cherchel, he was so fond of saying, were fairer even 
 than the English ones." 
 
 " But then it was you he would be thinking of." 
 
 " Oh, httle flatterer ! Fi done ! fi done ! " 
 
 87
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THEY did not wake Fatma in two hours. She 
 lay sleeping through all the golden day, and 
 when at last she stirred it was not to the health and 
 gaiety which seemed as much a part of her as the 
 sunshine was of the summer hours. That shock of 
 death, the sense of its horror and desolation, the 
 strangeness of its silence which had been with her 
 in the early dawn, the mutiny of heart that followed 
 later, as her instinct told her how erring and worldly 
 of spirit a thing she seemed in the doctor's eyes, they 
 came upon her once more with a new strength as 
 she awoke, bringing about in her a state of nervous 
 prostration that laid her low, and called for a space 
 of pure oblivion as its best and kindest healer. 
 
 On the third day, well restored, she got up, and 
 in the cool of the afternoon walked with Lois and 
 her roses to the grave beneath the olives, which was 
 fashioned in a tender spot, where soft fragrances 
 and a magnificent peace ruled the air with a sober- 
 ness of charm that soothed while still it strengthened 
 hearts whose bitterness or comfort could be known 
 only to themselves. It lay in a distant corner of the 
 chateau grounds. Away up through the shadows 
 
 88
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 of the orange and the ohve thickets was a vision of 
 the ruins of a disused mosque ; the painted tiles of 
 which the broken doorway arch was built were 
 glowing still with life and colour as in the long-gone 
 ages past. Running water gurgled down between 
 the low moss-grown stone walls of an ancient aque- 
 duct ; the fresh music of the sound was like a sweet 
 perpetual song ; scented violets grew in tufts 
 among the stones, and the emerald shining of the 
 velvet turf was starred with the little blue flower 
 of the plumbago plant. Here Fatma thought she 
 would like to come when storm-clouds lowered in 
 her sky, or joy-bells pealed in happy measures on 
 the hour, when pleasantness of life prevailed, or 
 trust in human good ebbed low, when people were 
 detestable, or diviner than the day. She said so to 
 Lois, and the laughter and the love that never 
 were at any time long hidden from her eyes sparkled 
 once more in those clear dark dwelling-places of 
 stainless secrets and delicious mysteries. 
 
 Lois, who worshipped at Fatma's shrine, noted 
 these things with exceeding joy ; her spirits rose at 
 once in sympathy. But who was ever detestable ? 
 she asked anxiously. Fatma seemed to ponder long 
 on this. At last, for an answer she pointed to her- 
 self. 
 
 When their vigil by the grave was over, they 
 walked up to the bungalow on the hillside where 
 Lord Eric had said good-bye to earth with more 
 content, and at the same time, perhaps, with more 
 
 8q
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 passionate quiet regret than he would have done 
 under his palace roofs and towers at home. The 
 bungalow and the pleasant piece of ground on which 
 it stood were now the property of the Lady Eric 
 Lorimer-Harben, who told her cousin Lois that she 
 had the fancy that it would be a fitting thing to 
 build here a home for the sick children of Cherchel. 
 
 " Oh, good angel that you are," cried Lois 
 happily, " if you had seen the doctor yesterday 
 bringing in in his arms, on horseback, a forsaken 
 baby from the marshes, whose mother was dead of 
 the fever, and he looking so bewildered and at sea 
 as to what to do with it ! " 
 
 " What happened then ? " 
 
 " His housekeeper is looking after it for the 
 present, I think. We wanted to give it shelter 
 ourselves, it was such a dear merry-looking little 
 thing, but he would not hear of it, for fear of any 
 infection there might be." 
 
 " We must hurry on the home. Old Jeannette 
 shall be the matron ; she understands children so. 
 And the forsaken baby shall be the first incomer." 
 
 " What joy to the doctor's heart your marriage 
 will bring about ! " said Lois softly. 
 
 " Do you think so ? " said Fatma, with a little 
 laugh. " It has certainly brought enough sarcasm 
 to his lips." 
 
 " Hardly sarcasm, Fatma ? He thinks your 
 marriage has lifted you far away from us, perhaps, 
 and he is unduly ceremonious in consequence." 
 
 90
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " It seems to me that in all the relations of life, 
 except those belonging exclusively to his profession, 
 he is an utter fool," said Fatma loftily. Then she 
 remembered her vow, " If will be gentle too," made 
 in the very chamber where she was speaking, and 
 she cast about her with a droll expression of despair 
 for something of virtue or excuse to say : " though, 
 on the whole," she added cheerfully, " I have no 
 doubt but that he keeps the commandments as well 
 as most men." 
 
 Fatma's most commonplace remarks seemed 
 always brilliant or wonderful, with an individual 
 charm, in Lois' eyes ; but of latter days the ever- 
 watchful little cousin thought to have noticed a 
 faint spice of malice in them, suggestive of shadows 
 passing over the sunshine and serenity of that 
 candid, cloudless nature, beside whose sweet au- 
 dacities the vagaries of other natures seemed such 
 pale and meaningless things. She linked her arm in 
 Fatma's as they turned to the homeward way by 
 the cliff path above the sea. " Look," she said in 
 her girlish, genial way, inclining her fair head to the 
 west, where stretches of rose, pink, and silvery 
 azure were melting into the dull pearl-white hue of 
 the quiet heavens above, " look ! what a dear sky ! " 
 
 " Most dear; mais comment done, always still that 
 yacht ! " 
 
 They had reached the bend on the hill slope 
 which overlooked the harbour, and there, at her 
 moorings still, with what spelt to Fatma a most 
 
 91
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 aggressive persistency, was the yacht of the lord who 
 fancied foreign seas, and foreign maidens, too, per- 
 haps, to the soberer samples of either which the 
 placid homeland offered him. 
 
 " Has it, then, taken root, I wonder ? " she asked, 
 looking gravely into Lois' happy eyes, and at the 
 soft flaming of her cheeks. 
 
 " The lord of it goes often to Algiers for two or 
 three days at a time, and leaves the yacht here. 
 Just think, Fatma, he wants to take us in it out 
 to sea one day, and for a cruise in his cutter round 
 the coast. He said so when he first come to pay his 
 respects to mother. He is a beautiful man, isn't 
 he?" 
 
 " He puts me rather in mind of a sucked orange 
 — the expression of the face, I mean. But then, I 
 have not seen him in the clear daylight." 
 
 Even as they were discussing him, the Earl of 
 Somerfeild was sitting on the lawn below the terrace 
 of the chateau, improving his French under the 
 amused and kindly guidance of Madame la Comtesse 
 de Beaurepaire. He had succeeded in telling her, 
 though hardly in convincing her, that the quiet 
 fascinations of Cherchel held him with a far more 
 powerful spell than all the gay stir of Algiers ; that 
 the bazaars, mosques, cafes, clubs, the palaces, and 
 gardens, moonlight drives over the olive-clad slopes 
 of Mustapha Superieur, the sparkling harbour 
 scenes, and the enchantments innumerable of the 
 Alabaster City, were as nothing compared with the 
 
 Q2
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 flowery ways, the fallen glories, the peace, the 
 treasures of tradition and romance for ever buried 
 in the ruined Roman city by the sea. 
 
 To those who had always lived there, whose 
 heartstrings perhaps were deep down in graves 
 below the mosaic-strewn stretches, or under the 
 olive shades, ga ce comprenait that the spot was dear; 
 but for monsiegneur, before whom the wonders of the 
 world, its brave shows, pilgrimages, and pageants, 
 were spread as in an open book, that he should thus 
 give to it of his admiration and attention was not so 
 easily understood, though indeed a pretty enough 
 compliment in all surety it was. So the countess 
 thought and spoke. Monseigneur, by reason of 
 the frailty of his arguments or of his French, or 
 perhaps of both, did not discuss the idea further. 
 He contented himself by saying vaguely, with an 
 inscrutable smile, that he was very well off in little 
 Cherchel, qu'il etait tres bien, ah, comment done, 
 qu'il etait tres bien " off " enfin . . . and then 
 directed his monocle to an opening in the dark 
 groves beyond the gardens, where a sudden vision 
 of tall girls and white frocks proclaimed the coming 
 of the Lady Eric Lorimer-Harben and her cousin 
 Lois. 
 
 Not a glimpse of Fatma had his lordship caught 
 since the evening she had fled from him in disdain 
 and horror from the deckhouse of the Crystal Star 
 but the news had carried to him of the marriage on 
 the cliff between the village idol and the invalid 
 
 93
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 exile whose fame as an English baronet of ancient 
 name and great possessions was just beginning to be 
 noised abroad as tidings of his death passed from 
 mouth to mouth. The lord of the yacht had no 
 difficulty in connecting the idol of the people with 
 the girl who had sung and danced before him on 
 the quay, the girl whose bewitching, reluctant form 
 he had gathered for one mad moment into his hot 
 embrace ; and a longing that he could not still had 
 taken hold of him to see her, to hear her voice, to 
 assail her dauntlessness, to meet the scorn again. 
 For this he had tarried and watched unweariedly, 
 insinuating himself into the favour of the lady of 
 the chateau, whose relationship to the fair divinity 
 he was not long in ascertaining, ordering his yacht 
 to anchor in the ruined harbour for a thorough and 
 most unnecessary overhauling, speeding to Algiers 
 when the utter lack of movement in the affair on 
 which his heart was set had exhausted his endur- 
 ance, speeding back when there came from John 
 dutifully veiled suggestions of a fairer wind ahead, 
 revealing himself to himself in a new light, ponder- 
 ing with amusement tempered with twdngcs of 
 contempt, on how far in the pains of the present 
 undertaking he had fallen from — or, was it, risen 
 higher than ? — the calms of that phlegmatic estate 
 which had won for him among his intimates the 
 sobriquet of "his languid lordship." And now at 
 last she came. 
 
 Her path to the house lay straight before his way. 
 Q4
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 She could hardly avoid him if she chose. And 
 indeed, it seemed as if she had no thought to. She 
 came slowly on with Lois in silence. Lois' gown, 
 being of a lighter texture, fluttered a little in the 
 twilight breeze, but Fatma's hung in white straight 
 heavy folds around her, which in token of her 
 mourning were gathered together at the waist by 
 a broad deep violet sash of rich Eastern silk. She 
 wore her white sandals, and next to her wedding 
 ring a circle of great diamonds blazed on her little 
 nut-brown finger, diamonds which Lord Eric had 
 bought from time to time on his journeyings, and 
 had had fashioned into a beauteous ring for the wife 
 that might be, if haply he should one day find her. 
 
 Lord Somerfeild rose from his garden chair as 
 the girls drew near. His eyes, as they lit on Fatma, 
 were dark with a passionate admiration, while for 
 Lois, who dare not look at him, he had none at all. 
 When the countess had introduced him to her 
 niece she presented Fatma in the full bravery of her 
 new title, " though indeed," she smiled, " I remem- 
 ber that you have met before ; but one of you was 
 then an Arab maiden practising frivolities in the 
 noble cause of charity, with the happiest of results." 
 
 This innocently unfortunate allusion provoked no 
 smile of mirth or memory on either countenance of 
 the two concerned. Fatma bowed with a distant 
 gravity which his lordship was perforce obliged to 
 return in somewhat similar wise. The countess, 
 looking on, trusted inwardly that the events of the 
 
 95
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 past few days had not unduly dimmed the sparkle 
 of that radiant soul, whose every whisper was an 
 inspiration of gaiety or health, whose every move- 
 ment was a sun-ray or a song. 
 
 Lord Somerfeild sat drinking in her grace and 
 graveness as a thirsty man might dally at a fountain 
 newly happened on in desert tracks. " You will 
 see," he observed to her somewhat lamely, for his 
 usual fluency and flippancy seemed to have deserted 
 him, " that the charms of little Cherchel still hold 
 me fast." 
 
 The faintest of smiles died on Fatma's face almost 
 as soon as it was born. " I see, yes," she said. 
 
 The quiet hour progressed. The atmosphere of 
 the garden, its serenity, the soft fragrance of myriad 
 aromatic shrubs and flowers, hung over those who 
 were met together there, and penetrated slowly with 
 its gracious influence to the converse that they held. 
 As the twilight gathered Fatma's mood grew 
 gentler. Like a true daughter of the South, hard 
 manners were impossible to her for any space of 
 time. When the great lord English invited them 
 all to a cruise round the coast in his cutter on the 
 morrow, the dumb appeal for forgiveness that was in 
 his eyes as they met hers for a moment broke tlic 
 severity of her silence, although it left her heart's 
 mistrust untouched. The voice of her that was not 
 heard none the less proclaimed, " I do not like you. 
 You could never be my lover or my friend," while 
 the pleasant voice that spoke would seem to say,
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " But you are my aunt's guest, quand meme. And 
 I, I am Fatma ! " — Fatma, whose life must be set 
 to a music at once high and brilHant, but to dismal 
 petty chords never. 
 
 When presently Lord Somerfeild rose to take his 
 leave the ladies walked with him across the lawns 
 towards the high-arched Moorish gateway that faced 
 the white road to Algiers. Fatma slipped her arm 
 in Lois' and stepped forward briskly with her 
 cousin, while the countess followed at a more 
 leisurely pace with his lordship. She noticed with 
 some amusement how her companion's eager gaze 
 was riveted on Fatma's slender back and the delicate 
 outline of her head and figure as they showed against 
 the vivid sunset sky. 
 
 " Are you thinking that I have a niece out of the 
 common beautiful ? " she asked him, with a spice of 
 wickedness in her voice. 
 
 " I am thinking, madame," he told her, " that 
 you are blessed with both a niece and a daughter 
 of most unusual charm and beauty." 
 
 But he spoke to a woman wiser than himself. 
 
 The countess smiled and then she sighed, a little 
 wistful, almost inaudible sigh. She knew that the 
 plums of life would never fall at her daughter's feet 
 while Fatma, radiant, sweet, supremely fair, was 
 near to draw all men's hearts unto herself. Yet 
 she loved Fatma with an exceeding love. 
 
 " What sort of an impression do you think the 
 Lady Eric would make in that hard, cold, gay 
 London of yours ? " she asked. 
 H 97
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Ah ! madamc la comtesse," he answered eagerly, 
 as at her question a host of new hopes and inspira- 
 tions crowded in on his imaginings, " she would 
 have, as you say, a succes fou. Gay we might be 
 then, but hard and cold never. Will you bring her?" 
 
 " Of that I know nothing. We have not yet 
 discussed it, even amongst ourselves. But some 
 day she must surely go, I fancy." 
 
 " Of course — of course she must. I think I see 
 it all, the envy of the great ladies, the delight of the 
 worn-out lords of fashion. And she can meet them 
 on their own ground. There will be no patronage. 
 By her marriage into one of our oldest and most 
 exclusive families every house in Great Britain will 
 be open to her." 
 
 " Fatma was always a lady," remarked the 
 countess gently. 
 
 Lord Somerfeild bit his lips and inwardly cursed 
 his awkward stroke. It was not easy for his some- 
 what slow intelligence to connect possible high birth 
 and breeding with girls who danced and sang before 
 the public gaze on common harbour quays. An 
 angry flush rose up under the bronze of his coun- 
 tenance as he said : "I have to beg forgiveness. 
 For the moment I was not thinking of the Lady 
 Eric, but of the total lack of fine manners that is 
 generally now considered to be the thing amongst 
 the smartest of our smart." 
 
 This sweeping fabrication sufficed to bring back 
 its usual sweet composure to the countess' face.
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Her punishments were always meted out with 
 regret and her goodwill restored without misgiving 
 or a thought behind. 
 
 " Then the Lady Eric herself shall teach them 
 what a force for good pleasantness of speech and 
 thoughtfulness of manner may be ! " she laughed 
 happily. 
 
 At this his lordship smiled dubiously, and without 
 reflection spoke his thought : "Is the Lady Eric 
 indeed so pleasant of speech ? " 
 
 The countess looked at him in a swift surprise. 
 
 " I mean — she can speak sincerely when neces- 
 sary," he hastened to explain. 
 
 " Has she been sincere with you ? I do not 
 
 understand. Surely it was pleasant too " and 
 
 the countess laughed again. 
 
 " Ah, madame, she has a way with her that 
 disarms criticism after all. She is not an echo, she 
 is a very speaking voice and one refreshing to a 
 superlative degree." 
 
 " And still you wondered was she pleasant ? " 
 urged the countess perseveringly and with an in- 
 imitable shade of mockery in her tone. 
 
 " Just the idle wonder of a passing moment, 
 madame. Brilliancy is apt somewhat to obscure 
 mere pleasantness at times." 
 
 The countess looked thoughtful, but they were 
 drawing too near to the girls ahead to allow of 
 further discussion on the point. 
 
 On the hem of Fatma's white gown where it 
 99
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 softly swept the turf, a little green velvety beast 
 of the insect world was slowly creeping upwards. 
 As his lordship saw this he seized the occasion and 
 stepped quickly forv/ard to her : 
 
 " Pardon, mademoiselle," he said, " but there is 
 a nasty little beast behind you." 
 
 Fatma turned round very calmly and looked him 
 clearly and without a smile in the e\^es : 
 
 " Ah, monseigneur," she said, " I had forgotten 
 that you were there." 
 
 lOO
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 BUT indeed, indeed," pleaded Fatma, as she 
 walked back to the chateau between the 
 countess and Lois, and the former, amid tears of 
 laughter, tried in vain to articulate some words of 
 reproach, " I meant nothing of the sort. Even if 
 I had it would scarcely have penetrated there ! 
 That good lord English is clad in a vanity so heavy 
 that none of my poor little shafts could pierce it 
 through. But really, really, I never intended that 
 they should." 
 
 " Oh, as to that," said the countess, spreading 
 her pink palms with a gesture of despair to the 
 fragrant evening, "as to that I cannot be so sure. 
 But I had just told him how pleasant of speech you 
 were." 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! and whatever for ? Now, you see, 
 you are suffering the righteous torment of those 
 who turn away from the narrow path of truth. 
 I wonder what that feeling is. Does it trouble you 
 very badly ? " 
 
 Fatma could talk nonsense by the hour, and talk 
 it sometimes very prettily too — an accomplishment 
 which ladies of a modern school arc prone to their
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 disadvantage to neglect. During the last few days 
 an attack of solemnity, which under the circum- 
 stances was neither unnatural nor unbecoming, had 
 wrought its due work in her ; but now the countess 
 hailed with joy this sign of a return to the sprightli- 
 ness which enlivened and endeared and crowned 
 the day with a more perfect health. 
 
 " Don't talk so much nonsense, Fatma," she 
 said, " and with these good Englishmen be a little 
 careful how you let the shafts of satire fly, for certain 
 people are never more dangerously alluring than 
 when some salt of sarcasm is sprinkled through 
 their speech. And if this, as you say, should fail 
 to carry home, there are other darts that do not 
 miss the mark, but go to it straight and sharply, 
 wounding fatally where they fall." 
 
 " Other darts ? " 
 
 " Oh, what a world of innocence — but never mind ! 
 Over the other darts you have no control, for the 
 little winged angel dr.iws the bow, and for all you 
 say or pray you cannot hinder his aim or change it 
 one iota from its course." 
 
 Fatma's lips took on a merry scorn as after a 
 pause she said : " Speaking of men and angels, 
 Englishmen and angels if you prefer — you may 
 believe me or you may believe me not, but the truth 
 remains — I should be unutterably relieved if I 
 might never in the world see the face of a man 
 again." 
 
 These brave words notwithstanding, a picture 
 102
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 fair enough to distract the heart of any man was 
 the Lady Eric as in the heavenly freshness of the 
 new morning she stepped with her aunt and cousin 
 into the stern of the cutter of the Crystal Star. 
 Her httle cold brown hand rested for a moment in 
 her host's firm grasp as he bade her welcome in 
 accents whose habitual languor had vanished into 
 space. He did not handle his graceful craft in any 
 way, but sat down in the stern between the countess 
 and Fatma, and gave himself entirely up to the 
 charm of the charmer, the hour and the place. 
 It was a wonderful morning of soft winds, fresh 
 seas, and radiant clean-swept skies, and the little 
 yacht tacked up and down in delicious curves and 
 distances like a bird before the breeze. 
 
 There was no restraint on the part of Fatma, yet 
 silence held her fast. She was a true daughter of 
 the sea, of whose moods in all their monotony or 
 their manifold variety she never tired. But it was 
 the nautical speech of the two sailors who managed 
 the little craft, their expressions for getting under 
 weigh, tacking, wearing round, gybing, easing the 
 helm, reefing the mainsail, and so on, their tanned 
 honest faces, the quiet respect and confidence of 
 their manner, which seemed at first to embrace her 
 whole interest and attention as she gracefully gave 
 way for the countess to have the undisputed enjoy- 
 ment of their host's conversation and society. The 
 host, however, was not accustomed to have his 
 presence and his handsome person ignored by any 
 
 103
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 member of the female persuasion, and when such 
 a dire thing chanced, he had but one way with the 
 offender, the very suburban, ill-thought-out, and 
 underbred treatment — Devote yourself to Another. 
 So the happy roses smiled in Lois' cheeks, and 
 her blue eyes shone as her host inclined to her, 
 sweeping her fair face with what remained of the 
 hot glances that had been destined for another. 
 He talked to her as in her secluded life no man had 
 talked before : he asked her questions with the most 
 delightful air of waiting on her answers as though 
 they were matters of a national importance ; he 
 surprised from her shyness quaint little remarks 
 that were crystals of thought and observation. A 
 light as of transfiguration was on her face, and 
 mightily it became her. Were his questions never 
 so commonplace or careless, all the more her answers 
 soared above them informed with grace and joy. 
 Once as his eyes wandered from hers they met 
 Fatma's, and in their clear, wondering gaze he 
 thought to see the dawn of that sovereign soul's 
 submission, and a thrill of triumph quickened the 
 languid coursing of his blood. As a matter of fact 
 Fatma was thinking curiously what there could be 
 in him that was able to draw her retiring cousin 
 out to such infinite advantage, what possible hidden 
 magic which she in her quick and scornful judg- 
 ment had failed to find ; and a sort of gratitude to 
 him for the light on Lois' face stirred slowly in her, 
 lessening the sharpness of the antagonism she had 
 
 104
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 borne him since the sting of his insult had pierced 
 her through. So it happened that the countess 
 was the only one of the little party whose thoughts 
 might have been spoken aloud without reproach or 
 fear as soon as they entered her bright, well-coiffed 
 head. 
 
 " I have sometimes wondered," she said naively, 
 " how it came to pass that your lordship adventured 
 forth on this tour without a single lady on board 
 to relieve the tedium or heighten the charm of 
 travel." 
 
 " Ah, dear madame," he told her, " there you 
 have it. If I could have allowed myself a single 
 lady, it might have gone very well with me, and with 
 her too, I trust. But the single lady was not forth- 
 coming. Conventionality has destroyed comfort 
 and convenience. She would have wanted to bring 
 her sister, her cousin, and her aunt. So, for my 
 peace of mind, I was obliged to strike even herself 
 out." 
 
 " That was very heroic of you. Let us hope that 
 such virtue will not go unrewarded in the end." 
 
 " Even so, dear madame. For whereas when I 
 came out my floating home was a solitude indeed, 
 so when I go back it may be that fairest thing of all, 
 a solitude for two — a solitude of the honeymoon, I 
 should explain." 
 
 As he spoke his lordship looked fixedly at Lois' 
 little shoe with a great air of musing on his face. 
 Then he drew a sharp breath, amazed at the stu- 
 
 los
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 pendousness of his own declaration. For with 
 women his way had ever been that of the man 
 
 " Too weak to win, 
 Too fond to shun." 
 
 Not until that morning, hard'y an hour before, 
 at the sight of Fatma so fair and serious, as she 
 stepped with her radiance yet indifference of man- 
 ner into the cutter, imparting to the French and 
 Anglo-Saxon interests there the delicate mystery, 
 the perfume poetry and charm of the East, not 
 until then had his determination been taken, strong, 
 swift, and final, the outcome of something more 
 than a mere impulse, to endure no longer his gay 
 life of single boredom. " It could not be worse 
 than it is — to be married," he argued to himself, 
 " and with her it might be occasionally even enter- 
 taining." For he was fully, and with some humilia- 
 tion, alive at last to the fact that there were no 
 back roads or by-paths through which he might pass 
 to the possession of the Lady Eric, none but the 
 straight, the royal highway of marriage. Where- 
 fore he looked hard and long at the point of Lois' 
 little shoe as he said, " A solitude of two, dear ma- 
 dame, a solitude of the honeymoon." 
 
 A very frenzy of nervousness and wonder took 
 hold of Lois at his words. Not for all the king- 
 doms of the world and the glory of them could she 
 have withdra^\^l that little shoe to shelter it be- 
 neath the frills of her frock. Fatma was only 
 
 io6
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 interested in so far as her want of interest might 
 look conspicuous. The turn of her head and the 
 Hght of her smile were as much for the honest sailor 
 hauling in the boom as for the lordly owner un- 
 veiling the outline of his matrimonial policy to the 
 point of a small bronze shoe. So that it fell upon 
 the countess to take up the thread, and the dainty 
 finish of her way, as she did so, lent a new charm to 
 the matchless morning, and the fair sea which the 
 trim cutter rode so gallantly. 
 
 " Ah ! " she smiled, " you think indeed of sub- 
 stituting the consolations of domestic for the ennuis 
 of single life ? " 
 
 " That was my thought, madame, providing 
 always of course that I can induce the lady to think 
 with me." 
 
 " Her consent is still to win ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, it is." 
 
 " You anticipate no difficulty here ? " 
 
 " None but the brave deserve the fair." 
 
 " Ah, then you do ! " 
 
 " It never does to be certain of the uncertian." 
 
 " But when heart speaks to heart " 
 
 " Hers is not a speaking heart, or so at least it 
 has seemed to me." 
 
 " Perhaps a certain note must first be struck." 
 " Which I in my bungling have failed to catch." 
 " Oh, don't say ' bungling ' — time and determina- 
 tion, you know ! " 
 
 " Yes, I know, but time is fleeting, and de- 
 107
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 termination has a weakening effect in warm 
 climates." 
 
 " Wliat was that about ' only the brave ' just 
 now ? " 
 
 " Only the fair deserve the brave, was it not, 
 madame ? I rather fancy she could be very brave." 
 
 " As good a quality in a woman as gentleness in 
 a man. Only, tell us, please, you do not mean that 
 bravery of the platform, of public speaking, and so 
 forth, that the great and the little English ladies 
 now, according to report, so much affect ? " 
 
 " God forbid ! Moreover, madame, she is not an 
 English lady, either great or little." 
 
 ]\Ime. la comtesse turned away her eyes to hide 
 their look of sharp surprise. " Indeed ! " she said, 
 a second later ; "in any case, the best of luck be 
 with you, though whether in your own person you 
 represent the fair or the brave, or both, I have not 
 exactly grasped. My little Lois, what have you, 
 then ? Ah, it is mal de mer ! " 
 
 From Lois' cheeks the pretty glow had surely 
 vanished, and her hand hung limply over the gun- 
 wale, but she protested faintly against the accusation 
 of the countess. She said she was really very well. 
 They were, however, running before a stifhsh breeze, 
 and his lordship, full of apparent concern for Lois, 
 gave orders for the cutter to head in shore under the 
 lee of the land, in order to avoid as far as possible the 
 swell. The contrast between Fatma, who delighted 
 in the long, murmuring roll, the sweep and swish 
 
 1 08
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 of the dancing waters, and Lois, drooping like a pale 
 flower smitten in the storm, was keenly noticeable 
 as Fatma bent over her cousin with some little office 
 of comfort. As much difference as between a 
 tale heroic and a nursery rhyme, mused his lord- 
 ship, with unwonted fervour of reflection. And 
 while he longed to dive into the bright pages of the 
 tale heroic, and fathom its shining depths, he forced 
 himself to give all the gallantry of his attention to 
 the little rhyme whose whole contents might, he 
 imagined, be mastered and had by heart in the 
 twinkling of an eye. So for Lois' gentle sake two 
 short tacks were made, and the cutter in due time, 
 with skilful handling, was brought alongside the 
 gangway of the Crystal Star, at the head of which, 
 looking down at the occupants of the approaching 
 craft with the solemnity of all the ages written on 
 his face, stood the doctor of Cherchel, 
 
 109
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE Crystal Star, for safer anchorage, had 
 taken up her position just outside the harbour, 
 and the doctor stood waiting for the dinghey to take 
 him back to the shore, while the dinghey, at a word 
 from the first mate, held off till the incoming cutter 
 got alongside. To explain the doctor's presence 
 there it must be told how on the previous evening the 
 skipper of the Crystal Star, whilst indulging in a 
 little mild dissipation on shore, had, owing to some 
 intolerant and disparaging remarks made in a 
 peculiarly offensive manner, fallen foul of a handful 
 of Frenchmen, where they were assembled together 
 drinking their coffee or claret, and smoking their 
 cigarettes under the vines of the village inn. One 
 of the Frenchmen went at last in a fit of fury for the 
 British skipper, and, whilst clawing at his face, had 
 in the same moment given him a severe kick on the 
 ankle, in accordance with the traditions of Gallic 
 fighting in all times and places. The ankle had 
 swollen considerably and painfully during the 
 night, and the next morning, as soon as possible 
 after his return from the marshes, the doctor, in 
 answer to a call, had gone on board to examine and 
 treat the injury. 
 
 no
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 The skipper was reclining on a lounge in the fore 
 part of the yacht with a look of malevolent disgust 
 and annoyance traced across his storm and passion- 
 beaten countenance. It seemed to him that insult 
 was added to injury by his being under the necessity 
 of calling in a Frenchman to repair the damage that 
 a Frenchman had effected, and as the doctor drew 
 near he said quite audibly to his first mate, never 
 thinking that the grave new-comer had a word of 
 English to his credit : " Now, what's this damned 
 fool of a parlez-vooing sawbones going to say, I 
 wonder ? " So that when the doctor, who was of 
 Scotch extraction on his mother's side, and whose 
 knowledge of English was not confined altogether to 
 grammar-book conversations, asked him in a clear 
 cold voice in his mother tongue what the trouble 
 was, he was completely taken aback, and muttered, 
 with a drop of his loosely modelled jaw, that he felt 
 " damn well awkward on the face of it." After 
 which he gathered up his insolence, together with 
 his courage, into his two hands, and answered : 
 " The trouble is that one of your beastly crowd has 
 done his best to smash to pieces the ankle of a 
 British subject, the skipper of a vessel flying the 
 ensign of the R.Y.S." 
 
 " Who must have got his early training on a canal 
 barge," thought the doctor. But he kept his coun- 
 sel. Aloud he said, in a smileless voice : " I see. 
 It could scarcely have been worse. Almost a matter 
 for international arbitration."
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 The skipper fidgeted uneasily on his couch. He 
 could not make out whether sympathy or sarcasm 
 was being offered him, and for sarcasm he had as 
 little relish as for milk and water. " Still," con- 
 tinued the doctor, as he prepared to examine the 
 injured ankle, "it is an ill wind that blows nobody 
 any good. It has brought me one distinguished 
 patient the more, the skipper of a vessel flying the 
 ensign of the R.Y.S., an honour as unusual as it is 
 unique. It might have been a mere landlubber of 
 the most un-British kind." 
 
 The skipper thought that the trend of the con- 
 versation might without inconvenience be shifted 
 round. " If you would only teach those fellows of 
 yours to stand up and fight like men," he said. 
 
 " I should suggest that a Britisher would be the 
 best man for that. You, for instance, if you took 
 us firmly and judiciously in hand, why, you might 
 make quite a decent thing out of some of us, you 
 know." 
 
 Hostility was in the skipper's eyes, though verily 
 before the doctor's straight, grave glance he feared 
 to put it into words. " If you're tryin' to get a 
 bloomin' rise out of me, well, I'm not havin' any. 
 So there," he said conclusively, while a forced grin 
 ornamented his heavy countenance. 
 
 " Ah, now you leave me behind where I can hardly 
 follow you. Only the bare outlines, not the inner 
 gems and graces of your mother tongue, are mine." 
 
 The skipper glared. With language as his weapon
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 he was wont to clear the field (or the deck) before 
 him, but here was one who, meeting him on his 
 own ground, danced round him, and, with all too 
 fine and delicate play, held him at the rapier's point 
 unsparingly. And hostility was in his glare. 
 
 " Well," he said shortly, " how long do you give 
 me before I can get about on my bridge again and 
 pilot her out of this damned shallow hole, only fit 
 at the best for a parlez-vooing coal barge to rot in ? " 
 
 The doctor looked at his man, and took a steady 
 measure. He neither flushed nor angered, nor gave 
 sign of any passion rising. " You are the skipper 
 of a yacht flying the ensign of the R.Y.S., I under- 
 stand," he said slowly, musingly. " Ah, well, truth 
 is so much stranger, so much stronger than fiction. 
 I am unfeignedly sorry to tell you that you will have 
 to — what was that word of yours just now ? — en 
 cffct that you will have to do as the coal barge does 
 for at least still fifteen days. There is a rather bad 
 sprain. You should never have attempted to walk 
 back last night. The ambulance from the barracks 
 would have taken you down to the quay with full 
 appreciation of the honour conferred on it by doing 
 so. But it is not a matter of life and death. Do not 
 look so gloomy. Leave that par exemple to the coal 
 bar e." 
 
 " Another fortnight ! " yelled the skipper. " An- 
 other fortnight ? What the devil will his lordship 
 say ? He may be for pushing out to-morrow, as it 
 is, for all I know." 
 
 I 113
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 The doctor drew his brows together, for an un- 
 desirable view of the matter now presented itself to 
 him. " Surely your mate could take charge of her 
 in an emergency," he suggested coldly, 
 
 " No, I'm hanged if he could," said the skipper, 
 a vivid jealousy flaring up on the instant. Then 
 he lowered his voice against Ustening ears around. 
 " Mustn't say it aloud, for it's my principles never 
 to hurt another's feelings, never on no account 
 whatever, but he hasn't got a deep-sea certificate, 
 and them seas round about this yere coast is a bit 
 tricky and treacherous — like the folks on the shore. 
 No, sir, he's got no ticket worth mentioning at all," 
 he added, with a furtive glance as he whispered forth 
 the lie. For the mate had served his time in Green's 
 ships, and as far both as actual or certificated merit 
 went was distinctly better qualified than the skipper 
 to take charge of any craft afloat. 
 
 " Well, then, they can sling you up to the bridge, 
 and you can lie back there and give the course your- 
 self as usual," said the doctor sharply. " I hadn't 
 thought of that. The only thing to guard against 
 is not to let your foot touch the ground for a bit. I 
 must be going, but first I will bind the ankle for you 
 here myself," 
 
 Which he did with touches as light and deft and 
 gentle as though he had been waiting on one dear 
 to him unspeakably, instead of on one for whom he 
 had conceived a mistrust, a loathing sincere and 
 strong. But the idea of sullying his art by allowing 
 
 114
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 the personal to interfere with or mar the pro- 
 fessional did not enter the head of this good phy- 
 sician. The skipper, to whom such gentle treatment 
 seemed just what you might expect of a namby- 
 pamby Frenchman, was, nevertheless, somewhat 
 mollified thereby, 
 
 " You might have made a worse job of it," he 
 admitted graciously, as the last fold of the bandage 
 was fastened down, and liniment promised him in 
 due course. 
 
 The doctor looked up thoughtfully from his 
 work. 
 
 " I am resolved," he said, " that no neglect on 
 my part shall delay your departure for an hour of 
 time." 
 
 The skipper dangled his unwounded foot im- 
 patiently. Gallic subtlety was pricking him with 
 little pricks which he felt vaguely, but could neither 
 account for nor define. In a dim perplexed way it 
 seemed to his remorseless vanity that the measure 
 of strict obeisance, honour, and attention which he 
 in his own person, as master of a vessel flying the 
 S. George's ensign of the R.Y.S., was entitled to 
 command was being withheld. 
 
 " However," he grinned, " I reckon you don't see 
 the Union Jack so often in these bloomin' bits of 
 water, sir, as to make you want to get quit of it in 
 any hurry when it's there." 
 
 " The Union Jack is an honoured flag. Those in 
 charge of it should look well to it that its presence 
 
 115
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 IS hailed with joy in every port, for its dishonouring 
 can come only from within." 
 
 At which a certain consciousness was aroused in 
 the skipper that he was fast becoming the sport of 
 this grave physician, v^dth his broken accents, his 
 gentle touches, and his ice-cold voice. 
 
 " As a matter of fact," he remarked vindictively, 
 pointing across the harbour to where the cutter was 
 beating in against the light breeze and the heavy 
 swell, " when his lordship decides to clear out de- 
 pends, I suppose, on how long he takes to tire of 
 your show lady yonder, the beauty ■with the bare 
 feet and the brazen face." 
 
 The doctor rose from his deck chair. " I beg your 
 pardon ? " he said in an absent sort of way. 
 
 " Granted," returned the skipper, with malice 
 aforethought, for he had not forgotten how at the 
 suggestion of the Arab maiden he had been bidden 
 to cut his cable and help the little French trawler 
 out of its difficulties, and the memory still rankled 
 sorely within him : " why, you know, that dancing- 
 girl, of course, with her light wa3^s, and her bargain- 
 ing, and her flinging of her kisses and herself at his 
 lordship in the hopes of a consideration a little above 
 the usual." 
 
 The doctor's brow gathered itself into a thought- 
 ful frown. " I have lived here for thirty years," 
 he said. " I fancy you must be mistaken. At 
 Algiers, possibly. Good morning." 
 
 " Oh, oh ! " jeered the skipper, " thirty years, 
 ii6
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 doctor, thirty years ! and to have kept clear of her 
 — Fatma, don't they call her, or by some such 
 heathenish, God-forsaken token ? " 
 
 Then the doctor wheeled round, and for fully 
 twenty seconds he looked the luckless skipper in 
 the face without a word — with only a terrible 
 white-hot fury of anger blazing in his eyes. At 
 last, when speech came to him, " Look you here, 
 you British seaman," in deliberate, measured tones 
 of concentrated scorn and passion, he said, " look 
 you here, your ankle I will mend for you with 
 pleasure, but I will also, and with far more pleasure, 
 punch your head to a j elly if once I hear that lady's 
 name upon your lips again." 
 
 For still a second more he held the shivering 
 skipper without a word, with nothing but that 
 terrible menace burning in his eyes ; then he turned 
 on his heels towards the gangway, and waited there 
 while the cutter glided in, and the storm of his 
 wrath went down before the calm of a cynicism 
 which asked but little more of life than health to do 
 the daily task and power to the arm to punch a 
 villain's head when necessary. 
 
 117
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 AS the doctor stood at the top of the gangway 
 ix. and watched the Lady Eric Lorimer-Harben 
 lying back against her cushions in the stern of the 
 dainty craft below, he said to himself that though 
 a man must ever defend a woman against the 
 calumny of the coward, he is nought but a heedless 
 fool for his pains who lingers by the road to try and 
 account to himself for her wiles and ways, her moods, 
 whims, and incomprehensible little inconstancies, 
 or allows these in any wise to influence, persuade, 
 disturb, enslave, or enthral him. Thus well en- 
 trenched on the cold heights of philosophy, if the 
 doctor had mind for the cultivation of a small pet 
 pride at all, it was this — that the subject of the 
 Eternal Feminine played no havoc in his life. 
 
 He declined, with short grave thanks, on the plea 
 of time, the owner's invitation to lunch on board, 
 singled forth Lois for a glance and a grip of the 
 hand out of the common kind, and was swiftly down 
 in the dinghey skimming the soft waters to the shore. 
 
 While the countess and Lois were exchanging 
 hand-waves with him, Fatma for the first time 
 perhaps that morning turned with a brilliant smile 
 towards his lordship. 
 
 ii8
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " There goes a man who will never die," she said, 
 sighing softly as she spoke; " he simply will not have 
 the time." 
 
 " Do you really think so ? " he answered seriously, 
 snatching at the chance she gave him of a word alone 
 with her. But Fatma had no intention of discussing 
 such a solemn trifle any further. She merely smiled, 
 the bright inscrutable smile which mystified while 
 it allured, the smile which in after-days became the 
 talk, the wonder, the desire of the men and women 
 of London's most gorgeous and exclusive houses, 
 the marvellous smile that came so slowly, that 
 quivered with such a delicate irradiation, that said 
 at once so little or so much, provoking to mirth or 
 pathos as it chose, but conquering ever, its shining 
 way strewn with the hosts of the slain ; the smile 
 which envious ones regarded as the trick of pro- 
 foundest art, which others with better insight 
 recognized as part and parcel of herself. 
 
 " Say rather," said the countess, wheeling round 
 in mock defence of her absent friend, " that he 
 comes in straight descent from those old emperors 
 of ours whose first ambition it was to die standing 
 upright." 
 
 " Rather an awkward way of dying when you 
 come to think of it," said the gilded Enghsh lord, 
 
 "Ah, but when they lived Cherchel stood upright 
 too, and now look at her, her columns, palaces, 
 pillars, arenas, mosaic floors — stepping-stones to 
 the sea." 
 
 119
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Nevertheless like a beautiful woman — once so 
 always so. Don't apologize for her, dear madame." 
 
 And, indeed, very fair the fallen city looked where 
 it smiled down on them from across the burnished 
 waters, the soft wind brushing by them laden with 
 the scent of lavender and citron from the pleasant 
 shore. A little shiver came over Fatma as she 
 watched, a premonition as it were of the day to 
 come when in fulfilment of a promise to her dead 
 lord she must fare hence to his country of the cold 
 north gloom. He had told her indeed that at times 
 it was passing radiant and comely there, that 
 interests were many, welcome sure, and love most 
 kind, the social atmosphere for a new-comer by 
 no means empty of comedy, brilliancy, delight ; 
 yet her heart misgave her childishly, she, a daughter 
 of the orient, the sun, the palm-shadowed, musk- 
 scented ways, the wild bird's freedom, the mystic 
 tales, the golden sayings, the gospel all of joy. 
 
 As the sunny day progressed she vouchsafed but 
 the scantiest attention to his lordship, in whose 
 heart at her neglect a dull anger slumbered which 
 he continued to cloak under the guise of absolute 
 devotion to Lois. Time and again he brought the 
 most cunning of dimples and blushes to that gentle 
 maiden's face, talking to her, waiting on her with 
 the courtliness and chivalry that robed the knights 
 of ancient story in her fond imaginings. 
 
 The countess was puzzled. Maternal pride swelled 
 high in her bosom one moment, knowledge of life 
 
 120
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 and its sober facts prevailed the next to keep any 
 undue exaltation low. After a particularly well 
 done daintily served little lunch she invited his 
 lordship to return with herself, Lois, and Fatma, to 
 the chateau, an invitation which was accepted with 
 as much cordiality as it was given. Given the time, 
 the place, the occasion, and an hour or two of soli- 
 tude with her, if you cannot win the favour of any 
 fair lady you choose, you must be a bungler indeed, 
 his lordship fancied. But that worthy veteran, 
 John, prophesied anxiously that some very clever 
 tacking on the part of his master would be necessary 
 before he could steer that dainty craft into the haven 
 where for a time it would seem that he would have 
 it be. 
 
 As John passed down the deck after seeing off the 
 party for the shore, the recumbent skipper accosted 
 him with a grin and a wink of a very knowing kind : 
 " Can't say I think too much of the Boss' taste over 
 this last piece of baggage, eh ? And why in the 
 name of all cursed Frenchmen did he want to bring 
 her mother and sister aboard ? Think he means 
 business, real white business this time, eh ? " 
 
 Now John and the skipper were respectively the 
 types at their best and at their worst of the British 
 bull-dog order, and John, who had grown iron-grey 
 in his master's service, was inclined to resent the 
 impertinent familiarity of one who, compared with 
 himself, was as a new-comer of yesterday. 
 
 " Family parties aboard this yere yacht is as 
 
 121
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 common as stars in the 'eavens," he rephed, with a 
 distinct shade of patronage in his tone. 
 
 " My meanin' was " snapped the skipper, 
 
 and then he hesitated and evidently changed the 
 drift of his remark, " my meanin' was, are we going 
 to have a httle barefooted piece of interference a 
 jumpin' up and walkin' over all our 'eads in the near 
 future, do you 'appen to know ? " 
 
 But it chanced that John had waited on Fatma 
 at lunch with enough quiet and discreet observa- 
 tion to know that he was serving one who was a lady 
 of quality indeed, who discussed the delicacies of 
 the first chef afloat with the daintiness and serenity 
 of the most irreproachable daughter of Mayfair. 
 Moreover, he had conceived a homely, but none the 
 less devout admiration for the dark-eyed fair- 
 skinned beauty who might have been a child, who 
 was, they said, a widow, whose every turn and twist 
 of voice or manner proclaimed her a being of no 
 mean breeding. 
 
 " Now you've arst me one, you have," he said 
 provokingly ; "if you want to know what pertikler 
 matrimonial port his lordship's makin' for — which 
 I take it is your meanin' — then I reckon you'll hef 
 to consult a better chart than meself." 
 
 An ugly frown marred the skipper's face. Instead 
 of every consideration, it seemed that every contra- 
 diction came his way on that bright monotonous 
 morning. 
 
 "Every one to his taste," he growled sarcastically : 
 
 122
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " for my part give me a good solid Englishwoman 
 what knows her place and stays in it meek and mild 
 like, instead of these cursed little parlez-vooing 
 upstarts with their mincing ways and their devil's 
 eyes. And when it comes to a cross-bred one, 
 O Lord, dehver us, says I." 
 
 " You've got a chanst of the Lord hearin' you 
 then for once," said John consolingly, " for it 
 strikes me that it'll be short shrift for the British 
 skipper who blocked the little Frenchman on her 
 outward course if that same cross-bred one ever 
 'appens to 'ave a say on matters aboard this craft." 
 
 " The devil it will ! " thundered the skipper, who 
 did not number among his talents the taking of a 
 joke. " And what about yourself ? Spread your- 
 self under her bloomin' feet and let your British 
 pride go all to glory, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Couldn't go to a better place, could it ? " 
 assented John, as he retreated thoughtfully to his 
 pantry. 
 
 123
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 IT had for years been the custom of the doctor of 
 Cherchel to spend when possible an hour or 
 two every evening between the demands of his 
 patients at the chateau of the Comtesse de Beaure- 
 paire. He was her trustee, commissioner, confiden- 
 tial adviser, guide, philosopher, and friend, every- 
 thing in fact except her lover, which, in spite of her 
 being eight or nine years older than himself, it was 
 at one time Men entendu among the village gossips 
 and romancists that he would be. These, however, 
 had grown so used to having the doctor in their 
 midst as the best of men and bachelors merely, and 
 the comtesse as the kindliest and most gracious of 
 friends and hostesses, that they had long since given 
 up the old idea as vain and idle talk, or forgotten it 
 altogether. Perhaps amongst the earliest remem- 
 brances of Lois and Fatma was that delightful one 
 of being as tiny maidens swung up one on either of 
 the doctor's strong shoulders and carried round to 
 chase imaginary foes or entertain imaginary mon- 
 archs, friends, and so forth. 
 
 A place was always laid at the evening meal of 
 the chateau for M. le docteur, but of late weeks, 
 since the spread of the sickness in the marshes, the 
 
 124
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 empty chair and the folded napkin had told their 
 frequent tale of his absence on near or distant fields 
 of duty. On a particular evening, some seven months 
 after the injury to the British skipper's ankle, 
 gathered together on the west terrace of the chateau 
 were the countess, the two girls, and the Earl of 
 Somerfeild, who, after visiting Tunis, Constantine, 
 Biskra, and the interior, had, on one pretext or 
 another, made it his business to still keep his head- 
 quarters by the ruined shores of fair Cherchel. 
 They had dined, and were sipping their coffee out- 
 side in the pleasant evening, with the early moon- 
 rays faintly silvering the garden stretches, the 
 cypress tops, the edges of the clouds of the brilliant 
 afterglow, the blue irises where they shone delicately 
 in clumps by the water garden, as they called the 
 spot where the waters of a clear stream running 
 straight from the hills were gathered into a wide 
 fishpond, at the bottom of which mineral rocks of a 
 bright soft blue gave a lovely azure tinge to the 
 waters of the little round lake above, in whose trans- 
 parent depths tiny gold and crimson-scaled fish 
 glanced about in every direction. 
 
 It was a bewitching hour and place, and so the 
 doctor thought (as he had often thought before), 
 strolling, during a brief respite from his labours, 
 across the turf where the violets, asphodels, and 
 narcissi were gleaming towards the little company 
 of fair women on the terrace. ^ A glance told him 
 who their guest of the evening was, and he smiled 
 
 I2S
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 rather grimly to himself, as he remembered his 
 resolution concerning the treatment of the skipper's 
 ankle. The ankle was long since strong and well, 
 but week follow^ed week, and the Crystal Star did 
 not spread her white wings for the open sea, but 
 kept them folded wdth a heavenly patience over 
 the radiant waters v/here glories of ancient mosaic, 
 fallen pillar, carved capital, mutilated sarcophagus, 
 shone through the crystal clearness on either hand, 
 making a brave floor indeed for the resistless sea. 
 
 As the doctor drew nearer to the group his step 
 lagged, and he asked himself suddenly if it were 
 possible that he, physician, cynic, mere healer, 
 looker-on of life, were growing jealous — oh, ignoble 
 word, say it again — yes, jealous of a handsome, 
 well-fed, well-dressed, apparently well-bred stranger, 
 who was carefully feeling his way into the innermost 
 privacy, the sanctity of a home where his, the 
 doctor's influence and presence, had hitherto been 
 undisputed, paramount, supreme. But he had 
 no time to answer or come to terms with himself 
 on the matter, for Lois was running up to meet him, 
 her little hot hand going out to his, her sweet voice 
 speaking words of happy welcome to his offended 
 soul. 
 
 As they sat and talked together, could one have 
 torn aside the delicate yet heavy veil \\ith which 
 Society hides from sight the naked hearts of her 
 elect, one would have seen how the desire of each 
 inclined to a direction from which there seemed to 
 
 126
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 be no response. Yet, owing to the demands of 
 this same Society, of which one speaks so shghtingly, 
 and to which one owes nevertheless so much of the 
 salt and piquancy of life, a gay naturalness was over 
 all, and no discord of tone or manner wounded the 
 harmony of the hour. The countess, for whom life's 
 great passion was long since laid with its object, so 
 unutterably dear, to rest, seemed through the 
 fragrant finish of her personality to whisper that 
 though the autumn of life may have its regrets, its 
 compensations are certainly undeniable. For un- 
 derneath the veil her heart was the lightest there, 
 her mind the most at ease, her hopes because the 
 least extravagant also immeasurably the least for- 
 lorn. These advantages notwithstanding, she said 
 as darkness gained upon the twilight and the early 
 moon went down, that she would go within, since 
 something in the hour or the drowsy day had made 
 her strangely tired and languid, adding gaily that 
 at her age it was not advisable to trifle with her 
 beauty sleep. 
 
 " I leave you," she laughed, " the stars in the 
 sky, the boat by the lake, lounges on the lawn. 
 There are refreshments in the hall, and music if you 
 like to make it in the salon. And so, good-night — 
 ne vous ennuyez pas ! " 
 
 As she strolled down the cloistered corridor to 
 her favourite entrance she started and stopped, 
 and the fold of her train slipped from her hand to 
 the dim frescoes of the floor. Would this English 
 
 127
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 lord think that in retiring thus she had left him an 
 open field in which to declare his evident admira- 
 tion for her daughter ? As a matter of fact, had 
 she ? She hardly thought so, for she was really 
 tired, and it was not her way to handle things of 
 this sort like a bourgeoise ! 
 
 When she reached the privacy of her o^^Tl apart- 
 ments she turned to her casement for a minute 
 before ringing for her maid. She distinguished two 
 figures some little distance to the left on the terrace 
 below her. They were those of the doctor and her 
 daughter, seated almost where she had left them. 
 Faint snatches of their voices reached her where she 
 stood. 
 
 " Ah ! " she murmured, \\dth wide eyes of wonder 
 and perplexity ; " poor little Lois ! I need not 
 have bothered ; poor little Lois ! God save her 
 heart from pain always." 
 
 For it had happened that when the countess left 
 them Lord Somerfeild had turned with a sudden 
 brusqueness to Fatma and had asked her if she 
 would take a turn with him round the gardens, as 
 he would have her views on a matter on which his 
 heart was especially set, a request which brought 
 a sharp surprise to the demure calm of her face, for 
 during these latter days he had hovered round Lois 
 with an unwavering air of preference and devotion 
 from which one could not help but gather that at 
 least of womanhood within his reach at the moment 
 she was to him infinitely the best to be with. 
 
 128
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Over this no one had been glad with more sin- 
 cerity than Fatma herself ; no one had more de- 
 lighted in the fresh spirited charms which were 
 unfolding themselves day by day in Lois as in a rare 
 flower which each new sun brings to brighter graces 
 and perfections. If misgivings she had, she checked 
 them resolutely, remembering (wistfully) to have 
 heard that for strong men and women it is not good 
 to be alone — then how much less for one like Lois, 
 so frail and gentle, so dependent always on the love 
 of those she loved, true picture of the ivy clinging 
 to the oak, the seaweed to the rock, the heart to its 
 passion of desire ! Perhaps it was concerning some 
 such consummation of joy for Lois that his lordship 
 wished to speak first to her. She did not quite 
 approve of his method, his forcing on her the love 
 affair of another, but then she knew that much 
 must be forgiven him — a mere Englishman ! So she 
 bowed in assent to his request, a grave little bow, 
 in which reluctance struggled with courtesy and the 
 desire to befriend her gentle cousin conquered that 
 of being no more gracious than she felt. 
 
 " Je suis a monsieur," she said. 
 
 With that he led her across the moonlit sward in 
 the direction of the olive groves, and Lois and the 
 doctor sat watching them in silence, which the latter 
 broke by asking if he might light his pipe. Lois 
 turned quickly towards him : " I beg your pardon. 
 You said something ? " 
 
 The doctor smiled. "Only if I might light my pipe." 
 K 129
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Lois laughed all over her happy face. " How old 
 you make one feel ! " she said. 
 
 " Mon Dieu, and why ? " 
 
 " It seems just the other day that Fatma and I 
 used to fight to see who could bring you first the 
 taper to light your pipe at, and now behold it is we 
 who are grand grown ladies, and you must wait on 
 us and even ask our permission to smoke at all. 
 I like it though. It is better than being a cliild. 
 It is lovely." 
 
 " Cherie ! Are you sure ? " 
 
 " Indeed I am." 
 
 " And the poor old doctor, what of him ? His 
 little handmaidens turned into ladies of high degree 
 — he, with no one left to bully, what of him, I 
 say ? " 
 
 " Ah ! he shall have the tables turned on him 
 now for his sins ! He shall be the tyrannized, 
 not the tyrant any more. H shall hear how sweet 
 it is to little feet to wander where they will, and 
 trample a strong man down till he cries for mercy." 
 And Lois laughed to think of the good sport that 
 awaited her ahead. 
 
 But the doctor grew nervous. It seemed to him 
 that the things that belonged unto his peace were 
 being threatened with an overthrow which would 
 be nothing short of a calamity. 
 
 " Good gracious, Lois," he asked anxiously, 
 " who, what, why, since when have you had these 
 bloodthirsty ideas about 3'ou ? " 
 
 130
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Ah ! one changes, I suppose ! " she laughed. 
 " Even Httle worms, you know " 
 
 " Bah ! leave the Httle worms alone. But, yes, 
 it is so, you have changed." 
 
 Then Lois grew serious : "It does not matter 
 how much we change, does it, as long as we do not 
 change towards those we love ? " 
 
 The doctor puffed away meditatively at his pipe. 
 "Yet some people, you know, Lois," he said, " think 
 constancy a terribly monotonous virtue." 
 
 " Mother said once that some people think all 
 virtues are monotonous. But surely not con- 
 stancy ? " 
 
 " And why not that too, dear ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know ! Think of all it holds though 
 — constancy. Think of the exaltations, the aching 
 hearts, the hopes and fears, the faith to see only and 
 always, even through death-darkened ways, that 
 great brightness at the end, and then say if it could 
 be monotonous ever — to be constant. On the 
 contrary, constancy is full of changes, right down 
 
 from great agony to great joy " and here Lois 
 
 suddenly stopped, her face ablaze, her little hands 
 tightly clenched, amazed beyond measure at herself 
 for having been drawn into such an open declara- 
 tion of independent opinion. This was almost the 
 longest, and certainly the most impassioned speech 
 that the doctor had heard from her. He glanced 
 at her curiously, knowing well that she was not 
 walking on solid ground, but that something had 
 
 131
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 canght her fancy, and snatched it up to bright 
 realms from which the world in wliich one is fated 
 to live and move seems, nevertheless (and perhaps 
 rightly so), not the real world. As from a tower of 
 observation one perceives in a flash the lie of the 
 land, so to the doctor it was revealed, with lightning 
 speed and clearness, from a bird's-eye review of the 
 events of latter days, that Lois' gentle life was fast 
 bound up in the life of another, and that with her 
 a thing of this sort was not a mere passing matter of 
 interest or congratulation, but rather one of stern 
 life or sterner death. 
 
 " How silent you are ! " she said nervously. 
 
 " I was thinking, dear child," he made haste to 
 tell her, " thinking of that word of yours — that 
 constancy is full of changes." 
 
 " One says things, and never thinks how silly 
 they sound till one hears them on other lips ! " 
 
 " That then is the fault, not of the things, but of 
 the other lips." 
 
 " When you talk prettily like that, I do not know 
 you." 
 
 " Lois ! All the same, I would rather have 
 heard you defend that little saying of yours just 
 now than go back on it, even though you give me 
 a chance of showing myself off to you in a rather 
 more decent light than usual." 
 
 Lois smiled. She was not to be easily decoyed 
 into talking again of those things that lie so near 
 the heart and the tears thereof that as soon as they 
 
 132
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 are spoken they lose something of their fine and 
 perfect bloom. 
 
 " I haven't seen your sketch-book lately, Lois," 
 he said across the silence. " Have you been 
 busy ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, oh, no ! Indeed there is nothing to see." 
 
 " Exactly. I am glad you haven't been idle. 
 Has it occurred to you how patiently I have been 
 waiting for that corner down by the harbour that 
 you promised me over two months ago ? " 
 
 " Oh, but you shall have it. I have been doing 
 faces a good deal lately. There is a very pretty one 
 of Fatma — at least I don't know if I ought to call it 
 pretty myself. Would you like it ? " 
 
 " Thank you. I have one or two of Fatma, 
 though. What other faces have you been doing ? " 
 
 " Let me see, I have done the marabout in the 
 porch of the mosque, and I have done an Arab child 
 sitting at a bowl of cous-couss. And old Jean- 
 Baptiste, mother's lemon-man." 
 
 " Any others ? " 
 
 "I — yes — I believe there is one of the English lord." 
 
 " I see. It is a far cry from lords to lemon-men. 
 Your sketch-book should be a human document of 
 worth and interest. Who was the best sitter, the 
 lord or the lemon-man ? " 
 
 " I cannot do him justice at all. I have tried 
 again and again. It does not come out a little bit 
 well." 
 
 " To my thinking his is a face where you would
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 need to lay the shadows on with a boot-brush. But 
 then, I am no artist." 
 
 " Shadows ! Monsieur le docteur, what can you 
 mean ? His eyes are deep, set hke most beautiful 
 eyes are, and the curves of his mouth want such 
 a delicate hand — but shadows " 
 
 " Mon Dieu, and to me his eyes are so uncommonly 
 greedy, and his mouth the mouth of a very advanced 
 old sinner indeed. But then, I am perhaps no judge." 
 
 Lois sat up straight in a burning anger and 
 surprise. " Indeed I am afraid you are not," she 
 said icily, and with ringing scorn. " Why, he has 
 the face and manner, the ways and bearing of a 
 king, while we, pray, who are we, that we should 
 
 dare to criticize such as he " at which she stopped 
 
 before the look of comical dismay that shone through 
 the doctor's half-closed, far-seeing eyes. 
 
 " Oh, my little Lois," he said very gently, ac- 
 cusing himself inwardly at the sorry trick he had 
 played her, and leaning towards her to take her 
 small, hot, quivering fingers into his strong cool 
 hand, " I was with the lemon-man and you, you 
 were with the — other one. Forgive me my awkward- 
 ness, and don't remember it against me in days to 
 coma, will you ? " 
 
 Then Lois laughed through the tears of vexation 
 that had gathered in her eyes, and her smiles were 
 as sunbeams piercing aslant a shower. 
 
 " I will forgive you," she said. " I will forgive 
 you if you will never do it again." 
 
 134
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " You have my word. He stands high in your 
 judgment, this — not the lemon-man, Lois." 
 
 " Let us be quite sure. The EngHsh lord." 
 
 " That same." 
 
 " He is so kind and beautiful, is he not ? " 
 
 " A man must be more than that, dear." 
 
 " Of course, I know. But what more ? Tell 
 me." 
 
 " Ah ! My province deals with the physical 
 rather than the moral man. Yet as the two 
 react so closely the one on the other, I should say, 
 rouglily speaking, that a man must keep his torch 
 of honour very clean and bright, and carefully 
 trimmed aloft, and have that straightness of 
 purpose and steadfastness of heart, without which, 
 however kind and good to look at he may be, he is 
 still no gentleman, no nobleman, while with them, 
 although he have no talents or seeming marks of 
 high distinction, he is still perhaps a hero in a dark 
 and dirty world. Yet even these plain things are 
 more than most of us poor devils can attain to. But 
 women, Lois, must still patiently go on, expecting 
 of men, nay, demanding of them, the best, the very 
 best, superlatively, and always the best of that 
 which in them is, or else, God knows, men, relaxing 
 their good endeavours, will soon slip down and fall 
 away from those higher levels to which in ages past 
 the love and influence of noble women led them." 
 
 Lois was silent for a long time. She thought of 
 him who had become her peerless knight, hero of her 
 
 US
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 fairest dreams, lord of her life, its every vow, desire, 
 and pride. 
 
 " And sometimes," she said at last, half in awe, 
 as though she spoke sacred words or trod on holy 
 ground, " sometimes it is just the other way. It is 
 the man who lifts the woman up to brave heights and 
 places. For his sake she learns new virtues and 
 endurances, and only knows the days as they bring 
 her suffering, praise, a smile, or a word from him — 
 like the sundial that only counts the hours the sun 
 shines on." 
 
 The doctor glanced at her where her delicate 
 profile was outlined against the dark foliage of an 
 orange tree that grew on the edge of the terrace. 
 Her slight body was encased in a clinging robe of 
 a faint shade of porcelain blue, made in a simple 
 way, with a series of tiny tucks from throat to hem, 
 while a fichu of soft shirred lace was crossed over 
 her girlish bosom. Her eyes shone happily, and 
 her little nervous hands were clasped upon her 
 knees. The doctor let his pipe go out. He realized 
 that here was something so fine, so feminine, so 
 mialterable in its beautiful proud devotion, that he 
 might more easily move the mountains of tradition 
 than disturb the course of the love of that gloriously 
 faithful heart. 
 
 "It is a devil of a world ! " he said within him- 
 self, " a strange devil of a world ! " 
 
 Aloud he asked her : " Would you go away, 
 Lois, would you leave us all, and go to a far country 
 
 136
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 with joy in your heart if (we will say it for the 
 sake of the matter) if love with honour called you 
 there ? " 
 
 She seemed to ponder his question for a minute. 
 " You know I would," she smiled at him with love's 
 bright signals flaming softly in her face. " And 
 what would you think of me if I said No ? Should 
 I be dear to a man like you if I had not a spirit brave 
 enough for that ? Would you not turn round and 
 say to me, and oh, how sternly, ' Lois, you have 
 been weighed in the balance and found wanting. 
 You must go down lower, for you are not worthy — 
 not worthy to rank with Fatma as my little friend 
 in chief particular ' ? Even to think of how you 
 would look makes me cold where 1 sit." 
 
 In the darkness his hand stole out once more to 
 hers, and held it fast. But in spite of the tender 
 action, or perhaps because of it, he spoke lightly, 
 playfully : " Surely, dear, you haven't forgotten 
 your part already. No more for you the storm of 
 the doctor's bullying, the chill of his displeasure. 
 You, with your brave sentiments, and your long 
 dresses, you are a leading lady now on life's wide 
 stage, whilst the poor old doctor, he has to be thank- 
 ful for glimpses of you from the side wings. In 
 truth," he added wearily, " I wish you were my 
 little girl again — my little girl to run and fetch the 
 taper for my pipe — but since that little girl has gone 
 to some fine fairyland where I in my grosser man- 
 hood may not follow, I must think how beautiful 
 
 137
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 it is to have this grand grown lady for my friend, 
 and I must pray — only that praying is so little in 
 my line — that courage will follow in her train and 
 peace attend her every footstep." 
 
 " And happiness," said Lois shyly — " you wish her 
 that as well." 
 
 " She Vvill not be unhappy if those other things 
 are hers," was his grave and slow reply. 
 
 Presently across the quiet, fragrant darkness the 
 muezzin's cry that God alone was great, and that 
 Mahomet was His prophet, rang out once, twice, 
 thrice, according to the ancient usage, from the 
 minaret of the mosque, followed by the clear notes 
 of the reveillon from the distant barrack square. 
 
 " It grows late, and I have far to go. Shall I take 
 you in, or will you wait still a little here ? " the 
 doctor asked of Lois, looking as he spoke towards 
 the olive groves, into whose fastnesses Fatma had 
 vanished with the English lord while the evening 
 had yet been young. 
 
 " I think I will wait," she said, seeming vaguely 
 troubled ; " they will not be long now, will they ? " 
 " I expect not. Thank you for a very restful 
 hour — among the best of all good gifts. And after 
 all, you may as well let me have that head — 
 Fatma's. If you are going to wait here still, you 
 must have something more over your shoulders." 
 
 " Believe me, I am so hot. Ah, listen, look, 
 surely there is something moving between the trees. 
 Yes, see, it is Fatma's white dress. How funny that 
 
 138
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 because it is dark we can only see her and not Lord 
 Somerfeild at all ! " 
 
 She stood on tiptoe, leaning against the balus- 
 trade of the terrace in a rapture of expectation, with 
 the love-blushes breathing soft life anew in her 
 happy face. 
 
 " Oh, wait," she said, as the doctor moved to go, 
 " wait. It is Fatma." 
 
 In truth it was, and she was alone. She came on, 
 in the slow, gracious manner that had lately taken 
 hold of her. For a moment, as she saw the two 
 familiar figures on the terrace, she hesitated, but only 
 for a moment. Her face was white as the gown she 
 wore, and something, either sorrow, scorn, or amaze- 
 ment, burnt in the great dark eyes that were other- 
 wise wont to hold such store of gaiety and gladness. 
 At the foot of the terrace she stopped and looked 
 up with a little smile, which froze before the blank 
 look, the quiver, the wordless question on Lois' lips. 
 
 " The English lord has gone to his yacht," she 
 said. " He went by the short cut over the cliff. I 
 wanted to come back through the gardens alone." 
 
 There was no answer. The doctor took out his 
 watch and narrowed his eyes in a profound calcula- 
 tion, while Lois waited with a dull pain clutching 
 at her heart for her cousin to speak again. 
 
 " Are you both dumb ? " cried Fatma at last. 
 " If not, where have your manners gone ? Or do you 
 take, me perhaps for his lordship's keeper ? Or 
 what is it ? Please speak." 
 
 139
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 She looked up at them, her head turned shghtly 
 to one side, and the picture that she made, a certain 
 proud impatience melting into the pleading sweet- 
 ness of her face, her dark hair bound with a fillet of 
 Eastern pearls, her snowy draperies falling round 
 her with seductive grace, was one that no man could 
 withstand. A great joyous light swept suddenly into 
 the doctor's eyes as they rested on her ; then in a 
 moment he was the gravest of men once more. 
 
 " We have been talking, Lois and I," he said, 
 a faint smile gathering over his handsome, somewhat 
 massive face, " we have been talking of the happi- 
 ness of days that are gone, of courage for days to 
 come, and other such solemn things, till "we must 
 have talked ourselves dumb, and lost our manners, 
 as you suggest. But before I take my leave I 
 should like to know that you will not let the stars 
 go down upon your wrath ? " 
 
 " Your explanation has done a\vay with wrath. 
 Every allowance must be made to people who have 
 been talking over b^^gone joys. For myself, I prefer 
 considering those to come." 
 
 " Undoubtedly you show the finer taste. Good 
 night. Take Lois in, for just now she was shiver- 
 mg. 
 
 He raised his cap and went out in the gloom to 
 his night work on the fever-stricken marshes. " My 
 little girls ! ]\Iy little girls ! " he said to himself 
 more than once as he swung along under the great 
 stars across the desolate wastes. 
 
 140
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 But in one of those little girls a swift sharp anger 
 had blazed up fiercely at his departure. 
 
 " How dare he ! How dare he ! " she had said 
 when he was out of earshot, stamping her foot on the 
 soft turf ; " how dare he put that awful manner on 
 now whenever we meet ! How dare he make my 
 drawing near the signal for his immediate leave- 
 taking ! Am I labelled ' dangerous ' ? If not, 
 ought I to be ? What is he afraid of ? How dare, 
 how dare he ! " 
 
 " Oh, but dearest, you are mistaken in him I am 
 sure," said Lois softly ; " why, only just now he 
 was asking me for that last head of yours. My 
 belief is that he thinks just all the world of 
 you." 
 
 " My head on a charger would please him better, 
 I fancy. Oh, but did he really now, Lois ? " and her 
 voice grew strangely sweet and low. 
 
 " Really he did," said Lois, her eyes fixed widely 
 on the distant riding-light of the Crystal Star, where 
 it outshone by more than half its power all other 
 lights and beacons on those quiet Algerian shores. 
 
 Then with a great remorse Fatma, watching her, 
 remembered. 
 
 " Come in, sweet, as he said," she whispered, 
 taking her cousin's arm in hers. " Come in now 
 and sleep. Some day we will go to England and 
 watch the great lords at their pleasures all day long, 
 if that pleases you best ! " 
 
 For Fatma had remembered — that more than 
 141
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 ever now her gentle little cousin would have need 
 of her and of all the love she had to spare. 
 And so they comforted one another. 
 
 But Lois could not sleep. Half an hour later, 
 when the house was dark and quiet, a storm of long- 
 ing possessed her, frail and nervous as she was, to 
 go outside into the world of stars and flowers, to 
 breathe the air as it stirred under heaven's floor, 
 to see if the gentle influences which there prevailed 
 could aid in quieting the agonized beating of her 
 heart. She had not intended to go farther than 
 the gardens that stretched before the house, but a 
 little sea-wind drove her on, a ship's light beckoned 
 to her, all the voices of the night, as it seemed, sang : 
 Come, O Lois, come ! and there was none to tell 
 her, none from heaven or from earth, that they were 
 siren voices only. 
 
 142
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 FATMA had given the noble lord of Somerfeild 
 but scant assistance in the small talk with 
 which he had tried to pave the way to the discussion 
 of the greater matter that was in his mind. As 
 they wandered down the starlit avenues — at a pace 
 which Fatma tried in vain to quicken — he had 
 assumed little indescribable ways of proprietorship, 
 admiration, devotion, which savoured rather of the 
 lover than of the mere chance acquaintance which 
 was the only relation between them that she would 
 for a moment tolerate. At last, as he leaned for- 
 ward to shield her from a depending olive bough 
 that hung slightly in her way, and she felt the op- 
 pressive, unnecessary nearness of his contact, the 
 touch of his hand on her slim white neck, she stopped 
 and faced him — strange anomaly, an iceberg of the 
 South, calm and white and cold, fronting a volcano 
 of the North. 
 
 " There was something, I believe," she said, " on 
 which you wished especially to consult with me." 
 
 " There was." 
 
 " Would it . . . would you mind perhaps begin- 
 ning ? " 
 
 " Your manner, if you will pardon me for saying 
 so, is hardly encouraging." 
 
 143
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 A puzzled look grew slowly in her eyes. " Never 
 mind my manner," she said, with a faint quick smile, 
 " but tell me." 
 
 " First of all, then," he began in a hesitating way, 
 " first of all, I have never had the assurance of your 
 forgiveness for a most stupid little indiscretion to 
 which I was tempted on that night when we first 
 met." 
 
 A brilliant flush deepened in the soft warm roses 
 of her cheeks. " I have forgotten it entirely. That 
 surely means forgiveness too. Please don't refer 
 to it again," and disdain rode high on the generous 
 curves of her mouth, spoke even in the curl of her 
 little fingers. 
 
 " I should like to see you look the forgiveness 
 you so kindly speak." 
 
 " But these were not the things you brought me 
 here to tell me." 
 
 " Is there any hurry ? It's such a glorious night. 
 Must you have it so soon ? " 
 
 " Why not, when I have guessed already what it 
 is ? " She smiled in spite of herself, anxious only to 
 help him on and get the distasteful ordeal through. 
 
 " You have ? " he cried eagerly, " you have ? 
 Well, is there any hope ? " 
 
 " Don't your own eyes tell you there is every 
 hope ? " 
 
 " They told me no such thing. Have I been 
 bhnd then ? " 
 
 " That is hardly for me to know, but there is a 
 144
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 very simple way out of the difficulty, and after all 
 it is the only way. You might ask her." 
 
 " By God, it is what I am going to do ! " he said, 
 glancing at her curiously, with quickened breath. 
 
 " Remember, will you," she asked him, with a 
 little catch as of tears in her voice, " that she has 
 been so much loved in her home-life here ? Is your 
 love strong enough to be faithful to her to the end ? " 
 
 " My life shall show," he answered slowly, wonder- 
 ing greatly at the way in which she spoke. 
 
 Some note of earnestness in his tone, strange and 
 new, manlier than anything she remembered to 
 have heard there before, awoke an answering chord 
 within her. 
 
 "It is a bargain then between us — you will be 
 endlessly good to her, then nothing shall ever be 
 remembered against you here." She smiled with 
 wistful eyes, touching the snowy folds at her bosom, 
 and she held her hand hesitatingly towards him. 
 
 At that, as in a vision, her meaning was made 
 clear to him, and despite his bitterness and sharp 
 vexation at the nature and the quality of his mis- 
 take, a great sudden reverence for her rose up in his 
 offended, passion-swept soul. He bowed low over 
 the little hand she held to him, but did not take it 
 in his own. Just at the moment he did not dare. 
 
 The little hand slipped back again under the 
 
 gossamers, and its owner stood up very straight, yet 
 
 pliant as a reed. His hot eyes devoured the black 
 
 sweep of her eyelashes, the curve of her cheek, that 
 
 L 145
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 seemed in the gloom as though it were carved from 
 a piece of the most dehcate alabaster. 
 
 " I fancy you haven't quite understood me," he 
 said. " It is not Lois I want, not Lois a little bit," 
 while before her beauty his voice grew thick, before 
 her stateliness his courage small. 
 
 At first surprise and grief showed alone in her 
 wide, grave eyes. Dear Lois ! she thought, dear 
 Lois, who loves so well ! And a numbing pain 
 struck dully at her heart. 
 
 " Done, monsieur, ce n'est plus mon affaire," she 
 said. 
 
 " Mais si, mais si," he cried desperately ; " for it 
 is you yourself that I want. Oh, but you must 
 have known ! I am here to-night to lay my life 
 at your feet, your pretty sandalled feet. In all 
 seriousness I want you to marry, really to marry 
 me." 
 
 Then she saw how things were — with herself, 
 with Lois, and with this faithless knight of that 
 gentle maid. For the moment she could frame no 
 words. She shrank from his side with a little gasp, 
 a gesture of despair. 
 
 " You understood, you understood ? " he asked, 
 " to marry, to marry me." 
 
 In Fatma's eyes few personal offences were direr 
 than that of one who ventured to assume a patron- 
 izing attitude towards lier. In this case the tact- 
 less stress laid on one particular word made a flam- 
 ing insult where otherwise might have been high 
 
 146
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 and honest compliment. But remembering that 
 it was her cousin's battle, not her own, that she was 
 there to fight, she tried valiantly to stifle her scorn 
 and to deal with this great lord of the English as 
 though he were a being not devoid of reason, honour, 
 and the ordinary human attributes. 
 
 " Hush, please," she said confusedly, while her 
 heart beat angrily and high , " you surely do not 
 know what you say." 
 
 " But, dear lady, indeed, indeed I do." 
 
 " You cannot do yourself such a monstrous, such 
 a base injustice." 
 
 " Myself an injustice ! How on earth ? " 
 
 " Are you so built that Lois counts for nothing 
 to you, then ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes, Lois ! Poor little damsel, to be sure ! 
 But if her affections are so easily won, may we not 
 hope that they will be equally easily replaced ? " 
 
 After that he spoke no longer to a village maiden 
 of the East, but to the Lady Eric Lorimer-Harben, 
 who had come, not only into the revenues and 
 possessions of her dead lord, but into her own fine 
 feminine estates — her wealth of womanhood, the 
 clear and dainty instinct which told her when she 
 talked with a coward and when with a man of manly 
 parts. Over her words she still had control, but 
 from the artillery of her eyes a withering fire scorched 
 him through and through. 
 
 " Surely you wouldn't be hard on me for a little 
 thing like that ? " he said, wincing before the flash 
 
 147
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 of those bright twin-stars : "a mere trifling ruse on 
 my part to pique you into feehng something, any- 
 thing — that icy indifference maddened me so." 
 
 " Unfortunately one comes to feel other things 
 than mere indifference." 
 
 " I think I could see my way more easily — I mean 
 I think I would rather you hated me than that you 
 should always be just calmly indifferent to me." 
 
 " Indeed ! So to win my hatred you sacrificed 
 Lois." 
 
 " Rather an extravagant way of putting it, that, 
 isn't it ? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon ? " 
 
 " Well, hardly ' sacrificed ' was it ? And as for 
 winning your hatred, what earthly use would it be 
 to me when I had it ? " 
 
 She pushed back a stray curl or two from her 
 brow. Her face and attitude grew very thoughtful. 
 She tried to keep unangered, even kind, for Lois' 
 sake. What this cost her sent her head spinning 
 in hot whirls, though in truth she held it proudly 
 enough in the fragrant dusk of that lonely place. 
 
 " Is it for a moment possible," she asked, " that 
 you could sail away from here without a care or a 
 thought behind for that gentle girl whom you held 
 in your arms only a day or two ago, whispering that 
 everything was waiting for her in your home across 
 the seas ? " 
 
 "But, my most beautiful, she was only the lay 
 figure, as it were. It was you. You, that I had aU 
 
 148
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 the time in my mind, although fate seemed to will 
 that you could not just then be also in my arms. 
 When once you take your rightful place as queen 
 of my life and heart, Lois shall have a small place 
 there or not, just as you yourself shall choose. In 
 any case, we shall find means of making it up to 
 her together somehow. As I said before ..." 
 
 " Pardon me ! Oh, hush ! You are an officer, 
 are you not, in one of the regiments of your great 
 Queen ? If you were called to do so you would 
 lead your men to the front of the battle, I suppose ? " 
 
 He looked at her in slow surprise. " If such luck 
 were mine, I should," he said, with a stalwart 
 simplicity which compelled from her a reluctant 
 passing admiration. 
 
 " Yes. My father too was an officer of the army. 
 He died the death. But he was brave at all times. 
 What I am going to say may be neither here nor 
 there, but I should like to think that all men who 
 hold that high commission from their Queen or 
 country should be brave at all times too — that they 
 should not show a fine front only in the hour of 
 a danger that may never come, and be curs and 
 cowards in the things of life which are with them 
 always." 
 
 A dark flush stained his brow — a characteristic 
 of his race when moved to a wrath to which it 
 were not seemly to give utterance. " You are 
 pleased to be — eh, well — magnificently plain, shall 
 I say ? " 
 
 149
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Nothing would please me better than to have 
 to apologize, oh, so humbly, for my plainness." 
 Her eyes were shining demurely, but there was a 
 pathetic little droop at the corners of her mouth. 
 Again the English lord caught his breath at the 
 loveliness so near to him, yet farther from his reach 
 than the poles, whose far white solitudes no man, it 
 seems, shall know. 
 
 " And how am I to assist in bringing about such 
 a very desirable matter ? " 
 
 " You have but to play the gentleman and a fair 
 game." 
 
 " I wish you were a man, that I might strike 
 you." 
 
 " For the time being I wish I was." 
 
 " Since you are not, though, but instead a royally 
 lovely woman, by the stars above us, if you provoke 
 me much more, I will verily kiss you." 
 
 He could not see how for a moment in the gloom 
 the delicate fires of her face went down. He could 
 not know that the thought that stabbed her through 
 was this — that though she once, ostensibly for cold 
 charity's sake, had sold the sweetness of her lips, 
 henceforth whatever might betide they should be 
 only for the man she loved, should he, by the grace 
 of God, in life's long day or death's dark night desire 
 them. He only heard the little light mocking 
 laugh, with its ring of bitterness, bravado — je ne 
 sais quoi ! 
 
 " I trust then that I shall not provoke you again. 
 150
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 We will be very brief, if it please you, for there is 
 but one thing now that I must know of you. You 
 have been making furious love to Lois in these days 
 just over. You have won her heart completely. 
 To her you are the perfect knight, sans peur et sans 
 reproche " — she looked very straight and steadily 
 at him — " and it may be that some day it will be 
 well for you that one woman once believed in you so 
 utterly. What I want to know is, are you going to 
 sail away from here to-morrow, or are you going 
 to be openly betrothed to my cousin Lois ? — poor 
 little Lois ! " 
 
 His face grew dark with surprise and wrath. " I 
 am going to do neither the one nor the other," he 
 sneered. 
 
 " Pardon me, but there is no other way. You 
 must make your choice now, here." 
 
 " Good God, would you condemn me for life to 
 that little pink and white faced bread-and-butter 
 miss ? Does one look at the weed, do you think, 
 when the rose is blooming close at hand ? Your 
 wits have surely left your pretty head. Or is it, 
 my dear fairest of the fair, that you are only trying 
 me ? " 
 
 " Please decide. I must be going in." 
 
 " Since you press for an answer, I am under the 
 unfortunate necessity of telling you that I must 
 flatly refuse either alternative." 
 
 Then Fatma girded up her loins for battle ; her 
 dark eyes grew grave and very fearless, and her 
 
 151
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 finely cut nostrils quivered as she went out to meet 
 this ungallant foe within her gates. 
 
 " For the last time listen. You have won the 
 heart of a girl as frail as she is gentle. All her 
 strength is in her love. Neither father nor brother 
 has she to fight her battles for her, therefore I, her 
 cousin, take that right upon me. And this I say to 
 you. If you, meaning nothing kind or honourable 
 to her, set foot on this our shore again, I will horse- 
 whip you where you land. Unless I first have a 
 communication from you that you are coming 
 straight to her to repair as best you can the ill that 
 you have done, I will meet your dinghey where it 
 comes alongside the jetty, and there before your 
 men I will horsewhip you publicly, without a scruple 
 or a fear. Now go, monsieur, and if it is to other 
 ports, as half I have the fancy it will be, let me wish 
 you bon voyage, and a fair wind, for indeed I wish 
 you no harm or hurt, but what my own right hand 
 may deal you." 
 
 " You mean, you absolutely mean all this ? " 
 
 " Every word." 
 
 Except for the crimson brow, his face grew white 
 with fury, and a sneer like an ugly wound was written 
 large across it. 
 
 " Good evening, mademoiselle — or madame, is it ? 
 When a nameless girl steals a long distinguished 
 name from a dying man, I suppose we must forgive 
 her a few airs in consequence. For myself I can 
 only be thankful that my luck is not quite dead, 
 
 152
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 since I have so mercifully escaped giving her my 
 name too." 
 
 He walked backwards as he spoke towards a 
 narrow side-walk that led to the cliffs, and he did 
 not look in the eyes the tall, moveless figure he 
 addressed. When she was satisfied that he had 
 gone, she turned slowly round, and walked down 
 the dark avenue to the chateau, her eyes softening 
 to strange dear fancies, her little brown hands 
 unclenching, a faint, gay smile breaking out and 
 disappearing at the corners of her mouth. 
 
 But the next morning, when Lois rose from her 
 bed, eager, happy, trembling, flushed, and threw 
 back the casement shutters to the chill, delightful 
 dawn, her heart stood still, and great, affrighted, 
 tearless sobs shook her slim body from head to foot. 
 For the great wide sea was empty, empty. 
 
 The English yacht had gone. 
 
 153
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 IT was some few weeks later in the small hours 
 of a winter afternoon. Outside the sun shone 
 warmly, and the crisp, salt air was a heartening 
 thing to breathe and smell, and taste the flavour of. 
 In the great salon of the chateau de Beaurepaire the 
 flames of the piled-up olive logs on the wide hearth 
 danced merrily, undaunted quite by the brave 
 streams of sunbeams that quivered and floated 
 through the spaces of the pleasant room. A room 
 it was out of which virtue well might go for the 
 comfort and the joy of those who tarried within its 
 walls. Such walls too. Faced in part with mosaics, 
 where these were ruined or discoloured, old tapestries 
 worked in gold on a faded sapphire ground, were 
 hung. It once had been the throne-room of an 
 Arab prince, who, with his possessions, had fallen 
 into the hands of the conquerors, and modern taste 
 had joined forces with ancient glories to make of it 
 a place of rest and charm, where nothing offended 
 or oppressed, but where those who sorrowed, 
 leisured, worked, or joyed, could find each alike 
 some faint yet enchanting accompaniment to his 
 passion or his mood. No pictures hung from the 
 rich, dim walls except those wrought on the marbles 
 
 154
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 or the woven stuffs by the patient art and cunning 
 of long ago. The floor was a sheet of exquisite 
 mosaic work from end to end of the apartment. 
 Tiny mosaics of every shade, red, white, bhie, amber, 
 violet, green, glittering gold, were there — the mosaics 
 dear, and small, and toy-like, for which the ruined 
 ways of fair Cherchel are so sadly famous. To 
 relieve any chill or hardness that such a floor might 
 mean, heavy Persian rugs of warm tints were strewn 
 about with a lavish hand. They were almost as 
 beautiful as the royal floor they hid. The long 
 narrow latticed windows, stained and storied with 
 the legends of barbaric days, opened on to the ter- 
 raced gardens, the dusky groves, and the sweet clifls 
 beyond, where the thyme, absinthe, and the savory 
 grow in radiant profusion of dainty clusters. 
 
 The furnishings of the room, although unique and 
 rare, were still of absolute simplicity of character. 
 Deep, inviting chairs, lounges, divans, were there in 
 plenty, while of tables there was no lack, tables for 
 the most part of fair polished woods, inlaid with 
 amber and ivory, the ancient workmanship of the 
 East. Small bowls of Venetian glass were filled 
 with the liquid scents of violet and verbena. Corin- 
 thian lamps hung in crystal vessels, which flashed 
 out rainbow colours when the sunbeams or the 
 dancing fireglow touched them. 
 
 A grateful nation had presented the house and 
 domains to the father-in-law of Mme. la Comtesse 
 de Beaurepaire — and his heirs (to be chosen by him) 
 
 155
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 for ever — for deeds of valour and endurance and 
 skirmishings brought to a successful issue during 
 a campaign against the natives in the early history 
 of the colony, and now the widow of that proud 
 warrior's son lived on in peace and seclusion in the 
 fair place that held the memory of all that once had 
 made her life so rich. Her income was very 
 straitened, and as much of it as she could spare 
 she laid aside, from an exquisite sense of the fitness 
 of things, for the proper care of the grounds; but life 
 was very calm and cheerful in the chateau of Cher- 
 chel, and poverty was a word that was never heard 
 on the lips of those who dwelt beneath that ancient 
 roof-tree. 
 
 On this particular afternoon, when the sunlight 
 and the firelight played together in merry rivalry 
 about the room, the ladies of the household were 
 gathered there, according to their custom, after the 
 second dejeuner. The countess sat on a low stool 
 before a frame of delicate embroidery work, but her 
 eyes travelled to the pathetic outline of her little 
 daughter's face with more perplexity than that 
 with which they moved amongst the intricate 
 stitchery at her hand. Fatma sat at a writing- 
 table in an alcove some small distance off. Her 
 shapely head, with its crown of dusky curls, was bent 
 unweariedly over the deciphering of the piles of 
 documents, legal and otherwise (including even 
 " begging " letters), which reached her from time 
 to time, always with more frequency than she had 
 
 iS6
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 any welcome for, concerning the management and 
 well-being of her estates in the far country beyond 
 the seas. Fatma was learning that you may be 
 poor, and pay nothing for it, no more than for the 
 sunshine, the sweet rains, or the stars of a summer 
 night ; but that you may be rich, and pay for it in 
 coins of nameless value, heart-pangs innumerable. 
 Her gaiety was often stifled, her eyes forced to see 
 things of sorry, or at least of bitter-sweet report. 
 
 In a great chair near the fire Lois was sitting. 
 Her sketch-book was on her knee, and her fingers 
 held one or two pencils, but she was not working. 
 She lay back looking into the fire with large, bright 
 eyes full of memory, and a faith and hope un- 
 conquerable. She had grown very thin of late, and, 
 indeed, as Fatma had just told her, whilst arranging 
 for her round her throat and bosom one of the 
 favourite fichus she particularly affected, she looked 
 all eyes and hair and muslin. From time to time, 
 as Fatma read out items from the letters, news- 
 papers, or ponderous, strange documents strewn 
 around her, the little frail cousin would straighten 
 up and listen eagerly, with interest unashamed and 
 undisguised. When the merry, mocking voice 
 stopped she would slowly settle down again, the wist- 
 ful, wordless questioning of her face resolving into an 
 expression of exquisite patience which, more perhaps 
 than any outcry of distress would have done, 
 touched to the quick the hearts of those who 
 watched so lovingly. 
 
 157
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " The end and the meaning of it all is," said 
 Fatma, getting up from her table and throwing her- 
 self on a rug at Lois' feet, " that I must go for a 
 while to England, perfidious England, where you 
 shiver in the sunlight, and are so solemn at the 
 feasts." 
 
 The little feet near Fatma's cheek moved rest- 
 lessly, and the pencil shpped from convulsive 
 fingers. 
 
 " I have thought so for a long time, dear," said 
 the countess, " only we shall miss you to such an 
 extent that I have not been able to bring myself to 
 speak of it." 
 
 " Did you think then that I could go without you 
 and Lois ? Oh, never, never ! " 
 
 The countess looked fondly at Fatma, but her fair 
 face flushed. " You know, dear, it is not possible," 
 she said reluctantly, " and w^e would never be a drag 
 on you. But we will be here to give you a royal 
 welcome home." 
 
 " Do you mean," said Fatma, " that it is a 
 question of money ? Horrible, hateful stuff ! I 
 used once to think of all the fine things one can 
 do with money. I think now of all the fine 
 things money can do with you. But one thing 
 money shall not do with us — with you, and Lois, 
 and me. It shall not be the means of your letting 
 me go off alone to that cold, twilight-land of England. 
 Oh, dear Aunt Gabrielle," she added very thought- 
 fully, " if I must count my wealth of life in coins of 
 
 158
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 the realm, let them bring me some, just a little per- 
 sonal happiness, all for my very own. I know you 
 can't refuse me, don't I ? So we won't discuss that 
 part of it any more." 
 
 Fatma had a broad, swift, lovely, impetuous, 
 imperious way of settling delicate affairs of this 
 kind, that there was no gainsaying. " And now," 
 she rattled on breathlessly against a possible de- 
 murring word, " now that it is quite decided that 
 we all go together, let us talk over when we shall go, 
 how we shall go, what we will take with us, and, 
 above all, when we will come back again." 
 
 Lois sat bolt upright in her big chair. Excite- 
 ment had tinged her cheeks with a most fair glow. 
 " Fatma ! Fatma ! " was all she said. Then a 
 little dry, hard cough shook her frail body from 
 head to foot. At that the countess spoke. " What- 
 ever we may decide amongst ourselves," she said, 
 " or rather whatever our dear fairy Fatma may 
 decide for us, there is still the doctor to be reckoned 
 with. Have you forgotten that ? " 
 
 " The doctor ! " two rebellious voices echoed 
 simultaneously. " What has he to do with England ? 
 What has he to do with us ? " 
 
 " You are very brave, both of you, in his absence. 
 Quand meme it will not stop that grave voice 
 sounding the death-knell to our little plan, if he 
 thinks Lois is not quite strong enough." 
 
 " Oh, but doctors sometimes know too much," 
 said Fatma gaily. " Why, look at her ! The very 
 
 159
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 thought of travel brings more health back to her 
 than whole shelves and seasons of medicine-bottles 
 are ever likely to do." 
 
 This occasioned a gentle word from the countess 
 to the effect that dosing had been a feature entirely 
 absent in the good physician's treatment of Lois for 
 her weakness. 
 
 Almost at the moment the much-maligned man 
 himself appeared in the ancient arched doorway at 
 the farther end of the room, explaining that the 
 elements, in the shape of crisp, dry air, impregnated 
 with sunshine, being unusually propitious, he pro- 
 posed to take Lois a drive in his gig to a spot that 
 he had to visit some two or three miles up the coast 
 under the shelter of the cliffs. While Fatma went 
 to help Lois dress for the expedition, the countess 
 turned to the doctor : " Come and sit do's\Ti for a 
 minute, won't you ? " she said. " Do you see any 
 change in her to-day ? Would travelling, would 
 a journey to England hurt her, do you think ? " 
 
 A look of bewilderment flashed across the doctor's 
 face. For the moment he was not thinking of his 
 little patient upstairs. 
 
 " Lois! " he said hastily. "England! I'm afraid 
 not. A damp air, never. Switzerland now, or the 
 Pyrenees " 
 
 The mother's eyes looked up sorro\\rfully. "Eng- 
 land might do her heart good," she said anxiously : 
 " the other places are out of the question." 
 
 " And England " smiled the doctor. 
 
 1 60
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " It is Fatma, you see. She has to visit her 
 estates, and see her lawyers there. She promised 
 Lord Eric. She proposes to go at once, and, dear 
 child, that Lois and I go with her. She disdains to 
 talk of the expenses. But you know her." 
 
 The doctor gave a tiny sigh, eloquent perhaps of 
 knowledge more intimate than peace-giving. 
 
 " I think it will kill Lois if she may not go," the 
 mother added slowly ; " for a minute just now, when 
 Fatma was talking, she was my bonnie child of old 
 once more. You who know everything, you know 
 what that means, what it means to me." 
 
 The blessedness of the friendship of faithful years 
 was between these two, who, none the less, rarely 
 spoke to one another of sorrows, who from long 
 intercourse together looked on life with something 
 of the same broad, kindly, unexacting views. 
 Now, when the mother's anguished heart spoke 
 straight to his, the doctor fearfully, tenderly 
 answered her in similar wise : 
 
 " What shall I say to you ? " he asked, " for death 
 is the arch enemy against which the medicine man 
 must wage incessant war. He and death are never 
 easy or at rest. Day by day they do battle, gaining 
 or losing ground alternately, fighting sometimes inch 
 by inch every step of the way. Even when he sees 
 that death is the first friend, the best consoler, the 
 truest lover that a man or a woman may have, yet 
 must the doctor drag his patient from the shelter 
 of that good haven with every resource and art at 
 M i6i
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 his command. How much more then in the case 
 of a fair young maiden, for whom Hfe should hold 
 the best of all there is ? Do you think we will give 
 death a loophole, a cranny or a corner, to slip through 
 there ? " 
 
 The countess held out her hand. " There is no 
 one like you," she said, " so strong and good." 
 
 " There is no one like me, you mean," he an- 
 swered her, " so hard and so ungodly " ; but he 
 pressed her hand warmly. 
 
 She was not to be turned away from her point 
 though, " But I have heard you say," she smiled 
 up at him, " that the sick are often whole again if 
 they but get their hearts' desires." 
 
 " And now," said he, " my arguments recoil on 
 my own. head relentlessly. Such is indeed the 
 flowery way of life." 
 
 A much-muffled-up figure stood in the entrance 
 door and precluded further comment. 
 
 "Take the greatest care of her," cried Fatma, 
 with glad, dramatic emphasis, "for she is labelled 
 
 ' ENGLAND.' " 
 
 162
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 ON the crest of a hill beyond the chateau an 
 unpretentious but commodious sanatorium 
 was by way of nearing its completion. In the mean- 
 time the bungalow of him who had been chiefly 
 known as M. the exile, having been thoroughly 
 fumigated and prepared, was being utilized as a 
 temporary home for little children convalescent 
 from the dread fever of the marshes and other sick- 
 nesses. Two trained nurses, happy in and devoted 
 to their work, were employed there under a matron. 
 Down in the village itself a small hostelry had been 
 converted into a building containing an accident 
 ward and an isolated fever ward. Simple enough 
 the appointments were. Yet cases of costly instru- 
 ments dealing with intricate surgical work — a 
 Rontgen or X-ray apparatus, every up-to-date 
 facility procurable in fact for the better despatch 
 and guidance of the healing art — were there. 
 
 The young Lady Eric Lorimer-Harben, the 
 village star, the Rose of Cherchel, the Palm, the 
 Pearl of that fair paradise, as she was called in turn 
 by its adoring people, she it was who chose to 
 spend her wealth to these merciful purposes, these 
 
 163
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 ends of providing light in darkness, comfort in 
 destitution and adversity. 
 
 She would own to no motives of philanthropy in 
 doing so, and the name of charity was one abhorrent 
 in her ears. It had been her wish beyond every- 
 thing to remain unknown in her gifts, but this in 
 a small place like Cherchel was a wish impossible 
 of fulfilment, and one moreover that the doctor him- 
 self would in no way countenance, or, as he bluntly 
 declared, have the least regard or respect for. 
 
 " It was," he said, " as important for people to 
 know their benefactors as their enemies." 
 
 " But I am no benefactor," poor Fatma would 
 protest in vain ; "it is not my money, not a coin 
 of it — it is Lord Eric's." 
 
 " You cannot expect the people to bother their 
 heads over subtleties of that sort," he would retort 
 in his graceless way. Whereupon the Lady Eric 
 would retire in high dudgeon from the man and the 
 argument alike. 
 
 In quiet or solitary hours she would ponder on 
 the frequent sharpness and the shortness of the 
 doctor's manner towards her. He, who in ways 
 untold, unknown, in the houses of the poor and 
 ailing was as an angel of patience, gentleness, self- 
 sacrifice, and even mirth, he would look at her with 
 straight, smileless eyes, suggestive to her over- 
 sensitive soul of wordless accusations of offences 
 all undreamt of, which provoked in her moments 
 of passionate resentment, of still more passionate 
 
 164
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 regret, or — and let no one think the less of her when 
 it is said — of a rare and quite involuntary amuse- 
 ment. Surely, she thought, she had cleared herself 
 from the stigma in his eyes of having married a 
 dying man that she might spend his wealth on 
 diamonds, entertainments, fine raiment, and similar 
 tawdry pleasures for herself. For none of these 
 things, but well to the contrary, had she done. 
 Almost it would seem that the proud spirit of the 
 man chafed under a sense of benefits conferred, 
 which his skill or the strength of his own right hand 
 had done nothing to earn for him. As this last 
 aspect of the matter dawned upon her she pressed 
 her little knuckles into her bright, hot cheeks and 
 sat for a long time still and very thoughtful. 
 
 One afternoon, just before the dusk fell, they met 
 suddenly face to face on one of the high breeze-swept 
 cliffs above the chateau, and an exchange of some 
 of the trifles and amenities of ordinary well-bred 
 conversation was inevitable. This done with — 
 and between these two the artificialities of life were 
 never of much account — Fatma held out her hand 
 logo. 
 
 " And now," she laughed nervously, " we had 
 better say au revoir, had we not, for if we talk longer 
 we are almost sure to quarrel." 
 
 The doctor disregarded the little outstretched 
 hand as, on occasion, when it suited him to do so, 
 he had done before. 
 
 " Yes," he said musingly ; " do you think we 
 165
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 might nevertheless venture on another couple of 
 minutes without a serious disturbance of the peace ? " 
 
 " Is it anything very pressing or particular ? " 
 
 " It is nothing at all. It was only for the sake 
 of the experiment." 
 
 There was an almost imperceptible toss of a curly 
 head. " Rather risky." 
 
 " Most experiments worth making are. And since 
 when, may I know, have you hesitated before taking 
 a step because of any risk involved ? " 
 
 At that the Lady Eric's eyes flashed dangerously, 
 
 " Pray be careful," she said, " for I foresee a 
 quarrel already looming near." 
 
 " To which end, however, it takes two, they say," 
 
 " I have never knowTi you before to be behind- 
 hand in entering on your share." 
 
 " A strangely pacific mood must be over me just 
 now, I fancy." 
 
 " Oh, then you should do every tiling in your 
 power to keep it over you. Are you not afraid that 
 staying here with me will try it beyond its strength?" 
 
 " I am a little bit afraid, but I wdll stay." 
 
 " Such bravery ! " 
 
 " Yes. Why is it, do you think, that between 
 yourself and me there must be war always, or at 
 best an armed truce ? " 
 
 A pair of dark eyes grew darker as they looked 
 towards the faintly breathing sea. " Can you 
 answer your own question ? For indeed it is what 
 I myself am very fain to know." 
 
 i66
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 He did not answer her, and for a tiny golden space 
 there was silence between them, a silence as fair as 
 that of starry dawns when the dew-besprinkled 
 earth lies hushed and waiting for the benediction of 
 the coming day. 
 
 But that was a luxury too divine to stay. They 
 had not toiled, those two, sufficiently up the steeps 
 of love's fine lessons to be able to sink into the life- 
 enriching, life-giving rest of those enchanted silences 
 which are for the elect alone. Neither dared but 
 speak the unwelcome, unnecessary thing. The strife 
 and senselessness of words began again. 
 
 " By the way," he said, as though he had not 
 heard her last remark, " before you go away you 
 ought to appoint a proper business man to super- 
 intend the accounts in connexion with your homes 
 and hospitals and other goodnesses here — a sort of 
 special agent for the purpose, I mean." 
 
 She looked both bored and wounded. 
 
 " Oh, how perfectly horrid you are ! " she said 
 wearily. 
 
 " My dear child ! " he stammered, lapsing into 
 the phraseology of other times. 
 
 " When you know so well that I want as little 
 said or thought about these things as is absolutely 
 possible ! When you know that I leave everything 
 unreservedly in your hands ! " 
 
 " Exactly. There are twenty thousand francs 
 lying, well, practically to my credit in the bank. 
 How do you know that I may not shake the village 
 
 167
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 dust from off my feet and clear to some continental 
 fairyland with the whole stuff ? " 
 
 At last she had her chance. " I wish to heaven 
 you would," she said wickedly. 
 
 He stared very hard at her. " You are pleased 
 to suggest that it would be a cheap way of getting 
 rid of me," said he. 
 
 She shrugged her delicate shoulders ever so 
 slightly. 
 
 " That might be too ; but at the moment I was 
 thinking how supremely good it would be to have 
 something to forgive you, you who sit in such high 
 and scathing judgment over the ways of the weaker 
 brethren." 
 
 " Tenez ! Are you speaking for the weaker 
 brethren as one of them yourself ? " 
 
 " Mais bien, oui ! Of whom I am chief." 
 
 " I see. Unless I had your word for it I should 
 hardly have thought so. Will you walk up the hill 
 with me to the children's Home ? Since you gave 
 little Jean-Marie that rag doll he talks of you night 
 and day. Sweet to him are the uses of the weaker 
 brotherhood." 
 
 A bright look swept over her mobile face. At 
 heart she was still herself a child. 
 
 " Dear little fellow ! And to think that he never 
 had a toy all his very o\\ti before ! " 
 
 " Yet you would have me believe that you are 
 sorry I do not abscond with the sustenance for Jean- 
 Marie and all his kind ? " 
 
 i68
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 "I don't know that it would matter so much. 
 You wouldn't take his doll, would you ? " 
 
 " There is a time when you should not be frivolous. 
 And it isn't the least use parading your heedless, 
 don't-care sort of views before me, I who know how 
 generously your heart beats to the people, their 
 wants and griefs." 
 
 " Pardon me ! you know nothing whatever about 
 my heart. And as for the people and their troubles, 
 why, if an earthquake swallowed them all up to- 
 morrow I, Fatma, I would not be able to find one 
 little tear to shed for one of them. Will you walk 
 down the hill with me ? " 
 
 " You talk a vast deal of nonsense. Still I have 
 known worse habits. When you are a star of the 
 first magnitude in the social firmaments of London 
 and Paris, will you talk pretty nonsense still, and 
 will faint echoes of it travel to us here, I wonder ? " 
 
 " Talking nonsense must be an infectious com- 
 plaint." 
 
 " Only that I am immune from complaints of 
 that description. Are you looking forward to the 
 brilliant life that lies ahead ? " 
 
 " Oh, you — ! Have I not heard you say that as 
 things are mostly ordered one snould look forward 
 to nothing, nothing ? " 
 
 " Still, when one has youth, beauty, wealth, on 
 one's side, one might reasonably relax the severity 
 of one's philosophy a trifle." 
 
 " It sounds like a sentence out of a book and worth 
 169
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 remembering — ' One might with philosophy relax 
 the severity of one's reasoning ' — no, I cannot 
 manage it." 
 
 " I do nothing but ask you questions, and not to 
 one of them have you given me a direct or a serious 
 answer. I have the deepest appreciation of non- 
 sense talk, but I like it diluted. Taken alone in 
 too great quantities it is like living on, say, truffles 
 or cherry brandy, excellent things both, but not to be 
 overdone, or used to take the place of honest bread." 
 
 " Diluted truffles ! " mused Fatma, looking out 
 with solemn eyes towards the sea. " It sounds 
 rather an awesome dish. I fear it is beyond me. 
 But I will talk like honest bread as far as I am able 
 to. Are you coming do\Mi the hill ? " 
 
 " Not until I have first been up. But do not 
 mind. In the life to come you will be surrounded 
 by men who will fly hither and thither at your 
 smallest word." 
 
 " You speak so often now it seems to me as if 
 m}' life to come was to be spent far away from this 
 my home." 
 
 " And so surely it is ? " 
 
 " Oh, not the least bit in the world. We do but 
 go a little journey to a nation of the North — to find 
 out maybe if the men are really aU such courtiers 
 there as you have just declared they are ; and 
 then we come again, full of tales to tell you, happy to 
 have been away if only for the joy of coming home 
 again." 
 
 170
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Do you think that really ? Myself, I see 
 another picture. I see you growing in grace and 
 favour amongst the people of that land you speak 
 of. Their adulation and fair words hold you fast. 
 Gradually in the crowd of new interests, scenes and 
 faces, the memory of the old life here grows less and 
 less distinct. Presently it fades to a mere mist, or 
 as the fairy tales of childhood are to grown men and 
 women. You will be a great lady then. You will 
 have buried Cherchel. You will have put away your 
 childish things." 
 
 She was too proud, too sore at heart, to answer 
 the challenge in his words. Instead she said play- 
 fully, gathering up her forces : 
 
 " And you, I suppose, will be the ogre, the dragon, 
 the Bluebeard of those fairy tales, looming down 
 with a terror never wholly dead through the long 
 vista of the years." 
 
 " It is but a poor part to allot to an old friend. 
 Still, if there were no ogres or villains the heroes, 
 good fairies, and lovely princesses would have small 
 reason and a not very inspiriting field for the work- 
 ing of their charms and virtues and offices of loving- 
 kindness." 
 
 " I see. We hardly think enough then of our 
 villains and our ogres. Well, dear dragon, when 
 I come back I will try to bear with you with a more 
 angelic patience still, and in the meantime in my 
 thoughts it shall never go unkindly with you, never 
 for a moment." 
 
 131
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " My profoundest thanks. But you will not come 
 back." 
 
 " What makes you a prophet of such ill-omen ? 
 —tell me." 
 
 " On the contrary ; if you do not come back I 
 shall know that it goes well with you. As far as 
 I can see it is only ill that should bring you back." 
 
 " Then pray for me that ill may come and 
 speedily." 
 
 " You talk of what you do not know," he said, 
 with a rising irritation and impatience ; " there in 
 the land where your treasure is, there your heart will 
 also surely be. And where your heart is, why not 
 also too your home ? " 
 
 " And where my home is, why not I, and so on ? 
 You will excuse me for saying that though your 
 knowledge of doses and diseases may be, indeed is, 
 both accurate and extensive, your knowledge of 
 hearts and homes and treasures is neither the one 
 nor the other." 
 
 The doctor's eyes grew solemn. " You are right," 
 he answered stiffly a moment later. " I have 
 wandered from my province. When I talk of those 
 things that you have named, I am, after all, as an 
 exile in a strange land, stammering away in a tongue 
 I know not." 
 
 Thus with unconscious skill of diplomacy he dis- 
 armed liis foe. 
 
 Her heart quickened, and a wave of tenderness, 
 with an undercurrent of pity, swept over it, fore- 
 
 172
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 taste perhaps of the latent mother-love that might 
 one day be there enthroned in pride and power un- 
 conquerable, 
 
 " Ah ! " she said softly ; " perhaps when I come 
 home again I shall find that you are taking lessons 
 in that unknown tongue, and growing quite a clever 
 and delighted learner. But look, how dark it grows ! 
 I must run quickly down. Good-bye." 
 
 " Stay ! If I walk back with you, will you 
 promise not to run away ? " 
 
 " I have changed my mind. I do not want you 
 to come back with me. Yes, if you come, I feel 
 sure that I shall run away." 
 
 " I wonder if it is worth while my coming, on the 
 chance that after all you may not escape me so." 
 
 " Ah, that you must decide for yourself." 
 
 " I am old and somewhat stiff." 
 
 " You look it. You look both ! " 
 
 " Not given, moreover, to the chasing of the 
 elusive in either woman, beast, or fortune." 
 
 " Which means that you think the game is hardly 
 worth the candle." 
 
 " Rather that the candle, flickering low in the 
 socket, is not worthy the fine brilliant game at which 
 it would be called upon to assist." 
 
 " Are you the candle, and am I the game ? " 
 
 "That was the sort of idea, I suppose, was it not ? " 
 
 " And the game must go and play all alone by 
 itself, then ? The candle will not light it down 
 the dark ways ? " 
 
 173
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 She covered the seriousness of her words with a 
 cutting, dehberate flippancy of tone. When a 
 woman's words are one thing, and rather a pretty 
 thing, and the tone in which she says them is quite 
 another, a mere man should not be harshly judged 
 if he cannot well distinguish between the two, or if, 
 as in the doctor's case it was, it is the tone and not 
 the notes that make or mar for him the music. 
 
 " Don't speak in parables," he bade her. " Have 
 you changed your mind yet again ? Do you want 
 me to turn back with you ? " 
 
 " Do — I — want — you ? " she echoed mockingly, 
 with a ring of the most delicate scorn in her slow, 
 questioning voice. 
 
 That was all. Then Fatma of the winged sandals 
 turned her straight and shapely back on the dragon 
 of her babyhood and childhood, and fled from him 
 once more like a rose leaf before the wind, a smile 
 before a sneer, frost before flame, a cloudlet before 
 high gales. 
 
 The doctor, watching from the hilltop, went on 
 to his work with a sigh of relief when he saw the 
 last flutter of a white frock between the heavy gates 
 of the domain of the Beaurepaires. 
 
 174
 
 CHArTER XX 
 
 THERE was unwonted stir and movement in 
 the ruined harbour of Cherchel, for the hour 
 had come when Fatma, the beautiful and the beloved, 
 was to embark on her journey northwards to the land 
 of "Monsieur the exile" — as the people called him 
 still — in company with her aunt and her cousin Lois. 
 
 Streamers floated from the masts of the little 
 fishing-smacks in port : the quay and the white- 
 faced, green-shuttered cottages round about it were 
 gay with bunting and mottoes of Godspeed. Among 
 these latter were the time-honoured ones, such as 
 A Bientot, Aurevoir mats pas Adieu, and so on, and 
 others of a less conventional ring, such as Ta Bon- 
 heur est la notre, De cceur et d'dme nous sommcs a 
 tot, Par beau temps et par vilain ne nous oubliez pas. 
 The village children, so greatly dear to Fatma, fore- 
 gathered on the palm-shadowed, ruin-circled square 
 outside the chateau gates, gave enthusiastic cheers 
 and sang, as the cabriolet halted, a song of home- 
 coming and of waiting love that reached all too 
 swiftly the hearts of those who listened ere they left. 
 
 Alone little Lois was not distressfully moved by 
 these tokens of goodwill. Her fair face seemed as 
 though transfigured by an ecstasy divine, which 
 had its ground and secret in something deeper, more 
 
 175
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 cherished far, than the happenings of the moment. 
 Excitement and a certain sadness told their tale 
 together on Fatma's mobile face ; she smiled de- 
 lightedly at the thronging clusters of the little ones, 
 and now and again looked for a moment with solemn 
 eyes beyond them through the shadows of the 
 magnolias and the giant palms. Tears rolled un- 
 ashamed down the cheeks of the countess, who 
 could never listen with indifference to the voices of 
 little children raised in chanting or in song. 
 
 On the quay the mayor, burgomaster, and one or 
 two other village dignitaries met the travellers, and 
 led them to the courtyard of the custom-house, 
 a beautifully kept enclosure of velvet sward, with 
 a border of shady trees and bright flowers. In the 
 open space a small impromptu banquet of fruits 
 and sweets and wines was spread, happy words and 
 speeches of farewell were spoken, and nosegays of 
 their favourite flowers were given to the ladies, one 
 of roses to the countess, violets to Fatma, lilies to 
 Lois. Accompanied by their hosts, and followed 
 by a gay-coloured, good-humoured crowd, they then 
 went down the jetty to the commodious steam- 
 launch, specially ordered for the purpose, which 
 there awaited them. Owing to the recent collapse 
 of a bridge the coach road between Cherchel and 
 Algiers was up, and they were therefore under the 
 necessity of making the first stage of the journey by 
 sea. 
 
 Once on deck, freed from the almost too eager 
 176
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 attentions of the buzzing crowd, and surrounded by 
 their particular friends alone, Fatma after a while 
 detached herself from the group, and stood at the 
 deck rail smiling at the children, throwing last 
 words at them, turning suddenly with a sense of 
 helplessness to watch the sobs of one of the little 
 ones who had been her own especial charge. 
 
 Once, twice, thrice, the shrill note of the horn 
 sounded the hour of departure. The countess and 
 Lois ran to Fatma. " The doctor ! " they cried 
 simultaneously. " The doctor ! why is he not here ? 
 He promised so assuredly. We cannot go, we can- 
 not go unless the doctor comes to say good-bye. 
 We shall have no luck whatever." 
 
 " The doctor ! Ah, yes, of course," And Fatma 
 lifted her eyebrows pathetically. "Well, perhaps 
 he wishes us to have no luck." 
 
 Again the horn sounded, and leave-takings began 
 in earnest. The mayor and the burgomaster, with 
 deep bows and wide smiles, protested anew the 
 assurance of their " sentiments distingues," their 
 " consideration affectueuse," their " salutations 
 cordiales," their " parfait devouement," and more 
 than one fatherly tear glistened in the eyes that 
 rested in farewell on those flowers of girlhood, 
 Fatma and Lois. 
 
 The horn sounded for the last time. Com- 
 munications began with much ringing of bells be- 
 tween the captain on the bridge and the engine- 
 room below. A horseman clattered at full speed 
 N 177
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 down the jetty, scattering to the right and to the left 
 the hordes of children and onlookers. 
 
 " II va galoper dans la mer ! " they shouted after 
 him, thinking that he could never pull up in time ; 
 but just at the jetty's end he reined in, wheeled his 
 steed round, and with the air of a man accustomed 
 to be heard, signed to have the gangway lowered 
 again, while at the same moment the skipper sig- 
 nalled STOP. 
 
 The doctor flushed as he stepped on deck, for of 
 all men he was the least used to have his outgoings 
 or his incomings marked with dramatic effect, and 
 on the present occasion there was more than a hint 
 of that superfluous and, to his stern mind, undesir- 
 able quality. 
 
 " I nearly missed you ! A cart accident and a 
 broken leg at Antan," he said, going up to the coun- 
 tess with hands outstretched. " What luck to 
 catch you after all ! " Then he said good-bye to her 
 wdth the unfeigned regret of one whose admiration 
 and regard have never changed or faltered through 
 the changing years. After which he turned to 
 Lois. " My little Lois ! " he said, " my httle girl, 
 may you come back ever so well very soon again. 
 Remember all I have told you. Remember about 
 the night air and late hours and close rooms. Write 
 to the old doctor now and then ; think only kindly 
 of him, that his bark was ever more dangerous than 
 his bite. And may the things of heart and body 
 both go well with you ! " 
 
 178
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Fatma stood at the deck rail still, a picture ol 
 wonderful fairness and allurement, in her travelling- 
 gown of dark serge, relieved in a style at once bold 
 and delicate, with bands of softest white leather, 
 the whole built in Paris by a master hand of world- 
 wide fame. And a little cap bordered with ermine 
 was set jauntily on her dusky curls. 
 
 She did not move a step to meet the doctor, but 
 she turned her glorious face to his with something 
 of indescribable charm, and mystery, and appeal 
 upon it. The doctor's soul rose high and glad within 
 him to meet that look, and there fell a great and 
 sudden peace between those two who had often 
 waged war within each other's borders, and who 
 now stood with mute lips and brave faces at the 
 parting of the ways. And thus, all unawares to 
 those who lingered near, an electric message of 
 momentous worth and meaning was flashed from 
 heart to heart. 
 
 " And you ! " he said, as he stood by her side. 
 " You ! It is Good-bye. Well then, your own 
 first wish I wish you in every time and place." 
 
 " My — own — first — wish," she echoed very softly, 
 with a light as it were of heavenly dawn breaking 
 slowly in waves of joy across her mobile face. " Ah ! 
 Best and worst of men, good-bye ! " 
 
 And Fatma, watching a few minutes later the 
 receding shore with misty eyes, saw that he had 
 lifted high on his shoulder the little child that she had 
 loved, and was comforting its grief as best he could. 
 
 179
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 SO it was that Fatma and Lois left the land of 
 their birth, and home, and love. And the 
 manner of their going was in a way typical of what 
 their lives till then had been — simple, merry, 
 picturesque, with enough of state and consequence 
 to ensure in them a polished bearing, and that in- 
 describable holding of the head which partakes of 
 neither vanity nor emptiness, but is perhaps rather 
 the expression of a most dainty sense of the fitness 
 of things. 
 
 Very sharp was the contrast of the pleasing cere- 
 monies, goodwill, and display that waited on their 
 departure to the forlornness of their arrival in that 
 great, grey capital of London. The chill breath of 
 a heavy fog hung like a miasmal steam, penetrating 
 every corner under the great roof of the terminus 
 where they alighted. Fatma, in her fresh young 
 joy beamed delightedly. It was just as she had 
 ever confidentially prophesied and expected : " Ce 
 pauvre pays, que voulez-vous done ? " 
 
 Lois, as usual, was lost in the romantic possi- 
 bilities of the occasion. These great railway stations 
 she had passed through en route, the like of which 
 she had never seen before, what worlds they told her 
 
 i8o
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 of the agony of partings, the rapture of meetings 
 manifold! Every flagstone of the long, dismal 
 platforms, could it but voice its tale, would have its 
 own poem, sonnet, motto, requiem, to utter forth. 
 As the countess and Fatma were wondering how 
 they best could shelter this dear dreamer from the 
 hostile atmosphere, a man of small stature and a 
 grave address, somewhat modified, however, by the 
 kindness which shone from a pair of keen blue eyes, 
 came to them, and after looking at each one indi- 
 vidually, with swift scrutiny, addressed himself at 
 last to Fatma : "I believe I have the honour ? " 
 he suggested, " The Lady Eric Lorimer-Harben, 
 is it not ? " And then, as Fatma bowed her assent, 
 " Allow me to introduce myself — Curtis, the family 
 lawyer. We have done a fair amount of rather dry 
 correspondence together. At least by your answers 
 I gather that you have been patient enough to 
 struggle through all those necessary but uninterest- 
 ing documents I had to send you. Allow me, in the 
 name of the firm, to welcome you cordially to 
 England." 
 
 They had already on paper conceived a certain 
 liking for one another. The man of business for 
 his distant unknown girl-client because in the broken 
 language of her pretty little answers to his com- 
 munications he had thought to see evidence of a 
 nature generous and fine and at peace with all the 
 world, and the girl-client for the man of business 
 who had seemed to see nothing extravagant or
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 unusual in her position, who addressed her as a 
 lady adorning her station, and never for a moment 
 as an interloper who had trespassed into the province 
 of an ancient aristocracy, and in so doing had 
 transgressed beyond forgiveness — a man of busi- 
 ness who, with kindly pen or kindly voice alike, 
 seemed born to smooth the ways before the feet of 
 women. 
 
 So that Fatma turned with smiles to her aunt and 
 cousin and introduced " Ce bon Monsieur Curtis, who 
 goes now us to lead to the light and the warm of the 
 good hotel, for in this air of blotting-paper, nous 
 etouffons, n'est ce pas, we stuff ! " 
 
 That afternoon, when Mr. Curtis left them happily 
 installed amidst the comforts and the luxuries of 
 Claridge's and returned to his sombre office in 
 Lincoln's Inn, his partner came in to hear what the 
 impressions of the morning had been. 
 
 " Altogether a unique and charming personage," 
 declared Mr. Curtis in his careful summing-up ; 
 " charming, because so unique, so particularly rare. 
 In manners, deportment, style, she will have nothing 
 to learn of the great fine people amongst whom she 
 may move. These, on the contrary, will do well 
 if in a few respects they imitate her, as, indeed, I 
 have no doubt they will. Those shoulders, the very 
 curl of her little fingers, the swing of her skirts or 
 something, her little tricks of attitude and gesture — 
 why, they positively speak and lend themselves to 
 imitation with far more force than does the last 
 
 182
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 new thing in hats or theatre wraps. But then 
 again she is incomparable, inimitable. 
 
 " My dear Curtis ! " 
 
 " Yes — brought up in a good school too. Mme. 
 la Comtesse de Beaurepaire, the aunt, you remember, 
 is a lady of what one would imagine is the best 
 French school. And then there is a frail, gentle 
 sort of girl that it seems almost a sacrilege to look 
 at. An air of saintliness and delicacy hangs like 
 a perfume about her — whichever way you turn you 
 can't get away from it. Moreover, I'm not sure 
 that you want to. Between her and her robuster 
 cousin there is one of the prettiest things in friend- 
 ships that you are likely to often see. It is perfectly 
 plain that each in all sincerity thinks the other a 
 gem that no setting could be too rare or brilliant 
 for. There you have my first impressions, or the 
 best part of them. Those who think that the late 
 Lord Eric married a half-caste native or something 
 of that sort, with no brains and less birth, will have 
 a sharp awakening wl^en they meet this delightful 
 girl, with her stately presence and her merry ways. 
 Ah ! we shall see what we shall see." 
 
 " My dear Curtis ! Of all men, you ! Your in- 
 dulging in the platitudes of another tongue reminds 
 me to ask you what sort of a language does she 
 speak, this honoured client of ours, this most re- 
 cherchee widow of yours ? " 
 
 " Widow ! God bless my soul, Dickson, what 
 a farce ! As you will say yourself when you see 
 
 183
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 her. Well, her language puzzled me not a little. 
 Sometimes for ten minutes together she will talk in 
 quite correct English, always of course with a broken 
 little accent which is like music — Hi ! what ! go 
 to the devil with you, Dickson ! — and then again 
 when the proper rendering fails her and she tries to 
 translate literally the result is bewildering in the 
 extreme " — and here the usually grave face of the 
 senior partner relaxed into a great content. 
 
 " As for instance ? " asked his junior, eyeing him 
 carefully. 
 
 " As for instance when she wished to begin her 
 lunch with an liors d'ceuvre, and after many attempts 
 to explain this to that anomaly at Claridge's, a 
 somewhat inexperienced waiter (my own efforts at 
 assistance in no wise improving matters), she turned 
 to him at last with a very thoughtful expression on 
 her face : ' Ah ! gar9on, I have it now. Bring me 
 then an out-of-work, an out-of-work.' " 
 
 " With all these charms the lady will assuredly not 
 long remain a — pardon me, but under the circum- 
 stances I don't quite know what else to say — a widow. ' ' 
 
 " That," returned Mr. Curtis a trifle stiffly, " will 
 be entirely as she pleases, for she will never be the 
 seeker but always the sought." 
 
 " I wonder, was that the order of things when 
 she married Lord Eric ? " 
 
 " You have not seen her, Dickson, or you would 
 not wonder such preposterous things. And at 
 least you knew the sort of man Lord Eric was." 
 
 184
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " You have me there. I feel very humble. I 
 think of absenting myself from duty to-morrow 
 afternoon and watching with the crowd at Hyde 
 Park Corner royalty and society in their smart 
 equipages roll by. Will she be there too, the Lady 
 Eric, do you think, second to none on all counts of 
 distinction, grace, and charm ? " 
 
 " Yes, go," said Mr. Curtis generously. " Go — 
 see — be conquered. Then come and tell me all 
 about it." 
 
 185
 
 PART II 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 WHATEVER the honours that were Fatma's 
 in her owti country — and they were not a 
 few — there is no doubt that she was beautifully 
 welcomed and entertained in that of her late self- 
 exiled husband. Royalty, which had kindly in- 
 terested itself in the romance and the unique 
 character of her position, bade her before her pre- 
 sentation to private interviews at Marlborough 
 House and Windsor, and was charmingly gracious 
 and encouraging, whereupon the host of minor lights 
 that move in that magic orbit who had more or less 
 stood aloof, or who had at least feared to take the 
 initiative with regard to her until society's verdict 
 should be known, besieged her with copious and 
 relentless attentions which she either prettily dis- 
 regarded or accepted with a like grace. Of those 
 who had received her kindly and made much of her 
 before the seal of the royal favour was attached to 
 her, she had a special list, and the names of it, being 
 few in number though good in kind, she knew by 
 heart. 
 
 One of these was the mother of a midshipman, a 
 1 86
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 glad and gallant boy to look upon, who was amongst 
 the first to go down before the witchery of the Lady 
 Eric's ways and glances. 
 
 " Oh, Teddy d'Estcourt, no more of these betises, 
 je vous en prie," she would laugh when the impas- 
 sioned youth pleaded for immediate marriage at a 
 registry office and flight into fairyland far from the 
 madding crowd ; " and as for your madding crowds, 
 je les adore." 
 
 And then and there she decided that though 
 Teddy d'Estcourt made a most fatiguing lover, he 
 might with care, and for that kind mother's sake, 
 be transmuted into quite a delightful — how was 
 it ? — " chum," bon camarade, en effet. 
 
 It was some time indeed and the result of long 
 patience before she could reduce his feelings to the 
 consistency of mere friendship, however warm and 
 loyal. As a last resource to this end she threw her- 
 self on his mercy. It was one night when they were 
 sitting out after a dance and he had been pressing 
 his suit with even more than customary fervour. 
 
 " Listen, Teddy, moi qui vous parle, I have every- 
 thing in the world I want but one thing, and that 
 thing, cher ami, you can never give me, never." 
 
 He looked hopelessly at her where she rested near 
 him under the shadow of the palms and ferns like 
 a pearl of price set in a wealth of emeralds, and he 
 saw a great hunger gather in her beautiful eyes and 
 knew then that he had looked for a moment into 
 that holy of holies, the innermost recess of a woman's 
 
 187
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 heart. He staggered back as though bhnded by 
 the glory of a light not meet for mortal eyes to gaze 
 on, then he rose up very straight and pale, and led 
 her back to the ballroom with an air of infinite 
 protection and breathless chivalry ; while about this 
 time, through some subtle agency or another, his 
 mother knew that her son was a boy no longer, but 
 a man with a man's more steadfast outlook, his 
 more admirable poise, his wiser speech. 
 
 Other lovers had the Lady Eric, lover^ manifold. 
 Remembering the lord English of the Crystal Star, 
 she was at first inclined to be satirical concerning 
 the gay flaneurs and faineants of society, but as 
 she knew them better she grew to think that the 
 well-born, well-turned-out Englishman, fulfilled of 
 quiet humour and savoir-faire, who has the sense to 
 keep his adoration of the particular woman of the 
 moment well under control, and the wit to invest 
 his attentions to her with that delicate reverence 
 so touchingly dear to the feminine heart — that, in 
 short, he takes a deal of beating. So they crowded 
 round her, men of letters, men of commerce and 
 finance, men of the services, men of mere rank and 
 leisure most perhaps of all. And while she heartily 
 enjoyed their pleasantness, their polish, their 
 worship too — often in solitude her eyes grew heavy 
 at thought of the bewildering irony of life. 
 
 During all this whirl of gaiety Lois was not for- 
 gotten, nor the love between Fatma and herself 
 lessened by the smallest fraction. And no one
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 rejoiced more enthusiastically over Fatma's social 
 triumphs than the fair and fragile cousin who could 
 not go to dances and entertainments herself by 
 reason of the little cough which hot crowded rooms 
 and late hours accentuated so sadly. But when 
 Fatma and the countess came home they would find 
 her lying quietly with bright, sleepless eyes to greet 
 them, and the questioning would be the same 
 always : 
 
 " Tell me, who was there ? " 
 
 " So-and-so and So-and-so and So-and-so." 
 
 " No one else ? " 
 
 " No one else that you have seen or heard of, 
 dear." 
 
 " I see." 
 
 And then the golden head would bury itself in 
 the pillows, and suffering presently be lost in sleep. 
 
 Every morning Fatma read or sat with her, and 
 on most afternoons they all three drove together 
 in the Park, a form of dissipation of which Lois 
 never tired. She would watch the brilliant throngs 
 and scan their faces with eyes that seemed to hold 
 for ever one mute, absorbing question. But the 
 question, whatever it was, even to her mother and 
 Fatma she never spoke. To Fatma the one sad 
 sobering note of that time of festival and feasting 
 was the mystery of the appeal of those beautiful 
 sorrowing eyes, the agony of nervousness and rest- 
 lessness that every now and then took possession 
 of that frail, sensitive body.
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " There is nothing on your mind, dear, nothing 
 that would be easier to bear if we talked it out 
 together ? " Fatma asked of her one morning, very 
 gently, reluctantly, as it seemed. And her arras 
 were around the little cousin's neck and her face 
 half hidden in the golden curls, 
 
 " Oh, nothing, nothing," said Lois, with almost 
 feverish haste. But she clung the closer in that 
 fast embrace and presently she said : 
 
 " Fatma, how strong and glorious you are ! 
 You could never be so drowned in love, Fatma, that 
 you lost your presence of mind, that you forgot for 
 a moment the difference between what is called 
 right and wrong, could you ? " 
 
 Fatma's face grew rosy where the gold shower hid 
 it. 
 
 " Could you, Lois ? " she said, with the tenderest 
 accent on the pronoun. 
 
 " Me ! " echoed Lois, with a nervous little laugh. 
 " There is no such love for me even to put the tips 
 of my toes in, to slack the tip of my tongue with, 
 how much less to drown in ! " 
 
 " But if, dear, the love comes from within, not 
 from without, how then ? " asked Fatma, who would 
 not be gainsaid. 
 
 " Ah, ca, je n'en sais rien ! " said Lois, shivering 
 as she spoke. And then the long-withheld tears 
 ran down, at first slowly, hardly, bitterly, at last 
 furiously, convulsively, despairingly. 
 
 " Oh, my dearest, it is that lord English of the 
 190
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 yacht, I know, I know it is ! He is not worth one 
 hair of your head, and you have let him break your 
 heart, your hfe, all, everything." 
 
 A passion of revenge swept over Fatma's mobile 
 face as a fiery meteor across the sweetness of the 
 sky. Lois, glancing through her tears, caught the 
 flash. With a wonderful control she stemmed the 
 turmoil of her grief and spoke, with a touch of scorn 
 that sat strangely on the gentleness and the pathos 
 of her face : 
 
 "That lord English! He! Whatever could 
 have put that into your head, Fatma ? I think no 
 more of him than he, I should imagine, does of me. 
 Oh, you are quite wrong, you must guess again." 
 
 And she laughed until a sharp fit of coughing 
 supervened, and the countess hastened in with a 
 cordial, while at the same time a footman came to 
 say that a court dressmaker waited below on the 
 pleasure of the Lady Eric. So Fatma, her pretty 
 brows puckered curiously, went out from before the 
 things of pity, love, and death, to discuss with one 
 of their most renowned interpreters those which in 
 the eyes of many are of an importance but little 
 less. 
 
 191
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THERE was no longer any doubt about it. In 
 the fine world of London Fatma woke up one 
 morning to find herself famous, to find herself the 
 fashion, to find that hers for a space were the empire, 
 power, and glory pertaining to the wide horizons, 
 the blissful reaches of that midway heaven. And, 
 at once so small and great, so trivial and so serious, 
 is human nature, that a little pair of sandals was the 
 spark perhaps which set that magical, that success 
 fou alight. 
 
 Just at this time, at the most brilliant drawing- 
 room of the year, she made her public bow to royalty, 
 and wore for this supreme occasion raiment so fine 
 and fair that it seemed as though earthly hands 
 could hardly have fashioned such a marvel of 
 apparel any more than mere words can properly 
 tell it forth. 
 
 Her dress, which was woven to her splendid 
 shape, was expressed in a shade of blue, so delicate 
 and fair that it might have been spun from the sky 
 of an English day in June, and the tissue of it was 
 just as ethereal, soft, alluring. With this she wore 
 in the empire manner an overdress of priceless filmy 
 lace of the faintest ivory tint, caught ever so slightly 
 
 192
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 on the breast with a great knot of turquoises and 
 diamonds. The voluminous sweeping train depend- 
 ing from the folds of a silver scarf was built of the 
 same sumptuous stuffs and fell around her in angelic 
 waves of curve and colour with a snowy diamond- 
 sewn foam of frills curling and peeping from the 
 edges. For the rest that peerless gown was so 
 bouillonne, chiffonne, diamante, and adorned with 
 all the touches that the master hand alone knows the 
 grace and the secret of, that the envy, admiration, 
 astonishment, that followed in its wake could be 
 plainly seen, almost heard. And then the last 
 resistless charm of all, the little sandals of Louis 
 Seize, satin- embroidered with gold crescents and 
 laced with fine gold chains ; the little sandals which, 
 worn over silken hose, took the beau-monde by storm 
 and became, as such things will, the dernier cri 
 amongst the fair elect of Paris, London, and Vienna. 
 The morning papers, especially the less pompous 
 and more entertaining ones, descanted at length 
 on the charming innovation and the grace and 
 fascination of its young originator. Nothing more 
 prettily submissive, more redolent of sincerest 
 homage than the Lady Eric's curtsy to the aged 
 monarch on her throne : nothing more captivating 
 than her bonhomie and delicious insouciance as 
 after her presentation she moved on through the 
 haughty, weary, distinguished throngs, nothing 
 such, said the more flowery-tongued of the journals, 
 had before been seen. And so it was that the next 
 o 193
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 day when Fatma awoke in the sweet freshness of 
 the late May morning to her chocolate, her letters, 
 her perfumed bath and her delicate raiment, fame, 
 of its kind, awaited her — not an exalted fame per- 
 haps, but nevertheless, not an ignoble one, for she 
 was as a beauteous picture, the contemplation of 
 which contributes in no inconsiderable degree to the 
 health and gaiety of the nation. 
 
 Whereupon to people who had never seen her, 
 people who never would, the thousands and thou- 
 sands of unkno\\Ti ones in serious Suburbia, to whom 
 it is as their daily bread to read of the doings of a 
 smart exclusive few — the little pagan name of Fatma, 
 which had a trick of clinging to its owner far more 
 closely than her noble title ever did, became, by 
 leaps and bounds, a household word. 
 
 First it was the Fatma sandals, the Fatma fichu, 
 the Fatma corset, the Fatma parasol ; then in the 
 restaurants it was cafe (of the purest Arabian blend) 
 a la Fatma, served according to taste with cream or 
 liqueur. An American millionaire changed (by 
 permission) the name of his first and finest racing 
 mare to Fatma ; the Fatma cigarette, introduced 
 by a famous firm, brought in a golden harvest to the 
 proprietors. Success itself succeeded better as it 
 seemed when the Uttle name of Fatma cast its magic 
 aroma on the enterprise ; and a newly married 
 young duchess had her reputation for wit established 
 for ever when she naively asked what all this Fatma 
 scandal — or was it sandal ? — v/as about, 
 
 194
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 At this time also appeared the first of those odes, 
 ballads, sonnets to " My Lady's Sandals,^' " Her 
 Sunhright Eyes,'''' " The Nectar of Her Smile,^' " The 
 Rose of Eden,'' which as the fast weeks flew were 
 penned in legions by amorous gallants, struggling 
 men of letters, hopeless and obscure admirers, fired 
 into passionate eloquence of expression by a glimpse 
 of that lovely vision on its way to Court, to Ranelagh, 
 to theatre, river-party, ballroom, to Lord's, to 
 Ascot, or to Cowes. For nothing of the social 
 round, nothing of the gay kaleidoscope of fashion's 
 programme, did the Lady Eric, for three bewilder- 
 ingly merry months, elect to miss, and tasted 
 to the full the sweets of triumph, of recognition 
 as a force, an influence, a star of first magnitude 
 amidst constellations of no mean splendour or 
 report. 
 
 With the changing times there was little change 
 in Fatma. The same beautiful behaviour and 
 radiant manners that had been hers by the lovely 
 desolation of the mosaic-strewn shores, the palm- 
 and lemon-groves, the thyme- and absinthe-grown 
 cliffs of her native home, were hers still in the palaces 
 of princes, at receptions where the flower of the 
 nation was met together chiefly to discuss and 
 criticize the words and style of one another, at all 
 the haunts, in short, where fashion must be daily 
 seen and commented on, or it would fret itself to 
 death, and be no longer fashion at all. The wonder 
 of it held her often still and spellbound, that she, the 
 
 195
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 erstwhile confidante and comrade of the village 
 children, the little stories of their joys and sorrows, 
 their gains and losses, their torn clothes or injured 
 limbs, at all times with her; that she, the per- 
 sistently snubbed and admonished of the village 
 doctor, should be now the centre of the choicest 
 circle, the eagerly sought after by politician, peer, 
 philanthropist, or prince alike, the wonder of it 
 made the slow tears come, or brought the merry 
 fires all dancing to her eyes, according to the 
 moment or the mood, but it made her neither 
 arrogant, self-conscious, nor for a moment aught 
 but dear. 
 
 At the same time for the most part she delighted 
 in the admiration that fell so lavishly to her share, 
 especially in that of it which was wordless, conveyed 
 in the homage of a glance across a crowded room, 
 or in some little service done as though to a queen 
 of queens. Had she not been born a woman she 
 would have been the man to lead a forlorn hope 
 against tremendous odds. The bright fields of 
 danger would have beckoned her onwards, never in 
 vain ; for the defenceless, weak, oppressed, she 
 would have spent her life like water. But being 
 woman of very woman, the delicate equivalent 
 of this glad courage alone was hers, and the ex- 
 pression of it necessarily much restrained by the 
 usages which control with such almighty force the 
 restive feminine world. More than this, her heroic 
 qualities never came uncomfortably or unduly to 
 
 196
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 the fore, by reason of a most merciful and saving 
 grace of worldliness which completely hid them from 
 before the eyes of all but a discerning few. 
 
 Whatever her agonies, Fatma could never wear 
 the nun's chaste robes, the veil, the hood, the sombre 
 draperies that tell their own poor tale of abnegation 
 and denial. The saint's great heart was hers, his 
 faithfulness so deep, his loyalty so rare, but she hid 
 them, hid them far away below her laces, her 
 diamonds, her muslins, or her furs, and wore with 
 much complacency her sinner's garb, thinking may- 
 be with her smile ineffable of how this latter raiment 
 allowed the play of taste and fancy so much longer 
 scope in the matter of texture, design, and general 
 allurement. 
 
 At the height of this brilliant time the question of 
 her remarriage was often discussed at clubs and 
 parties, privately and publicly, in the drawing- 
 room and the press. Her beauty, charm, youth, 
 and wealth, the potent way she had of drawing 
 hearts to herself, invoked at every breath the idea 
 of one who should be first to her of all, possessor, 
 protector, husband, friend of friends. She had been 
 a widow for some months, and her adorers were as 
 the sands of sea for number. In lineage and breed- 
 ing she was no whit behind the proudest of her 
 wooers, for in her veins the mingled blood of Arab 
 chieftains and the old nobility of France flowed 
 generously together. The splendid vivacity and 
 verve which she probably inherited from the latter 
 
 197
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 source were tempered by an adorable courtesy and 
 composure which may have been the product many 
 times refined of the languor, mystery, and elegance 
 which go far to make the wondrous magic of the 
 East. 
 
 She looked round on her lovers, many of them 
 brave men and true, and she wished sometimes, 
 with an air of comical distress, that she could love 
 just one or two of them a little in return. But it 
 was all in vain. The only man that life's love was 
 for — he was not there in the giddy jewelled throngs ; 
 moreover, he never would be, would never seek her 
 out to claim her as his own till death should part 
 them. He was far away, doing a man's work in a 
 man's world, and in the doing of it thinking not at 
 all, at all of her. Of that she was absolutely, 
 terribly, tearlessly sure. 
 
 Had she first flashed across his way in the glory 
 of her beauty and her woman's charm, in the splen- 
 dour of her brave attire, and the fine serenity of her 
 dauntless spirit, she might have conquered here as 
 elsewhere. Something of this thought at least was 
 often with her. But the merry years of childhood 
 had all been close to him, subject to his admonition, 
 his solid affection, his never-failing interest and care. 
 He had seen the childish bursts of passion, the 
 childish wilfulness and selfishness, had soothed the 
 childish sorrows, mended the childish toys, and 
 joined with a boy's dehght in the childish games. 
 And it was, oh, the penalty to be paid now in 
 
 198
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 womanhood's throbbing dawn for the famihar 
 dearness of those confiding, confident years ! The 
 larger troubles would never now be brought to his 
 wise understanding, his healing touch, he who had 
 soothed so weU the griefs of small account. 
 
 199
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 OF all Fatma's worshippers none perhaps was 
 more persistent and constant in his attentions 
 than Mr. Cecil Dickson, the junior partner of the firm 
 of Curtis, Curtis, and Dickson, who were the Lady 
 Eric's solicitors, advisers, and trustees. Hand- 
 some, clever, well-bom, the best of hon raconteurs, 
 an amateur actor of no small renown, in short, a 
 man of many parts, having the entree to some of 
 the first houses in London, he was warmly wel- 
 comed by all but mothers with marriageable 
 daughters of slender portions. He lived with his 
 widowed mother, the Lady Cecilia Dickson, and 
 had been since the close of his university career her 
 principal, if not her sole support, she having just at 
 that time lost her all through unwise investments, 
 culminating in a disastrous bank failure. The 
 misfortune of the mother had been the making of 
 the son, who instead of degenerating into a mere 
 drone of society, had been under the necessity of 
 grappling wdth fate and working hard late and early 
 in order to keep a measure of the former grace and 
 comfort round the person of the mother between 
 whom and himself such a close and deep affection was. 
 At the time of the crash in the mother's fortunes 
 200
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Mr. Curtis stepped in, and was as the incarnation of 
 providence to the poor lady during the stern but 
 not unhappy or unwholesome years that followed. 
 A certain taste for the law was inherent in Cecil 
 Dickson, and he cultivated it to such good end that 
 he worked his way up in Mr. Curtis' firm until he 
 was managing clerk, and was eventually taken into 
 partnership, and in receipt of a substantial income. 
 His many social ties, his friends in the athletic, 
 sporting, or fashionable world, brought many clients 
 to the ancient chambers in Lincoln's Inn, and Mr. 
 Curtis was wont to say laughingly that he never 
 grudged the occasional absences from duty which 
 social obligations entailed on his younger, more 
 brilliant, but none the less reliable partner. 
 
 There had been no occasion for Cecil Dickson to 
 wander with the loungers in Hyde Park for the first 
 glimpse of the client from overseas, whose fas- 
 cinations Mr. Curtis had sung with such unusual 
 and alarming fervour, for on the afternoon but one 
 following her arrival in England she drove up with the 
 countess to see " ce bon M. Curtis " on many matters 
 of business intent. At the moment of their coming 
 Mr. Curtis was engaged with another client, so that 
 it fell on the junior partner to receive the Lady Eric 
 and Mme. la Comtesse de Beaurepaire, which he 
 did in the courteous, grave, unsmiling way which 
 was a habit of his with strangers. At a glance his 
 practised eye took in the radiant, almost perfect 
 beauty of the younger woman, as well as the air of
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 distinction \\dthout which the beauty would have 
 lost half the subtlety of its charm. But his ex- 
 pression, at once polite and careless, said nothing 
 of this. If indeed it said anything at all, it was 
 perhaps rather more to this effect : "So you are 
 here ! Going to have a good time with the dead 
 man's money ? The dead husband, to be exact. 
 Ah, well ! " 
 
 For Cecil Dickson, when he had given the matter 
 his consideration at all, had not been able to rid his 
 mind of the idea that Fatma smacked of the ad- 
 venturess, that by marrying Lord Eric in the hour 
 almost of his death, she had entered the sacred 
 precincts of the British aristocracy, not by the great 
 portals and the massive entrance-hall of that vener- 
 able pile, but by some mean approach, unworthy 
 quite of the momentous day and thing. Fatma, 
 with her swift and marvellous intuition, knew at 
 once that criticism, rather than admiration, was 
 being levelled at her, and her spirit rose up hotly 
 within her to meet the onslaught of the opposing 
 judgment. For a quarter of an hour the battle of 
 the two bright, quick minds went on under cover of 
 the ordinary platitudes of polite conversation, and 
 at the end of that time they were both undeclared 
 foes still, but each with a surpassing measure of 
 respect for the prowess of the other. They spoke 
 in French together, Dickson being a perfect hnguist. 
 Both were grateful to the countess for her graceful 
 interpositions, which were as music on that un- 
 
 202
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 declared battlefield; and the man's eyes, which 
 were grave and challenging when they rested ever 
 so lightly now and again on Fatma lingered with a 
 kindly, warm surprise on the gentle personality of 
 the elder woman. When Mr. Curtis came in, 
 benevolence and goodwill written largely on his 
 countenance, Fatma melted at once into the most 
 genial and delightful of ladies; there were, oh, so 
 many things to ask about and know, so much advice 
 to seek and profit by, and the only man, quite the 
 only man who could help them at all, was Mr. 
 Curtis. Mr. Curtis beamed all over. He would do 
 anything that was possible for them, anything they 
 could mention or suggest, but after all, the man of 
 the world, who in all matters social and fashionable, 
 and the intricacies thereof, could help them most, he 
 thought, with a wave of the hand towards the in- 
 dividual in question, was his friend and partner, 
 Mr. Cecil Dickson. Fatma thanked him with her 
 heavenly smile, but if it was all the same, they 
 would trouble no one but himself, for indeed they 
 felt as much at home with him already as if they 
 had known him all their lives. Then, generously, 
 to brush away the least suspicion of gene or awk- 
 wardness, she turned the radiance of her face full 
 and sweet upon the man who had presumed to sit 
 in silent judgment on her. But Mr. Dickson spoke 
 such admirable, such pretty French, said she, that 
 it was quite possible that they would have to appeal 
 to him sometimes too. 
 
 203
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE same evening, as they sat at dinner to- 
 gether in the pleasantly appointed dining- 
 room of their flat in Montagu Square, Cecil Dickson 
 spoke to his mother : 
 
 " I want you to call on Lady Eric Lorimer- 
 Harben as soon as possible. Could you manage it 
 some afternoon this week ? She is staying at 
 Claridge's for the present." 
 
 Lady Cecilia looked up from her salmon cutlet 
 with a sharp surprise, and an unusual pucker of her 
 still delicately traced brows. 
 
 " My dear boy ! Whom do you mean ? Not 
 that impossible girl from Algeria that you were 
 telling me about, who entrapped poor Lord Eric into 
 marrying her at the last ? A sort of half Arab 
 dancing-girl probably, didn't you say ? " 
 
 A hard flush gathered slowly under the bronze 
 of Dickson's face. He helped himself to a glass of 
 Chablis before he spoke again. 
 
 " If I really did, mother, you will think when you 
 see her what an ill-informed, in short, what a beastly 
 idiot I have been." 
 
 " Oh, then it's not quite as bad as you feared." 
 
 " She is marvellous. She is indescribable. Be- 
 204
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 fore a month is out, properly launched, her name will 
 be on half the lips of London." 
 
 " And a most undesirable consummation, I 
 should say." 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. Properly launched, I said. 
 That's where I want you to come in." 
 
 " What about Lord Eric's people ? If she is to be 
 taken up at all, surely they are the ones to do it, dear." 
 
 " Don't you remember, he has no people worth 
 mentioning. Of course there's his cousin, who 
 came into the entailed property quite lately, but 
 being in America with his wife he's out of the ques- 
 tion. And you know well the sort of heartless mon- 
 daine Lady William is, even if she were available. 
 So we come back to you again, dear Lady Cecilia." 
 
 And the upshot of it was that Lady Cecilia went, 
 she who would have gone to the uttermost ends of 
 London, or of the earth, at her son's behest. Went 
 indeed with some misgivings, which vanished into 
 thin air before she had been five seconds in Fatma's 
 presence, and had heard her saying : 
 
 " It is then the mother of the friend of good Mon- 
 sieur Curtis. How kind to come ! And do you speak 
 the French too, dear madame, all perfect as your son?" 
 
 Dear madame did not, but the understanding 
 between them was in no wise marred on that 
 account ; instead it slowly grew and deepened in a 
 friendliness, delight, and faithfulness which were 
 the perfection of intercourse. 
 
 When Cecil Dickson and Fatma met again a few 
 205
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 days later at dinner at the house of the former it was 
 
 as though the host, by every attention, courtesy, 
 and happy thought in his power strove to atone for 
 the hostiHty of feehng which had lain hidden under 
 the varnish of his manner on the occasion of their 
 first meeting. And yet Fatma could never for a 
 moment have the feeling that she had conquered 
 him, as she had so many others. It was he, on the 
 contrary, who had conquered himself. In a not 
 very well defined way she knew this, and she soon 
 began to put him on a different plane in her mind 
 from the other men she met in English society. It 
 became an exquisite thing to her to have his homage, 
 respect, and chivalrous attention, because at the 
 outset these things had been most miserably want- 
 ing. Almost unconsciously she grew to turn to 
 him for understanding, sympathy, and guidance, 
 alike in the brilliance and the difficulties of her 
 wonderful new life. Her anxiety about Lois, the 
 merry simplicity of their pleasant Algerian life, a 
 hundred tiny thoughts or cares that nestled under 
 the magnificence of the shining present, everything, 
 perhaps, except the life secret, on which her lips 
 were always closed, was known and listened to by 
 him as verses of a lyric weU beloved. 
 
 When invitations poured en masse upon her, he it 
 was, or his mother through him, who selected those 
 which were desirable and to be preferred to those 
 which were otherwise and to be declined. 
 
 Although in private he was constantly at her 
 206
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 right hand, in public he was rarely, if ever, at her 
 side. When she remarried, as he had no doubt 
 she soon would, and into the top of the world of 
 wealth and fashion too, he did not choose to be seen 
 beating his retreat with the army of the others, 
 rejected and forlorn. Herself, she often wondered 
 at the aloofness, the sternness with which, in spite 
 of his constant kindnesses, she felt that he at times re- 
 garded her. Her creed, if creed she had, was that you 
 must take care to get the best of everything into your 
 life ; that you may dance and sing, aye, and flirt 
 too, just a little, if that is likely to open up new 
 avenues of delight or triumph, or the charms of un- 
 known countries to you ; but that all this time deep 
 down in your heart it is best and happiest when, 
 safely hidden there, is the abiding, steadfast, loyal 
 Love for One. Treading as she did, however, with 
 dainty footsteps across the road of life, picking out 
 the soft and flowery places where she could, she 
 would have welcomed occasional tender little 
 passages of arms with the handsome man of law, 
 as she called him, who anticipated her every ap- 
 parent wish or need in such faithful, unobtrusive 
 style. But he would have none of it. One day, 
 when she had given him a bunch of violets, she 
 found them on the table still, long after he had gone. 
 She could not be sure that they were accidentally 
 there, and she thought, and thought, and thought. 
 And so the march of things progressed towards the 
 grim, inevitable end. 
 
 207
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 ON the club lawn of the R.Y.S. at Cowes, on a 
 brilliant afternoon of early August, the smart- 
 est men and women of England were discussing 
 their plans of travel and amusement for the summer 
 weeks that still remained. 
 
 Fatma, a flower of exquisite colour and pro- 
 portion among that garden of fair women, in her 
 rose-crowTied hat, her trim suit of marvellously 
 cut white serge, her chains of pearls and diamonds, 
 with peeps, when she moved, of little sandals of soft 
 white kid, had been talking \\dth the prince, who 
 had hoped that Marienbad would see her later on. 
 Fatma thought that he did her too much honour 
 altogether, but her plans were made to visit the late 
 Lord Eric's property in Perthshire, of which she was 
 now the owner, chatelaine, and most neglectful of 
 absentees. Such a giddy, rapid life of late ; it was 
 time she moved amongst poor people again once, 
 W'here other things than everlasting merry-making 
 did prevail. 
 
 The most hard-worked gentleman in Europe 
 contemplated her seriously. 
 
 " Can you not believe," said he, " that the rich 
 have far more need of you than have the happy, 
 simple poor ? " 
 
 208
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Ah, sir," she laughed, " it must have been of 
 myself and of my own needs that I was thinking." 
 
 " Have we then wearied you ? " 
 
 " You have all been too delightful for words to 
 say. But greater virtues are needed to bear good 
 fortune than bad, and I, I am not equal to them." 
 
 For a moment the prince looked perplexed. Then 
 said he with a certain amusement : " You are doing 
 yourself a grave injustice. Believe me, indeed you 
 are. If all feminine beauty were set in so many 
 sparkling virtues as yours, there would be nothing 
 left to hope for : heaven would be already with us 
 here." 
 
 " Oh, dear prince, you can say these pretty 
 things to me, and I can only bow and thank you 
 very kindly. But I shall not say them back again, 
 because I remember me of a saying we learned 
 among many others in our lesson days at home, 
 ' To praise princes for virtues they do not possess is 
 to insult them with impunity.' Ah, quelle chance ! 
 That even when the prince is here before me the 
 praise- words may not come ! " 
 
 " Because the virtues are not there ? I shall 
 think of that little saying again. Lady Eric. No 
 one has ever told me of it before. But after all, 
 virtues are hardly the saitce piquante of life, are 
 they ? " 
 
 She made no direct answer. Instead she said : 
 " What unpleasant stuff sauce piquante would be to 
 live with every day ! " 
 
 p 209
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " I hope I haven't often made people in my 
 entourage feel small," returned the prince slowly, 
 thoughtfully ; " for indeed it is a remarkably un- 
 welcome sensation." 
 
 Fatma turned to him quickly with one of her 
 loveliest, most brilliant smiles. Remorse and ad- 
 miration were cunningly blended in her clear, soft 
 tones as she answered : " Ah, dear prince, you, you 
 are so truly great that you could never, by any 
 chance, make any one near you feel Uttle." 
 
 So, the exhortations of princes notwithstanding, 
 " qiiand mejne," as Fatma would have said in her 
 owTi incomparable tongue, it was to Perthshire that 
 they journeyed when the hot and languid days at 
 Cowes were done. They left the island with a party 
 on the d'Estcourts' yacht, and soon after they had 
 started for the mainland a strange thing happened, 
 unregarded save by one, or at most by two, of those 
 on board. 
 
 Suddenly Lois, who for the moment happened to 
 be somewhat apart from the others, and who was 
 lying back almost lost, as Fatma had said, in the 
 folds of a dainty, voluminous dust-cloak, started 
 from her deck chair, while a nervous hectic flush 
 shot quickly over her neck and face. " O God ! " 
 she said, " O Gcd ! " then thanked Him that no one 
 was near to heed the anguish of the stifled cry. For 
 with its gallant curves and its proud movements, 
 she would have known it among a thousand others, 
 she was sure — the Crystal Star, on the bright and 
 
 2IO
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 dancing waters near the open roadstead, apparently 
 at anchor, swinging slowly with the tide. They 
 steamed quickly on, almost within hail of her, and 
 when they were abreast, aft on her white deck two 
 ladies could be clearly seen sitting down, with a 
 gentleman in attendance standing near. Lois knew 
 the man too, would have known him had she been 
 blind. He was looking steadily through binocular 
 glasses at their yacht, as it seemed. Lois felt that 
 she herself must come within the sweep of that 
 steady stare, and she put up her little hand to hide 
 her burning, swimming eyes — or was it, perhaps, to 
 hold it out in a mute entreaty as they passed on ? 
 But the ships did not speak each other : the man 
 across the shining waves gave no start or sign or 
 hint of recognition. He merely turned round to the 
 ladies by him with apparently some pleasantry or 
 another on his lips, for the sound of their laughter 
 was borne across the water to Lois in her agony. 
 
 She did not lose consciousness, but it was some 
 little time before she was fully alive to what was 
 going on around her. She vaguely heard some one 
 saying to Fatma : " Oh, yes, Somerfeild ! He's 
 been fiording in Norway. Fiording and flirting." 
 
 Then her mother came and sat by her without 
 a word, and Fatma ministered to her most gaily and 
 most sweetly through the rest of the long day, and 
 all the short warm night, as their train dashed from 
 end to end of England between its fields and flower- 
 gardens, its sovereign store of homely sweetnesses,
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 the village greens, the churches, the flocks and folds, 
 the orchards and the pastures, bright with pleasant- 
 ness and peace ; climbing through the stern Cheviots 
 down into another wonderful fair land where the 
 haymaking was scarcely over, and the harvesting 
 not yet begun, where the curlews sang shrilly in the 
 silver dawn, and the watercourses were glad with 
 purling songs innumerable. 
 
 Lois, w^ho loved the things of nature with a 
 peculiar, passionate love, was up and dressed betimes, 
 drinking in every detail with a breathless wonder, 
 a rapt absorption. Every now and then her lips 
 would move ; indeed, it would almost seem as though 
 she was humming some refrain to herself. Fatma, 
 who was standing at the window by her side, 
 watched unobserved for a time the dainty, tremu- 
 lous lips wiiich closed and opened like the petals of 
 a flower some little wind has brushed in passing. 
 Stooping suddenly for a glove which she had dropped, 
 she caught at last the murmur, full of imprisoned 
 hopelessness and pain : " For the last time, the 
 last time . . . the last time ! " 
 
 A great chill seized hold of Fatma's heart. She 
 would have given anything to have held her peace, 
 but for very fear she cried out : 
 
 " What are you saying, Lois ? What did you 
 say ? " 
 
 " I ? " said Lois, startled rudely from the privacy 
 of her grief : " did I say anything ? I must have 
 been dreaming aloud, I think." 
 
 212
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 And her very attitude was informed with such 
 pathetic desire to let the matter rest that Fatma 
 had no courage to pursue it further, but was per- 
 suaded instead to talk of lambs or mountains, the 
 scarlet of the rowan berries, the pale green of the 
 larches, the glowing furniture of hill and wood and 
 dale, and all the many wonders of the rich and rapid 
 way. 
 
 An hour or two later they were driving through 
 the " policies " pertaining to Lorimer Lodge. At 
 the outer gates a little crowd of villagers and tenants 
 had assembled, curious to see this lady of their late 
 much-loved, much-absent lord. Perhaps they had 
 expected to see one clad in widow's garb, with clouds 
 of mourning trailing in her wake, for they stared in 
 turn at each one of the three occupants of the 
 carriage, and could not make up their minds in the 
 least as to which her ladyship was. Fatma, how- 
 ever, who had insisted on her aunt and Lois occupy- 
 ing the principal seat, was sitting with her back to 
 the horses, and was dismissed from their attention, 
 whereupon they decided that it must be the gracious- 
 looking lady to whose face kindliness and thought- 
 fulness gave such a peculiar charm. But the cheer 
 they gave her was not a very hearty one, for lo ! her 
 bonnet was of blue, and the fascinating little w.ap 
 she wore around her shoulders was also blue, re- 
 vealing, moreover, a travelling suit of linen, cool 
 and neat and trim, but also, alas! defiantly, de- 
 liberately blue ! Before the cheers had quite sub- 
 
 213
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 sided, not the dear lady in blue, but Fatma, rose in 
 her place and smiled on them for a second without 
 speaking. In truth she was terribly nervous before 
 these stern, staring faces, this handful of the sons 
 and women of toil, who judged grimly, and would, 
 she was sure, speak their verdict fearlessly. 
 
 " Dear people," she said, " you are very kind to 
 welcome us home. For we are strangers entirely 
 to you. But with you it is another thing. Lord 
 Eric was speaking to me of some of you only the 
 day before he died. Is Betty MacDonald among 
 you here to-day, I wonder ? No ? In bed ? Ah, 
 thank you. Well, tell her, will you, that I have a 
 special message for her from his lordship, which I 
 was only to deliver in person, and that I shall 
 come to see her probably within a few hours ? Good- 
 bye for the present. It is so good to be once more at 
 home." 
 
 For very wonder before this radiant young beauty, 
 who spoke so sweetly despite the nervous tremor 
 of her pretty broken accents, the people all were 
 dumb. They forgot to count it to her for un- 
 righteousness that her dress was of simplest white, 
 and the silken scarf about her bodice a flame of 
 scarlet ; they remembered only the dazzling fair- 
 ness of her face, the tender darkness of her eyes, the 
 glory of her hair, the melting languor of her smile ; 
 the attributes and self-possession of the great lady, 
 together with the fragrance, the wild freshness, of 
 a child. Strangely enough, none of the well-known 
 
 214
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 photographs of her which abounded in London had 
 found their way to the fastnesses of her Scottish 
 home. All unheralded, the fascination of her 
 presence stormed the approach to these dour but 
 not unkindly hearts, and when she had passed on 
 not a man or a woman among them but envied 
 sorely poor bedridden Betty Macdonald for what the 
 day had still in store for her. 
 
 " Eh, mon," said one veteran to another, as the 
 carriage disappeared from view, " but the laird 
 kenned weel what he was aboot when he took yon 
 bonnie lassie for his bride. Ah, mon, it's richt weel 
 to be a laird ! " 
 
 215
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 FOR the next few days they took long drives 
 far and deep into the countryside around, 
 becoming dehghtedly acquainted with its features, 
 colouring, the splendour of its heather hills, the 
 marvel of its glens and forest glades ; but, above all, 
 with its abounding and abiding peace. 
 
 " Where are the soldiers ? " asked Lois one day, 
 giving voice to the more or less conscious thoughts 
 of her companions. " Where have all the soldiers 
 gone ? " 
 
 In truth, born and bred as they were in a country 
 won by the sword, and kept most rigorously by the 
 same, where the everlasting dominance of things 
 military and martial lay heavily upon the island, 
 where the bugles calling the reveille, the marching 
 to and fro of troops from barracks, were things as 
 familiar as the striking of a clock or the passing of 
 a ship, it was a matter almost too deep for their 
 understanding at first, this of the order, security, 
 goodwill, and general peace which everywhere, 
 without soldiers, proclamations, or sentinels, pre- 
 vailed. They drew deep breaths, as it were, of the 
 liberty with which the very atmosphere seemed 
 charged. Up and down this wondrous land you 
 
 216
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 could travel all one day and all the next, and you 
 would not see a fort. No marauding, hostile bands 
 were lodged in the fastnesses of the stern mountain 
 sides. No spies were paid to mix among the people, 
 and report their doings and their sayings to those in 
 high ofhcial places. It was glorious, brave, full of 
 health, cheer, and wisdom. 
 
 Lorimer Lodge itself was a beautiful old house, 
 of which modern furniture, appliances, additions, 
 had made at once a stately and a delightful home. 
 The gardens were dreamy, fragrant places, and the 
 gabled house itself full of nooks, corners, angles, 
 cunningly hung with old stuffs, filled with flowers, 
 carvings, pictures, or in a multitude of ways inviting 
 to repose, thought, happy leisure, and all the other 
 shades of being which are as the delicate setting 
 from which the joy and grace of life shine out 
 resplendent ever. 
 
 The first few days there were full of an inde- 
 scribable gentleness to Fatma. The impression 
 that she had at first was that she was walking every- 
 where on holy ground. She was glad when the 
 force of this impression abated somewhat, allowing 
 her to sing the old songs with something of the old 
 spirit up and down the wide galleries, in and out 
 of the rich, sombre rooms, where the giant pines and 
 oaks without never let the sunshine within have 
 its full riotous play. When she wandered into one 
 room from another she turned the handle softly, 
 with a shiver of apprehension, almost expecting to 
 
 217
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 see Lord Eric seated at one of the tables writing, 
 or book in hand. His spirit somehow seemed to 
 be over the whole place. At first, under the sense 
 of it, she was inclined to be restive, but by degrees 
 a beautiful friendliness began to emanate from it 
 to her. In his death she was nearer to him than in 
 life she had ever been. She found herself asking 
 what his wishes would have been on every slightest 
 point and scrupulously carrying them out, just as she 
 imagined would please him best. She was convinced 
 that he knew she was there and that in his lonely 
 spirit life the knowledge pleased him well. She re- 
 membered the former gracious words in which he had 
 pictured her as coming to this home of his, sowing 
 light and love and kindness in her way, and she 
 took unremitting pains to be all that his dying 
 fancy had painted her. 
 
 But she was not long to be left undisturbed in 
 the peaceful thinking and carrying out with the 
 comtesse of her fragrant deeds of charity ; watching 
 with Lois, grown so strangely dear, the brilliancy 
 and the delicacy, the haunting charm of this 
 northern nature ; communing with the gentle dead 
 who had loved her so and laid such wonderful 
 gifts at her feet in never - questioning faith and 
 confidence. Her fame was too wide, her popularity 
 too assured, her friends and lovers too persistent, 
 for that. 
 
 In the early days of their visit, when they drove 
 out it was the custom of their coachman to point 
 
 218
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 out to them various great houses in the neighbour- 
 hood and to mention the names of their owners. 
 
 Properties were so vast, domains so spacious, 
 that a house a day, as Fatma said, was as much as 
 they usually cared to manage. One gorgeous 
 evening, after a time of overpowering heat, they 
 elected to drive out in the cool. They left it to the 
 coachman whither they should go — only somewhere 
 dark and green and lonely, said Fatma. Perhaps 
 they might see a ghost flitting about the strange 
 little burying grounds which would soon be flooded 
 with the silver glory of the moonlight. So they 
 went by the forest-skirted road up to a little hillside 
 loch, then down again through bushy groves to a 
 glen of weird, mysterious beauty, where the way was 
 narrow indeed. At the foot of it they came to a pair 
 of great gates of curiously wrought iron, while within, 
 at the end of an avenue of alternate pines and 
 larches, was a glimpse of a low, ivy-grown bungalow, 
 with wide verandahs and terraced lawns. Lights 
 burned in the windows and a sound of music was 
 borne down on the faint night breeze. 
 
 " That, your ladyship," said the coachman, 
 pointing ahead with his whip, " is the shooting box 
 of the Earl of Somerfeild. His lordship only bought 
 it last year. He was to come down yesterday, it 
 was said." 
 
 For what seemed an hour, but was probably less 
 than a minute, there was an intense silence. The 
 other two, keeping steadfastly from looking at Lois> 
 
 219
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 did not see the red flames mounting to her cheeks. 
 They only knew that long hours afterwards they 
 burned there still, and that the wordless restless- 
 ness, that had been somewhat stilled of late, lay once 
 more unconquerably upon her. 
 
 Then slowly Fatma gave the word to turn home- 
 wards, and her voice was charged with a world of 
 tender, strange reluctance and regret. Thus the 
 first faint mark was set on the sweet, eventless pass- 
 ing of the days. 
 
 220
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 A DJOINING the policies of Lorimer Lodge on 
 jLJl its north-west side were those of the Duke 
 of Westhaven, whose castle lay about five miles 
 distant as the crow flies from the former place of 
 residence. The duchess was out of the common 
 delighted to have the brilliant young Lady Eric so 
 near at hand, knowing well that, could she only secure 
 her frequent presence at dinners and entertain- 
 ments the success and eclat of her autumn house- 
 parties would be surpassed by none in the land. 
 She went so far as to picture herself sending out 
 original laconic telegrams of invitation to her 
 intimates, after the fashion of famous generals and 
 their dispatches : — 
 
 Can you come October lo to 14 ? Shooting. The- 
 atricals. Fatma. 
 
 But when this stroke of genius was in a weak 
 moment submitted to the duke he was particularly 
 stern and emphatic in his disapproval, relentlessly 
 nipping in the bud this effort of his fair consort to 
 be ultra-modern at the expense of perfect taste. 
 
 Before she had left her town house for the north 
 it had been represented to the duchess that a certain 
 very deserving charity, whose funds were in the 
 poor way common to most affairs of the kind, might 
 
 221
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 be enormously benefited by an amateur theatrical 
 performance organized on a grand scale. The 
 London season was already too far through to allow 
 of the idea taking effect about the time of its sug- 
 gestion, so the duchess decided to inaugurate her 
 Higliland stay and at the same time as a somewhat 
 minor reflection to help the charity in question by 
 a brilliant programme of festivities. For the first 
 evening a ball was planned, for the next a garden 
 fete, and for the third the theatricals, including a 
 comedy, in the cast for which were some of the 
 fairest and the smartest favourites of society, and 
 a sparkling duologue in French between the Lady 
 Eric Lorimer-Harben and an attache of the French 
 Embassy. Between the comedy and the duologue 
 the Lady Eric, after much pressure, had consented 
 to dance an Algerian solo dance, accompanied with 
 native songs. 
 
 The sale of tickets for this choice programme was 
 unprecedented. From Deeside, where the Court 
 was in residence, from the far western isles, from 
 London in the south to Sutherland and Caithness 
 in the distant north, the applications flowed in fast 
 and merrily, at last despairingly, entreatingly. All 
 the big houses in the neighbourhood had large parties 
 for the event, and accommodation in the village was 
 simply unattainable, even at the ruling of the most 
 extortionate prices. The duchess moved about in 
 a state of blissful excitement and exaltation, feeling 
 that she was in a measure about to revive in their 
 
 222
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 modern equivalent the glories of the tournament 
 days of old. Alone at Lorimer Lodge the old order 
 of peace and privacy which had there prevailed for 
 years remained unbroken. To Fatma it had seemed 
 as though Lord Eric's gentle spirit, if indeed it 
 roamed as she felt so sure it did through the quiet 
 grandeur of the rooms, might be vaguely troubled 
 by the strange gay laughter of heedless, unremember- 
 ing throngs, the passing of careless feet down the 
 shadowy, flower-trimmed garden ways, the touch of 
 careless fingers on the much-loved books and treasures. 
 
 " There is such a little we can do for the dead, 
 Aunt Gabrielle, isn't there ? " she said one evening 
 at this particular time. 
 
 " So little, dear, that what we can we faithfully 
 must," the comtesse had replied, with the smile 
 which made her adorable amongst women, the 
 smile which held allegiance, sympathy, and tender 
 comprehension all in one, like blossoms in a nosegay 
 of surpassing sweetness. 
 
 Thus, at the risk of seeming inhospitable indeed, 
 Fatma summoned no smart gathering together under 
 the roof-tree of her dead lord during the famous West- 
 haven week, as for long afterwards it was known 
 in the annals of the countryside. At Lorimer 
 Lodge Lady Cecilia Dickson was the only guest, 
 while her son, as one of the first amateur actors of 
 the day, and a stage manager of no mean repute, was 
 quartered at Westhaven Castle, where his energy 
 and ability found full scope for their display. 
 
 223
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Fatma, who had not met Cecil Dickson for some 
 weeks, was looking forward with a certain amount 
 of pleasurable and perhaps pardonable excitement 
 to seeing him again. He was the only man of those 
 she had met in England who recalled to her was it 
 never so remotely that man of silence and of stern- 
 ness overseas. He touched certain chords of re- 
 sponsiveness or admiration in her, that otherwise 
 lay peacefully asleep. At his coming the day held 
 a finer light, the horizon grew wider, the air more 
 charged with tonic. So much without any morbid 
 self-analysis she knew, and knew it gladly. 
 
 In due course the hour came for her to drive over 
 to the castle, where she was to be the guest of the 
 duke and duchess for the three chief days of the 
 festivities. It was arranged that the comtesse and 
 Lady Cecilia Dickson should come over on the last 
 evening for the theatricals. With the ball and the 
 garden fete such mature matrons could well afford 
 to dispense, they said. Besides, it would be leaving 
 Lois, who never attended evening entertainments, 
 too long alone. 
 
 Lois was standing under the verandah a little 
 apart from the others when Fatma was making her 
 adieus. It was the first time that the girls had 
 been parted for so long a space as three days. 
 That or another thought caused Lois to tremble 
 violently as Fatma's strong young arms lovingly 
 encircled her. 
 
 " Fatma ! " she whispered, with a curious strange 
 224
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 entreaty in her voice, then stopped as one who would 
 say what she cannot. 
 
 " Dear ! what is it ? " asked Fatma just as softly. 
 "Oh, Lois, I know; are you thinking that I may 
 perhaps meet — him ? " 
 
 With that Lois made as though to still a storm of 
 bitter longing. " Oh, no, not that, not him," she 
 stammered ; " you have forgotten that I have 
 forgotten. Only be quick and come back, Fatma. 
 Be very quick, for I shall want you." 
 
 The others were coming towards them, so with a 
 last reassuring whisper Fatma left her cousin and 
 was driven off rapidly through the perfumed silence 
 of the forest ways. It was not often that she was 
 alone, and she keenly felt the charm, the luxury, of 
 her solitude, the delicious interval of peace, green 
 shades, brown waters, delicate demesnes of tiny 
 forest flowers innumerable, before entering once 
 more amongst the clamour of society, the blare of 
 the world, the diamonds, smiles, bonhomie, and 
 embroidered lies necessary for the proper equipment 
 of the hosts of fashion. Her pliant mind responded, 
 even if half unconsciously, to each separate beauty 
 of the way, but her thoughts were rather with that 
 which was behind than with the festive glories that 
 awaited her ahead. In each innocent flower face, 
 in the amber flash of running waters, in the starry 
 mosses and the mystery of the shades, she saw the 
 haunting misery of Lois' eyes, erstwhile so full of 
 trust and gladness. Once, in her own Algeria, wan- 
 Q 225
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 dering through an Arab pleasaunce, she had come 
 upon a beautiful wild bird of radiant plumage 
 caught trapped, in some sinister device fashioned 
 by cruel hands, whose owner was devoid of the 
 sporting instinct, could never have known how to 
 play a fair game. One wing was bruised, and its 
 tender feet were terribly mutilated in the effort to 
 wrench itself from the vice which held it fast. 
 Fatma would always carry with her the memory of 
 its look of despairing agony ere she set it free, when 
 it soared in the air for one mad moment and fell 
 dead at her feet the next. With a sharp catch at 
 her heart she knew what had set her thinking of that 
 bird of long ago on this sun-smitten evening of the 
 present, when she was going forth to gorgeous 
 scenes of revelry and feasting. It was that in Lois' 
 eyes, that brave maiden being momentarily off her 
 guard, she had caught at parting a glimpse of the 
 same tortured spirit, the same look as of one at bay, 
 baffled, distraught, torn with helplessness and terror. 
 
 As she drove through the grand old gateway with 
 the flinted towers on either hand, and up the famous 
 avenue of alternate yews and pines, her face was as 
 grave as the gloom of the splendid way. Suddenly 
 they came out into the dying sunlight, which lit the 
 western windows of the granite pile with a glory 
 of golden flames most fair and wonderful to see. 
 
 " Go slowly, Perkins," commanded Fatma, who 
 felt that she could have watched the sight untiringly 
 for ever. And Perkins, who would fain have driven 
 
 226
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 his young mistress up to the appointed end with 
 the style and dash befitting her briUiancy and the 
 occasion, somewhat regretfully obeyed. 
 
 Most of the house-party had gone within to dress 
 for dinner, but in the great quadrangle a few men 
 still lingered. At the top of the flight of wide granite 
 steps that led to the entrance-hall, Lord Somerfeild 
 and Cecil Dickson were standing in conversation 
 together. As Fatma stepped from her carriage 
 Dickson sprang forward to greet her, and their eyes 
 met in a charming smile of intimacy which possibly 
 meant : " If we are friends it is best of all ; but if 
 we are foes we know that each is worthy of the 
 other's steel." A moment later the duke himself 
 came to her with words and manner of courtly, 
 cordial welcome. Just within the great entrance- 
 hall stood Lord Somerfeild, going through what 
 he designated to himself the most " beastly trying " 
 moment of his life. Fatma glanced at him, and for 
 an instant's space she hesitated. Then, remember- 
 ing what was due to her host, she inclined her head 
 in response to his murmur of salutation. 
 
 " But we do not meet as strangers. Lady Eric ? " he 
 asked, taking heart anew from her cold graciousness. 
 
 The duke had passed on and for the time being 
 they were out of earshot of any one. Fatma fixed 
 him with her bright, inscrutable smile, and disdain 
 gathered slowly in her merry eyes. 
 
 " Pardon me, but we shall always meet as stran- 
 gers," she said, as she gently moved away. 
 
 227
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A FEW hours later Fatma was strolling from 
 the ballroom into the silver moonlight of the 
 scented gardens on the arm of Cecil Dickson. 
 
 For a long time they wandered on without a word. 
 At last Dickson found a seat made in the recess of 
 a massive laurel hedge. He put Fatma there, stood 
 looking at her critically for a minute, then turned 
 his head sharply away. 
 
 " What luxury ! " he said, as he moved beside 
 her ; " what heavenly luxury ! " 
 
 " Yes," returned Fatma simply, " it is. Talk 
 to me in French, will you ? " 
 
 He was in no hurry to talk in anything. Eventually 
 he remarked : " These shadows, the moonlight, they 
 must have been made for you, they become you so." 
 
 " Oh, not that sort of thing ! If you only knew 
 how tired I got in London." 
 
 " Pardon me, pray. For the moment I was 
 forgetting what language was given us for. At the 
 same time I warn you that whatever I really want 
 to say, that same I shall say." 
 
 " Oh, but I think not. In fact, I am sure not." 
 Her voice was slow and sweet, but a fine audacity 
 sparkled in her hidden eyes. 
 
 228
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Are you ? I should very much hke to hear all 
 you know about it," 
 
 On the instant her courage waned. 
 
 " Lois is not well, I am in trouble about her.". 
 
 " Lois ? " 
 
 " My cousin, you know." 
 
 "Ah, yes. Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire. I am 
 sorry. I hope it is nothing serious. She was not the 
 subject under discussion, if you remember." 
 
 " But she is now. If you had seen her eyes as I 
 saw them a few hours ago, as I have been seeing 
 them now and again all the evening, you would feel 
 that it was serious enough." 
 
 " Indeed. How glad I am my mother is with you. 
 She is the best nurse in the world. And now do you 
 think we could manage to get back to our sheep ? " 
 
 " One minute. It is not nursing in the ordinary 
 sense of the word that she wants. I have very little 
 to go on, but I fancy her life is bound up heart and 
 soul in a man to whom she is less than the air he 
 breathes or the ground he trods on, and that it, well, 
 that it is killing her." 
 
 " My dear Lady Eric ! " 
 
 " What makes me think of it so especially here 
 to-night, I suppose, and to talk of it, when I ought, 
 of course, to be talking the usual ballroom plati- 
 tudes, is that by a strange coincidence the man 
 happens to be a guest of the Westhavens at the 
 present moment." 
 
 There was something in the directness and in- 
 229
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 tensity with which she spoke that caused Cecil 
 Dickson to think hard. He could call no one to his 
 mind wl oni he had seen in more than the most 
 momentary or passing attendance on Lois, who 
 besides for the most part never went farther than 
 the cloisters of her home. As a matter of fact, he 
 himself, he had shown her pictures, taken her in to 
 dinner on one occasion, had, he fancied, drunk tea 
 with her alone, and had rather enjoyed the gentle 
 fragrance of her presence. Ah ! Good God ! 
 
 " I — is it possible — you're not — you don't mean," 
 he began, and then stopped from sheer awkwardness 
 and pain. 
 
 For something less than a moment Fatma was 
 at a dead loss, then her divination came in a light- 
 ning flash to the rescue. Ah, mon Dieu, mon Dieu ! 
 These men, these men ! 
 
 In a twinkling anything of sorrow that may have 
 been in her reflections vanished. Laughter took 
 possession of her wholly from her diamond-crowned 
 head to her little silk-stockinged, sandal-shod feet. 
 Tears of mirth filled her eyes, and the clear ripples 
 of her laughter floated off like joy-songs into the 
 stillness of the night. Under the screen of the 
 silvered laurels she lay back convulsed with a merri- 
 ment which only the freezing silence, the evident 
 mental discomfort, of the man at her side, availed at 
 last to suppress. The old score was paid off in 
 truth, with something to spare. 
 
 " Dites done, cher ami, mais c'etait si drole," she 
 230
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 said, lifting her dark eyes, swimming now with a 
 pretty penitence, to the stare of his wrathful ones. 
 
 " It seems to me," said he, unable quite to laugh 
 the situation off, " that I have been led into a trap." 
 
 " There you are as entirely wrong — as you were 
 before," she retorted, sinking her voice to a comical 
 little whisper ; " and if it had been a question of traps 
 at all, pray, what of your scouting, your miserably 
 faulty scouting ? " 
 
 A smile gained slowly over the man's flushed, 
 disconcerted face. 
 
 " I can't measure steel with you at all. Lady 
 Eric ! Don't be too hard on me. If you only 
 knew the miserable idiot I have been feeling ! " 
 
 " It seems to me, cher ami, that we are in danger 
 of treating a most trivial thing seriously. That 
 would be too ridiculous." 
 
 " I shall be obliged if you will not call me ' cher 
 ami ' again. It is a form of speech I loathe." 
 
 " Dear me," said Fatma in the English tongue, 
 with an intonation inimitably droll ; " are you 
 trying to be rude ? If so, you are succeeding 
 admirably." 
 
 As she spoke she looked towards the stars. There 
 was an expression of infinite serenity and goodness 
 on her face, in spite of the amusement of her eyes, 
 the coquettish little tremor of her voice. The soft 
 wind had blown a tiny curl on to the nape of her 
 slender neck. Her dress of rose-pink silk brocade 
 was gathered about her in entrancing folds which 
 
 231
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 swept the emerald turf. She was a sight to stir the 
 blood, to quicken the pulses of the most inveterate 
 misogynist that breathed. Cecil Dickson, of ordi- 
 nary flesh and blood, of cleaner heart and mind than 
 many of his kind, watched her, and a passion of love 
 stormed within him. He knew that here was the 
 woman to win, to wear, to serve, to worship, or to 
 die for, if in these prosaic days the necessity for 
 any extreme arose. Other men had known the same 
 things with regard to the same woman, he grudgingly 
 supposed, but none the less the fact remained, the 
 flower was as yet unculled, unworn, and as long as 
 that was so, he knew that the courage of a high hope 
 would not desert him utterly. 
 
 He was not the man to deny to himself that he 
 was anything but thankful for her wealth. He 
 could have wished perhaps that there had been less 
 of it, and had there been none at all he would have 
 worshipped her just the same, but in this last event 
 he knew very well that he never could hope to marry 
 her, that her brilliancy and charm demanded a fine 
 and glorious setting as far removed from the possi- 
 bilities of his own income as the east is from the 
 west. He would have liked then and there on that 
 tempting evening in that moonlit garden to burn 
 his boats behind him, put his courage to the test, 
 and ask of her the supreme, the eternal thing ; but 
 that maddening little mistake just now having put 
 her unmistakably out of touch with the solemnities 
 of life, vehemently precluded any such idea. You 
 
 232
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 cannot ask the lady of your dreams to be indis- 
 solubly yours, especially if you have reason to ex- 
 pect any diffidence on her part, when a mosquito has 
 just stung the tip of your nose. 
 
 Strains of music reached them, floating from the 
 distant ballroom. 
 
 " Listen ! It is a waltz. And I believe I am 
 engaged to the duke. Will you take me in ? 
 Those — those little sheep, they won't be quite lost, 
 do you think ? We shall find them another day ? " 
 
 " Should you mind if it happened that we never 
 found them again at all ? " 
 
 " I never like to lose anything, not even my 
 temper." 
 
 " Should you mind, I repeat, if we never found 
 them again ? " 
 
 " I should be much distressed. Mais tenez, I 
 have forgotten what they were, what they stood for.'^ 
 
 " So I thought. You gave me a direct challenge 
 to dare to say aloud to you the thing it was in my 
 mind to say." 
 
 They were walking up the terraced gardens 
 towards the castle, and at this Fatma somewhat 
 hastened her little footsteps over the springy turf. 
 
 " There is no hurry," said Dickson deliberately. 
 " But as assuredly as I shall not say it now, just as 
 assuredly, sooner or later, I shall say it." 
 
 " Oh, but you make me very curious, very," 
 laughed Fatma, gaily, bravely enough ; only in her 
 voice a suspicious trembling was. 
 
 233
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 So alluring, so delicately gay, was the charm that 
 emanated from her person that the man beside her 
 fought hard for due control of speech and manner 
 both. Impassioned words were locked within him, 
 and the banalities of conversation mocked him with 
 their impotence. 
 
 At the bottom of the marble stairway, in view of 
 the gorgeously illumined palace, he swung round 
 and faced her : 
 
 " I will not, I cannot keep you in a long suspense," 
 he said, with something of irony, of bitterness in his 
 voice. The fine peace of her face maddened him. 
 
 A sudden access of fear swept over her : 
 
 " Please do, please do," she entreated ; " it is 
 nearly always so much pleasanter to wonder than 
 to know." 
 
 Exultant that he could rouse her : " Tell me, 
 then," he asked, " was it true ? Are you really 
 curious ? " 
 
 She stamped her foot impatiently. " Whatever 
 sort of a memory you may have," she said, " I, at 
 least, remember why language was given us," then, 
 brushing lightly past him, she skimmed, like a bird 
 of paradise, the marble flight. At the top she 
 turned round to him relentingly : " How strong 
 you are ! " she cried softly. " I think it must be 
 your eyes, or is it perhaps your voice ? Now, I 
 didn't want a bit to face you again. But I simply 
 had to." 
 
 His masterful eyes held her fast indeed. 
 234
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " I am glad," he smiled, and made her look straight 
 at him ; " to-morrow I will tell you, to-morrow or 
 the next day, if it pleases you so to wait and wonder." 
 
 The light and coquetry died on her radiant face. 
 
 " Oh, no. Not if you knew that the answer must 
 be, Never, never, never ! " she murmured, with 
 downcast eyes, and held her breath. Surely in the 
 history of woman none had ever put herself more 
 completely at a man's mercy than had she in that 
 little moment under the arched porch. Now was 
 Cecil Dickson's turn of turns. But he lifted his 
 eyebrows in no amused surprise : there was no 
 assumed question in his look which should have 
 humiliated her to the very earth : not for a moment 
 did she feel other than a lady should ever feel : in 
 no least way was he less than a man should be. 
 
 " I think I see Westhaven disappearing over 
 there," he said in a slow, monotonous voice which 
 told nothing ; "if you will excuse me for a minute 
 I will go for him." 
 
 As he left her Lord Somerfeild came wandering 
 from the billiard-saloon across the hall. He saw 
 Fatma standing alone by the great hearth, with the 
 armour of bygone centuries shining peacefully above 
 her. He swallowed down a certain misgiving, and 
 went boldly towards her. He knew of no woman 
 who looked as she looked. 
 
 " Can you not spare me one dance — for the sake 
 of Cherchel ? " he asked her humbly. 
 
 Fatma at the moment had been thinking of Cher- 
 235
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 chel. Across the splendour of the present had 
 flashed a vision of the ruined harbour, the mosaic- 
 strewn ways, the broken statues and discoloured 
 marbles of the rich and pleasant gardens, the 
 shadowy alleys of palm, olive, and magnolia leading 
 to the fragrant hills which dipped down in their 
 turn to the marshlands on the desert edge, where 
 fever, ague, malaria, and other hidden dangers 
 lurked. But these things were only the frame to 
 the lonely figure that moved continually in and out 
 of their midst, taking healing with it wheresoe'er 
 it went, capable, too, of administering the lash of 
 severity, of scorn without compunction, when it 
 deemed the occasion necessary or meet. 
 
 " For the sake of Cherchel ! " He had her at a 
 disadvantage. She was a little bewildered, a httle 
 sorrowful ; her high courage for an instant flagged. 
 But she recovered quickly. 
 
 " Ah, monsieur ! C'est bien malheureux," she 
 said; "but I never dance except with friends." 
 And then she turned with the grace and smile of her 
 order to meet her host. 
 
 236
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ALL the next morning and afternoon Cecil 
 Dickson was busy in connexion with the 
 theatricals of the following evening. It was per- 
 haps difficult to say whether he or the Lady Eric was 
 the more relieved that there was no chance of a word 
 alone together. But in the evening, when the gay 
 company had dispersed into the radiant illuminated 
 gardens, thrown open for this occasion to a public 
 eager to pay its crowns for the chance of mingling 
 with the first aristocracy of Britain, Fatma, who 
 was walking with the attache with whom she was 
 to act the duologue, came suddenly, in a turn of the 
 gardens, upon the weary stage-manager sitting alone 
 with a cigar. He arose and looked straight into 
 the merry tenderness of her eyes. If rejected, he 
 was not the man to let himself be despised. 
 
 " Shall we disturb your peace it we sit with you 
 awhile ? What are you doing all alone ? " said 
 Fatma, after a moment's thought. 
 
 " I am smoking, Lady Eric, and for the rest I am 
 living in hope. No, do please stay." 
 
 " Thank you. Living in hope is rather like danc- 
 ing without music, I believe," said Fatma, as she 
 
 237
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 took her seat with a man on either side of her, one 
 of them Httle dreaming what an awkward moment 
 his mere presence had sufficed to disperse. At 
 Fatma's remark they all laughed together, a laugh 
 which swept clean away any breath of misgiving 
 which might have still remained with either of the 
 other two. They discussed the theatricals, the 
 performers, the costumes, from every point of view ; 
 plays ancient and plays modern ; and the most 
 brilliant epigrams and quotations fell in showers 
 from Cecil Dickson. 
 
 As they wandered back to the lawns, mindful of 
 the attractions of an open-air cafe chantant which 
 their hostess was managing, they passed by a fortune- 
 teller's gaudy silk-hung tent. The presiding genius 
 of the place was a lady, said to be marvellously 
 skilled in her prognostications of other people's 
 futures. At first Fatma thought she would go in, 
 then she changed her mind, and the upshot was that 
 M, le Comte de Latour was prevailed upon to enter 
 first and hear his fate. 
 
 " What a good fellow he is ! " said Fatma 
 somewhat idly, as he disappeared within the tent, 
 and she was left for the time alone with Cecil 
 Dickson. 
 
 " Quite admirable, yes," said Dickson, smiling 
 into her reposeful eyes. 
 
 After which they waited in a pleasant silence till 
 the attache reappeared. 
 
 " Fate was not too kind," he told them, " but the 
 238
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 pretty way in which you heard of your disasters 
 made you wish the catalogue of them twice as 
 long." 
 
 Whereupon Fatma decided to go in. A tall, 
 veiled, spangled figure stood with a crystal in its 
 hand by a gorgeously covered table. A tiny lamp 
 swinging from the roof of the tent shed a dim light 
 around. 
 
 After a few preliminaries had been gone through, 
 " Love," said the veiled figure, " Love is near you. 
 Death too. They are both close at hand. Their 
 breath is on you. I see marriage, too, some way off. 
 But before the marriage bells the death bell tolls. 
 That is all." 
 
 Fatma spoke her thanks, and shivered. She 
 went out into the garden, and shivered again. 
 Dickson looked at her with concern. 
 
 " You wouldn't let anything that came from 
 those confounded fortune-tellers worry you, would 
 you ? " he said. 
 
 " I don't suppose I would much," returned 
 Fatma, rallying under the influence of his protecting 
 air. 
 
 " Did she tell you that a fortune was coming to 
 you from overseas — and that a dark man adored 
 you hopelessly — hopefully, I mean ? " 
 
 " There was no word of hope in her remarks, but 
 my fortune is certainly oversea," said Fatma 
 enigmatically. A glance at Dickson's face showed 
 her how intense was the feeling that fought hard for 
 
 239
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 an expression which was none the less denied it. 
 Little tongues of conscience rose up, smiting her on 
 every side. To stifle them she entered, with a 
 delightful gaiety, into all the festivities of the 
 night. 
 
 240
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 ON the following evening an immense audience, 
 ranging from princes of the blood to local 
 farmers' wives, was assembled in the banquetting- 
 hall, at one end of which a temporary theatre had 
 been arranged. Various stars of the world of fashion, 
 fame, and beauty had gone through their parts in 
 the society comedy, and their delightful manner, 
 their tone of fine breeding, the cut, splendour, 
 simplicity, and fascination of their attire, had held 
 spellbound the less sophisticated of their audience. 
 These good people, who, when such a thing came their 
 way at all, read a book for its story not its style, 
 cared on this occasion nothing for the play that was 
 acted in their deep absorption in the men and 
 women who deigned to grace mere written words 
 by speaking them so admirably, so inimitably, by 
 imparting to them that indescribable flavour of 
 a serene, high-hearted world where the cream was 
 never sour, the oat-crops never failed, nor a neigh- 
 bour's cattle trod your seedplot down. 
 
 When Fatma came on, in her dress of silver tissue, 
 
 threaded with diamonds and sapphires, a lady 
 
 indeed of high degree, and sparkled through her 
 
 duologue with the attache, although to those who 
 
 R 241
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 knew no language but their own, and not too much 
 of that, it was " heathen gibberish " indeed that she 
 spoke, none the less they revelled in her feminine 
 wiles, the witchery of her mischief, her anger, her 
 tenderness, her joy. 
 
 At the end of the duologue, in a storm of applause 
 and cheers, she left the stage, the great curtains met 
 together, a band played entrancing airs, and con- 
 versation was general; but still there was a void. 
 Once more the lights were lowered, an expectant 
 hush fell on the multitude, and the void was there 
 no more — Fatma had come again. 
 
 But was it Fatma indeed, this gamin of the 
 Boulevards and the Bois, this slender stripling with 
 his radiant eyes, his ragged clothes, his smile at once 
 so knowing and so dear ? A little lifting of the eye- 
 brows, a little shrugging of the shoulders, a certain 
 jerking of the thumbs, and in a clear ringing soprano 
 which seemed to soar to the skies and then fly 
 down again to melt in your very soul, he sang, in the 
 prettiest English imaginable, his song : " It's better 
 to have bare feet than to have no feet at all. Oh, 
 yes, it's better far." 
 
 And as he sang he would peep wistfully first at his 
 little pink toes, blushing maybe for their bareness, 
 and then at the audience, which to a man was under 
 his control. Not for nothing had Fatma of the 
 winged sandals watched day by day, with an un- 
 flagging interest and care, the tricks and antics of 
 the village children at Cherchel. Her portrayal 
 
 242
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 of a mischievous, high-hearted boy, recking as httle 
 of his poverty as of his shining curls, was perfect. At 
 one point the audience would be convulsed with 
 mirth, at another a sense as of hidden tears would 
 shake them to the heart. The baby brothers and 
 sisters at home wanted bread, and the elder boy 
 would turn his empty pockets inside out again and 
 yet again. But the sow was not forthcoming. "Ah, 
 well, you know, it's better for a while to want bread 
 than to be quite stone — horrid — dead ! Oh, yes, 
 it's better far." 
 
 When finally he retired, the people clamoured 
 hard and long, but all in vain, for that fascinating 
 boy to show himself again. In a few minutes an 
 Arab dancing girl, marvellously fine and fair to see, 
 was in his place, and wherever she moved a cloud 
 of glory seemed to be. She danced a sort of solo 
 minuet, and her pas de fascination, now stately, 
 now joyous, but always finished, delicate and dainty, 
 fairly bewitched her audience. Like herself, her 
 dancing was woven of lire and grace, simplicity 
 and gaiety, skill and charm. Faint opalescent 
 rainbow tints played about her as she moved ; a 
 thousand tones of colour, a thousand points of light, 
 crowned her flowing robes, her jewelled draperies, 
 her swaying form. It was only a stage effect, but 
 it was one incomparably, touchingly beautiful. 
 
 In answer to the thunderous applause that re- 
 warded her, after a few minutes she came forward 
 for the last time as herself, the Lady Eric Lorimer- 
 
 243
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Harben. Her neck and shoulders shone like marble 
 from an evening gown of turquoise blue mousseline- 
 de-soie over an undcrdress of shimmering white 
 satin. Her only jewel was a diamond bangle, and 
 a large knot of blue was cunningly contrived in 
 her coronal of hair. In her crystal voice she sang 
 the passionately alluring cadences of Gounod's 
 exquisite serenade, " Quand tu chantes." When 
 the haunting refrain of the last verse — " Dormez, 
 ma belle, dormez, dormez, toujours " — had died 
 away, Fatma was called again and again before 
 the crowd. As she appeared and reappeared she 
 seemed the incarnation of health, grace, youth, 
 and happiness. Her social triumph was complete. 
 She was one with the most exclusive society in the 
 land. Men would soon be battling for the honour 
 of a word, a smile, and the supreme distinction 
 accorded to him who should take her in to supper 
 would make him a man more to be envied than many 
 a one who had gained a Victoria Cross. She knew 
 all this, and revelled like a child in the knowledge of 
 it. She knew that the days of her life to come, if 
 they were ordered as she fain would have them be, 
 would be cast in a very different mould from these 
 days of gorgeous happenings, unheroic triumphs, 
 of splendid but all unnecessary toil. She was aching 
 for something which was denied her, and life instead 
 had held a draught of champagne to her lips. Eh, 
 bah , que voulez-vous ? The champagne was of a 
 rare bouquet, and tasted well exceedingly. 
 
 244
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 No one was more genuinely and naively glad at 
 Fatma's success than the fair young hostess herself, 
 on whose face a " Didn't I tell you so ? " sort of 
 expression was painted, with the prettiest possible 
 effect. In the interval between Fatma's role and 
 the last past of the performance the duchess slipped 
 out to personally congratulate the " star of the 
 East," as somebody had called the Lady Eric, and 
 to escort her in triumph to the floor of the house, 
 where the audience were awaiting her appearance 
 with as much interest as had it been on the stage 
 itself. 
 
 Lady Eric was smiling beautifully, faintly flushed 
 with excitement and content, as the duchess ap- 
 proached her and took her hands in hers. Before 
 either had time to speak a footman advanced with 
 a letter for the Lady Eric, saying that if it pleased 
 her ladyship the messenger awaited an instant 
 response. 
 
 "Lois is ill, terribly ill. She wants you. Come 
 back at once, will you, in the carriage that brings this 
 word to you ? " 
 
 For some hours a thunderstorm had been hovering 
 over the neighbourhood, and at the moment almost 
 of Fatma's reading of the little message it burst in 
 all its fury over the very rooftree, as it seemed, of the 
 ancient castle. Clap succeeded clap with scarcely 
 a moment's intermission ; the glens echoed and 
 re-echoed with the tumult of nature's mighty 
 passionate applause, and the cruel lightning, forked 
 
 245
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 and vivid, was seen zigzagging its way across the 
 sky through the open porch beyond the hall in 
 which Fatma, with the duchess, Cecil Dickson, and 
 another man, was standing. 
 
 For the moment Fatma could not speak as she 
 handed the paper to the duchess and then to Cecil 
 Dickson. 
 
 "It is in your mother's handwriting, isn't it ? " 
 she said to the latter. " Poor Aunt Gabrielle ! " 
 
 " One thing is certain," decided the duchess, after 
 she had spoken her sympathy, " you can't go to- 
 night. Listen to the storm ! Look at it ! Why, 
 the horses would go mad with fright. As early in 
 the morning as you like, but on no account to- 
 night." 
 
 That shook the stupor from Fatma's sorrow. 
 She smiled very sweetly at her hostess. 
 
 " I am going now at once. Please don't let there 
 be the tiniest fuss. A fuss is so tiring, don't you 
 think ? " Then, turning to Dickson, " Give orders 
 to call Ernestine at once, will you ? She must wait 
 for nothing, nothing. She can come back to-morrow 
 and do the packing." 
 
 " I will get the duke to stop you," cried the 
 duchess ; "he must absolutely forbid it, and when 
 he forbids, you know " 
 
 " My dear duchess, if you had forty husbands, 
 
 and they all forbade it, quand meme " and her 
 
 little gesture, eloquent of defiance, spoke the rest. 
 
 In a minute or two the news came to her that the 
 246
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 storm had frightened Ernestine into hysterics, that 
 " I'idee de se promener en voiture par un temps si 
 epouvantable " (" Ah ! quelle idee ! ") had sufficed 
 to make her whole nervous system collapse, and 
 that her company under the circumstances would 
 be worse than useless. 
 
 Fatma made no comment. She gathered up her 
 train of satin and silk-muslin, and smiling her adieux 
 walked towards the storm and the open porch. 
 
 " I cannot wait a minute longer. Lois was always 
 so terrified of storms," she said, as she glanced at 
 the blackness of the lightning-torn sky. 
 
 " I know her. Let her go. Nothing will stop 
 her," murmured Cecil Dickson to the duchess. 
 " I will go with her. It mayn't be so bad after all, 
 you know." 
 
 " No," returned his hostess, with a twinkle in her 
 merry eye, " it may not. You have a positive 
 genius for self-sacrifice, though. Stay, take this 
 wrap with you. Her shoulders are absolutely bare. 
 Oh, this impetuosity of youth most young, of the 
 French most French ! " 
 
 In another minute Dickson had sprung beside 
 Fatma into the closed landau, and the coachman, 
 who, as he expressed it himself, would have galloped 
 through hell fire for her ladyship, was tearing through 
 the storm-driven night. 
 
 247
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 SO violent was the plunging of the horses, the 
 rocking of the landau, that it was some little 
 time before either Fatma or her companion spoke. 
 With a certain idea in his mind of the course to be 
 pursued in the event of a mishap, Dickson kept a 
 firm hold on the handle all the time. At last they 
 came to a steep hill, up which the horses strained and 
 fretted less anxiously. Dickson, in the respite that 
 followed, caught a glimpse of the girl's face, white, 
 serene, and fearless, and love for her, stronger than 
 any death, rose hotly, purely, steadily within him. 
 
 " How is it that you are not in the least afraid ? " 
 he asked very gently, smiling into the dark corner 
 that held her. 
 
 " How do you know that I am not ? " 
 
 " I know, perfectly. For my own sake I wish you 
 were." 
 
 " Oh ! " 
 
 " Because, you see, I might then be holding your 
 hand, comforting or encouraging you, instead of 
 having the forlorn feeling that perhaps I thrust 
 myself a trifle unnecessarily upon you." 
 
 " Oh, but indeed you didn't. I would ever so 
 much rather havT you here than not." 
 
 248
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 "What a beautiful character Ernestine's is! I 
 feel that I almost love her." 
 
 " Yes, those timid, nervous souls appeal to strong 
 men in a very special manner, I believe." 
 
 They smiled together. 
 
 " Something like that, I suppose ! What about 
 the steadfast, fearless ones then ? Have you the 
 least idea, I wonder, of the splendid havoc they can 
 work in a man's life ? " 
 
 " Not the least." 
 
 " Would you ever wish to be enlightened, do you 
 think ? " 
 
 " Ah, did you see that flash ? And how the wind 
 shrieks ! We have still to pass the Devil's Gap and 
 that narrow bridge on the other side. Even in 
 daylight drives I am always glad when we are 
 safely over that." 
 
 " The horses are quieter now, ever so much quieter. 
 There will be no danger," 
 
 As soon as Dickson had spoken, as though to 
 belie his reassuring words, a terrific clap of thunder 
 burst overhead, and the highly strung animals 
 plunged desperately, in a new frenzy, along the 
 gloomy mountain road. Dickson put his head out 
 of the window for a moment to ask a question of 
 the coachman. 
 
 " It's all right, sir," came the answer, shouted 
 through the storm ; " just sit tight, sir, and her 
 ladyship too — there's no harm coming to her." 
 
 They were passing the danger-spot to which 
 249
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Fatma had referred. She glanced at the dim out- 
 lines of the great crags that overhung the yawning 
 abyss which the frail bridge spanned, and she shut 
 her eyes tightly. She was not afraid, but a great 
 excitement made tumult within her. 
 
 " Women so rarely see anything but the soft side 
 of life — women placed as I am. And I am so tired 
 of the soft side," she whispered to Cecil Dickson 
 after the little bridge was passed in safety and they 
 were on the broad, smooth high road that led without 
 another danger-spot to Lorimer Lodge. Dickson 
 smiled back at her, his eyes full of a worship which 
 in the darkness she could not see. He was well- 
 nigh mastered by a passionate, overwhelming long- 
 ing to snatch her to his breast and learn of a very 
 surety his fate. But the night itself seemed shining 
 with the blaze, the dazzle of her innocence, her 
 childishness, her trust. To his fastidious sense, to 
 take advantage of a mere accident in order to press 
 a suit would hardly be to play the game as a man of 
 honour plays it. In the gloom his hand stole out 
 to hers, which trembled for a moment as it met that 
 firm, warm clasp. They passed the milestones one 
 by one without a word, their hands still fast in one 
 another's. It was the splendid dewdrop, this, at which 
 the man essayed to cool his burning, fevered thirst. 
 
 The storm abated and the carriage passed quickly 
 through the gateway and up the long avenue leading 
 to the Lodge. Although midnight was long since 
 past there were lights in many windows, an air of 
 
 250
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 hushed concern, of tireless watching, about the house. 
 Not till the coachman began to pull his steaming 
 horses up did Fatma withdraw her hand from Cecil 
 Dickson's clasp. It occurred to her that while their 
 hands had been together, their thoughts had pro- 
 bably been as far as the poles asunder. For herself 
 she had been thinking hard. 
 
 Her cheeks flamed rosily, but her eyes danced with 
 fun. 
 
 " You see," she sighed, shaking her head and 
 looking down at the little hand so reluctantly set 
 free ; " you see, it is the soft side still, that terrible, 
 inveterate soft side." 
 
 " You do not dare to tell me," he began, " surely 
 you do not dare " 
 
 "Ah, hush ! " pleaded Fatma, as the footman 
 descended from his perch to open the door. " It is 
 Lois now — Lois only. Come in, come in. Of 
 course, you must spend the night under our roof, 
 you know, for neither men nor horses could be found 
 to take you back to Westhaven now." 
 
 With that she ran cheerfully before him into the 
 wide low hall, and so passed fresh from the world's 
 gay lights and splendours, from courts and con- 
 quests manifold, into darkness wild and bitter, 
 darkness such as she had never known or thought 
 it possible amid her life's sweet orderings, the deep be- 
 atitude of its unchallenged days, to know. For in the 
 dull hour before the dawn, Lois, far spent with agony 
 and anguish, gave birth prematurely to a daughter.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 WITH the passing of the storm the morning 
 sun broke bravely on that house of distress. 
 The pearly mists swept up from the valley and 
 breathed across the dew-bespangled lawns and 
 shrubberies ; the rowan berries flamed amid the 
 tinted woodlands. Divinely clear and crisp was 
 the air, and on its crystal wings the music of the 
 hounds on their way to an early meet was borne up 
 cheerily. 
 
 The village doctor had just left Lois for an hour. 
 He did not think that she could live through the 
 day, but as yet he had not said so to the watchers 
 by her side. Fatma, with the pearls and diamonds 
 of the night before still shining strangely in her hair 
 and on her throat and wrists, had not left the room 
 since first she had entered it after her home-coming. 
 With the early morning her maid came in and noise- 
 lessly slipped her robes of gossamer and lace from 
 her and invested her in a cosy wrapper of some soft 
 and dainty fabric ; at which Fatma gave a little sigh 
 of relief, without seeming to know exactly what had 
 happened. Her face was set in a strange blank 
 horror, except when it was turned towards Lois and 
 the tiny life which lingered still beside its motlier's. 
 
 252
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Then the tenderest smiles irradiated it, and it was 
 lovely to behold as ever. Indeed, for both those 
 who kept their tireless, speechless, well-nigh breath- 
 less watch, that tiny, flickering life it was which 
 nerved them to be sane and not despairing, which 
 whispered that even in the deep dark heart of 
 calamity a star of gold might twinkle still. 
 
 They lavished every possible devotion on the little 
 thing. Revolving round and round in their brains 
 were already plans innumerable for its comfort and 
 well-being, ideas for its dainty garments, resolutions 
 of the special love that should surround it ever, as 
 if in atonement for the injury done its helplessness, 
 the stain overshadowing its stainlessness. 
 
 Lois lay in an agony of pain, but though she did 
 not speak she seemed quite conscious of their pre- 
 sence and their care. Once or twice she stretched 
 out feeble arms towards the babe, bent over it with 
 a passion of love, then fell to weeping as though 
 the floodgates of a lifetime of tears had been loosened. 
 Every now and again her exhaustion would be com- 
 plete, a cordial would be given her, and perhaps a 
 span of uneasy slumber granted her. 
 
 Early in the day she had inquired the sex of her 
 babe. On being told she was much distressed. 
 
 " Oh, little girl ! Poor little girl ! poor little girl ! " 
 she had softly cried, refusing to be comforted, re- 
 peating the words again and again to herself in 
 anguished misery. 
 
 When the piteous hours had worn to evening the 
 253
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 doctor told them of her serious state. Hitherto no 
 word had passed between the comtesse and Fatma 
 as to the author of the wrong, but the unspoken name 
 burned hotly on their lips. When the doctor had 
 withdrawn from the salon below, where his reluctant 
 verdict had been given forth, the comtesse fell into 
 Fatma's arms. " The English lord ! The English 
 lord ! " she said, and not another word. 
 
 Very gently Fatma led her to a big chair, and 
 kneeling down before her with clenched hands and 
 blazing eyes, she cried : 
 
 " If it were not, darling, that I should most likely 
 be but bringing double anguish on you I would go 
 to him this very hour in his castle or his cottage, or 
 whatever it may be, and I would Ishoot him dead, 
 dead, where he lives and laughs and sports ! . . . God 
 help me, God help me, but I will do it still ! " 
 
 " Oh, my dearest, hush ! Think of her upstairs. 
 It is the thing of all things she would leave undone. 
 No anger or revenge, but love alone, must have 
 possessed her through all these months when we 
 noticed nothing — suspected nothing — dreamed of 
 nothing. . . . Oh, my little Lois, all alone you bore it, 
 all alone." 
 
 After a bitter silence Fatma rose suddenly to her 
 feet. 
 
 " If only I had known it yesterday, ah, if only ! 
 Had he refused to play a man's part, it matters not 
 what I might have had to answer for in the future — 
 as surely as I live I would have dealt with him 
 
 254
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 according to my word. Et du reste, je m'en soncie 
 bien! If there is any justice, mercy, pity in this 
 land, men would have upheld me in the deed." 
 
 The countess looked up at her with streaming 
 eyes. A reproach was on her lips, but for the admira- 
 tion in her heart she could not speak it. In very 
 truth she leaned on Fatma's glad young strength 
 and fearlessness as on that of an only son. She 
 knew that here was no idle talk or empty boasting, 
 that, in spite of her impulsiveness, where kindly 
 actions were in question, when a harder course 
 was to be pursued Fatma would not strike blindly, 
 but with a fearlessness, a deliberateness, a straight- 
 ness, that neither gave nor asked a hint of quarter. 
 And she trembled for the future of this feminine 
 bravery, for her observations of life had seemed to 
 point to her that the woman who evades her re- 
 sponsibilities, who creeps and crawls and hedges 
 round about her difficulties, gets off with fewer hurts 
 and wounds than she who grasps the nettle and bids 
 defiance to conventional hosts in their grim array. 
 
 " Fatma ! Fatma ! " she wept, " I am leaning 
 heavily on you. Unless you remember that ven- 
 geance is not yours I may have no heart, dear, 
 against which to rest my own." 
 
 " Oh, Aunt Gabrielle. . . Let us go to her and 
 think of nothing else. Thinking drives one mad, 
 doesn't it ? Lady Cecilia is there, isn't she ? I 
 feel as if I had been away from that baby for a 
 year." A soft light rushed into the eyes, erstwhile 
 
 25s
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 so dangerous, and the lips which had spoken of 
 revolvers and sudden death curved into the tenderest 
 lines. For so, thought the countess, comforted but 
 not wholly reassured, so it is that a little child shall 
 lead them. 
 
 With arms entwined they went upstairs to the 
 darkened room where Lady Cecilia was watching. 
 The help that this kindly lady's presence was to 
 them at this juncture was unspeakable. Unsus- 
 pected by her world, to whom her caustic tongue 
 was a matter of open comment, there was in her 
 heart a large and pitiful reserve on which demands 
 were never made in vain. Now in the black hour 
 of their affliction and distress her heart went out in 
 overflowing measure to these her friends and the 
 friends of her son. No small thought oppressed her 
 that anything had happened which might lessen 
 their prestige in the high and radiant social circles 
 in which they moved. That she was their friend, 
 and that trouble had befallen them, was the motto 
 and the compass of her thinking. 
 
 Towards midnight Lois rallied. She was quite 
 conscious and able to take nourishment, from which 
 signs of hope those about her took heart of grace 
 anew. Closer watching still showed them that there 
 seemed something that she wished to say, something 
 that was on her mind, worrying, distressing, or over- 
 burdening it. Her eyes followed Fatma about the 
 
 256
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 room with a touching persistency, a questioning, 
 a perplexity that could not be ignored. Presently 
 Lady Cecilia went to snatch an hour of needed rest, 
 and Lois was alone with her mother and Fatma. 
 The comtesse was at the far end of the long room, 
 soothing the baby to sleep, and Fatma for the 
 moment was the only watcher at the bedside. 
 Suddenly, at a piteous glance from her cousin, she 
 bent over the suffering prostrate form, 
 
 " Tell me, my darling, tell me," she said, with a 
 matchless tenderness. 
 
 " Do 1 know what you are thinking all this dread- 
 ful day, Fatma ? Oh, yes, I am sure, I am sure I 
 know." 
 
 " Thinking most of one, dearest, of some one I will 
 love and cherish all my days so that no harm shall 
 come to her any more again. Oh, how I will love 
 her always, that poor darling ! " 
 
 " You were not thinking of her a little while ago, 
 Fatma. I saw your face. It was hard and set, 
 and it was not love that was written there." 
 
 " Ah, well, no. Not just then perhaps." 
 
 " It was what you would call revenge, fearful, 
 cruel, most unlovely, was it not, Fatma ? " and the 
 frail voice gasped its dread. 
 
 Fatma looked down on Lois, and great tears 
 gathered slowly in her eyes. 
 
 " Oh, you little saint of God most high," she 
 whispered, with a passionate extravagance, " you 
 thing of angelic forgiveness, are you thinking still 
 s 257
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 and only of him and how you can best shield his 
 cowardice, his gross unmanliness, the altogether 
 nameless way of him ? " 
 
 With a sob of pain Lois raised her head upon her 
 pillows and put one little hand beneath it. This 
 enabled her to look Fatma steadily and squarely 
 in the face. 
 
 " For once, dear, you are so, so wrong. I don't 
 know how to tell you. But it is not he, the lord 
 English of whom you think so mercilessly and so 
 scornfully. Oh, no, Fatma, he never injured me 
 or did me aught for which atonement could be made. 
 I swear it, I swear it ! Now, tell me quickly, do 
 you believe me or do you not ? " 
 
 Beads of sweat were on her brow, and she spoke 
 her words in broken little phrases. The comtesse 
 drew near, startled at the sound of voices, and afraid 
 of the exertion for her child. 
 
 " Ah, mother, not the lord English, not," she 
 sobbed. 
 
 " My darling, there was no one else on earth," 
 said the mother gently, convinced with Fatma that 
 Lois was but shielding the ungenerous absentee 
 with a generous lie. 
 
 " Oh, but it was not, it was not," insisted Lois. 
 
 " Then, dear, who, in God's name, was it ? " 
 asked Fatma slowly, almost idly, with the air of one 
 who puts a quite unnecessary question and one to 
 which no possible answer can be forthcoming. 
 
 Lois tried to lift her head. Her bright eyes shone 
 258
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 from her flaming face. Her voice for the last time 
 was steady and free from weakness whatsoever." 
 
 " The doctor . . . our doctor ... at Cherchel ..." 
 and the clear small tones rang down the room with a 
 solemnity that could not be uttered. 
 
 After this amazing declaration, which elicited no 
 exclamation of surprise from either Fatma or the 
 comtesse (for in the first shock of the announcement 
 they thought her mind was wandering), Lois fell 
 back in a state of exhaustion or collapse. Herself 
 she drew her handkerchief across her aching head 
 and eyes and lay quite motionless, almost rigid, 
 except when a deep occasional sob tore her tender 
 body from head to foot. 
 
 Fatma, grown very pale, tended her with every 
 comfort. Now and again her eyes would rest on 
 Lois with a strange expression in them, as though 
 they asked : " Thou, Lois, thou, could'st thou indeed 
 say this thing ? " 
 
 Shortly after midnight, when they thought she 
 slumbered, Lois suddenly roused herself and pointed 
 to a table against the wall. 
 
 " Give me pen and paper, Fatma, for a moment," 
 she gasped ; "I must write just one line, I must." 
 
 In vain they tried to persuade her to wait. 
 
 " I must, I must," she said. " And quickly, 
 please . . . please ... I am so tired . . ." 
 
 They gave her paper and pencil and she wrote 
 some words — words that no one might see or know 
 or guess at — in her frail, trembling little hand. 
 
 259
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Now an envelope, mother dear, and my wafers," 
 she said, when she had done. She folded the paper 
 into the envelope and sealed it very securely, looked 
 from her mother to Fatma, then finally held it out 
 to Fatma, her eyes full of a desperate trouble all 
 the time. 
 
 " Give it to him, the doctor, Fatma, some day, 
 some day . . . not yet, not yet. . . . Some day when you 
 go home again. Don't send it by the mail. Promise 
 me' to give it him yourself . , . in days ... or years to 
 come. Keep it safely, Fatma, won't you ? Oh, 
 my darling mother, how sorry I am ! " 
 
 Fatma, whiter than before, took the envelope 
 from Lois' hand, her own trembling perhaps the 
 more. 
 
 " If I never see him again, Lois, what then, what 
 then ? " she whispered. 
 
 But Lois had fallen back in a heavy faint, and 
 questions and answers were for the puzzling and the 
 vexing of her soul no more. She never rallied or 
 spoke again, though she lingered on for hours. 
 Once or twice her arms opened and, not knowing 
 quite what she would have them do, they laid at last 
 her babe against her breast, while not until her arms 
 relaxed their hold before the last grim struggle did 
 they take the little creature from her. The priest, 
 who had been sent for in haste from the nearest 
 to^^^lship, arrived too late. With the coming of the 
 dawn she died. 
 
 260
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THEY covered her with flowers from head to 
 foot, Lois de Beaurepaire of noble birth, 
 gentlest life, and tragic death. Nothing of her was 
 visible but the wealth of hair, whose golden glory 
 no sorrow or sickness had had power to diminish 
 and the white, still, troubled face it crowned so 
 fairly. Some two or three hours later they took her 
 baby, whom no love or skill could keep alive, to her 
 frozen arms, and underneath the flowers they laid 
 the tiny waxen thing to sleep for ever by its mother's 
 side. 
 
 Whereupon it seemed as if some magic wrought 
 a strange thing there. No one caught the moment 
 of the change, but none the less it was that the 
 anguish and distress that had marred the sweet face 
 of the dead passed clean away after the coming of 
 the little daughter, and the expression resolved itself 
 into one of absolute peace and calm. If such a 
 thing were possible, it was almost as if through some 
 delicate spiritual channel the dead knew that now 
 no orphan tears need be, nor ache of childhood's 
 warm and passionate heart, nor agony of woman's 
 later complex life. 
 
 Fatma, watching by the dead, when first she 
 261
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 noticed the radiant, beatiiic change, pondered deeply 
 over it, amazed but unafraid. She thought that 
 Lois must be breathing still, and put her hands about 
 the silent ice-cold pulse and heart. Long she felt 
 and waited, but no tremor of life was there. Then, 
 all alone among the flowers and lights of the room 
 of death, she softly sang over her the song that was 
 Lois' favourite of all the songs that are — 
 
 " Quand tu dors, calme et pure, 
 Dans I'ombre sous fnes yeux, 
 Ton haleine niurmure 
 Des mots harmonieux. 
 Ton beau corps se revile 
 Sans voile et sans aiours. 
 Ah ! . . . dormez, dormez, ma belle 
 
 Dormez, dormez toujours, 
 Dormez, ma belle, 
 
 Dormez, dormez toujours." 
 
 The dour Scotch housekeeper, listening in an 
 adjoining room, was horror-struck at the crooning 
 of such a " heathen " song, in the presence of the 
 king of terrors, and the chances of ultimate salvation 
 for Lois seemed to her now to be remoter still. She 
 hastened to Fatma with a psalter, which she begged 
 to be allowed to hand her ladyship, as it contained 
 an appendix with all necessary prayers and hymns 
 to be used for the dead. Fatma took it gravely, 
 and her look, weary, imperious, rested for a moment 
 on the good lady before her. 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. MacLeod," she said. " Ah, 
 I understand ! You heard me singing to Mademoi- 
 
 262
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 selle Lois, I suppose. It was a song she loved so 
 well, you see, while these — these would be all cold 
 and new and strange to her — she would only 
 wonder." 
 
 With that she declared the interview closed, and 
 Mrs. MacLeod withdrew humbly, sorrowfully, yet 
 stiff in the consciousness of her own untiring 
 righteousness. 
 
 That first day of death Fatma remained in a 
 stupor of inaction, watching in turns with the 
 comtesse and Lady Cecilia by the side of her who 
 slept, slept always. Early, however, on the morn- 
 ing of the next day after her first sleep for many 
 hours, she awoke to a new strength and the perfect 
 knowledge of what was still to do. No further word 
 had passed between the comtesse and herself con- 
 cerning the incredible information which Lois, 
 dying, had volunteered. Until that little note had 
 been written and sealed, they had believed that it 
 was either a generous lie that had been told or some 
 unaccountable wandering of the otherwise clear and 
 conscious brain. The little note, with the strange 
 injunctions for its delivery, had shaken their heart's 
 belief. They knew not what to say, or think, 
 or do. 
 
 But on this brave morning Fatma sought the 
 weeping comtesse and told her : " Dear Aunt 
 Gabrielle, do you know what I have done ? I have 
 sent a mounted messenger with a letter for him we 
 call the lord English, bidding him come here as soon 
 
 263
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 as possible, as the Lady Eric Lorimer-Harben must 
 have a word with him without delay." 
 
 " Mon Dieu, Fatma ! Et puis, et puis ? " 
 
 " Have no scrap of fear, my dearest. We shall see 
 what we shall see, et ce ne sera pas grand' chose 
 peut-etre. But we owe it, dear, to — to him at Cher- 
 chel, who has been our tried and lifelong friend, to 
 let no such awful guilt rest without sufficient reason 
 on his name." 
 
 " Do you think there can be any doubt, Fatma ? 
 Mais c'est incroyable. And yet, that little farewell 
 letter ! " 
 
 " Yes, that farewell letter." 
 
 " Perhaps he will not come, Fatma. Perhaps he 
 will ignore your message altogether, the English 
 lord." 
 
 " In that case we shall need to look no further. 
 He will proclaim his guilt without a shadow of 
 doubt." 
 
 " But what will you do if he does come ? Tell 
 me this, Fatma, what will you do ? " 
 
 " It is quite simple. I shall take him to Lois and 
 the little baby. I shall ask him. An Englishman 
 of birth and breeding does not tell a lie, it seems, 
 unless to shield a woman's name. That would 
 appear to be a code of honour from which there is 
 no possible departure. It is all I have to go by, all 
 I have to trust to now." 
 
 " It he admits that he is the man, what will you 
 do, Fatma, what ? " 
 
 264
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 A curious light lodged for a moment in Fatma's 
 face, dispersing the woe and the whiteness there. 
 
 " Ah, then ! " said she, " then ? Well, first of all 
 I think I should sleep for twenty hours. Et apres ? 
 Je n'en sais rien." 
 
 265
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE Lady Eric could not rest, so she climbed up 
 to the watchtower of Lorimer Lodge, and 
 from there surveyed the nestling hamlets, the grim 
 unbeauteous churches, the powdering of stones and 
 slabs that here and there marked a desolate burying- 
 ground, the wide domains and moors of prince 
 and earl and duke that bordered on her own. To 
 westward a glint of white road was visible for about 
 a quarter of a mile, winding its way towards the 
 woodlands that clustered where the river ran its 
 course through the shadows of the friendly gloom. 
 Along this road the Lady Eric watched for the com- 
 ing of the English lord as probably woman had never 
 watched before in that lonely tower, unless for the 
 coming of a lover or a husband well beloved. A 
 shrill wind whistled through the crevices and the 
 open work of the ancient place, making a copious 
 draught and discomfort round about, but it did not 
 disturb or move the lady there, accustomed though 
 she was to hardly any other than the zephyr airs, 
 the finely tempered breezes of southern climes. 
 Neither cold nor loneliness, nor the superstitions 
 attaching to the dreary chamber, appalled her. 
 She did but look with steadfast eyes towards the 
 stretch of road along which knowledge was to travel 
 
 266
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 to her. Suddenly her heart throbbed sharply beneath 
 her long black gown, for a solitary horseman showed 
 where the narrow road climbed up from the horizon 
 and came at a leisurely swing towards the woodland 
 depths, when the leafy fastnesses and other hin- 
 drances hid him from the watcher's gaze for the 
 space of nearly half an hour. 
 
 Fatma could not be sure if the horseman were 
 the Earl of Somerfeild, but she thought it more than 
 likely that it was so, and as she watched and waited 
 for his reappearance her cheeks grew white and 
 whiter, something akin to agony gathered in the 
 darkness of her eyes, and the very air around 
 seemed charged with an unendurable suspense. If 
 it indeed were he, up the noble avenue of pines and 
 larches, whose shining tops were trembling in the 
 breeze, he must draw near. And surely enough in 
 due time he did. All hidden in her tower, Fatma 
 levelled her field-glasses at him, gazing with an un- 
 wavering keenness where the view was unhampered 
 and direct, as though she would tear the secrets 
 from his soul. He did not ride as a guilty man 
 might. If any anxiety or nervous qualms reigned 
 within, the outer air of him was entirely untroubled 
 and unconcerned. The bare news of the death of 
 Lois could not have reached him, thought Fatma. 
 As he drew nearer to the house and left the avenue 
 for the broad drive which swept round the lawns 
 and flower-gardens, he looked up with interested, 
 unflinching eyes at the gabled, towered, creeper- 
 
 267
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 covered abode, little recking evidently that death, 
 with the tragedy of dishonour and desertion attach- 
 ing to it, brooded there. When he had reached the 
 shadow of the portico Fatma left her tower of obser- 
 vation, went slowly downstairs, through the voice- 
 less, laughterless house, battling grimly with a wild, 
 unusual nervousness the while, and entered the 
 library by one door as his lordship of Somerfeild 
 was being ushered in by another. 
 
 Simultaneously the heav}.' leathern doors swung 
 to and Lord Somerfeild pressed forward with out- 
 stretched hand to the Lady Eric. 
 
 " Good morning," she said, ignoring the friendly 
 advance. " It was kind of you to come so quickly 
 — you must have wondered why I sent." 
 
 " I wondered, rather. I only hope there is some- 
 thing I can do for you." 
 
 Huge evergreen trees without sent a sort of tender 
 gloom down the reposeful, studious room. A log 
 fire burned redly on the wide hearth. Its glow shone 
 fuU on the handsome questioning face of the mon- 
 seigneur anglais. 
 
 " Yes," said Fatma, after a little pause, whose 
 icy breath went through the great apartment, " there 
 is. You have not heard that Lois is dead ? " 
 
 And as she spoke she eyed him with a steady, 
 fearful intensity. 
 
 " Lois ? " he queried. " Lois ! the little cousin 
 at Cherchel. What, dead ? Dead ! " 
 
 He looked no longer into his liostess' beauteous 
 268
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 face, but straight at the brilliant fire-glow. Curiosity 
 rather than any emotion was expressed perhaps in 
 the drawing together of his eyebrows and the rest- 
 less movements of his shoulders. As Fatma waited 
 wordlessly he was constrained to lift his gaze from 
 the vivid, flaming coals to her. Her searching silence 
 compelled him too to speech. 
 
 " Believe me, Lady Eric," he said in a formal way, 
 by reason of a certain irritable wonder that was 
 slowly taking possession of him ; " believe me, you 
 have my entire sympathy," and then, Fatma waving 
 away this remark with a gesture of her little brown, 
 bejewelled hand, he went on hurriedly: " But you 
 mentioned that I could help you. Any demand 
 that you may make I shall most gladly meet." 
 
 The banal words sounded dully on Fatma's ears 
 in the stress and tragedy of the hour. Moreover, 
 she was stung with a sense of her own impotence to 
 pierce to what lay beneath the easy polished manner 
 of the Englishman, to know if a dark secret moul- 
 dered, spreading loathsome sickness there. In 
 short, with all her tact and intuition, she could not 
 determine whether the puzzled look that was grow- 
 ing on his face was an assumed or a natural air. 
 So she roused herself for less subtle, more decisive 
 action. The supreme moment was at hand. A 
 man's honour and a woman's future hung shivering 
 in the balance against a stranger's word. That he 
 would lie over the dead bodies of Lois and her child 
 Fatma knew was impossible. 
 
 269
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Will you come with me, Lord Somerfeild ? 
 I want to show you Lois." 
 
 Unmistakably his face grew paler. Did a sense 
 of guilt drive it so, or was it a natural shrinking 
 from such a scene ? 
 
 " My dear Lady Eric ! if you could excuse me from 
 that," he stammered, with an effort to suppress 
 the passion of irritation that was vexing his soul 
 within. 
 
 " But unfortunately I cannot. You must please 
 come. My question was really a command, you see." 
 
 With that she swept the trailing folds of her gown 
 aside and went to turn the handle of the heavy door, 
 he, too aghast, too bewildered, either to forestall or 
 stop her. In the control, the gentleness, the im- 
 pcriousness of her manner, there was that which at 
 all hazards must without remonstrance or contra- 
 diction be obeyed. At the door she signed to him 
 to follow, and led the way up the oaken staircase by 
 the sunny gallery to the room where Lois lay, en- 
 circled with lights and flowers, death her conqueror, 
 love and motherhood her titles to a fair estate. 
 
 A sister of , mercy was praying by the coffin's 
 side. At a glance from Fatma she retired, leaving 
 the lord and the lady alone with the dead. In an 
 adjoining room the comtesse wrestled with herself 
 in a fever of apprehension lest a new terror should 
 be added to the present agony ; holding herself in 
 readiness, at the first hint of reprisal on Fatma's 
 part, to rush in and stay the fearless deed, or, as it 
 
 270
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 might be, the fearless word, which, if once uttered, 
 would, she knew only too well, be sooner or later 
 scrupulously performed. 
 
 Fatma went to Lois' side, and with the tenderest 
 touches moved one or two of the blossoms which 
 nearly hid the tiny baby face that nestled, as in 
 sleep, against its mother's breast. Her eyes were 
 full of tears when she turned them on Lord Somer- 
 feild. 
 
 " This is Lois," said she, " Lois and her little 
 baby." 
 
 " Her baby, her little baby," he echoed. " Good 
 God, what does it mean ? Why have you brought 
 me here to this ? " 
 
 It seemed to Fatma that anger and alarm rang 
 both together in his voice, but for the moment her 
 own nerves were strung to the point of collapse. She 
 decided to abide by and form her judgment on the 
 solemn statement which she intended he should 
 speak to her across the bodies of the slain. 
 
 " Indeed I will tell you why. Did you not at 
 Cherchel compass the destruction of Lois with ways 
 that to her were wonderful, speech that to her was 
 gold ? Are you not in very truth and deed the 
 father of that child ? " 
 
 In an instant he had risen to his full stature, and 
 no trace of discomposure was on his brow. 
 
 " Before God, I did not. Before God, I am not," 
 he said, with distinct and solemn emphasis. 
 
 Fatma glanced piteously at him across the coffin. 
 271
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Then with a splendid mastery of herself, her voice, 
 clear, cold, steady as ever, bade him ? 
 
 " Swear then by Lois lying dead, by your own 
 old name, on the honour which is said to be part and 
 parcel of an English gentleman, swear, if you dare, 
 by all these things, and by everything else you may 
 hold sacred in the world, that you are not the man 
 I spoke of." 
 
 " Lady Eric, by all these things, I swear that I am 
 not." 
 
 " Say them after me, then. Say them one by 
 one to Lois and to me : " By Lois and her baby 
 lying dead " 
 
 " By Lois and her baby lying dead " he re- 
 peated, with clenched hands and stained face, in a 
 steady voice, vibrating, nevertheless, with some 
 strange intensity of passion, anger, or remonstrance. 
 
 " on my honour as a man, a gentleman, an 
 
 Englishman 
 
 " on my honour as a man, a gentleman, an 
 
 Englishman " 
 
 " 1 swear that no injur}^ was ever done by me 
 
 to Lois de Beaurepaire." 
 
 " 1 swear that no injury was at any time done 
 
 by me to Lois de Beaurepaire." 
 
 And while the solemn words were being spoken 
 the calm, angelic face of Lois smiled between the 
 speakers, proclaiming (as it seemed to the eye of 
 fancy) with undeniable triumph what it had so 
 pathetically insisted on before, namely, the com- 
 
 272
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 plete and absolute vindication of the man. " Je 
 vous I'ai dit : je vous I'ai bien dit ! " 
 
 No shadow was on the Lady Eric's face as she 
 now, without hesitation, held out her hand to Lord 
 Somerfeild. Her eyes shone brilliantly, and her 
 smile, full of humility and appeal, was a glorious 
 thing to see. 
 
 " We have done you a terrible wrong. Lord 
 Somerfeild. In the name of the comtesse and in 
 my own, I must ask you to forgive us both. We 
 have been, oh, so sorely tried. Can you understand 
 a little ? Can you indeed forget that we thought 
 such evil of you ? " And she still, with the prettiest 
 mingled embarrassment and grace, held out her 
 hand. 
 
 For an indescribable moment he hesitated to take 
 it in his own. During that moment it flashed across 
 Fatma that her offence against him must be without 
 the pale of pardon; but while this fresh burden bade 
 fair to be added to her load he bent low over the 
 outstretched hand, and took it gently in his own, 
 
 " Never think of this again, dear Lady Eric. I 
 am not sure that punishments from you are not 
 far sweeter and more to be desired than favours from 
 all the other women of the world. If only this un- 
 toward incident may be the poor begmning of a 
 friendship between yourself and me, I could find it 
 in my heart to positively bless it." 
 
 A faint recoil swept over Fatma at his words. 
 T 273
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Had he gone from her presence in a white-hot blaze 
 of anger, she would have esteemed him more. 
 
 Yet in the long day of dread and horror this small 
 thing mattered, how little, how little ! Somewhat 
 more of disappointment, distrust, dismay, or some- 
 what less, quHmporte, qu'importe ? While he was 
 under her roof Fatma would try to stifle every 
 thought of him that was not generous altogether. 
 Once departed she fancied that she would think of 
 him scarcely at all again. She made no comment on 
 his hope of friendship with herself, but her eyes were 
 bright with a desperate courage, and her smile 
 hardly that of one who watches by the quiet dead. 
 
 " I will not detain you any longer, then, Lord 
 Somerfeild," she said, leading the way from Lois' 
 room towards the hall below ; " to prolong the inter- 
 view can only be pain for both of us. I know of no 
 atonement I can offer for our unworthy doubts of 
 you." 
 
 And while he murmured words of protest she 
 took him to the great door, and stood on the steps 
 in the autumn sunshine, watching him while he 
 mounted his horse, smiling him a last adieu, wishful 
 only to show him every honour, every courtesy in 
 her power. 
 
 del, but he was beautiful with his gallant air, his 
 straight seat, the fine nonchalance of his bearing. 
 Cruel, too, for no thought of Lois and her baby lying 
 dead seemed to mar the calm of his demeanour, or 
 disturb in any way the pride of his attitude. 
 
 274
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 As he went the Lady Eric withdrew into the dark- 
 ened house, and her fairyhke footsteps dragged 
 strangely where they dimbed again the oaken stair- 
 way, and halted before the door of the comtesse's 
 chamber. After a minute she entered : 
 
 " Aunt Gabrielle," she said, " it is not he, not 
 the lord English of the yacht." 
 
 The comtesse raised her bowed head, her tear- 
 fringed eyelids. 
 
 " No, dear, so it seems," she answered ; " not he, 
 not he." And neither spoke another word until 
 Fatma rose at last to take for a little while her leave. 
 
 " I must go," she murmured, as in a dream. " I 
 must faint or sleep ; faint or sleep." 
 
 275
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THEY buried their beloved dead in the mountain- 
 shadowed burying-ground some three miles 
 distant from Lorimer Lodge. On her grave they 
 planted violets, and at its head they caused a marble 
 cross to be placed with the simple inscription — 
 
 To Lois AND HER LiTTLE BaBY 
 
 — carved thereon. For they shirked nothing, dreaded 
 nothing, but did in all things as became the sweet 
 honour of their womanhood, those two ladies of 
 quality and courage, Mme. la Comtesse de Beaure- 
 paire and her niece, the Lady Eric Lorimer-Harben. 
 
 As they were talking over the inscription to be 
 decided on, they remembered that the last earthly 
 thing the young mother had smiled upon was the 
 face of her babe ; therefore they felt that to omit 
 mention of the tiny life would be to cast a slight upon 
 the motherhood that had yielded up its life for its 
 child, to disown, as it were, the very thing for which 
 the wondrous, the imposing penalty had been 
 nothing less than death itself. 
 
 Moreover, Fatma, who was convinced that the 
 dead know well what the living still may do or leave 
 undone for them, thought continually of the peace 
 and gratitude that would flow to the heart of Lois 
 
 276
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 at the due and meet remembrance of that babe on 
 whom her dying eyes had rested m such passionate 
 adoration. 
 
 These last loving duties and ministrations having 
 been fulfilled, the two bereaved and wounded 
 women turned to take up again the torn threads 
 of the fabric of their lives. October was beautiful 
 and fair exceedingly. A great peace and a silence 
 full of sunshine were over the glens and garden ways. 
 The gorgeous colouring, the crisp air, the crystal 
 clearness of the atmosphere, were divine things all 
 for the healing of sorry hearts. But November 
 came down on those island slopes with drenching 
 mists, rough skies, and bitter winds. By night the 
 chill blast, like a soul in anguish, moaned incessantly, 
 and by day the panic of the elements was hardly 
 ever stilled. 
 
 With one accord their thoughts flew to that other 
 land which was their home. There a great pleasant- 
 ness and kindliness of Nature's ways abounded. 
 There the winter was clad in garments of light and 
 gold ; gossamer winds fluttered at her feet, and a 
 fine fragrance hung ever round her presence. When 
 the bright hours of day had melted mistlike into 
 night, the salt breath floated inland from the sea 
 with a heartening rush, and mingled with the 
 breeze-borne perfumes from the myrtle and ab- 
 sinthe grown hills that lay behind Cherchel ; and 
 radiant multitudes of stars twinkled and shimmered 
 in a sky of profoundest peace, where no inclemency 
 
 277
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 for a moment might obtain. On the village fete 
 day, which happened in mid-winter, the peasants 
 gathered for their songs and dances in the open 
 on the palm-shadowed, ruin-strewn square. The 
 children tossed their gay mosaics high in the air ; 
 the soldiers came down from the fort to join in the 
 revelry ; the little cafes rang with mirth and 
 music ; and in the evening the musicians came to 
 serenade the lady of the chateau (as the first lady in 
 Cherchel), and were afterwards regaled on the 
 illuminated terrace with cakes, and fruit, and wine. 
 
 Ah ! that was home, and very excellent were the 
 things that could be spoken of it. Here in this 
 strange, cold land, where, in spite of their constant 
 and most kindly charities, the peasant folk had 
 begun to look askance at them, here by these waters 
 of Babylon they could not sing the songs of Zion. 
 As for their harps, they hanged them up, for in their 
 heaviness no melody was possible. Nor was it 
 possible that they could go back once more to the 
 Zion which was their home, the remembrance of 
 which must be ever in their hearts' most faithful 
 keeping. 
 
 For he, the friend of years, was there. He, the 
 playmate, the consoler of childhood's days ; the 
 protector, counsellor, guide of maturer years, he 
 was there ; and a foul and dastardly blot lay on 
 him now, and must henceforth hide him from their 
 view for evermore. 
 
 No revenge, reproach, contumely towards him 
 278
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 was at any time in their minds. Some day, some- 
 time, long years hence, it might be, they thought, 
 but hardly dared to speak it, that they might go 
 again, and watch the waves beat on the storied 
 shore, and see the vineyards, the terraced garden, 
 the ancient legend-hung ways, the treasures, the 
 beauties manifold of their home so sweet and dear ; 
 and then, one morning, a great courage would be 
 Fatma's, and for the briefest space she would seek 
 the doctor, and would give into his hands the little 
 note, lying ready even now in its box all sealed and 
 locked, against that awful, that resistless day. 
 
 They decided to travel for the winter in southern 
 France and Italy. Who knows but that they 
 thought it would at least be on the road that led to 
 home ? While they were making preparations for 
 a lengthened departure, the neighbourhood was con- 
 siderably stirred by the fact of a terrible accident 
 to Lord Somerfeild, which happened while his lord- 
 ship was returning one morning from cub-hunting, 
 when his horse, being tired, refused to take a fence. 
 His lordship, however, somewhat brutally insisted, 
 with the result that the powerful animal, after one 
 or two attempts, took the fence, but, landing on the 
 other side, fell and rolled over the luckless lord, 
 crushing two of his ribs into his lungs, and inflicting 
 other ghastly injuries. 
 
 Constant messages of sympathy and inquiry 
 were sent from Lorimer Lodge to the sick man's 
 place of residence. A married sister and two 
 
 279
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 nurses were in attendance on him. The Lady Eric 
 could not bring herself to pay a personal visit, unless 
 indeed in answer to a personal request from the earl 
 himself, which, however, to her relief, was not forth- 
 coming. 
 
 As they were leaving the north, the last news they 
 had of him was to the effect that he had slightly 
 rallied ; but ten days later, at Mentone, they 
 learned from cablegrams in the newspapers that 
 much to the regret of his many acquaintances in 
 the yachting, sporting, and society worlds, fatal 
 issues had supervened, and the Earl of Somerfeild 
 was no more. This was followed by a letter from 
 Mr. Curtis, in which he happened towards the end to 
 say : 
 
 " As you will doubtless have heard ere this, your 
 Scotch neighbour. Lord Somerfeild, is dead, the 
 result of his accident in the hunting field. Before 
 the end Dickson went down to him. His affairs 
 have been in our hands for some time past, as you 
 may or may not have known, Dickson and he, 
 curiously enough, were chums and Eton boys to- 
 gether, but of late years their paths and their 
 dispositions too, I should say, have very widely 
 diverged. Dickson has been much out of sorts 
 since his return, but we are going through some 
 wretched weather, and influenza is rife , . ." 
 
 And thus the Earl of Somerfeild passed for ever 
 from her life, thought Fatma, as she laid the letter 
 down, knowing that at no time would she be able 
 
 280
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 to dwell with any pleasure on a single feature of her 
 brief association with him. Even in that last inter- 
 view, when her heart cried out in passionate accu- 
 sation, " Thou art the man ! " and he had so wholly 
 and so firmly denied it, alas ! there had been no joy 
 in her acceptance of his assurance. Life instead 
 had grown very old and grey and strange. 
 
 Then, with the clear sense of justice which was 
 inherent in her, she began to ask herself : "And if 
 I, Fatma, die to-day, is there any, besides perhaps 
 Aunt Gabrielle, into whose life I, either, have brought 
 joy and gladness, any who would sigh in anguish 
 when I go hence, or call to me with bitter tears 
 across the grave to come in mercy back again, for 
 the light and sweetness that I was to them ? " 
 
 She rose from where she was sitting — alone in 
 an olive grove on the slope of a hill, with the Medi- 
 terranean sparkling in azure sheets before her down 
 the pleasant ocean latitudes that stretch even to 
 Cherchel. The thought that was in her went nigh 
 to choke her. 
 
 " O God," she sobbed, " my mother's Allah, my 
 father's Christ, make me some day gay and glad of 
 heart again. For me, to be gay, it is the only, the 
 only way." 
 
 Which to some may seem a heathen's prayer in- 
 deed, and to others, with a better vision, not. 
 
 28 1
 
 PART III 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 UNACCOMPANIED by relative, friend, or maid, 
 the Lady Eric Lorimer-Harben sat alone on 
 a spring morning, watching the feeding of the pigeons 
 in the square of S. Mark at Venice. Twice she took 
 a letter from the satin lining of her ermine coat, 
 and replaced it after reading it, a doubtful little 
 smile flitting for an instant across the unapproach- 
 able beauty of her face. 
 All the letter said was this : 
 
 " I have a fortnight's leave of absence from affairs. 
 May I run over and see you ? 
 
 " Yours, 
 " Cecil G. F. Dickson." 
 
 And after less than an hour's deliberation the 
 nonchalant answer had spread northwards : 
 
 " Of course you may. We shall be very glad. 
 Our love to Lady Cecilia. 
 
 " Yours, 
 " Fatma Lorimer-Harben." 
 
 A week had gone since that exchange of corre- 
 spondence. The comtesse had had a bad night 
 from neuralgia, and was sleeping late, while Fatma 
 was inhaling the sweetness of the morning in the 
 282
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 square made famous by chroniclers, poets, novelists, 
 lovers innumerable. 
 
 Her heart in days gone by had asked for the 
 largest joy there is. Now she sat wondering 
 whether it could accommodate itself to a joy of a 
 very modest and moderate size. She did not pre- 
 tend to hide from herself the fact that Cecil Dickson 
 was coming the length of Europe to ask her a ques- 
 tion from which there could be no escape, where no 
 evasion would be tolerated ; nor did she pretend to 
 think otherwise than that of the men she had met 
 and known since she had left her home he had 
 touched her by far the most nearly, had left the 
 only abiding impression on her, had stimulated her 
 to an acute sense of the force, the reality, the obli- 
 gations, the tragedy meme of life. 
 
 In that tenantless palace of her heart, built on 
 a heroic scale for the reception of a master for whom 
 no state could be too dazzling, no devotion too 
 absolute, she knew well that did she marry Cecil 
 Dickson there would be spaces left unfilled, void 
 rooms, desolate corners that must be shut for ever 
 from the light of day, unexplored, unseen, undreamed 
 of. But because of this, must none of the rooms 
 re-echo to warmth, and light, and song ? Must 
 the adorable patter of little feet be never heard 
 through the wide halls or on the sunny garden 
 slopes, the intimate human joys that make of a 
 house a home, a heart a place of deep and dear con- 
 tent, come near her never more again ? 
 
 283
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Efifin, before her two ways lay, each with its own 
 pecuUar piquancy and charm, its difficulties, terrors, 
 tears, each with its endless loneliness, and each, oh, 
 surely each with its beatitude at last. 
 
 As though to arrest the flights of thought and 
 fancy in their daring courses across the freshness, 
 the sunlit beauty of the square, she watched a man's 
 figure advancing slowly. Once it halted, looked 
 round, then having found its desire, came straight 
 towards her through the fluttering pigeons to where 
 she sat alone with her dogs. A fine figure of a man 
 ne was, comforting and comfortable to look on. He 
 held his head high with a natural pride that became 
 him vastly, but in his eyes, as he drew nearer, a 
 great reverence shone and deepened, and the courage 
 of his bearing, together with the humility of his 
 glance, produced indeed a well-pleasing whole. 
 
 In the essential, the supreme moments of life, 
 those moments fraught most heavily with either 
 suspension or intensity of feeling, Fatma was wont 
 to find in flippancy the safety-valve for her fine 
 emotions. Therefore, as this good Englishman, 
 who was none other than Cecil Dickson, drew near 
 to her, she cast round for phrases of the old familiar 
 mocking merriment with which to greet him ; but 
 none came to her. Flippancy, the sorry jade, had 
 played her false. The occasion was one which could 
 be treated only an grand serieux. So, doubtless, 
 ce hon Anglais had intended, and his strength was 
 
 strong indeed. 
 
 284
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " They told me I should find you here," he said 
 to her simply, as they shook hands and sat down 
 side by side on the wide, low seat ; " but I seem to 
 myself to have been a long time doing so," 
 
 " Did you have a nice journey ? Did you come 
 straight through ? " 
 
 " Straight as an arrow." 
 
 " Was it good travelling all the way — the sleeping, 
 reading, feeding ? " 
 
 " I scarcely remember, but I think so. Ah, yes, 
 though, the first cup of coffee on the French side 
 of the Channel one always remembers, doesn't 
 one ? " 
 
 " Paradise after purgatory ? " 
 
 " And paradise prepares the way for the heaven 
 of heavens, does it not ? " 
 
 " Presumably. Did you find that too ? At 
 Paris, perhaps, where the kindly finger of Paillard 
 points the way ? " 
 
 " Not at Paris, nor anywhere along the line of the 
 Paris, Lyon, & Mediterranee Railway," 
 
 " I give it up. But if you are seeking still, I 
 congratulate you. The seekers, they say, are ever 
 happier than those who find," 
 
 " A fallacy, pure and simple, dear Lady Eric, an 
 on dit of no account whatever, I am not seeking 
 still. And I am happier far than when I was," 
 
 " You found it ? Oh, then where ? " 
 
 " Here on this ancient seat, the pigeons fluttering 
 in the rare blue air, the church bells chiming, the 
 
 28 f
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 flower-girls laughing, the marbles gleaming, and the 
 lagoons murmuring," 
 
 " You are kind to Venice, Now that you put it 
 
 so prettily, I see that it is indeed heaven of a sort." 
 
 " Do you not also see that I have omitted the 
 
 faintest reference to the one, the only thing that 
 
 makes it in reality heaven at all for me ? " 
 
 " I cannot possibly concern myself with what you 
 do not say, can I ? " 
 
 " I will say it soon, then, very soon," 
 " If I were you I would not. The things unsaid 
 so often have a wonderful, a beautiful significance, 
 denied altogether to those that are merely said." 
 
 He looked at her swiftly with a pang at his heart. 
 An indescribable new pathos was in her voice. She 
 who erstwhile had contributed with such sparkling 
 grace and zest her atoms to the gaiety of the nations 
 was older now by some dread experience of terror 
 or of tears, less infinitely glad and gay by some im- 
 measurable span — the whole air of her, in fact, re- 
 dolently suggestive of one who must henceforth go 
 softly all her days. 
 
 But nothing could turn aside from his purpose the 
 man at her side. 
 
 " Yet another heresy ! " he told her gently, then 
 added, with a touch of bitterness : " There has been 
 something I would have said to you some time ago. 
 Has it seemed wonderful or beautiful to you in any 
 way, I would know, merely because I have not said 
 it? " 
 
 286
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Against the ermine of her coat the shell-pink of 
 her delicate face glowed finely. 
 
 " But if you will refrain from saying it still," she 
 said quite bravely, after a moment's thought, " I 
 will hold it wonderful, beautiful, and . . . and dear of 
 you." 
 
 At her words an alluring picture rose before him 
 of a friendship perfect as such can be ; a gem of 
 platonic beauty set in crystals of a fair and tremulous 
 passion ; between them ever the play of that bright, 
 wordless question, with its unknown, unspoken 
 answer, glancing to and fro like a bird of paradise in 
 coquettish flight. But after a very slight con- 
 sideration, he rejected it as worthless, spurious, a 
 most pitiable imitation of a glorious original. Both 
 in the artist soul and in, what with him predominated 
 to a far greater extent, the honest man's soul within 
 him, a kind of nausea arose at thought of the forced 
 exotic atmosphere wherein it was under contempla- 
 tion to abide indefinitely. Instead he fain would 
 have the realities of sun and frost, the stern air of 
 the mountain- tops, or the blessed peace of sun- 
 steeped valleys, the rain, the storm, the dews of life 
 according as the lines should fall to him in goodly 
 or in desolate places. And this more excellent way 
 it was his duty to point out to her who had inspired 
 its every detail, none the less than its radiant 
 beatific whole. 
 
 But as he was not an adept at expressing himself 
 in this kind of way, he merely said : 
 
 287
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Before the day is done, dear Lady Eric, it may 
 be then that you will think things neither beautiful 
 nor dear of me again." 
 
 " Which means that you are not going to act on 
 my suggestion ? " 
 
 " Which means just that, yes. That way of 
 yours, it is — what shall I say ? — it is rose leaves 
 scattered over ice, thin ice, too, now and again. 
 Will you think me abominably dreary and common- 
 place if I say that I would take you with me rather 
 where the good mother earth spreads, without 
 risk or danger, her manifold joys and bounties all 
 around ? " 
 
 The Lady Eric answered not a word. She did 
 but watch that beautiful ethereal house of hers, a 
 house not made with hands, crumbling to pieces 
 in the sober noonday light. She did not know 
 whether to weep or to laugh at the ruins heaped 
 about her. 
 
 It happened that in the corner of the square 
 where they sat they were for the moment quite 
 alone. The drowsy, fragrant silence of the place and 
 hour and of the lady at his side, fanned the passion 
 pent up in the man's strong heart into a blaze of 
 expression that the trivialities of talk might have 
 well denied it. Fatma, in her scheme of general- 
 ship, if scheme at all she had, had overlooked this 
 possible influence, or we might have heard her gaily 
 rippling forth the absurdities or the nonentities of 
 intercourse with vigour unabated. 
 
 288
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Suddenly Dickson began, with a certain clear-cut 
 stateliness assumed to cloak the storm within : 
 
 " There is a question, Lady Eric, which I suppose 
 I should only ask of you in some shadowy con- 
 servatory where the lights are faint ; in a garden 
 under the moonlight or the stars ; away on some 
 lonely hill-top or moorland place ; but none the less 
 with all my heart I ask it of you here just as we 
 happen to find ourselves together in this life-strewn 
 square. I have no happy knowledge that you care in 
 the least for me — and after all, why should you ? 
 But, oh, if you will marry me, I will care for you all 
 day and every day, in presence and in absence, 
 with a devotion which I will make bold to say no 
 man could overtop. Tell me, my dearest, will you 
 let this be the glory, the duty, the ambition of my 
 life, my unworthy life ? " 
 
 Fatma heard the feeling, the deep longing, 
 vibrating in the man's firm, low voice. It moved 
 her more acutely than did the actual matter of 
 which he spoke. With regard to that, she was 
 aware that across the erstwhile easy, dainty path- 
 way of her life fate, or another power, had flung a 
 rough, stern boulder, which she must scale whether 
 she would or not. A mist of tears trembled before 
 her tender, fearless eyes. She rose from the low 
 stone seat and smiled down into the appealing face 
 of the man who waited, breathless, on her word. 
 
 " You do me too much honour, dear friend, 
 indeed, indeed you do. Let us walk homewards, 
 u 289
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 will you ? To-night, yes, assuredly to-night, I will 
 give you my answer — before the moonrays touch 
 the western spires of wonderful S. Mark. Till then 
 you must say nothing, not a word, except about 
 quite other things ; till then . . . till then ! " 
 
 290
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 " T~\EAR Aunt Gabrielle, I am so glad you are 
 
 J_V awake and better. Cecil Dickson has arrived 
 from England. He met me in the square, and 
 asked me to marry him. I told him he should have 
 my answer to-night, when the moon rises over 
 S. Mark. I might as well have given it to him 
 then and there, but a little poetry, just a little, in 
 this kind of thing, is well to look back on. Besides, 
 I wanted to have one whole long blue day more to 
 call myself my own, only and all my own. You 
 understand that, I am sure." 
 
 "Ah, then, my dear, I see ! I see! The answer, 
 ce sera bien oui ? " 
 
 " Yes. Can you think of any possible reason why 
 it should be anything else ? For I cannot." 
 
 " My dearest, it is hardly as lovers talk, is it ? 
 Will you not be very happy ? To me he seems a 
 man amongst men. And his mother — ah, quelle 
 femme ! The strength and virtues of the saints of 
 old with all the graces and sweetnesses of the 
 greatest lady of to-day." 
 
 " Yes," agreed Fatma, drawing her eyebrows 
 perplexedly together ; " they are both so wholly 
 admirable." 
 
 291
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 And then she laughed with something of the old 
 gay insouciance, the quality that avoids where'er it 
 can the way of tragedy and pain, to choose instead 
 the pathway where the sun shines, the birds sing, 
 the roses bloom, and the very hedgerows smile for 
 
 joy- 
 
 All that day Cecil Dickson was their only guest. 
 At lunch, during the afternoon drive which the 
 comtesse was made to share, and later on at dinner, 
 the Lady Eric was brilliant, witty, immeasurably 
 fair to look on, and did the honours of her simple 
 entertainment with a charm worthy of a large au- 
 dience. It was the old lost Fatma come to beautiful 
 life once more, thought the comtesse, and her 
 maternal heart swelled with gladdest pride. Withal 
 so exquisitely kind was she in her manner to her 
 adorer that ever and anon a chill misgiving would 
 possess him miserably as to whether this unusual 
 kindness was but the delicate, shimmering vessel in 
 which the bitter draught was soon to be conveyed 
 to him. 
 
 It certainly did not occur to him to consider that 
 in her blood flowed that of chieftains and potentates 
 of old, who counted their acres by thousands, and 
 their slaves by tens of thousands, and who none the 
 less, when capitulation to a new order of things was 
 inevitable, bowed their necks to the yoke with a 
 grace which left nothing to be desired, and that 
 something of that old-time spirit might be stirring 
 in their descendant even now to-day. 
 
 292
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 After dinner coffee was served to them on the 
 balcony upstairs. From a Httle distance the music 
 of a serenade floated to them on the wings of the 
 cool, starry night. The moment was ravishing, 
 Italian, rich with eloquence and passion. A perfect 
 silence was between the three who sat together 
 there. Yet each heart was speaking ; so clearly, 
 that if hearts had always voices, a strange little trio 
 would have rung out its melody on the sweet opaline 
 air. 
 
 The comtesse in her selflessness sublime was 
 singing : 
 
 " I give you to him, my darling. You are my 
 last, my only one, but yet I give you. All the others, 
 death has claimed. You I give to love, to love." 
 
 The man, almost in an agony, was breathing : 
 " I want you, my first, my best, my only, my lady 
 dear. Oh, God, I want you ! " 
 
 Fatma was softly joining in : "I am coming, 
 I am coming. Must I then tell you so, cher ami, for 
 you to know it ? You are true and wonderfully 
 kind. . . . But, oh," and here her voice would falter 
 and nearly fail her quite, " were there only no other 
 world across the Mediterranean Sea, no other man, 
 no other possible life or love ! " 
 
 Once again in the moonlit square they walked 
 alone, both knowing well that never would another 
 evening be in their lives as this one was. They tried 
 valiantly to talk of little things that lay far enough 
 
 293
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 from their hearts, until at last each paused and 
 faced the other laughingly, with a perfect under- 
 standing. 
 
 " That we should each have known exactly what 
 was in the other's mind without a word ! I call it 
 great," said Dickson gently, a huge content beaming 
 on his countenance. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Fatma musingly, after a very little 
 while ; "do you then think you know all that is in 
 my mind just now ? " And her dazzling teeth 
 showed for a moment in a maddening suspicion of a 
 smile. 
 
 The content was dashed effectually from his face, 
 but something stronger took its place. 
 
 " No," said he, " in truth to all that rest I have 
 no faintest clue. But the time has come for you 
 to tell me. Look ! The moon has long since passed 
 the limit that you set it. Oh, my love, my dear, is 
 it good news you bring me, or word of a desolation 
 beyond compare ? " 
 
 Then Fatma knew that her hour had come. 
 
 " Cecil Dickson," said she softly, " fine good 
 Englishman that you are, and true, I don't know 
 what to say to you." 
 
 " But you must know, dear." 
 
 " You see, I don't want to say No, and I ... I am 
 afraid ... to say Yes." 
 
 " Oh, no, no, not afraid ! Surely not afraid. It 
 is never you to fear ! But with every word you 
 speak, every look you look, I love you more." 
 
 294
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Then the pride in her arose to its fullest stature, 
 and dreams, the dreams that had made her brain 
 dizzy with joy, were flung aside, trampled down for 
 ever. With a beautiful brilliant smile she turned 
 to face her lover, and held out both her little hands 
 to him in the deep still shadows of a mass of statuary, 
 by which they sat. 
 
 " I hope you will always love me more and more," 
 she whispered, inclining her head gently, almost 
 unconsciously, towards him ; "for indeed your love 
 must needs be very great to cover all that I fear is 
 so sadly lacking in mine." 
 
 Without a word he drew her arm in his, and led 
 her back across the moonlight-flooded square to the 
 palazzo where their temporary home was. In the 
 great room upstairs the lights were low : the com- 
 tesse had retired for the night, and Cecil Dickson, 
 scarce knowing where he was for joy amazing, 
 boundless, found himself, nevertheless, in wondrous 
 solitude alone with the dear love of his heart. 
 
 Burning were the words that fell from his no 
 longer sentinelled lips. Her promise was his. Life 
 was complete, heroic, charged with an essence all 
 divine. Something that savoured ever so gently 
 of reluctance, of deprecation, in her attitude, only 
 fired him to more passionate tenderness and ex- 
 pression. Whatever she might do, this proud and 
 exquisite lady, whether she returned his love with 
 an ardour equal to his own, or whether a modest 
 shrinking fell like a delicate covering over gesture, 
 
 295
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 look, and word, yet still in the man's enamoured 
 eyes each part became her better than the other — 
 he could but love her more and more. 
 
 Towards the end of the evening they stepped to- 
 gether through the wide French windows to the 
 balcony that gave on to a lagoon, where, but for the 
 lazy movements of one or two gondolas, all was still. 
 The velvet of the heavenly plains above was pricked 
 with stars innumerable : the hour was one that made 
 for poetry, for peace, for all gentle, happy, beauteous 
 things of life. Through all after experiences and 
 vicissitudes the aroma of it clung to Cecil Dickson as 
 his one perfect priceless possession and memory. 
 
 " Oh, this dear night ! And yet how long it will 
 seem before the morning comes ! " he murmured. 
 
 " The horrid morning ! " smiled his love, " when 
 words are empty, silence dreary, and most things 
 out of tune." 
 
 He kissed the treasonable words away, refusing 
 to release her until she admitted that after all the 
 morning is mainly a matter of one's mood, and that 
 amid the string of life's long days there are morn- 
 ings more than one that sparkle forth their splendour 
 of delight and bliss, like fairest jewels, set ever and 
 anon in a rosary of humbler beads. 
 
 296
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THAT night Fatma did not sleep with her 
 accustomed deep tranquiUity, and when morn- 
 ing gleamed between the bars of the shutters she 
 thought again of Cecil Dickson's parting words, and 
 it occurred to her with a shiver of distaste that the 
 morning before her might possibly not count as a 
 jewel on the common string of days. 
 
 She had, for a woman, an unusual power of keeping 
 silence whenever she wished to on matters either 
 trivial or important. Her talk was ever kindly, 
 clear, humorous, gay, often rich with a wisdom 
 beyond her years ; but with the petty or the larger 
 private affairs of either her own or other people 
 it dealt hardly at all. Now, however, she knew that 
 between herself and this man with whom she had 
 consented to walk henceforth in lifelong intimate 
 union there should be no faint cloud of misunder- 
 standing at the start. That at least should be honest 
 as the daylight, even though it robbed their mar- 
 riage of any whisper of mystery or romance that 
 might have breathed upon it still. 
 
 The morning passed without a favourable oppor- 
 tunity for explanations, but in the afternoon they 
 sat together on the shore of one of the wonderful 
 
 297
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 grave-islands of the Western Adriatic. Dickson, 
 who was a practised oarsman, had hired a gondola 
 and taken his love alone to this especial spot where 
 she had expressed a wish to go. 
 
 " You are serious, Fatma," he said to her, with 
 impassioned tenderness, as he flung himself at her 
 feet, and raising himself on one elbow looked 
 hungrily into the velvet darkness of her eyes, the 
 dazzling fairness of her face. 
 
 While he spoke it seemed to him that a shadow as 
 of tears gathered in the sweetness of those eyes, and 
 the pity of it stung him to an exclamation of dismay. 
 
 " Listen, Cecilio mio ! " she said smilingly ; "if 
 you had had a secret that had been all your dearest 
 own since you were scarcely more than a child, a 
 secret that had grown up with you as the roses grow, 
 as summer comes, as the years grow old, then new 
 again, and if the hour had come when you must 
 give this secret into another's keeping and it could 
 be no more for ever entirely yours alone, how would 
 you feel about it, do you think ? Not hilarious ? " 
 
 " But, dearest, why do you tell me this ? You 
 have no such secret ? " 
 
 " Oh, but I have, even I. It is part of my life 
 I think, certainly part of my soul, as much mine 
 as my health, my sleep, my laughter, or my hair, 
 are mine. Yet not those, the nearest in the world 
 to me, have once had the least suspicion of it. The 
 nearest, thank God, are generally the blindest, are 
 they not ? " 
 
 298
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " And the thought of sharing it with me brought 
 a sadness, a darkness, to your eyes just now. Well, 
 then, I swear that you shall never, never tell it me. 
 I will be, even as those others are, content to be blind 
 because so exquisitely near." 
 
 " How generous you are ! But I am going 
 quand meme to tell it to you, and you must let me 
 do so while my courage is in my hands, tight and 
 strong. Once told, I want you never to refer to it 
 again, in all our lives together. Always there it 
 must be, but it need bring no unhappiness or dis- 
 trust any more than the rains of yesterday or the 
 winters that have gone." 
 
 In a flash it occurred to Dickson that their joint 
 knowledge of this secret on which she laid such 
 stress might be a link of wondrous, of surpassing 
 intimacy between them, that indeed it might bring 
 about such a desirable effect as nothing else im- 
 aginable could or would. There was a light upon 
 his face as he turned it up to hers, speaking slowly 
 and solemnly — 
 
 " You shall tell me and I will hear. After that, 
 as you say, it shall be buried in word and deed for 
 all time between us." 
 
 " How perfectly you trust me ! Do you think 
 I come to you, Cecilio, with a heart like a clean 
 slate, on which it only remains for you to write 
 whatever you may choose ? " 
 
 Beneath the man's bronze hue of health a pallor 
 crept. 
 
 299
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " Dear, say on ! " he besought her, with quicken- 
 ing pulse. 
 
 " Since I can remember, the silent worship of my 
 child life, all a girl's first passionate devotion, the 
 riper, perhaps the deeper, love of later years have 
 been showered wdthout stint or spare on a man who 
 . . . who knows nothing, who cares still less." 
 
 " You, my glad, my sunbright lady, you have 
 loved like that, loved so long ? " 
 
 " Was that pity in your voice ? Never pity those 
 who love." 
 
 " And you love that same man still . . . still ? " 
 
 " No, ah, no ! I cannot, may not, will not ! 
 For he, he betrayed our little Lois, deserted her, 
 murdered her — I hardly know how to say the words 
 — he, the friend of years, our doctor, the village 
 doctor of Cherchel. And it was he I loved, Cecilio, 
 loved so well. And in my heart there must always 
 be that one closed room for him, villain, traitor, 
 miserable, ignoble, call him w^hat you will. The 
 rest IS yours if still you will, yours wholly and quite 
 cheerfully. But love ? Have you ever loved a 
 woman other than myself, Cecilio ? Can there be 
 a second love, strong and glad and tireless, do you 
 think ? Oh, I could find it in my heart to wdsh 
 there was." 
 
 But the man she spoke to had no word for her, 
 no comfort, and no look. His face was buried in 
 his hands ; his attitude suggested a strange despair. 
 
 Fatma looked straight and grave to seawards. 
 300
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Alas, that she should bring havoc into a clean and 
 honest life ! 
 
 " Is it indeed so bad, Cecilio ? " she whispered 
 slowly, and laid her little hand for a moment on 
 his shoulder. Her word, her touch, stung him back 
 to consciousness. 
 
 " Wait, my dearest, my darling, wait. Let me 
 think," he murmured, lifting a haggard face, blank 
 with consternation, to her own. 
 
 Fatma was puzzled. She had thought that 
 when her tale was told he would nevertheless, 
 " quand mcme " (as she expressed it to herself in the 
 fine untranslatable little motto of her race), take 
 her into his keeping with that delightful air of joy 
 and reverence that so became him. Had she 
 offered herself with unnecessary expedition, or indeed 
 in vain ? The thought kindled flaming fires in her 
 cheeks. Would he only have the first-fruits of her 
 love ? Second to none was the word that ruled 
 their lives, ces Anglais, was it not ? Second to 
 none in love, in war, in learning, in politics, finance, 
 and sport, second to none in all the games of life. 
 Ah, well, after all, why not ? Que voulez-vous ? 
 Was there a tinge of regret in her relief that it was 
 so ? Or was it only wounded pride ? 
 
 Upon her musing the man broke in. 
 
 " Let me see," he said, and his voice was thick and 
 strange ; " tell me, have I got it quite correctly ? 
 You have loved him always, that doctor ? Were it 
 not for what happened through him to Lois you 
 
 301
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 would love him still and would think of no one other 
 man for your husband ? Consequently, it is to his 
 black treachery and guilt, to that and nothing else, 
 that I owe the blessedness, the heavenly bliss of 
 your being here this afternoon by my side, my dear 
 affianced bride ? Is it so, Fatma ? Is it just 
 entirely so ? " 
 
 Fatma's head was bent low. She was fingering 
 her rings, the wedding-ring and the circle of blazing 
 diamonds that she wore always in memory of Lord 
 Eric. 
 
 " Yes ... it is so," she said very softly. 
 
 When Dickson spoke again it was with an effort. 
 Over his bewildered, desperate eyes his brows were 
 knitted curiously. 
 
 " I know you will think it no impertinence of me 
 if I ask you how you became aware that the Cherchel 
 doctor was the man in question ? " 
 
 In the mild still air Fatma shivered. " Ah, 
 that awful death hour ! " she said. " It was when 
 Lois was leaving us. Of her own wish and will she 
 told us. She has left a farewell line for him. Some 
 day I must give it into his hand myself." 
 
 " She did ? She has ? You wiU > " 
 
 " Yes, I shall see him then for the last time in 
 life. I promised Lois, dying, that I would deliver 
 it myself to him. Then I shall go from his presence 
 to solitude, the world, or . .or you, Cecilio ? It is 
 for you to say." 
 
 Her voice rose and fell in the most exquisite 
 302
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 cadences. A wonderful grace, a light of loving- 
 kindness, exhaled from her. The rare and subtle 
 charm of her could be withstood no longer. 
 
 He snatched her to him and murmured over her 
 every sweet and tender name that came to him. 
 And yet a sort of agony was in his love-making, the 
 love-making of a man who sees one crowded hour 
 of glorious life before him and at the end of it the 
 cold gleam of the pointed rifle-barrel — annihila- 
 tion ; barren, bitter death. 
 
 Passion, love, an immense devotion, but not 
 happiness, surged in his voice ; courage to fight 
 against odds undreamt of, with the knowledge that 
 victory would bring no peace or crown of laurel in 
 its wake. 
 
 The Lady Eric sat by his side on the forsaken 
 shore, vaguely troubled in the depths of her quiet 
 heart, grateful for the love-storm that had swept 
 across the solitude of her life, but saddened, in a 
 measure ennuyce, that such violent demonstration 
 of it was thought either necessary or appropriate. 
 
 As they rose to go, her hand rested for a moment 
 on his arm. Glancing down at the slim finger with 
 the wedding-ring and the blazing diamonds by its 
 side, a sudden remembrance pierced Cecil Dickson 
 like an arrow, and he turned sharply to her. 
 
 " You loved that other man so well, so long. 
 And yet you married Lord Eric. Forgive me, my 
 sweet and dearest, but for the life of me I cannot 
 understand." 
 
 303
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 At the challenge in his words she drew herself up 
 very straight and tall, threw back her head and 
 let disdain override the gentleness of her wondrous 
 eyes. 
 
 But in less than a minute the anger-flash subsided 
 and she was herself again, indulgent, radiant, with 
 that curious mingling of insouciance and earnest- 
 ness that drew so many hearts towards herself. 
 
 " Forgive me, Cecilio. I looked cross. How 
 deplorable of me ! Of course, you have a right to 
 ask anything, everything. Oh, but you have. 
 Don't contradict. It is rather a difficult thing to 
 explain, and in the awkward moments of it you 
 must bear with me divinely. As the world would 
 put it, I married a man who gave me an old and 
 honoured name, jewels, property, an assured income, 
 an enviable position, and for me to pretend that to 
 accept all these good things entailed any heroism 
 or self-sacrifice on my part would be a vain folly 
 indeed. To you alone I may tell you really why I 
 did it. In our little far Cherchel, Cecilio, we live 
 in a place of sunshine, delicate ruins, and fragments 
 of old-time glories, beautiful seas and skies, heavenly 
 gardens, groves of lemon, olive, palm — to see it, 
 read or talk of it, you would think it fairyland in- 
 carnate. Pink roses, gorgeous crimson flowers, trail 
 about the marbles like fire-flames over snow — but 
 I am not going to weary you with my fancies du 
 plus poetique. In the very heart of our beauty 
 there is great poverty, much misery, and of rich 
 
 304
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 people, no, not one. There are beggars, cripples, 
 orphans, men and women diseased, deformed, 
 depraved, and on the low-lying plains at the foot 
 of the mountains epidemics, fevers, malaria, and 
 worse things, raging nearly always. To fight all this 
 there is but one man, him I loved. That brave, 
 strenuous life, fighting year in year out, by night 
 and day, by storm or scorching shine, against in- 
 superable overwhelming odds, fighting for no renown 
 or gain, but simply from sheer love of the game, 
 ah, how breathlessly I watched it, loved it, would 
 have died, I think, for it at any time. But in life's 
 programme of to-day there is no place for heroics 
 of that sort, so I merely married. And that you 
 must not count to me for any virtue, since it was 
 only when I was convinced that there was not the 
 remotest chance of Lord Eric's recovery that I went 
 through the marriage ceremony with him. How 
 brutal the truth mostly is, Cecilio ! Every excuse 
 should be found for the genial liars of every day, 
 don't you think ? The angelic, the unselfish girl, 
 would have married Lord Eric, even though he were 
 to live for ever, if by doing so she could lighten the 
 load from the heart of her beloved. . . However, at 
 Cherchel, already we have in the village a hospital, 
 on the upper slopes a cottage for convalescent 
 children, a trained district nurse, an apothecary, 
 a second horse for the doctor, a well-equipped 
 isolation camp, medical appliances up to date, and 
 other comforts too many quite for me to mention or 
 X 305
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 remember. I had stipulated with Lord Eric that 
 a certain fixed annual sum should be left for these 
 purposes, and that the doctor should be trustee and 
 governor of the fund, with power to lay out the 
 money entirely at his own discretion. I knew well 
 that his nature was such that it would ill brook 
 having to accept any favour as coming direct from 
 me. I shall never forget his face in that hour when 
 I made known to him and Aunt Gabrielle my decision 
 to marry Lord Eric. It was in the garden one 
 beautiful evening, and the burning sarcasm that 
 shot from his eyes, his manner, voice, was such that 
 all the air around, the very trees, the twilight skies, 
 seemed to be breathing out the same word of hot, 
 ineffable scorn. Only once he spoke, and that was 
 towards the end of that quarter of an hour. ' Why 
 talk with such certainty of Lord Eric's death ? ' 
 he asked in an ice-cold voice, ' it has often been on 
 record that the attainment of some much-desired 
 aim has restored a dying man once more to health and 
 strength.' In the strange days that followed, when 
 he came, according to his wont, every morning and 
 evening to see Lord Eric, nothing could surpass his 
 kindness and devotion to his patient; but when it was 
 necessary for him to look or speak to me for anything, 
 I used to wish that the bungalow waUs might fall 
 in and bury me, to hide me from the irony and dis- 
 approval that I alone could hear or heed. Many 
 long days afterwards I had my reward, when I saw 
 how his shoulders seemed less bent, his expression 
 
 306
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 less inexpectant with the new interests, new hopes, 
 new aids, shining across his Hfe. For before all 
 things he seemed to me the good physician, hon- 
 ourable, humane (to all except myself, who did not 
 count !), earnest, weariless in doing good ; no com- 
 mon audacious dabbler in drugs, you must under- 
 stand, whose view of his profession is to dispense a 
 maximum of physic and a minimum of anxious 
 thought. I thought, too, that gradually he grew to 
 look at me with more of charity and less of judg- 
 ment. And now sometimes my heart feels almost 
 light, knowing that at least he could never think 
 meanly of me again. God have pity, but the 
 meanest thing that crawls is a less ignoble creature 
 than himself!.. , N'est-ce-pas, Cecilio, dites done, 
 n'est-ce-pas ? " she added, with a pleading pathos 
 in her voice, a touch of childishness as of one who 
 hopes against hope that she will meet with contra- 
 diction rather than assent. 
 
 But no contradiction came from the man, who had 
 listened motionless until the tale was told. His face 
 was strangely drawn and old, and his eyes looked 
 restlessly out on the sea. " Can you expect me," he 
 asked, "to be very hard upon a crime that spells 
 the most wonderful gain and bliss to me ? For that 
 is how things are, is it not ? We are agreed that it 
 is his gross unworthiness alone that has sent you to 
 another's arms — that other a thousand times more 
 unworthy still, may be. There is pain in your eyes, 
 my darling. That must never, never be, not even 
 
 307
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 though yon would let me kiss it clean away. See, 
 the sun is setting, and there is no twilight here. 
 Let us be going, sweet. Oh, the twilights we have 
 only kno\\Ti as strangers to each other, the twilights 
 we will know as lovers, lovers evermore. For you 
 shall love me, you shall, even as I love you. And 
 I am mad, I think, mad for love of you. Or is it 
 never saner in my life ? How much would you dare 
 and do, Fatma, for one you dearly, desperately 
 loved ? Would you dare a criminal's, nay, a coward's 
 deed, that so you might win and keep the love that 
 was life and all the world to you ? Tell me, Fatma, 
 would you ? " 
 
 A flicker of impatience, of annoyance, twinkled 
 in Fatma's eyes. Somehow it was love-making not 
 entirely to her taste. A sigh stirred almost imper- 
 ceptibly the laces on her bosom, but she pulled 
 herself thoughtfully together before she answered — 
 
 " The criminal's, possibly, perhaps," she said 
 proudly ; " but the coward's I pray God — not." 
 
 308
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 DELIBERATE continued sin and Cecil Dickson 
 could not live long together. 
 
 After two days of mental torture with delirious 
 intervals of triumph, of tempestuous joy, he awoke 
 to the enormity, the sheer depravity of his offence, 
 and the agony, passing speech, of having now to say 
 what two days earlier would have cost him, in com- 
 parison, but the barest effort. 
 
 Late that afternoon the continental express was 
 to whirl him back to London ; but the morning, cruel, 
 blue, and shimmering, still was his — and hers. He 
 found her surrounded by the flowers and statuary 
 of Italy, in her salon hung with gold and green, 
 gentle, gracious, as she mostly was since the radiant 
 buoyancy of life and youth had left her in the grim 
 old Scottish home where Lois, dying, had spoken the 
 word that rang with doom to one watcher at her 
 side. 
 
 Rather than deep, expectant happiness, a heavenly 
 patience was on her brow as she went slowly down 
 the long room smiling towards him. The second 
 best, ah, how far away from the best it was ! The 
 best at its worst were nearer heaven than this. 
 
 309
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 That was the lesson the calm blue days of Venice 
 were teaching her, and the tearless resoluteness of 
 one who has sold his birthright for a paltry mess of 
 pottage, but means quand me^ne to make the best of 
 his mistake, was hers. 
 
 " I may not kiss you," he said as they met, and 
 he held her beauty at arm's length, " not until I 
 first have told you what I have to tell; and after 
 that you will not want to see my face again." 
 
 The beads stood out on his forehead ; misery 
 stirred hopelessly, helplessly in his frank grey eyes. 
 But she held her hands to him with the prettiest 
 compassion, thinking only that misfortune had 
 befallen him. 
 
 " What is it, what is it, dear ? Do not talk so 
 tragically. You know that whatever may have 
 happened I am yours solemnly and truly now. . , . 
 And that counts for something in your life, Cecilio ? " 
 she added mischievously. 
 
 " Before you drive me mad let me tell you 
 quickly, now. Shall we sit in that shadowy corner 
 by the roses, where Sappho looks so kindly, so wisely 
 down ? No one will come near us, I suppose ? " 
 
 " No one. Yes, come." 
 
 " If I bring you tidings of great joy you can bear 
 it, Fatma, just as you would word of a calamity 
 dismal and dire beyond expression ? " 
 
 " There is no joy now that I could not bear quite 
 easily, dear, I think. You make me so curious, 
 Cecilio. Your face and manner brought anything 
 
 310
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 but a tale of joy into the room with you just 
 now." 
 
 " The vehicle that brings you such a precious 
 freight is so despicable, Fatma. Do you remember 
 saying the other day that though under stress you 
 might act the criminal's, yet you would never under- 
 take the coward's part ? " 
 
 " I remember." 
 
 " In Italy, in Europe, there is no more despairing, 
 miserable coward than he who sits here by your 
 side." 
 
 " I do not believe you. I would never believe 
 you. You dare not speak so of my affianced 
 husband." 
 
 " When you made me that divine confidence of 
 your long love for one who knew it not, and of how, 
 because of his black offending, your love perforce 
 must turn to loathing, I heard you through without 
 a word on his behalf. I did not stop you, did not 
 cry out, ' He is not the man, a hundred times no, 
 he is not the man.' And why ? That I might 
 keep your kindness, your darling promise, the touch 
 of your hand upon my arm, that I might keep you 
 to myself alone. But — but the fact remains : he 
 was not the man ! " 
 
 Fatma's first emotion was that of one who feels 
 herself in a maze, a whirl, a heaven of unconquerable 
 joy. For some moments this joy expressed itself 
 only in her glowing eyes, their glorious tenderness, 
 the sweet, quivering curves of her happy mouth. 
 
 311
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Then, " Oh, say it again, say it softly, say it slowly, 
 say it long. He was not the man, never the man. 
 No pilgrim on earth's weariest way ever heard a 
 burst of music like to that," she cried. But suddenly 
 bewilderment crept like a mist across her mighty 
 sweep of joy. " What was then the terrible mistake ? 
 I do not understand. And how could you have 
 known ? " 
 
 " When Somerfeild lay dying he sent for me, as 
 I fancy you have heard. Curtis and I were his 
 legal advisers and men of business generally, but 
 beyond that he and I were Etonians together, and 
 his mother and mine were old friends ; but our roads 
 led very different ways. When he sent for me at 
 the last I thought it was purely on legal matters ; 
 but about seven hours before he died, being perfectly 
 clear and sane in his mind, he told me there was 
 something he must get off his chest before he went. 
 ' You remember the little French girl, Lois de 
 Beaurepaire, Dickson,' he said. * You remember 
 her death at the birth of the child. Well, I, moi 
 qui vous parle, I was the blackguard responsible, 
 
 out of revenge, for that pretty bit of work Strange 
 
 that fate should have brought her to die almost at 
 my door. She never gave me away. Race told 
 there all right. The most horrible moment of all 
 was when Lady Eric summoned me to the tribunal 
 of the death-chamber and standing over the corpse 
 asked me, was I the man ? I did not want just then 
 either a bullet through my head, a whipmark across 
 
 312
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 my face, or cold steel at my heart, so I resolved to 
 stick to what had evidently been the poor little 
 victim's line and deny the whole thing absolutely 
 and indignantly. Whereupon Lady Eric, accepting 
 my word of honour entirely, held out both her hands 
 to me in appeal for forgiveness. No words could 
 paint my feelings then. It is putting it absurdly 
 mildly when I tell you that I have felt the most 
 miserable beast on earth ever since : and what has 
 happened to me is only in strict accordance with my 
 deserts. But you must not take this confession as 
 a deathbed repentance sort of thing, you know, 
 Dickson. If I were to live it is quite on the cards 
 that I might bring off just such another episode 
 again, so it is doubtless as well that I shall be care- 
 fully planted where I can do no further harm. Do 
 you agree with me ? ' 
 
 " Such was his tale, brutal, true, and unadorned. 
 With his last remark I unreservedly agreed. In a 
 later conversation he gave me permission to make 
 what use I chose of his admissions ; but I have seen 
 no occasion to pass on to the world what was in 
 reality a last word and confession. None, that is 
 to say, until the other afternoon, when the time was 
 meet and honourable to speak, but when instead 
 I kept silence, letting an absent man bear still a 
 wrongful shameful burden, vowing desperately to 
 myself that nothing, no honour, unnecessary truth, 
 or mad officiousness of mine should take you from 
 me ever. In telling you Somerfeild's tale I have 
 
 313
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 told my own. I was a coward, craven as him- 
 self." 
 
 He said no more, but his eyes, his voice, his atti- 
 tude, asked eloquently, piteously, if there was no 
 mercy, no hope, no future possible. 
 
 " No quarter " shone in the eyes of the Lady 
 Eric as she rose from her seat beside him and drew 
 her skirts away, as if in horror of contact with some- 
 thing unholy and unclean. For a moment she flung 
 her hands to her brow as if to press down some 
 uncontrollable pain, and the scorn on her lips 
 proclaimed his doom to the man who watched her 
 as a drowning man may watch the stately ship 
 that goes on her course all heedless of his agony 
 and distress. 
 
 " Indeed, you have spoken truly. Cowards, liars, 
 miserable deceivers — you, the living, and they, the 
 dead ! Lois, I loved so well. That lord English, 
 whose word of honour I never doubted. You, with 
 that air about you which I would have trusted to 
 the end of trust. I believed you one and all, and 
 you have betrayed me unforgivably. You have 
 made me false in heart and soul, false in all that was 
 my dear secret life to me, false in every thought 
 to him to whom alone it mattered to me that I 
 might be true. Oh, but I hate you, hate you all, 
 and myself the most of any. For I trusted where 
 I should have doubted, and doubted where only the 
 most blessed trust should have been. My secret is 
 no longer mine. I shared it with you as I would 
 
 314
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 have shared a lifetime, a fortune, or a crust. You 
 Hstened to me and let me call him by ignoble 
 names. You stole the hours, the thoughts, the 
 tendernesses that, if they were not his, should at 
 least have been no other man's. They, those other 
 two, when they spoke their lie, they did not know 
 what it meant to me, but you, you knew, you 
 knew ! " 
 
 He rose from his seat and stood facing her, white 
 and calm as the statues near him. " Yes, I knew ; 
 for such a sin there is no pardon possible. But 
 some day, when life goes gently with you again, as 
 I pray that it soon will do, then you will think 
 kindly of one whose only excuse for what he did was 
 this : yourself, my love, my lady beautiful ; and 
 out of your rich and glowing life you will not grudge 
 him those two poor wondrous days, stolen though 
 they were from honour's heart itself." 
 
 Fatma did not glance towards him, but some- 
 thing stirred in her eyes that was neither anger nor 
 disdain. At the first call on her generosity her 
 hostility abated swiftly ; but such had been the 
 strain upon her emotions and her nerve, that she 
 found no words to say that it was so. He misread 
 her silence for the most undisguised contempt. 
 
 " And now," he said slowly, in dull misery, "it is 
 the last word of all. But I cannot say it. I cannot 
 look into your face, into the eyes that I have 
 wounded, and say good-bye. I will leave you, dear, 
 I will leave you, and may the thought of me bring no 
 
 315
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 long unhappiness to you, either now or in any time 
 to come! " 
 
 She made a gesture to detain him, but if he saw 
 he paid no heed : still without a word from her, he 
 went. 
 
 316
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 IT was not until the earthly light of that same 
 day declined that the mental light grew clear 
 and strong in Fatma once again. Slowly, in the 
 inner sanctuary of her mind, things began to assume 
 their proper proportions : the beauty of forgiveness, 
 the grandeur of patience, the charm of comprehen- 
 sion, they all shone out in the wondrous scheme of 
 life as the splendid stars were already doing in the 
 darkening velvet of the Venice sky. 
 
 She lay back in a lounge on a myrtle-shadowed 
 corner of the balcony, and she thought of the day 
 that was dead, of the thing that she had heard, the 
 words that she had said, and those she had refrained 
 from saying. And remorse was with her as she 
 thought. 
 
 For after all, those two poor ones whom she had 
 so condemned, the one helpless in her far-off grave, 
 the other gone from before her, joyless now in life ; 
 what they had done they had done for love, for 
 love extreme, exalted, greatly daring. Of the three, 
 was not she herself, when all was done and written 
 down, the first and topmost coward — she, whose 
 faith in her beloved had fainted at the first test ; she, 
 
 317
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 who had had no courage to trust him as love should 
 always trust its own ; who had swept her skirts 
 aside in scorn at the first word of infamy that had 
 assailed him ; who had judged as the meanest of 
 spirits might have done, not by what she knew or 
 saw, but merely by what she heard ; who had feared 
 so greatly to stand alone for his sake on the cold 
 pure heights of solitude, and there along that perfect 
 path to let her soul grow diamond-brighter, crystal- 
 clearer day by day, until at last Love came himself 
 to make all things plain, or Death to wed to wondrous 
 things beyond ? Ah, she who weakly had foregone 
 all this, thrice the coward, thrice the deserter she ! 
 For herself no mercy, none ! 
 
 In her Koran, beautiful and grave, she remem- 
 bered how it was written that the words which 
 bring courage, peace, and healing to the world are 
 ofttimes never uttered, never heard, while those of 
 bitter, bad report go ringing down in the ears of 
 humankind to the gates of the grave itself. Where- 
 upon she went within and wrote a line to Cecil 
 Dickson, the purport of which was that though it 
 must be indeed good-bye between them, she hoped 
 he would think no more of her stupid, blind, and 
 selfish anger, for it had entirely passed away, and 
 henceforth neither sun nor stars should shine or 
 set on any such wrath in her heart again. 
 
 Thus ended another episode in Fatma's life of 
 smiles and tears, of grave and gay, of love wanted, 
 love unwanted, and love found miserably wanting. 
 
 318
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Life, she reflected, was a book in which chapter 
 quickly followed chapter ; and not the least happy of 
 these were those where an eventless order ruled, 
 where the chronicle was one of simple days, not 
 loveless, but for the most part emotionless perhaps, 
 days whose texture was not of gorgeous make and 
 hue, but of a sober stuff, eminently serviceable, and 
 not necessarily at all unbeautiful. 
 
 As she sat still, pen in hand, at her escritoire, think- 
 ing out her thoughts, the Due de Milano, an old 
 friend of the comtesse's late husband, was announced, 
 and it was with a sense of relief that, a few moments 
 later, she turned to greet him, after having com- 
 manded that he should be brought upstairs and 
 Mme. la comtesse summoned. 
 
 The courtesy and gallantry of an old school of 
 manners were his ; admiration deepened into solici- 
 tude as he talked with the two gracious women 
 gowned in softest black, moving delicately amid the 
 luxury of their surroundings, sorrow in their eyes, 
 but only gentle words and smiles upon their lips. 
 
 Presently the particular object of his visit was 
 made manifest. Official, but not as yet public, tele- 
 grams had come through from Paris and Marseilles 
 concerning a serious Arab rising in Algeria. It 
 appeared that for some time past unavailing pro- 
 tests had been made by the Arabs against the 
 acquisition, by a number of French colonist manu- 
 facturers, of the forests, charcoal - burning, and 
 timber-fuel areas of the country districts round about 
 
 319
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 the capital, thus reducing to a state of extreme 
 poverty and exasperation the unfortunate natives 
 who in cases innumerable had no other means of 
 earning a livelihood. Long-smouldering bad feel- 
 ing, carefully fanned to a flame by the Marabouts 
 and other fanatic religious leaders, had culminated 
 in a series of sharp reprisals against the colonists, 
 amongst whom a feeling of alarm and insecurity 
 was daily growing stronger. From Cherchel came 
 the news that, while in the pursuit of their several 
 duties, a deputy administrator, a sharpshooter, 
 and a rural policeman had been shot by the rebel 
 natives. Jeers and insults were flung on every side 
 at the colonists ; danger to life and property both 
 was by no means inconsiderable. 
 
 All this, and more, would doubtless be published 
 as official news in the morning papers, said M. le due. 
 But now, let the ladies have neither anxiety nor fear. 
 Let them, au contraire, thank a kindly Providence 
 that they were far removed from scenes of violence 
 and disorder ; while as for their chateau, the home 
 they held so dear, he had taken the liberty of wiring 
 early in the day to the burgomaster, and had re- 
 ceived the answer : " All well. In the event of 
 serious trouble Chateau de Beaurepaire to be guarded 
 by a posse from the garrison close at hand," Thus, 
 " the best news for the last • was it not so, dites ? " 
 
 No exclamation of any kind had interrupted his 
 tale, but now that it was told the Lady Eric rose 
 from her seat, and stood facing him with glowing 
 
 320
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 eyes, quick breath, and expression instinct with a 
 dauntless courage. So indeed she may have looked 
 on the evening when she drove through the storm 
 in the highlands with Cecil Dickson, and the 
 maddened horses plunged along the roads and passes, 
 over the frail bridges, and down the weirdly echoing 
 glens. At the word danger, at the sound of its 
 magic music, all the blood of the soldier father that 
 was in her leaped to life. What she had called that 
 terrible soft side, which seemed to her so much and 
 so monotonously the lot of women of wealth and 
 fashion, had been drawing perilously near to her 
 again. Now weariness, sickness, satiety, fell like 
 a garment from her ; there was armour to be buckled 
 on, and silk and gossamer to be laid aside ; drawing- 
 room ditties to be exchanged for the chant of 
 the battle hymn, the scent - drenched, halycon 
 valley atmosphere, which drowns and stupefies 
 strong thought and doing, for the keen freshness 
 of the uplands, whose very sides to scale means glad 
 and nerving toil. 
 
 Thank God, thank God indeed. 
 
 M. le due was watching her curiously. " I 
 repeat," he said, with somewhat less of confidence 
 than before, " that the ladies are fortunate to be 
 well away from home just now, and for the rest, as 
 I have said, no undue fear need be." 
 
 Mme. la comtesse hastened to thank him 
 sincerely ; the whole world seemed compact of 
 friends, but none could have been kinder, or have 
 V 321
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 gone to further trouble, than M. le due had done for 
 the sake of two sohtary women who would ever 
 remember his thoughtfulness with untold gratitude ; 
 and then she stopped and glanced at Fatma, for 
 she felt that something was in the air, waiting to 
 burst into expression. 
 
 Fatma was smiling radiantly at them both. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " it was thoughtfulness indeed. 
 But, M. le due, we must go home at once, at once. 
 Think ! There may be wounded wanting help, or 
 our influence among the people may not be quite 
 in vain. There is not a native in the place who 
 does not love Aunt Gabrielle, while as for the French, 
 oh, you have no idea ! " and she laughed gaily at 
 the distracted countenance of their guest. 
 
 " You rogue ! You admirable rogue ! " cried 
 the comtesse ; " but apart from her nonsense, she is 
 right, Monsieur le due. We may be wanted. We 
 must go." 
 
 " Well said, best beloved of women," rejoined 
 Fatma in an ecstasy ; "I had, I must confess, 
 the tiniest qualm as to whether you would agree 
 quite so sweetly and directly. You are for ever 
 dearest of the dear." 
 
 The comtesse shook her head. " Had it been 
 a question of the Sahara desert or the Siberian ice 
 plains, you know that if you would have it so, I 
 must have gone," she said, with an assumed resig- 
 nation ; " then how much more readily so when it 
 is only home ! " 
 
 322
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 But at this point the astounded visitor thought it 
 time to launch a vigorous protest : 
 
 " You seriously mean," he said, " that you will 
 run from peace and safety straight into the heart of 
 trouble, where insults may be showered on you, or 
 your very chateau attacked about your presence ? 
 Have you any idea of the anger of a raving, raging 
 mob ? Do you forget that in point of numbers the 
 Arabs to the French are as three to one ? Can you 
 understand the particular frenzy of a people incited 
 by religious fanatics to deeds of violence ? The 
 thought that they are fighting for a principle, a 
 right, under Allah's own flag, so to speak, gives them 
 a courage that stops at nothing, not at women, 
 children, sanctuary, or saint. Stay yet a little 
 while with us, I beg of you." 
 
 As M. le due was speaking the comtesse's face 
 grew pale, while the colour in Fatma's deepened; 
 but no hesitation was present in the mind of either. 
 It was Fatma who spoke. 
 
 " You are dealing with that strongest of opposing 
 forces, M. le due, a selfish woman, two of them 
 indeed, who think more of their own peace of mind 
 than of the anxiety of their friends for their sake. 
 Just now you anticipated no great danger for our 
 home, and let me tell you for your relief that Aunt 
 Gabrielle's chateau was once a Moorish palace 
 belonging to a governor who was so beneficent, 
 adored, and wise, that the people called him the 
 holy one, and among the natives our home has been 
 
 323
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 called the house of holiness and roses ever since. 
 (Lois and I were the roses and Aunt Gabrielle the 
 holiness, I isLncy.) If, as you suggest, they level 
 the Catholic sanctuaries of the colonists to the 
 ground, I dare swear that not a hand would be 
 raised against our home, or a stone of it injured, 
 whether we ourselves were within or without it." 
 
 " So you mean to go," M, le due said slowly, after 
 a pause. 
 
 " So we mean to go," Fatma smiled ; " and pray, 
 believe me, we are not heroines, we shall not be 
 martyrs, we are merely the most obstinate of 
 women." 
 
 324
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 FOUR days later Mme. la Comtesse de Beaure- 
 paire and the Lady Eric Lorimer-Harben 
 were on the Mediterranean Sea, steaming fast 
 towards the African coast and their beloved home. 
 It was nine o'clock on a heavenly morning, under 
 a sky tender as with exquisite caresses ; in the blue 
 distance, through the haze of early day, the summits 
 of the Atlas Mountains shone, which when Fatma 
 first distinguished for herself, a soundless cry of joy 
 rang through her heart. In the clean rapture of 
 the moment she forgot what before she had not been 
 able to forget, that Lois was not with them on this 
 dear strange home-coming. Nearer and swiftly 
 nearer to their desolate fairyland they drew ; 
 presently Bouzareah coyly showed its fair snow-pow- 
 dered head — then at last Algiers herself, Algiers 
 with that wonderful light of the east about her 
 presence, that fragrance as of rose-water, benzoin, 
 or the wares of perfume-makers and sellers innumer- 
 able. Precisely at noon they dropped anchor in 
 the still green waters to the sound of the midday 
 booming of naval guns, and the ringing voice of the 
 muezzin chanting the eternal noonday prayer from 
 
 325
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 the minaret of the mosque to the four corners of the 
 unheeding world. Fatma's happy eyes looked 
 landwards towards the shining white, windowless 
 Arab city which rises up in a steep triangle from the 
 modern streets, and the dazzling mosque whose 
 many sides, like the facets of a precious stone, 
 catch all the light and sunshine of the day ; and she 
 knew that here wa^^ home at last. 
 
 Around the Alabaster City there floats, as it 
 were, a fine essence of gold-white sunshine. Music, 
 song, laughter, and that uplifting of the heart 
 which a glorious air provokes, become her beauty as 
 j ewels that of a fair woman. Her streets and squares 
 are lined with palm and eucalyptus trees ; her hills 
 studded with orange and olive groves ; fields of 
 flowers, terrace upon terrace of grape vines, are at 
 her breast, and at her feet a matchless sea sings 
 evermore. Her only natural expression is a smile ; 
 to gaze upon her countenance and hear her voice 
 again is nectar and honey to her children who have 
 been long or far away, for they say of her, in words 
 of old : 
 
 " Behold, thou art fair, my love ; behold, thou art 
 fair : thou hast doves' eyes : how much better is thy 
 love than wine ! and the smell of thine ointments than 
 all spices ! Thy plants are an orchard of pome- 
 granates with pleasant fruits ; camphire, with spike- 
 nard ; saffron and cinnamon, with all trees of frank- 
 incense ; myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices, 
 A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and 
 
 326
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 streams from Lebanon. Awake, O north wind, and 
 come, thou south : blow upon my garden, that the 
 spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come 
 into his garden, and eat its pleasant fruits." 
 
 Such was the land that Fatma was fainest of and 
 of her home-coming, this is told, that with tears 
 of joy she kissed her little finger-tips to Kasbah, 
 mosque and palace, bazaar and fort, the radiant 
 hilltops and the garden slopes, with flower and 
 blossoming tree so daintily bedight. 
 
 On shore everything seemed at peace ; nothing 
 spoke of how less than fifty miles away cunning was 
 pitted against science, hatred was fighting greed, 
 and poverty wealth, for dear life. In the great 
 Place de la Republique the Arabs moved among 
 the crowds with that air of dignity and patience, 
 that immovable, inscrutable expression so peculiar 
 to them. The Arab, if he has no money to get rid 
 of, has always plenty of time to lose ; in the cities, 
 a mosque, a barber's shop, and a coffee-house 
 supply his earthly and his heavenly wants, being by 
 nature devout and enamoured of gossip, gambling, 
 and leisure. Is there work to be done, who so fit 
 and proper to do it as his wives ? of which he usually 
 has three or four. " By day a beast of burden, by 
 night a wife," is one of his chosen proverbs in re- 
 ference to the lady of his selection. In country 
 fastnesses, where they are still a feudal people of 
 noble breeding and upbringing, a higher order of 
 things obtains. From here they come as agri- 
 
 327
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 culturists, soldiers, pilgrims, travellers, and ex- 
 plorers, full of resource, heroism, and adventure, in 
 a grand way, not taking kindly to the march of 
 progress as newer nations understand it, nor assimi- 
 lating their lives in any wise with those of the con- 
 queror whose flag, whose soldiers, tax-gatherers, 
 gendarmerie, are round about them continually. In 
 ancestry, religion, habits, language, way of dress, 
 older by centuries of centuries than the modern 
 crowds who make so light of him, your Arab can 
 afford, through the majesty of that long descent, to 
 be disdainful, calm, and patient wonderfully. 
 
 There is no rail direct from Algiers to Cherchel. 
 Travellers may take the train to a spot midway 
 between the two, from whence they must fare to 
 their destination by the diligence or coach, the only 
 other way being to go round by sea, an uncertain 
 way of getting there, as there is no direct service, 
 and often no tug or steamboat available for three or 
 four days together. 
 
 On the morning following the day of their arrival 
 in Algiers the comtesse and Fatma, undeterred by 
 the entreaties of friends and acquaintances in- 
 numerable, left Algiers by the early train, which, 
 after a break and rest for the midday dejeuner, 
 would enable them to resume their journey by coach 
 or other conveyance, and so reach Cherchel about 
 five o'clock the same afternoon. The air was fresh 
 and bracing, the sky adorably limpid, and of a firm, 
 steely blue. It was a day of courage, hope, and a 
 
 328
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 vast content, and these things indeed filled Fatma's 
 heart as she came again into her own country, and 
 amongst the people of her love. But at Mussilah, 
 where they left the train, they found, to their 
 momentary dismay, that no coach was leaving for 
 Cherchel that afternoon. 
 
 The risk without an armed escort was considered 
 too dangerous, and the armed escort was not avail- 
 able. The people of Mussilah, who knew and loved 
 them, and amongst whom their arrival had created 
 as much stir and sensation as the fact of the Arab 
 rising itself, begged them to stay : while their feet 
 were still in safety, let them not stray over the 
 borderland into insecurity and hostile paths. Two 
 specially equipped and appointed men had set out 
 thirty-six hours before for news, with orders to 
 return without fail within four or five hours ; and 
 of them nothing had been seen or heard, nor trace 
 found. Moreover, at Mussilah the roses and the 
 jessamine were heavy with fragrance ; the spring 
 waters were sweet, and there were wine, milk, tender 
 goat-flesh, herbs, chickens, fruit, and white bread 
 in abundance. This welcome alike from French and 
 native. 
 
 The answer was Fatma's smile — sweet, lingering, 
 bright with tears. 
 
 " Who among you will harness a couple of strong, 
 fresh horses and drive with us now at once, straight 
 to Cherchel ? Do you think an Arab hand would be 
 raised against Madame la Comtesse Bien Aimee, as 
 
 329
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 they call her for miles around, or against me, Fatma, 
 who myself am of the Arabs through my mother's 
 blood ? Oh, dear friends, what is fear ? A word 
 that men and women with quiet consciences and 
 hearts at rest from self know not the meaning of. 
 Is there none such among you ? What is courage ? 
 A word that men, women, and even little children, 
 love the sound and taste of. If this is an occasion 
 which seems to you to call for courage, will you let 
 it pass you by ? Dites done ! Cela se pent que 
 I'occasion manquee ne revient jamais " 
 
 Such was the magic of Fatma's personality that 
 before three parts of a precious hour had flown the 
 comtesse and herself were seated in a cabriolet 
 driving with all speed and gladness towards Cherchel, 
 Opposite to them was one of the chief dignitaries of 
 Mussilah, who sternly set his face against their 
 going alone ; and on the box an Arab driver, who 
 could be trusted entirely. Both the latter, to 
 Fatma's private amusement and the comtesse's 
 private relief, carried loaded revolvers. The road 
 wound like a thread of gold through one of the 
 loveliest plains the world knows. The traveller 
 who has seen the rarest of earth's pictures still goes 
 back in love to that wide horizon, admirable both 
 in gravity and grandeur, which once enclosed what 
 together with Sicily formed the wheaten granary of 
 the ancient Romans, and which some day, when 
 
 330
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 labourers flock to it anew in legions, may be the 
 same again to France. 
 
 Opposite to them rose the great pile of the Tom- 
 beau de la Chretienne, with the lake Haloula sleep- 
 ing at its feet. They crossed and recrossed the 
 winding Mazafran, the river of yellow waters flash- 
 ing to the sea. High up on a shining ridge, Koleah, 
 the milk-white saintly city which at eventide 
 sparkles so strangely from the brown hillside, looked 
 down as though in benediction. On the left the 
 dark line of the mountains of Milianah hemmed in 
 the beauteous plain with a curtain of sombre blue 
 shot with the silver of clouds and dazzling waters. 
 Noble outlines and sweet-sounding consecrated 
 names were all about them, so much so that those 
 who have long imagined that place of earth have 
 been known, in the ecstasy of arrival, when first it 
 burst upon their adoring gaze, to cry out : " Oh, Holy 
 Land! Oh, Palestine!" 
 
 They passed without danger or event through the 
 villages of the way, with their gardens ever green, 
 streets bordered with heavy foliage and as thick in 
 shadows as the alleys of a wood, cafes ringing with 
 song and music, little low-roofed houses where 
 jewel -sellers, brocade - weavers, and distillers of 
 perfumes plied their arts. Now and again dark 
 faces would come out with scowls and threats 
 written large upon them ; but the moment the 
 identity of the occupants of the cabriolet became 
 known it was as Fatma of the charmed life had 
 
 33^
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 said — menace was changed to welcome, and enmity 
 to greeting of the gladdest kind. 
 
 As the short, crisp twilight fell, their ears caught 
 the murmur of the sea ; suddenly the lighthouse 
 lamps flared before them. Mysterious and fair the 
 ruined columns and arches of old Cherchel loomed 
 ahead of them, until, some small way off, and before 
 the village itself was reached, at the great gates of 
 their chateau they came to a halt at last. 
 
 At their approach two sentinel soldiers came 
 quickly forward, speechless with amaze as before 
 an apparition. A mounted officer spurred up the 
 avenue, and in the twinkling of an eye a small 
 crowd seemed to rise from nowhere. The new 
 arrivals cried out for news, news quickly. Such an 
 air of tranquillity was over all that it was hard to 
 believe that murder, riot, mobbing, had any part 
 or lot in the order of the day. But before they 
 could be told a word it was they who, on their part, 
 must first say how they had driven without escort 
 and come unscathed through the hostile villages and 
 the lonely plain. 
 
 " Que voulez-vous, done ? " laughed Fatma gaily, 
 " and how rude you are ! Who, pray, would want 
 to hurt Us ? Moreover, in the remote event of 
 robbery or attack all our valuables are far away, in 
 safe keeping, and you remember the old saying, 
 that a thousand highwaymen would find it difficult 
 to rob a single naked man. Now, please, what news, 
 what news ? " 
 
 332
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Then they heard. Heard how a Marabout of 
 distinction, who had been gathering together and 
 leading the rioters, had been captured the previous 
 day by a company of Zouaves, summarily dealt with 
 by a special military tribunal, found guilty, and 
 sentenced to be shot at dawn on the following morn- 
 ing. Infuriated and desperate beyond words at the 
 loss of their leader and the indignity done to his 
 holy person, the rebels, retiring back on the moun- 
 tains, had sworn counter vengeance on the first 
 Frenchman they should happen to meet. This, as 
 chance or Providence would have, was the village 
 doctor, who was riding down towards the plains 
 from one of his merciful errands to the hills. Him 
 without ado they seized, led back to one of their 
 fastnesses, and sent a message to the commandant 
 of the barracks to the effect that in every particular 
 as the holy man of Allah was dealt with by the 
 French so would the doctor be dealt with by the 
 Arabs — life for life, or death for death. Allah, it 
 is written. 
 
 A dull calm followed the telling of the tale. 
 When Fatma spoke again her voice sounded tired 
 and faint and far away. 
 
 " What of the Marabout ? Where is he ? " 
 
 " He was shot according to the sentence at dawn 
 this morning, madame. Our commandant is not 
 the man to pay heed to threats from cette canaille 
 d'arabe. For the rest, an example was absolutely 
 necessary. By that one fanatic's execution more 
 
 353
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 has been already done to suppress the rising than 
 by that of a hundred of his followers " 
 
 " One fanatic's death ! What of the doctor ? 
 Was a rescue-party sent ? " 
 
 At the ring in Fatma's voice the young officer 
 addressed blushed guiltily, as though he, personally, 
 were answerable for the arrangements of his 
 superiors. 
 
 " Not yet, madame, not yet. It is, you see, this 
 way. In the passes of the hills a handful of men 
 can lie in ambush and keep a regiment at bay. 
 Until reinforcements reach Cherchel there are hardly 
 enough of us to keep order in and around the viUage, 
 certainly none to spare. But, believe me, there is 
 no fear for the doctor. The commandant sent back 
 word by the rebels' messenger that if as much as a 
 hair of the doctor's head were harmed no quarter 
 should be shown to any of the band, but that they 
 should be outlawed, and their homes, j&elds, crops, 
 and gardens utterly destroyed. Never fear for the 
 doctor, madame." 
 
 Fatma was staring vacantly into space. To 
 watch her one could hardly say whether she was 
 listening or not to what was being said. There 
 was something in the look of her as if a thing had 
 passed before her eyes too dread for either utterance 
 or contemplation. Slowly she leaned towards the 
 comtesse and whispered something in her ear. 
 Immediately the order was given to drive on to the 
 chateau. At their coming the housekeeper and 
 
 334
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 coachman, both grey-haired and long in the service 
 of the family, ran forward to meet them, overcome 
 with surprise and joy. In the spacious tapestried 
 hall the swinging lamp burned dimly, as it had done 
 every night since their departure. It was beautiful, 
 quiet, desirable exceedingly — a home of homes, that 
 kings and queens might suffer gladly. 
 
 The first thing that caught the comtesse's eye 
 after her long journeyings was a flower-crowned hat 
 of Lois', still hanging in a corner where it had been 
 left. Underneath it the mother saw the golden head, 
 the wistful eyes, the face so fragile and so fair. A 
 little cry escaped her. She reeled, caught at the 
 back of a chair, and fell prostrate in a dead swoon 
 to the floor. 
 
 335
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 SENSE and strength came back to Fatma as 
 she knelt to minister to the unconscious 
 sufferer at her feet. Here was a lonehness more 
 terrible, a loss acuter, than she perhaps had dreamed 
 of, because so little moaning or ado had gone with 
 it. Oh, blind of heart and eye are we who live so 
 close to our beloved, yet never see what ails them 
 most, unless from the housetops they proclaim it 
 to the world at large. 
 
 It had struck nine of the night before Fatma was 
 able to leave the comtesse, nearly restored, and 
 sleeping quietly in the care of the housekeeper in 
 her room upstairs. She then wandered below to 
 the great hall, aimlessly opened the doors of one or 
 two still and sombre rooms, took Lois' hat from the 
 peg where it was hanging, put it gently away in a 
 press near by, and finally went out on to the terrace 
 over which the far stars were shining gloriously. 
 
 But for Fatma no knowledge of the night at hand 
 was there ; the hour to her was merely one in which 
 a deed must be done ; and how to do it, how even 
 to set about the doing of it, tried her wits to the 
 climax of their sharpness. 
 
 She must know before the dawn, the terrible dawn, 
 336
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 when they lead men out to die, whether he, the 
 brave, the well-beloved, was numbered still among 
 the living. Mountains, torrents, darkness, ignor- 
 ance of the way, nothing should come between that 
 immediate knowledge and herself. A sickening grip 
 at her heart told her that any obstacle that in truth 
 was insurmountable would spell swift and certain 
 madness to her brain ; but none such should there 
 be. And if at the end of the way she found by 
 heavenly favour that he was still alive, ah, then, 
 no fear need be. She knew her people, and she knew 
 herself. 
 
 The undertaking at first sight seemed and sounded 
 a stupendous one, yet something told her that in 
 the arrangements for it, where an elaborate scheme 
 and cunning might come to grief, absolute simplicity 
 would avail to conquer to the end. She thought of 
 those of the village folk on whom she could depend ; 
 there were so many of them that a choice was 
 difficult. At last she went within and softly rang 
 for Jean, the old coachman, who in times like the 
 present was wont to officiate in the house. 
 
 " What about Si-Brahim, Jean ? Is he in the 
 village still ? Could you find him without delay ? " 
 
 " Alas, no, mademoiselle. He is in a dungeon at 
 the barracks. He was thrown into prison a week ago 
 for spitting at the man who had caused his lemon 
 plot to be destroyed to make room for some new 
 machinery they are setting up at the forest's edge." 
 
 " Poor Si-Brahim ! Naman, then, what of him ? " 
 
 z in
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 " He, mademoiselle, is up country with the rebels, 
 maybe with those very ones who took the good doctor 
 captive now two days since," 
 
 " Ah ! Ben-Ariff, then ? Amar-Ben-Ariff, has he 
 gone too ? " 
 
 " No, mademoiselle. Love keeps him in the 
 village. Ten days ago he married a wife, his first, 
 and very beautiful, they say." 
 
 " I see. . . . You could find him easily ? " 
 
 " In ten minutes, or less, if mademoiselle wishes 
 it." 
 
 " Less, then, if possible, Jean ! But stay : first 
 tell me, have you two saddle-horses, fresh and fit, 
 that you could have ready in half an hour or so ? " 
 
 " Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " You must ask no questions, Jean. You must 
 think no questions, if that is possible. But you will 
 get the horses, that I know. It is only that I have 
 an errand to do, one that no one can do for me. 
 I want some one person who knows the roads well 
 to go with me. Failing that person I shall go alone. 
 If your riding days were not over, Jean," she added, 
 smiling at the ponderous old man, " there would 
 be no need for me to be looking round among the 
 village folk to-night. But even as it is, for the main 
 thing, the horses, I depend on you, and for the rest 
 it is perhaps better that I have an Arab escort after 
 all. And now, Ben-Ariff, can he be here in half an 
 hour, do you think ? Tell him nothing except that 
 I want him. You might add, perhaps, that if he 
 
 338
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 comes quickly a chain of jewels will be waiting for 
 his wife. In the meantime, whilst you see to that 
 and get the horses ready, I will go and dress." 
 
 Half an hour later she came below again, an Arab 
 lady of the Arabs, most fair and wondrous to behold. 
 Her headdress was of white silk, heavily embroidered 
 with silver and crystals : it was twisted turban-wise 
 around her curls. Her little waistcoat was encrusted 
 with jewels and orfevrerie ; a haik or caftan of pale 
 blue silk, lined with soft white fur, with a delicately 
 tinted sash of silk muslin encircling it, wrapped her 
 round from head to foot. As she moved, peeps of 
 wide trousers of cloth-of-silver gathered in at the 
 ankle with golden fetters were to be had, while over 
 her silken hose sandals, sewn with pearls and tur- 
 quoises, were drawn. In the agony and tension of 
 her mind she had forgotten nothing. A little box 
 of amber and mother-of-pearl for bonbons dangled 
 from her waist ; also a small dainty hand-mirror, 
 set in a blaze of uncut jewels. She knew the store 
 her people set by trifles such as these, and she was 
 anxious to be perfect in every particular. 
 
 " Considering that Angelique was not here to help 
 me, I do not think I have done myself at all badly," 
 she had murmured half whimsically, half sadly, sur- 
 veying herself in the tall pier-glass of her chamber. 
 
 Angelique was the maid whom an attack of terror 
 and migraine combined had left behind in safety at 
 Algiers. 
 
 Amar-Ben-Ariff, where he waited with Jean and 
 339
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 the horses below the terrace steps, when that vision 
 of Fatma burst upon him, with the magic of her 
 glance and the music of her voice falling in the star- 
 light like a shower of fragrance all around, forgot 
 for the moment his newly married wife at home, 
 felt only that here was a noble lady whom to serve 
 and follow to the death would be a deed carrying 
 with it its own most sumptuous reward at every 
 step, 
 
 " Ben-Ariff, you are just so good. You deserve 
 all the luck in the world. It is quite wonderful of 
 you to have been so quick. Tell me, do you know 
 where they have taken the doctor ? Could you 
 lead me through the night straight to him before 
 to-morrow's dawn ? " 
 
 " Most gracious one, farther than the edge of the 
 plain, farther than the great thickets of aloes, cactus, 
 and oleander, at the foot of the hills where they rise 
 to the desert and the unknown south, surely it shall 
 be there." 
 
 " How many miles ? " 
 
 " Thirty, gracious one, or it may be more." 
 
 " We shall do it then before the dawn." 
 
 " They may have taken him farther into the 
 interior by this, but the rumour, noble one, was 
 that he was to be shot this morning." 
 
 " We have not to think of things like that, Ben- 
 Ariff. We have but to find him, dead or living, 
 well or ill, and that with all the speed that we can 
 manage." 
 
 340
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 With that she sprang hghtly in the saddle, 
 signified to Ben-Ariff that they would leave the 
 grounds by a private gate where no sentinels were, 
 gave Jean some last messages for the comtesse, 
 and was lost to sight in the gloom of the star-shot 
 night. 
 
 Unchallenged and unobserved, they left the 
 village by a little side track which led through groves 
 and gardens wrapped in a dewy silence, fresh and 
 fragrant as roses of the morning. Presently they 
 emerged on to a wide white road, by which they 
 travelled for some four or five miles, reaching 
 eventually the edge of the grassy plain across 
 which the greater part of their journey was to be 
 made. 
 
 So far they had travelled almost in silence, but 
 at this point they drew rein for a few moments to 
 decide on what their course should be. As they 
 moved on again Fatma turned to him and said 
 slowly : " Ben-Ariff, tell me, is your heart in this 
 work ? " 
 
 Ben-Ariff' s sombre eyes lit up : " Dear lady, my 
 heart would always be in any work that you might 
 bid me do. And for the rest may Allah have decreed 
 that no harm has touched the good doctor. Two 
 years ago he cured my little sister of a mortal sick- 
 ness. As a mother watches her baby, so he watched 
 the child. Indeed, gracious one, my heart is fain to 
 find him well." 
 
 " Mine seems almost light again, Ben-Ariff 
 
 341
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 when I hear you speak Hke that. But there are 
 things I cannot understand. I cannot understand 
 why the hundreds he has healed and soothed, at 
 whose doors death again and again was standing, 
 only to be driven back by him — why they have not 
 risen as one man in protest against this indignity 
 that has been done him. ... A poor reward, Ben-Ariff, 
 when you come to think of it, for a lifetime spent in 
 service of the noblest. This is the very road he 
 travelled by when he went to the marshes, is it not, 
 those, no doubt, the very stars that lit him to his 
 goal. Let the thought urge us on to find him 
 speedily, even if it should mean that at the last we 
 can only throw ourselves down by a new-made 
 grave." 
 
 Ben-Ariff was glad that his lady had not pressed 
 him for an explanation of the lax conduct of the 
 Arabs with regard to the beloved physician in danger 
 or in durance vile. Perhaps with the intuition that 
 was hers she knew that he had none to give, he who 
 came of a race possessing little conscience and less 
 initiative still in things of this sort ; a race whose 
 blood through long provocation might be stirred at 
 last to a sense of its own wrongs, but which was yet 
 entirely without either the ability or the heroic 
 quality to avenge those of another. He hung his 
 head and murmured again that they would surely 
 reach their journey's end before the dawn. But 
 Fatma did not hear. Her winged thoughts had 
 flown already far from him and his, far indeed from 
 
 342
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 the sorrow of her own last spoken words. For it 
 was not death, or any thought of death, but glorious 
 life, that surged and thrilled through her where she 
 rode along under the great stars of the quiet night. 
 
 She had often thought perplexedly of the limi- 
 tations which nature and convention have alike 
 imposed on womankind ; but here, grand chance of 
 God, where a regiment could not be spared, a solitary 
 woman was adventuring forth unarmed, unharassed, 
 and unafraid. Ah, Fatma, well may your heart be 
 lifted high, for it is passing good this night to be a 
 woman ! 
 
 Strange thing this night, which should by all the 
 laws of love and life have been a night of agony, of 
 terror, of strain of mind, and sweat of brow, was yet 
 a night of heavenly calm and strength, lit brightly 
 by a hope unquenchable, a determination that never 
 for a moment recked of any miscarriage or mis- 
 chance. Straight to her doom across the torrent- 
 cleft, many-fissured marshes she rode, great with 
 the burden of her love, radiant at thought of the 
 possibilities life held so generously still. 
 
 About two of the morning, as they neared the 
 foot-hills, a sudden chill swept through the air; 
 clouds hid the stars from view ; the gloom and the 
 silence were intense. 
 
 At the entrance to a cactus thicket Fatma halted 
 and unrolled from behind her saddle a wrap of cloth- 
 of-gold, which fell around her supple form without 
 crease or fold, yet hindered in no wise the grace and 
 
 343
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 freedom of her actions. Then through some three 
 miles of thickets Ben-Ariff, with an extreme caution, 
 led the way. Here, he explained to his gracious 
 one, might be men lying in ambush, on the watch for 
 an avenging force from headquarters, and it behoved 
 him not lightly or rashly to lead precious feet where 
 danger lurked. But no sound of voice or shot, no 
 faint echo of defiance or alarm stayed their progress ; 
 the stars in their courses fought, as it seemed, for 
 Fatma and the triumph of her way that night. As 
 they advanced the silence grew more oppressive, 
 until at last even Fatma's dauntless soaring spirit 
 fretted at the intolerable strain of imagining a foe 
 hidden behind every bush, and she fell from sweet 
 birdlike flights of thought to a weary dull considering 
 of her shortcomings. Had a shot from behind that 
 thick mysterious growth through which the narrow 
 pathway led pierced her brain and laid her low for 
 all time it would, she knew, be but the due reward 
 of the criminal faithlessness of which she had been 
 guilty, the faithlessness which in others was abhorred 
 by her as the sin of sins. Almost, she thought, she 
 could have welcomed that shot, if aught of atone- 
 ment on her part might have been spelt thereby. 
 
 But no shot came. Instead, when they had 
 passed through the thickets and attained the sloping 
 pasture-lands that stretched beyond, they came 
 upon a wandering Arab driving his flock of goats 
 from one spot of tender herbage to another, and of 
 him they asked news, and learned that some twelve 
 
 344
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 or thirteen miles to the westward, through the 
 mountain pass, in the direction of El-Aghouat, 
 which Hes hke a jewel on the great grim desert's 
 edge, a band of armed natives was camped out, 
 guarding in its midst a prisoner of the abhorred 
 French, one who, report said, had asked no mercy 
 or favour of his captors but to be allowed to smoke 
 his pipe in peace while they hurried on this business 
 of his death, it indeed it had to be, with as much 
 despatch as in them lay. 
 
 At that Fatma gave a little almost inarticulate 
 cry. She knew that her feet were set in the way 
 that led to the desired end, 
 
 " Quick, Ben-Ariff, quick ! Twelve or thirteen 
 miles. And before the dawn. It may be that for 
 a man's life we ride." 
 
 345
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 AGAINST a tree near the door of a tent a man 
 L. stood looking eastwards towards the moun- 
 tains, over which the morning soon should smile in 
 a glory of rose and scarlet, of amethyst and amber 
 wonders. Heavy fetters dragged at his ankles, 
 but his wrists were free. In the prime of it he had 
 come to the end of life, and in his extremity his 
 thoughts surged and pressed not forwards to the 
 unknown darknesses and splendours that may or 
 may not wait on those who leave this life to face 
 them, but rather backwards down the fields elysian 
 of years gone by when the world was a miracle new 
 every morning ; work sublime ; and two little 
 maids dear to him beyond compare. He was done 
 with them now, done with them all — science, work, 
 friendship, love, fear, and hope — yet, when a short 
 while hence he should be looking down the rifle- 
 barrels levelled at his heart, he knew that his last 
 thought would be for the little maid that still 
 remained, now a great lady grown, jewels, fine 
 raiment, the homage of kings and princes, her 
 portion continually. That her paths might be 
 ever paths of peace, her heart unspoiled, her gaiety 
 
 346
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 undimmed, that was the thing that he would 
 pray (if prayer indeed availed) as long as life 
 lay in him. The other little maid, she lay beyond 
 the power of prayer or pleading, still and helpless in 
 her far-off grave. So let her lie, the angels watching, 
 the birds singing, the flowers growing, the rain 
 falling, over that her last long home on earth below. 
 Beyond the mere fact of her death nothing had been 
 told him. Some great unkindness, some mystery 
 not easily to be understood was here. But nothing 
 need disturb or distract him now. Soon should all 
 things be made clear or wrapped in an oblivion of 
 the most changeless and profound. 
 
 It was of that other little maid he was fain to the 
 last to think. In regard to her he had not been true 
 with himself. Because it was not expedient that 
 he should make known the passion of his love for 
 her he had done bitter warfare with himself, had 
 almost persuaded himself that a blank, supreme 
 indifference expressed in reality the attitude of his 
 inmost heart towards her. Now, in the stern face 
 of death no sham or paltriness could stand. He was 
 like a man who has long possessed a jewel of sur- 
 passing worth and glory, and has kept it hidden 
 through the years in the depths of a locked casket, 
 and lived and moved as though he had it not, and 
 now brings it out for a moment, that before he goes 
 hence he may feast his eyes upon it in a last passion- 
 ate gaze of pride and love. Ah, brightest hour of 
 all, this hour before the dawn, this hour of crystal 
 
 347
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 light divine, when he could look straight into the 
 bright eyes of truth and say : "I love her. I have 
 always loved her. To her I have lived my life, faith- 
 fully, only to her." And since to live the fulness of 
 life had been denied him, this man, whose character 
 went out ever white and fearlessly to meet the light, 
 had not squandered himself and his powers on un- 
 worthy aims, but had given to his art and craft of 
 healing all the passion, devotion, scrupulous care 
 and thought, which in other circumstances he might 
 have showered on the idols of a home, since life is 
 not so sweet that one may without due cause fare 
 forth alone along its ways, those ways which to a 
 solitary heart seem ever of the weariest, the longest. 
 In the dim but growing light he stood glancing 
 at his guards and captors, who were beginning to 
 move about the camp. A sorry set of warriors they 
 looked : their long white burnous hanging about 
 them in tatters ; their swarthy faces turning furtively 
 ever and again towards the east, from whence an 
 avenging force might bear down on them at any 
 moment for the deed they were about to do. Most 
 of them he knew personally ; themselves or their 
 wives and children he had treated for fevers, sores, 
 and sicknesses in nearly every instance, and they 
 were gathered there to encompass his death, be- 
 cause, forsooth, Allah, it was written. The grim 
 humour of it touched a chord in the doctor's soul, 
 responsive ever to the ironic strain in the affairs of 
 humankind. They bore him no grudge, would to a 
 
 348
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 man far rather it had been another than himself, 
 and this the doctor knew; but since after the ex- 
 ecution of the Marabout the decree had gone forth 
 that tlie first Frenchman tlie leaderless band should 
 meet sliould be massacred in his turn, nothing re- 
 mained but for the luckless scapegoat to face the 
 inevitable with a fine spirit, or having not that 
 virtue, to assume it as best he could. 
 
 About an hour before sunrise, he who had hastily 
 been constituted temporarily chief of the band, 
 a grave and reverend signor among the Arabs, came 
 to the doctor where he stood, pipe in mouth, against 
 a tree, and asked him if there was any message, 
 word, or letter, he wished to leave behind, anything 
 that could be done for him, or anything in reason 
 that he wished to do himself. The doctor took his 
 pipe from his mouth, drew his brows together, and 
 appeared to be lost in thought. In a moment, how- 
 ever, he spoke : 
 
 " Merci bien, Sid-Abdallah. II n'y a rien, rien." 
 
 " No request of any kind ? " 
 
 " None whatever. At least, yes, while I think of 
 it, let there be no bungling over this business, 
 please. Clean and straiglit to the mark, you know." 
 
 " Even so it shall be. There are picked marks- 
 men for the work. Never fear that they will fail to 
 hit straight home. , . . And . . . good sir . . . before 
 that time shall be, there is a small matter on which 
 I would beg your help. It has reference to my son, 
 my only son, the little fellow whose sight seems to 
 
 349
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 be failing fast, you will remember ? Do you advise 
 that he be sent to Algiers for an operation, or that 
 for the present we merely persevere with the oint- 
 ment, bandages, and lotions, as heretofore ? " 
 
 Mirth unalloyed danced for a moment in the 
 doctor's ej^es. Soon would Sid-Abdallah's hand be 
 raised on high as the signal for a dozen rifie-bullets 
 to be fired at his victim's heart, and lo ! here he was 
 asking of him first the best means by which his child 
 might be relieved or cured. 
 
 With something of an effort the good physician 
 concentrated his attention on the case in hand, 
 flogging his memory with regard to it, that he 
 might the better advise and warn. When the 
 matter had been duly dealt with and Sid-Abdallah, 
 nearly prostrate with thanks, had retired to make 
 some final arrangements for the execution, other 
 members and followers of the band pressed forward 
 and one by one consulted the doctor as to their own 
 or the ailments of those near and dear to them. To 
 every case the doctor gave an undivided attention. 
 For some he wrote prescriptions, for others he ban- 
 daged sores or hurt and injured limbs, to yet others, 
 whose needs were pressing, he gave doses and injec- 
 tions from the case of phials which accompanied him 
 on all his errands. It stopped the flow of sombre 
 thoughts, it pleased his fancy mightily to be thus 
 engaged in the very hour of death ; the delicious, 
 the audacious irony of the occasion smote sooth- 
 ingly upon his senses. 
 
 350
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Moreover, it was a scene that had not only much 
 that was unique, but also a measure of sentiment 
 and pathos in its aspect. These people, untutored 
 and semi-savage as they were, were yet correct 
 of instinct and magnanimous of heart enough to 
 trust him with a boundless trust. For all they 
 knew the draughts he gave them might have been 
 poisons of an agonizing kind, but they drank them 
 without a shadow of hesitation or misgiving. And 
 as he noted this the doctor's pulse throbbed with 
 something akin to pride, until a sinister temptation 
 stole into his mind, and made to play havoc in that 
 hour supreme with the honour of a lifetime's stand- 
 ing. It was that though he would not harm those 
 who trusted in him utterly, there was still no reason, 
 was there, why he should not administer to himself 
 the contents of one of those little phials, and so 
 escape death at the hands of this canaille, this in- 
 glorious crowd ? 
 
 Fiercely enough he thrust the idea from him, but 
 it came back again and again with a hideous per- 
 sistency, like a malignant will-o'-the-wisp, beckoning 
 him on to a quagmire, where despair joined hands 
 with cowardice, where valour, faith, and hope were 
 flown, where the moans of the defeated sounded 
 dully across the slime of stagnant waters, and dismal 
 forms, without shape or stamina, flitted over the 
 treacherous morass, until they were lost to view in 
 its foul depths everlastingly. 
 
 Suddenly as in a vision there flashed upon his 
 351
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 mind a thought of the gaiety, the brilliancy, the 
 dazzling grace, of Fatma. 
 
 Wlien news should reach her, as reach her it 
 some day surely must and would, that he had died 
 with his back to the foe, what would be the im- 
 pression that she, a soldier's daughter, would re- 
 ceive ? Would her eyes grow cold, scornful the 
 curl of her lips, disdainful the shrug of her shoulders, 
 eloquent of a profound distaste the little sigh that 
 might escape her ? The thought of it stung him 
 beyond endurance. If she had no tear to shed for 
 him, at least no disapproval should darken the light 
 or disturb the calm of those radiant eyes. 
 
 In the far distance, under the brow of a hill, 
 something strange, fair, intangible, moved. Uncon- 
 sciously at first, as he thought his thoughts, the 
 doctor watched it. In the sweet light that grew 
 every moment clearer, it showed like a little cloud 
 of gold-dust, a W'hirlwind in miniature, where it 
 came sweeping down the vaUey by a narrow path 
 that wound between a curling river on the one hand 
 and a plantation of rustling olives on the other. 
 
 The sight of it, far-off, mystic, spirit-like, roused 
 the doctor to a hope that surprised even himself. 
 Something from that cloud-like passing seemed to 
 beckon straight to him, something he could neither 
 explain nor gainsay. When it was lost to view in 
 the aU-embracing gloom of a deep wood he felt as 
 a woman may when her child has strayed from her 
 
 352
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 she knows not whither — anxious, bewildered, torn 
 with suspense and dread. With eyes from which 
 all carelessness had flown he watched his guards 
 and captors, some stirring round a camp fire to 
 make coffee, others polishing their rifle-stocks, ex- 
 amining and oiling the breeches ; others scanning 
 the horizon with field-glasses ; others — others with 
 grave, relentless eyes digging a grave by a clump of 
 mimosa-trees. 
 
 To the lonely man who watched them life sud- 
 denly seemed an eminently desirable thing ; even 
 when charged with loss, betrayal, sickness, poverty, 
 what you will, still, in itself, a wondrous gift instinct 
 with gorgeous possibilities, divine raptures, experi- 
 ences of the finest — the opium whereby disaster has 
 no terrors that need utterly appal. 
 
 But here, alas! was the journey's end; the 
 journey's end with the banquet still untouched, 
 the wine undrunk, the life unlived, the praise-song, 
 the thanksgiving, never sounded. 
 
 Pin-pricks of fire came dancing over the mountain- 
 tops ; a gossamer mist was spread like a glistening 
 garment about the foothills and the valley breadths. 
 Slowly the tapestry of heaven unfolded itself in 
 wavering lines of silver, scarlet, rose, and gold, shot 
 with a glory of colour so luminous, so delicate, so 
 elusive, as to defy mortal name to name it ; the 
 promise of a splendid day was written with fairy 
 fingers on earth and sky. 
 
 Presently, through the sheen of the mist some four 
 2 A 353
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 or five furlongs distant from the camp, a beauteous 
 apparition showed. It was a lady on horseback, 
 with a follower in close attendance. Clad in her 
 mantle of cloth-of-gold it was in the sweet distance 
 as though a suit of shining armour enfolded her. 
 Straight into the astounded camp, without haste or 
 nervousness, she rode. She cast one swift, compre- 
 hensive glance around, and the smile that grew upon 
 her face would have dazzled the eyes of angels. 
 " Good morning to you all," she gaily cried ; " pray, 
 tell me, is anything the matter ? " — and her name, 
 her dear, delicious name, was Fatma. 
 
 Wide-eyed and open-mouthed they stared at her, 
 scarce knowing what they saw. She, on her part, 
 looked round them, through them, over them, finally, 
 straight and long, at them (but after the first swift 
 glance never once at the doctor by the tree), and 
 then she laughed again. 
 
 " Well, what is it ? Do any of you remember 
 me, I wonder ? " 
 
 A murmur went round the camp : " It is she — 
 it is our lady — it is Fatm.a, Fatma of the winged 
 sandals — she who went overseas to visit the great 
 Enghsh Queen, ah, it is she indeed ! But for Ben- 
 Ariff close behind her, one would say she had flown 
 down from Paradise itself." 
 
 Sid-Abdallah, the first man among them, came 
 forward through the ranks and bowed low before 
 her as before a holy shrine. He, too, had wondered 
 if what he saw before him in this awful morning 
 
 354
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 hour was earthly flesh and blood, or a vision of the 
 celestial. Again and again he bowed, then asked 
 in quavering accents the gracious lady's pleasure. 
 
 " A cup of coffee, good friend, A cup of coffee 
 and a slice of bread, for never was woman in the 
 world as hungry or as cold as I." 
 
 Sid-Abdallah, apparently much relieved that he 
 was not called upon to entertain an angel of the 
 heavens, gave the order with alacrity. 
 
 " You come at a sad and solemn hour, fair lady," 
 said he, " for we are about to offer sacrifice to Allah 
 for the blood of the Marabout that was shed by 
 reckless and polluted hands, even the hands of the 
 infidel, barely some four days since." 
 
 " Oh, those infidels, those infidels, Sid-Abdallah ! 
 And what is the victim then to be ? " 
 
 "It is human life for human life. Nothing less 
 and nothing more. Allah, it is written. God is 
 great, and Mahomet is His prophet." 
 
 " But I do not understand. It cannot be that 
 you contemplate a murder in cold blood, a paltry 
 murder of revenge ? " 
 
 "Sacrifice, not murder, and atonement rather 
 than revenge, most noble one ! " 
 
 " A pretty distinction indeed — ah, thank you. 
 Such coffee I have not tasted in my life. . . . And the 
 victim, Sid-Abdallah ? Whoever could you find or 
 fix on for the purpose ? What criminal of repute so 
 low and ill that it were almost meet he should die 
 a death of this sort ? " 
 
 355
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 Her voice, clear and true, rang out so that it was 
 heard right through the camp. At her last words 
 more than one head hung down as with a strange, 
 unwelcome shame. But Sid-Abdallah's mournful 
 eyes did not falter as he told her : " It is the doctor 
 of Cherchel. Allah's own finger pointed to him as 
 the man. The gracious one will well remember 
 that— 
 
 " On two days it steads not to run from thy grave, 
 The appointed and the unappointed day ; 
 On the first, neither balm nor physician can save, 
 Nor thee on the second the Universe slay. 
 
 " This, then, from the beginning of time, was 
 destined as his death-day. Against the wisdom of 
 Allah let no man argue or complain." 
 
 As he spoke the old man seemed a living incarna- 
 tion of fate — grim, stern, immovable, all-powerful, 
 all-pitiless, all dread. And while she watched him 
 something of her gay debonair beauty seemed to 
 fall away from Fatma. The smiles froze on her 
 face, and for a moment it was as though a cloud 
 had dimmed the high soul, the courage shining in 
 her eyes. 
 
 "It is then true what I have heard," she said 
 slowly in a voice of horror, " and I must blush this 
 day to think that aught of Arab blood flows in my 
 veins. It is then true, this thing whose possibility 
 I would not for one instant face or fancy. True 
 that men can be found to rise up and slay their 
 benefactor, to murder in cold blood the best, the 
 
 356
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 most patient friend they had in hfe, to shoot him 
 down defenceless where he stands, whom in other 
 times they counted on for help and guidance in all 
 distress and sickness, alike in the magic hour of 
 birth, the lonely hour of death — and counted on not 
 once in vain. Oh, but it cannot, never shall be 
 true ! " 
 
 A great uneasiness stirred through the ranks ; 
 each man ceased from his work to listen, but there 
 was one who leaned against a tree and heard, and 
 a great thickness rose in his throat and went nigh 
 to choke him, as he thanked his God that he had 
 not yielded to temptation and dealt death unto 
 himself so short a while before, since here was life 
 at last, life dazzling, life supreme, life most dear. 
 But Sid-Abdallah only murmured : " It is written. 
 Allah, it is written." 
 
 Almost as though she had not heard, Fatma went 
 on, and now cold with scorn, now tender with per- 
 suasion was her voice. 
 
 " Oh, listen ! I am not wise and learned like 
 Sid-Abdallah and many more of you, but if I may 
 say it without seeming vainglorious, I have been 
 where you have not, have seen what you have not, 
 and what I have seen I shall know and understand 
 it evermore. I have been to the nations that will 
 conquer the earth, I have seen their fleets and 
 soldiers, the wonders of their commerce and their 
 skill, their learning and endeavour. And above all 
 things this I saw : that they do not lie down quietly 
 
 357
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 under the wheel of destiny, those men of courage 
 and attainment ; that they do not crouch in fear 
 and cowardice under the whip of Fate and let it 
 drive them wheresoe'er it will ; that instead of 
 being her weak victims they rise up and manfully 
 fight her, this Fate, which makes of men fools or 
 heroes according as they shall conquer or be con- 
 quered by her. For a little instance, when plague, 
 typhus, and such things threaten them, they do not 
 say : ' It is written so, we die,' but instead they set 
 their fair cities in order and see to it that drainage, 
 sanitation, and the like are as perfect as science and 
 the labour of the hand can make them. Thus they 
 destroy their enemy, laugh at his futility, or use 
 him indeed to the greater glory of their own ends." 
 
 So speaking, step by step, line by line, she fought 
 her way amongst the prejudices of ages that were 
 well-nigh impassable barriers in her path. Slowly 
 one by one they vanished before her, overcome by 
 the candour, the passion, the magic of her glance 
 and voice. Perhaps, after all, it was not so much 
 what she said, but rather what she looked, what 
 she was, that won for her the inches of the steep and 
 weary way. 
 
 " Moreover," she called to them, " I will plead 
 for you with the commandant at the barracks, that 
 you shall be allowed to return in peace to your 
 homes. Think of it : the waiting wives, the little 
 children, the ripening crops, the homes where love 
 and welcome wait you, and then see the other 
 
 358
 
 The Gaiety of Fatma 
 
 picture — the country all laid desolate and waste, 
 the torture of the long prison life for those who are 
 not shot down where they stand, the being bound 
 in misery and irons, the death and worse than death 
 that will be their portion here. But after all I 
 speak to you as men and soldiers, not as craven 
 cowards, and I do not ask that out of fear you set 
 your captive free. Ah no, ah no ! There is a 
 nobler motive stirring in your hearts, telling you 
 that the innocent may not suffer for the guilty, that 
 generosity is better than revenge, that men may do 
 even greater things than take cities. Do you follow 
 me, dear friends ? . . . Oh, but I am sure, I am sure 
 you do." 
 
 They turned their faces from her tear-bright eyes : 
 a holiness, a pathos, a fairness, a love was there, too 
 dazzling for them to look on. For herself, she half 
 guessed that they saw it, and she was unashamed. 
 Every reason but the reason of her love she brought 
 before them, but what she did not say, what she 
 refrained from saying, weighed with them more 
 potently perhaps than what she said. It is not 
 possible to say. But the word was passed round the 
 camp, sullenly at first, then gladly, finally with 
 shouts and cheers — the outcome of a vast relief : 
 "It is our lady — it is Fatma ; her word must be 
 ever our word, her way at all times our way. As 
 she has spoken, indeed, so let it be." 
 
 When the noise and acclamations had subsided 
 she asked of the leader that she might be taken to 
 
 359
 
 The Gaietv of Fatma 
 
 him, the good physician, now no longer in the valley 
 of the shadow. She dismounted, and a rude way 
 through the thronging multitude was made for her. 
 She looked down the human avenue, and for a 
 moment saw his face as it was turned to hers. 
 
 For very joy her heart went nigh to fail her. 
 This was perhaps her bridal day, this mom of moms 
 when with bowed head she walked between the 
 people in the splendour of the risen sun to him who 
 waited for her as at the altar of the Most High. 
 Not that later day, when the guns were firing, the 
 flags flying, the people cheering in a tumult of ex- 
 citement and ecstasy, but this, this heavenly morn- 
 ing when two hearts were married without roU of 
 drum or organ, without help of bell or book — this 
 indeed was Fatma's weddiug day. 
 
 And thus, at what in truth is but the beginning, 
 come those magic words — 
 
 THE END 
 
 PLTMOU-IH 
 
 WrtXIAM HTrENrOIC AND SOX, LTLi-. PRIJn-E»a
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.
 
 •^«i3.o .vvjj45g 1906 
 
 L 009 617 107 9