LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS
 
 MILLS & BOON'S 
 
 SUMMER NOVELS 
 
 Crown 8vo 6s. each 
 
 THE JACKET 
 ALLWARD 
 MARY MORELAND 
 BLIND SIGHT 
 
 Jack London 
 
 E. S. Stevens 
 
 Marie Van Vorst 
 
 B. Y. Benediall 
 
 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 Marmaduke Pickthall 
 THE COURT FAVOURITE 
 
 Mrs. Baillie Reynolds 
 MR. LYNDON AT LIBERTY Victor Bridges 
 THE GOOD SHIP BROMPTON CASTLE 
 
 Lady Bell 
 HAPPY ENDINGS I. A. R. Wylie 
 
 THE NURSING HOME Arthur Applin 
 
 SALT OF LIFE Mr. G. de Horne Vaizey 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF PALOMBRIS AND PAL- 
 LOGRIS G. P. Baker 
 
 NINE D.on Clayton Calthrop 
 
 THE MAN IN MOTLEY Tom Gallon 
 
 HESTER AND I 
 
 Mrs. P. Champion de Crespigny 
 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME 
 
 Beamish Tinker 
 LOVE 
 
 OLGA NAZI MOV 
 CHAPMAN'S WARES H. B 
 HIGH STAKES 
 SCORCHED SOULS 
 THE FLAME OF DARING 
 TWO YOUNG PIGEONS 
 
 W. B. Trites 
 
 W. L. George 
 
 . Marriott Watson 
 
 Ruth Kauffman 
 
 Pan 
 
 Harold Spender 
 
 Mrs. H. H. Penrose 
 
 THE NET OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. O. L'Artsau 
 SKIRTS OF STRAW Sophie Cole
 
 TALES FROM 
 FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 BY 
 
 MARMADUKE PICKTHALL 
 
 MILLS & BOON, LIMITED 
 
 49 RUPERT STREET 
 LONDON, W.
 
 T
 
 It is very difficult to find a title suitable for a 
 collection of stories which are diverse in scene 
 and subject. After much consideration I can see 
 no point which all the present stories have in 
 common, except that, although most of them are 
 the result of travel, all were written here at home. 
 I therefore give to them the name of the old 
 Sussex farmhouse which has been my home in 
 England for the last -five years, and dedicate them 
 to the country neighbours who have made it 
 dear to me. 
 
 M. W. P. 
 
 Five Chimneys, 
 Buxted, Christmas, 191 4.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Word of an Englishman i 
 
 The Just Steward 17 
 
 Father Saba 33 
 
 Count Abdullah 53 
 
 Jenab ul Em!r 71 
 
 The Cook and the Soldier 94 
 
 Hashish 107 
 
 His Honour's Pleasure 120 
 
 The Story of Hafiz 138 
 
 Virgin and Martyr 153 
 
 The Prude and the Wanton 170 
 
 Hee-Haw ! 191 
 
 Butley 206 
 
 The Dog of Discord 216 
 
 Man to Man 234 
 
 Whatever it was 246 
 
 Love's Convert 264 
 
 The Poultry-yard 286
 
 THE WORD OF AN ENGLISHMAN. 
 
 In the rich plain of Sharon, midway between the 
 mountains and the sea, lies the village of Sulfoon. Its 
 houses are built of mud, not unmixed with stone, but 
 mud predominates. Here and there among the hovels 
 and strange conical mud-huts — which last serve as gran- 
 aries, storehouses, and the like — date-palms rise, each 
 tapering shaft crowned with a noble plume of wide- 
 spreading leaves and pendant fringe of reddening fruit. 
 To the east and south a vast grove of silver-grey olives 
 stretches without a break into the blue distance as far 
 as Lydda and the white mosque of Ramleh, and away to 
 the foot of the mountains. To the north and west is the 
 wide plain, swelling seaward with gentle undulations, a 
 dark-green streak in the distance marking the line of the 
 orange gardens of Jaffa. The men of Sulfoon were till 
 lately of evil repute in the land. They were robbers and, 
 of course, liars. They were fanatics, Muslims in name, 
 but in nothing else save in their hatred of unbelievers. 
 Worst crime of all, they were inhospitable. A good 
 man may be a robber — by robbery one may come to 
 riches and great honour. And he who will not tell a 
 lie for his own advantage is a fool, and the son of a fool. 
 But for any man to send a stranger hungry and thirsty 
 from his door is an unpardonable crime. 
 
 I
 
 2 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 But a change, hard to understand, has taken place in 
 the men of Sulfoon. Formerly no European could ride 
 past the village unstoned ; now he can hardly avoid be- 
 ing feasted. The reason of this strange enthusiasm for 
 people formerly regarded as detestable is this : — 
 
 It was the third hour of a spring day. The season 
 of the latter rains was past, but the land was still green 
 and flowery. The sun beat down upon the village, mak- 
 ing the palm-leaves high in air quiver in a swimming 
 haze of heat. The children of Sulfoon, both boys and 
 girls — half-naked, brown-skinned, dusty, with blue beads 
 strung round their necks as a charm against the powers 
 of evil — were playing in the narrow pathway which me- 
 anders through the village, serving at once the purposes 
 of roadway, dust-heap, and general gutter. 
 
 The game could hardly be called scientific. It could 
 not be said to have a beginning, middle, or end. They 
 were pelting each other furiously with dry camel's dung 
 and other refuse, shouting and screaming all the while 
 as if their very lives depended on it. Now and then a 
 dismal howl of pain would be raised as some well-aimed 
 missile struck one of the players full in the face, blind- 
 ing him or her for the moment ; and the friends of the 
 victim would attempt a strong reprisal. 
 
 Foremost in the fray was Ahmed, son of Mustafa. 
 Being nearly nine years old — the oldest boy engaged in 
 the skirmish — he showed his manhood and superiority 
 by smothering every girl who came within his range with 
 dirt. His father had ridden away to Jaffa at sunrise, 
 upon an ass, together with a load of tobacco leaves to 
 be sold to the Regie ; his mother and his elder sister were 
 at work in the fields ; and Ahmed had begun his holiday
 
 THE WORD OF AN ENGLISHMAN 3 
 
 by kicking his little sister Lulu, aged three — it was lucky 
 that Mustafa was far away at Jaffa, for Lulu was the 
 apple of his eye — until she roared with pain, then rolling 
 her over and over in the dust and refuse of the roadway 
 and filling her mouth with offal just to stop her noise. 
 Some neighbours coming to her rescue, he had fled to 
 the maize-fields, and there lain hidden till the storm 
 was overpast. 
 
 The present game was very much to Ahmed's mind, for, 
 being bigger than the rest, he could torment them freely. 
 He had just succeeded in making one little girl cry by a 
 well-aimed blow on the mouth, and was in the act of 
 throwing a great clod of filth at a very small boy, naked, 
 save for a battered and tasselless fez, who had ventured 
 to remonstrate with him for so doing, when the clatter 
 of approaching hoofs alarmed the swarm of them, and 
 the clod fell from his hand. Two Frankish horsemen 
 were just entering the village. 
 
 "Dogs of unbelievers!" muttered Ahmed, with 
 clenched teeth. 
 
 The other children fled in terror, every one to his or 
 her own doorway, but Ahmed stood his ground. He 
 was almost a man, as he considered, and knew well how 
 a man should act at such a juncture. 
 
 The horsemen were both clad in white coats, white 
 riding-breeches, and brown top-boots. The one wore 
 a pith helmet and a puggery, the other a broad-brimmed 
 felt hat. Ahmed had seen their like once before when 
 he had been to Jaffa with his father. They were Franks, 
 unbelievers, and accursed. 
 
 He of the pith helmet held a white rag to his nose as 
 he rode. Ahmed, who knew nothing of the uses of a pocket-
 
 4 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 handkerchief, saw something sinister in this behaviour. 
 The two were chattering together in an unknown tongue, 
 and their voices sounded deep down in their throats, 
 not in their mouths like those of human beings. 
 
 "Surely," thought the boy, "they utter cruel spells 
 against us, and the rag which he holds up to his pig's 
 snout is an evil charm." 
 
 He shrank close up to the mud wall to let them pass, 
 his bare feet finding a soft warm cushion in the sun-baked 
 refuse, and clutched at his blue beads for protection. 
 Then he stooped and, picking up a large stone with 
 jagged edges from the pathway, flung it after them, mur- 
 muring the proper curses for such heathen dogs. 
 
 The stone struck one of the two horses ; and its rider — 
 he of the pith helmet — had for a moment all that he 
 could do to keep his seat, and at the same time save his 
 legs from being crushed against the walls, as the horse 
 kicked and plunged in that narrow place. Ahmed grinned 
 with delight, and was just bending down to seek another 
 stone more useful for his purpose, which was their de- 
 struction, when he was aware of the horseman in the 
 broad-brimmed hat riding towards him threateningly with 
 whip upraised. The boy stood still ; his arms hung 
 helpless with dismay. Could the dog, the unbeliever, 
 who only existed in the world by sufferance, be actually 
 about to whip him, a good Muslim, in his own village, in 
 a Muslim land ? — to whip him for vindicating the honour 
 of his religion in the orthodox way ? The mere thought 
 filled him with such horror and disgust that he began to 
 howl and scream, " Ya Muslimin ! " even before he felt the 
 wicked lash curl lovingly around his bare brown limbs. 
 It stung like ten thousand hornets.
 
 THE WORD OF AN ENGLISHMAN 5 
 
 At the first touch of the whip Ahmed threw himself 
 face downward upon the ground, writhing and shrieking 
 in an ecstasy of pain — the pain he was going to feel. 
 And he lay there still writhing, howling, and cursing, long 
 after the Frank had made an end of thrashing him. The 
 music of his anguish brought out haggard, slovenly 
 women and a few old men from the hovels, and, pene- 
 trating even to the maize and tobacco-fields, caused the 
 workers there to throw aside their tools and hurry to the 
 place of torment in alarm. 
 
 A crowd barred either end of the narrow way, and a 
 sound of muttered curses filled the air. The stranger 
 took in the position at a glance, and motioned to his 
 friend, who seemed much frightened, to draw close to him. 
 
 " That will teach thee to show some courtesy to 
 strangers, son of a dog ! " he cried, in much better Arabic 
 than Ahmed was used to hear. Then, turning his horse, 
 he rode up to the larger and more angry crowd of vil- 
 lagers. 
 
 " Bring hither the sheykh of the village," he com- 
 manded. 
 
 The men glanced furtively at one another. This was 
 certainly some great one by his tone, perhaps even a 
 consul — one with whose doings it is not well to meddle. 
 He spoke as if the world belonged to him. Yet none 
 was found to answer or obey. 
 
 " Bring hither the sheykh of the village, and that 
 quickly, sons of a dog, or it shall be the worse for you ! '' 
 the Frank insisted sternly, without anger. 
 
 This was indeed a great one. Nobody who had not the 
 security of high position would dare to call men "sons 
 of a dog " in their own village, and he alone with but one
 
 6 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 follower. No doubt he had armed servants — soldiers — 
 close at hand. 
 
 An old man in a long and ancient cloak of camel's 
 hair, and a turban conspicuous by its extreme filth, 
 stepped forward. 
 
 " I am the sheykh of the village," he said gruffly. 
 "What may your Honour want with me?" His eyes 
 were bold. 
 
 " Come hither, then, and hold my horse's bridle," 
 said the Frank. 
 
 " Your Honour wishes to dismount here? He is wel- 
 come," said the sheykh, with a short laugh. "We are 
 much ennobled. Here, some one hold the bridle for 
 his Honour ! " 
 
 " Dog ! Darest thou disobey me ? Come quickly and 
 hold the bridle in thine own hand," cried the Frank, in a 
 voice of thunder, at the same time grasping the revolver 
 in his belt. 
 
 The sheykh obeyed, cringing, and the stranger dis- 
 mounted with a sigh of vast relief. 
 
 " We've won the day ! " he shouted to his friend in 
 English. " Bluff goes a long way in this land." 
 
 He glanced disdainfully at the downcast faces of the 
 villagers — one of whom rushed forward with extreme 
 servility to help the other stranger to alight — and pro- 
 ceeded quietly to fill and light his pipe. There is nothing 
 which so awes an ignorant, half-savage people as perfect 
 self-possession, and that state or quality is best exhibited 
 in the deliberate filling and lighting of a briar pipe. 
 
 " Bring two stools and some water. My friend and I 
 are tired and thirsty," he remarked at length superbly, 
 when his pipe was going.
 
 THE WORD OF AN ENGLISHMAN 7 
 
 The order being given to no one individual, at least 
 a dozen men sped upon the errand. The number of 
 stools and pitchers brought was overwhelming. When 
 the strangers had made their choice and seemed con- 
 tented, two of the fellahin led the horses off to a shady 
 place, while the rest of the villagers stood round at a 
 respectful distance, whispering together, with eyes intent 
 on the unlooked-for guests. 
 
 Little Ahmed, who had retired to his own doorway 
 for safety, was receiving condign punishment at the hands 
 of his mother. His monotonous wail — there was none 
 of the luxury of pain now, for the situation was far from 
 romantic — caused two lean pariah dogs to howl in 
 sympathy. 
 
 "Quite a concert — eh, Jim?" said the self-possessed 
 one, removing the pipe from his mouth for a second. 
 
 " I must say I think you were rather too hard on the 
 little rascal," answered the other, a little reproachfully. 
 "You needn't have leathered into him quite so hard. 
 He's catching it pretty hot again at this moment, I 
 fancy, and two hidings in ten minutes is a bit too strong 
 for such a little chap." 
 
 The self-possessed one gave a most portentous wink, 
 and went on smoking placidly in face of the villagers, 
 now and then giving his moustache a twirl to add to the 
 ferocity of his appearance. The fellahin were chattering 
 together in low tones, and seemed to be getting excited, 
 though no longer in a manner hostile to the Franks. 
 
 At length the sheykh stepped forward, bowing almost 
 to the ground, and laying hand to heart and lips and 
 brow. Would his Excellency, whose mere presence in 
 the house was of more value than many medicaments,
 
 8 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 before whose face disease was wont to flee affrighted — 
 a doubtful compliment to the Frank's mind, this last — 
 deign to look upon his little son, who even now, alas ! 
 was lying at the point of death ? 
 
 " What does he say ? " inquired the stranger in the 
 pith helmet. 
 
 His companion translated. " In these out-of-the-way 
 villages," he explained, " almost the only Europeans 
 they ever see are medical missionaries, so they look upon 
 us all as doctors, more or less." 
 
 The sheykh's shifty little eyes, meanwhile, were 
 wandering from one to the other anxiously. 
 
 " I am no doctor, old man," announced the stranger 
 of the broad-brimmed hat in Arabic. " Of what use 
 could it be that I should look upon thy sick child ? " 
 
 The villagers looked at each other, upon that, and 
 smiled. "The great are ever thus," they murmured 
 knowingly. " They must be bathed in a very sea of 
 flattery ere they will grant a poor man's boon. Now we 
 know in truth that he is a very great physician." 
 
 " I know well that I and all my people are but as dirt 
 before your Excellency," whined the sheykh in servile 
 ecstasy, tears trickling down his cheeks. " Trample on us 
 an it please thee. We are all thy servants. Yet it is 
 but a small thing that I ask. Do but honour the ground 
 by treading on it so far as to the doorway of my house, 
 do but look upon my son and speak one word of healing, 
 for one word from the mouth of such an one is worth all 
 medicine." 
 
 " Thou art an ass and the son of an ass," replied the 
 Frank, after a moment's silence. " Yet, since thou needs 
 must have it so, I will look upon thy child that is sick.
 
 THE WORD OF AN ENGLISHMAN 9 
 
 But I have told thee I am no doctor but a plain man, the 
 words of whose mouth have no power or authority more 
 than thine own." 
 
 The villagers indulged in shouts of " Praise to Allah ". 
 The sheykh girt up his loins and ran to show the way. 
 
 " You don't mind stopping where you are and keeping 
 an eye on the horses, do you, Jim ? " the supposed doctor 
 called back to his friend of the pith helmet. 
 
 The house of the sheykh was larger than the other 
 hovels of the place and its walls were almost entirely of 
 stone. It stood at the north-west corner of the village, 
 with its face towards Carmel. A giant palm-tree, a land- 
 mark for miles round, rose before the door. 
 
 In the low door-way, sheltered from the sun's glare, a 
 young woman was sitting kneading dough in an earthen 
 pan. She was dirty like the place, but quite good- 
 looking, though her eyes were tired and anxious. She 
 rose, drawing her veil across her face, as the sheykh, 
 her husband, bade her praise the Highest for his mercies, 
 bade her look with thankfulness upon the greatest doctor 
 upon earth, who with a word was going to heal their son. 
 The crowd of villagers — men, women, and children — 
 which had followed to the house, gathered by the thres- 
 hold watching with eager curiosity the movements of the 
 Frankish doctor. 
 
 It was some time before the stranger's sight became 
 accustomed to the shadow of the room. The wooden 
 shutters of the window were fast closed. A single bar 
 of light, shed from the open door, seemed from without 
 to traverse solid darkness. 
 
 But by degrees he saw the four walls, the cooking 
 utensils scattered here and there about the floor, a heap
 
 10 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 of dirty cushions and coverings in a corner, and — in the 
 darkest nook of all, on a rough couch, of which the 
 squalor and discomfort made him shudder — the sick boy. 
 
 He drew near and bent over the child. A cloud 
 of flies rose from around the bed as he did so. It was 
 evident that they distressed the sufferer, for he moaned 
 and tossed continually, as they settled here and there 
 upon his face and body. The air of the room was foul, 
 compounded of a thousand stifling odours. 
 
 The Frank stepped to the window and flung apart the 
 crazy wooden shutters with a bang. A draught of warm 
 sweet air refreshed the room. Then he turned to the 
 sheykh. 
 
 " Listen, O man," he said. "Thy son will die, unless 
 thou move him quickly to some cleaner place. The 
 foulness of this village would bring sickness even to an 
 ox." 
 
 The sheykh shrugged up his shoulders, spreading out 
 his hands in deprecation. 
 
 " The village is your Excellency's — that is known ! — 
 to do with it even as he shall think fit. If it is his will 
 that the whole place be destroyed, it is destroyed, and 
 that immediately. All that is understood. Only let 
 him speak the word of healing for my son ! " 
 
 The stranger turned away with an impatient gesture. 
 
 " O thou ass ! " he said. " I told thee at the first I was 
 no doctor, yet will I speak one word of power for thy 
 son's health. Send thy child at once to Jaffa, to the 
 English hospital there, and his life may yet be saved." 
 
 " To hear is to obey," bowed the sheykh, with evident 
 insincerity, " but I am a poor man, and hospitals are for 
 the rich. Moreover, it is a long way and my son would
 
 THE WORD OF AN ENGLISHMAN 11 
 
 die upon the journey. Let your Excellency but name 
 some medicine for the boy, and he will be cured without 
 trouble or cost. It is an easy thing to do, for one like 
 thee." 
 
 "Aye, medicine, it is medicine that he needs — and 
 charms ! " came in chorus from the group about the 
 threshold. 
 
 " I have spoken," said the Frank severely, making 
 towards the door. " It is my last word, and I repeat it. 
 Send thy son to the hospital at Jaffa if thou hast a mind 
 to save his life. It will cost thee nothing." 
 
 Fie was already at the threshold, and the villagers had 
 drawn aside to let him pass, when the woman of the house, 
 who had till then been crouching down beside her child, 
 sprang after him and stopped him, clutching at his raiment. 
 Ashe turned in anger, she flung herself upon the ground 
 and clasped his feet. 
 
 " O Khawajah, save him ! Save him ! " she implored. 
 " He is my only child ! " 
 
 The Frank stood still a moment, looking down at her. 
 The girl's face — she was but a girl in years — was as the 
 face of an angel pleading with him. Conscious of some- 
 thing like a lump in his throat he turned back into 
 the room and once more confronted the sheykh. " As 
 I have told thee many times already, I am not a doctor," 
 he repeated. "But hear what I shall do. I go hence 
 direct to Jaffa, and I will send a doctor hither to attend 
 thy child this evening ere the sun sets." 
 
 " But your Excellency may forget ! " the sheykh ob- 
 jected. " He has many weighty matters in his mind. 
 It is a small thing. Let him but speak." 
 
 " I shall not forget. I have given my word as an
 
 12 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 Englishman," said the stranger, stepping forth into the 
 sunlight. As he turned the corner of the house, the 
 agonized shrieks of the woman filled his ears. She was 
 calling down curses on his head, because he had refused 
 to cure her child. 
 
 " It is a pretty place," he said, five minutes later, turning 
 in his saddle for a last view of Sulfoon. The two horse- 
 men were crossing a dry wady some five hundred yards 
 from the foot of the knoll on which the village stands. 
 
 " A filthy, dirty place," said his companion, " and a 
 nest of scoundrels into the bargain." 
 
 But the supposed doctor had forgotten the dirt and 
 squalor. He was thinking of the face of the woman as 
 she lay at his feet ; and his backward glance found the 
 village fair enough, with its grey-brown dwellings and its 
 tapering palms, standing out against a background of 
 blue distant mountains. 
 
 " One touch of nature ! " he remarked, half to himself. 
 " If these people were not such confounded humbugs one 
 would feel more inclined to do things for them. That 
 woman's grief was genuine at any rate. Lucky there 
 happens to be a medical man staying at the hotel with 
 nothing to do. You should take a general view of things, 
 Jim," he added, with a laugh to his companion, "and of 
 people too, for that matter. Details are apt to be dis- 
 heartening." 
 
 The day wore on, and the dark shadow of the palm-tree 
 before the sheykh's house lengthened slowly eastward. 
 The sick child tossed and moaned upon the squalid couch 
 within. And his every moan struck as it were a blow 
 upon his mother's heart. 
 
 "A curse upon the Frankish unbeliever!" said the
 
 THE WORD OF AN ENGLISHMAN 13 
 
 sheykh to his cronies, as they squatted in a circle on a 
 grassy mound, a stone's throw from the village, shaded 
 by an ancient carob-tree. " Would we had stoned 
 him when he beat the boy Ahmed — the poor, ill-used 
 one ! — with his whip. My son — my only son, the hope 
 of my house, will die. And he could have saved him 
 with a word — may his tongue be plucked out by the 
 roots ! " 
 
 " He promised to send a doctor hither from Jaffa, be- 
 fore the hour of the sun's setting," said a young man, 
 who was leaning with his back against the gnarled trunk 
 of the tree. " It is possible that he may keep his word." 
 
 "Thou art a fool, O Abdullah, and devoid of judg- 
 ment ! " quoth the sheykh contemptuously. " Never since 
 thy birth hast thou shown any intellect. I tell thee that 
 the sun will sooner forget the hour of his setting than a 
 rich man will remember his word, pledged to one that is 
 poorer than he." 
 
 "But," Abdullah persisted, "I have heard men say 
 in the city, even in Jaffa, that the word of an Englishman 
 is not as the word of the son of an Arab, or as the word 
 of other nations of the Franks." 
 
 "Be silent," roared the sheykh. "Thy talk is folly. 
 The people of the city are all liars, and invent such stories 
 to make game of countrymen. Their fathers were like 
 that before them — all defiled prevaricators ! Abu Nabbut 
 has said — and the words are written up above his fountain, 
 at the entering in of the city, among the gardens — ' Cursed 
 is the man that chooseth him a friend from among the 
 men of Jaffa '. And thou, Abdullah, puttest faith in their 
 inventions ! The promise of a rich man to a poor is the 
 same all the world over. Why should this Frank keep
 
 14 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 his word, more than another ? He merely said the thing. 
 He did not swear by any of his idols. Is it his son that 
 is ill, I ask you all ? No, he is gone — may the curse of 
 God pursue him ! — and the matter has passed from his 
 mind. He is not a fool that he should burden his 
 thoughts with the sorrows and concerns of strangers. 
 My son — my only son — will die, when a word might 
 have saved him ! Allah ! Allah ! " 
 
 So the day wore on, and the sun hung lower and ever 
 lower over the western sea, and the hues of the land 
 grew warmer and more ruddy, and the shadows ever 
 longer to the eastward. And men shouted cheerily one 
 to another, for the time of toil and heat was past, and the 
 coolness of evening was on all the land. 
 
 A noise of hoof-beats sounded in the village. 
 
 "It is Mustafa, the father of Ahmed, who returns from 
 the city," said the sheykh. 
 
 "Perchance it is the Frankish doctor," said Abdullah, 
 the pig-headed. 
 
 An ass, staggering beneath the weight of two sacks, 
 and its master appeared in the narrow way between the 
 hovels. Abdullah was proved wrong, for it was Mustafa's 
 ass, and Mustafa himself, clothed in his striped cloak of 
 camel's hair, brown and white, and the portentous turban 
 he had worn for twenty years, was seated sideways on it, 
 with his bare legs dangling almost to the ground. 
 
 " Didst thou pass any Franks on the way, O father of 
 Ahmed?" cried Abdullah, running down to greet him. 
 
 "What have I to do with Franks?" retorted Mustafa, 
 dismounting, and preparing further to unburden the much- 
 burdened beast. "And as for passing one of them — they 
 ride upon horses, and that furiously ! It is not an easy
 
 THE WORD OF AN ENGLISHMAN 15 
 
 thing for one that rides an ass to overtake or pass them 
 in the way." 
 
 "Is it not even as I said?" cried the sheykh, when 
 Abdullah returned to him. " Thou art a fool. Thou 
 wast born and thou wilt surely die in the pursuit of folly. 
 The word of a rich man to one that is poor is the same 
 all the world over! That is known. Behold ! It is the 
 hour of sun-set, and the physician has not come ! My son 
 will die!" 
 
 Even as he spoke the sun's rim dipped below the 
 western horizon, and an amethyst hue suffused the eastern 
 sky. One-half of the village glowed as red as fire, the 
 other was in shadow, black as night. 
 
 " It is the hour of the evening meal," said the sheykh, 
 and he rose with intent to go to his own house for supper. 
 
 One-half of the sun's disk was below the horizon. The 
 shadows of the palm-trees stretched far away towards the 
 mountains. 
 
 " I hear the sound of hoofs," exclaimed Abdullah. 
 
 Even as he spoke, a European horseman came in sight, 
 followed by a native servant with two laden mules. 
 
 " Where is the sheykh of the village?" cried the new- 
 comer, "he whose son lies at death's door? Show my 
 servant some good place where he can pitch the tent. 
 Where is the sheykh, I ask you ? Does his son yet live ? " 
 
 The Frank poured forth his stream of mingled question 
 and command, with the rapidity of one who has no time 
 to waste. 
 
 A great awe took possession of the fellahin. Here 
 was a strange thing indeed, a rich man in a hurry ! Still 
 more strange, he was in a hurry on another's business. 
 They stood staring at the prodigy, with mouths agape.
 
 16 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 " I cannot wait here all night," said the physician irrit- 
 ably. " I am an English physician, and I have come to 
 tend the sheykh's son who is sick. The Englishman who 
 was here to-day has sent me. Guide me to the house 
 of the sheykh, one of you ! " 
 
 The word "physician" roused the sheykh out of the 
 state of torpor into which the awful energy of the stranger 
 and the rapidity of the latter's speech had plunged him. 
 "The western sky is still red with the sun-setting," he 
 shouted, waving his arms wildly. " A rich man has kept 
 his word to me that am poor ! Surely the end of all 
 things is at hand ! " And he ran before the doctor to the 
 door of his own house. 
 
 Late that night, when the great stars were beating in 
 the sky, and the sick child was peacefully asleep upon a 
 camp-bed in the doctor's tent, the men of the village sat 
 and spoke together at the foot of the tall palm-tree before 
 the house of the sheykh which looks towards Carmel. 
 And they swore a mighty oath that they, and their sons, 
 and their sons' sons would never suffer a Frank to pass 
 by Sulfoon unchallenged, and, if he proved to be an 
 Englishman, unfeasted. 
 
 And, at this day, when the men of Sulfoon wish to bind 
 themselves to some performance solemnly, they swear 
 by the "Word of an Englishman," which is as the word 
 of Allah — " faithful to rich and poor alike ".
 
 THE JUST STEWARD. 
 
 "Go to thy house, O sheykh ! Return not hither till I 
 send for thee." 
 
 His lordship's steward heard the order as a thunder- 
 clap. The words reverberated in his brain and deafened 
 him, while lightnings came and went before his eyes. 
 His stupefaction was reflected on a hundred bearded 
 faces, for the hall was lined with dark-cloaked, turbaned 
 Druzes come to celebrate their chiefs rare visit to his 
 mountain home. The note of water falling in a basin of 
 the court without, heard through the doorway, rang of 
 impish laughter. For a space of heart-beats it remained 
 the only sound, its small shrill pipe engrossing the vast 
 hall of audience ; while all men stared in wonder at the 
 chieftain, who, lolling in the seat of honour, kept his face 
 averted. 
 
 The steward had not moved. 
 
 " Dost hear me ? Go ! And give thy books to 
 Casim!" 
 
 It needed that ! His books, the pride of his existence, 
 kept so lovingly that not an ill-formed figure or erasure 
 could be found in them, were snatched from him and 
 handed to the town-bred favourite, whose fat, sly face, as 
 he received them, wore a servile grin. The steward 
 understood at last. He bowed before his lord with 
 
 haughty grace and left the presence with a sweep of 
 
 (17) 2
 
 18 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 flowing robes. At the castle gate, upon the top step of 
 the marble flight which drops from thence to the parade- 
 ground, he paused a moment to survey the village he 
 had ruled for years. It hung beneath the palace like a 
 beard. He heard the groaning of a water-wheel, the 
 clink of a hammer on iron — familiar sounds which in a 
 second had become outlandish. Then, passing down the 
 steps to where his horse was tethered, he mounted and 
 rode home by stony ways. 
 
 His wife and daughter, struck with wonder at his 
 quick return, were loud in question. He only answered 
 with one word, "Deposed," and, ere their horror could 
 distil in speech, withdrew into a room apart and shut the 
 door. 
 
 There, sitting cross-legged, with eyes fixed upon the 
 ground, he reviewed his whole career with perfect clear- 
 ness. The feat of evocation was a light one for the 
 knowing Druze whose mind had never been obscured by 
 any fumes, whose will was iron from a life's resistance. 
 He was once more a young man, newly married, and wore 
 the turban with a sense of pride. The day was that on 
 which his lord and foster-brother, a mere boy newly 
 come to his inheritance, had cried out in the hall of 
 audience, " Ali is my steward," and forthwith embraced 
 him. Once more he felt the tumult of the heart, the up- 
 ward rush of tears, the strange emotion which those 
 words and that caress had roused in him. He had sworn 
 then, to his conscience, by his father's grave, to prove a 
 faithful servant to that dear one, and there was no doubt 
 but that, in the sequel, he had kept his oath. Never 
 once in all the thirty years of his stewardship, had he 
 robbed his lord of one para, or wittingly allowed another
 
 THE JUST STEWARD 19 
 
 creature to defraud him. Only — and this it must be which 
 had come to the chiefs ears — filling so high a post, which 
 all men deemed remunerative, he had been forced to put 
 on airs of fraud for self-protection. At first, when they 
 beheld in him an honest man — that is, for all men's 
 minds, a simple fool — he had been assailed on every 
 side by clever rascals. By the sole expedient of assum- 
 ing looks of guile, of giving signs of greater wealth than 
 could be come by honestly, had he at last succeeded in 
 shaking off such pests. When once convinced that he was 
 as rapacious as themselves, they thought him cleverest 
 where all were clever, since no one could divine the manner 
 of his fraud. Thus he enjoyed high honour on the 
 mountain-side and came in time to prize that honour 
 for its own sake, as his best possession, apart from any 
 thought of its foundation. It was the loss of all respect, 
 the fall to ignominy, when men came to realize that he 
 was poor, after thirty years' manipulation of a princely 
 fortune, which appalled him in this moment of his fall. 
 For he had no savings. He had even borrowed money 
 in his need to entertain the notion of ill-gotten wealth in 
 neighbours' minds. His son had received the costly edu- 
 cation of a doctor because it was the mode for well-born 
 youths to study medicine ; while two of his daughters, 
 thanks entirely to his reputation, were married to young 
 men of rank and property. The youngest, still remain- 
 ing in his house, was in a week to have espoused a 
 wealthy chieftain of the second rank. That honourable 
 match would now be broken off. His girl would be 
 with scorn rejected by the bridegroom's house when they 
 beheld him poor after such opportunities — a pitiful, de- 
 luded fool in all men's sight. Grief for his darling
 
 20 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 goaded him to think : " There is still hope. Could I but 
 see my lord alone, one minute, all would be explained." 
 
 "Return not hither till I send for thee." 
 
 The stern command was like an iron hand upon his 
 breast. His active brain sought how he might evade it 
 favourably. His child was much beloved of the chiefs 
 wife and daughter. There was a way to reach the hear- 
 ing of his lord. 
 
 Opening the door of the room, he called his wife, who 
 came lamenting, asking details of the great calamity. 
 When he had told her all, she cried : " Alas, our honour ! 
 Alas, the glory of this house, our honour ! Thou art 
 poor. Without the money of thy office, we are dirt for 
 all men." 
 
 " In sh' Allah, there is yet a chance," he told her. 
 " Let Sa'adeh hasten to the presence of the ladies ; let 
 her kiss their feet and say that I am innocent of all 
 offence ; whatever has been told my lord I can explain. 
 The ladies love our house ; they will make prayer for me 
 to be admitted to a private audience of my lord. That 
 only let her ask — a minute's private audience." 
 
 " She goes at once," his wife replied, with zeal. 
 
 The day wore on, and friends and neighbours poured 
 in to condole with him. Their tone was very reverential, 
 for they thought him rich as ever. Many of the Know- 
 ing expressed indignation because the person chosen to 
 succeed their friend was of the Ignorant, a town-bred oaf, 
 a smoker and a winebibber, whose elevation to the post of 
 steward was of bad example. They endeavoured to bring 
 comfort to Sheykh Ali, saying : " As for thee, it is no matter, 
 but a mere affront. Thou hast enjoyed the place so 
 many years, and thou art skilled, none like thee, in the
 
 THE JUST STEWARD 21 
 
 way of business. It is simply to withdraw a crutch from 
 one long healed of lameness." 
 
 The old man bit his lip at such remarks, but smiled 
 and gave due praise to Allah for his boundless mercy. 
 His mind was not with them, but with his daughter at 
 the castle. 
 
 At length a servant brought the longed-for summons. 
 
 " Praise be to God," cried the Sheykh Ali, rising. 
 " My friends, I must now leave you for an hour. Budge 
 not, I beg of you. Be seated. Take your ease. My 
 house is yours." 
 
 His horse — a fiery black stallion — was at the door 
 already saddled. His friends, as from the archway of 
 the house they watched him mount and ride away, could 
 not consider him a ruined man, beholding him astride of 
 such a charger, attended by a well-dressed servant, also 
 mounted. Above dim olive-groves and shadowy orchards, 
 where white-washed dwellings shone out blue amid the 
 twilight, the upper windows of the palace flashed the sun- 
 set, which reddened the bare mountain side above. The 
 chief came seldom tc his mountain home. He loved the 
 life of cities where men learn distrust and lose remem- 
 brance of the strength of old affection. He had forgotten 
 that his steward here at home was still his foster-brother ; 
 the same Ali who had held him in the saddle when he 
 learnt to ride, who had tried to keep him from debauch 
 as he grew up ; a man more strongly bound to him by 
 love than interest. This, if once made plain to his in- 
 telligence, would change his Honour's views, thought 
 the old servant as he rode up to the castle, through the 
 village. 
 
 The chief received him in an upper chamber. He did
 
 22 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 not rise to greet him from the divan where he sat, nor 
 manifest the least emotion on his entrance, beyond a 
 little movement of impatience when his hand was kissed. 
 
 "Well," he observed. "What is it that thou hast to 
 tell me, of such moment ? My daughter lay upon the 
 ground and clasped my feet, in tears, till I consented to 
 receive thee from the simple need to move. Be brief, I 
 beg, for I return to-morrow to the city, and have much 
 to see to ere I go. The people here are like a plague of 
 flies. From the moment I arrive they never leave me." 
 
 " To-morrow ! " gasped Sheykh Ali in dismay, the pur- 
 pose of his visit clean forgotten in a twinkling. " O my 
 dear lord, it is a sin for thee to haste away. Here all 
 men love thee and would give their lives for thee for the 
 sake of thy father and thy father's father — all thy noble 
 race ! They guard thee as the banner of their pride. 
 Yonder in the city, canst thou find such loyalty ? There 
 men cringe and flatter thee for selfish ends." 
 
 " Wonderful ! " exclaimed the chief satirically. " Thou 
 art here upon thy trial, and still scoldest me! Will 
 nothing teach thee policy, friend Ali ? Thy business, I 
 beseech thee, for I have no time to waste." 
 
 Casting himself upon the ground, the aged steward 
 then poured out his story in heart-broken tones. He 
 told his lord the truth, how he had never robbed him, 
 how he had but assumed the mask of guile in self-defence. 
 
 The chieftain scoffed : " A pretty tale, but little to the 
 purpose, O Beloved, because my grievance is not that 
 thou hast defrauded — Allah forbid that one with wealth 
 like mine should grudge his servants and his folk their 
 gleanings — but that thou dost make boast of peculation, 
 real or feigned ; that, while so boasting, thou dost treat
 
 THE JUST STEWARD 23 
 
 me like a naughty child, presuming even to refuse me my 
 own money — thou knowest, that has happened more than 
 once — when the purpose for which I happened to require 
 it failed to satisfy thy high morality. I do not ask for 
 restitution, of one small para; I seek for no account of 
 thy past dealings. I simply take another steward, who 
 will be my servant, not my tutor. Come, Ali, we are 
 brothers by the bond of milk, and I have always had a 
 love for thee. I did wrong — I now confess it heartily — 
 to speak to thee in wrath this morning as I did. I have 
 no quarrel with thee, O my dear one. Go in peace ! " 
 
 " Alas, my honour ! O my lord, consider ! Behold 
 me henceforth dung in all men's sight." 
 
 " Thy honour ! " laughed his lord. " Pray, what is that ? 
 Honour, thou sayest ! Is not mine of some account ? 
 Was it pleasant for me, think you, to hear people saying : 
 'Behold him. He is but the sheep of the Sheykh Ali. 
 See how our wise Sheykh Ali feeds and shears him ? ' 
 No, go thy way, old friend, without more words. I have 
 another steward, but I do not hate thee. God grant in 
 spite of all thy protestations that thou hast filched a 
 fortune from me to make glad thine age." 
 
 Stupefied by this revelation of an attitude of mind, 
 which had never in his life before occurred to him as 
 possible for man to take, Sheykh Ali left the presence, 
 groping, as one blind. When he reached his house again, 
 it was already night. His wife and daughter, hearing 
 that his errand had been fruitless, wailed aloud. The 
 former clung to him, imploring : — 
 
 " Publish not the truth — at least to-night. Let us pre- 
 serve our honour for a few hours longer. Some way 
 out from this pit of woe may yet be opened. Say noth-
 
 24 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 ing at the meeting, I entreat thee. It is nearly time to 
 start." 
 
 In his trouble the Sheykh AH had forgotten that a 
 meeting of the Knowing Ones was to take place that night 
 at the old stone Khalweh in the pine-wood on the 
 mountain-side above the village. Doing his best to 
 banish worldly cares, he made haste with his ablutions, 
 and set forth beside his wife (who also was of Those 
 Who Know) on foot and wrapped in silent meditation. 
 
 The Khalweh in the pine-wood, a cube-shaped build- 
 ing on the pattern of a tomb in that it had no windows 
 and so low a doorway that people had to crouch to enter, 
 was furnished inside like a common room except that 
 on one wall was scrawled a rough presentment of a calf, 
 the emblem of false guidance and of wrong belief linked 
 intimately with the secret history of their race. It was 
 depicted there for malediction at appointed seasons. 
 Four goodly candles set in brazen sconces gave what 
 light there was, and alone in all the building smacked of 
 luxury. When all the Knowing — fifty persons of both 
 sexes — had arrived, the door was shut by one who stood 
 in readiness. 
 
 "The door is shut," an aged man intoned. Another 
 answered : " Of a truth the door is shut, from centuries 
 behind us till the end. The number is complete and 
 changes not. May God have pity on the Ignorant who, 
 born upon the threshold, may not enter. The curse of 
 God rest ever upon those without." 
 
 Then the Sheykh who had first spoken took in his 
 hand an ancient manuscript, and proceeded to expound 
 a chapter of those wondrous Scriptures which seem as 
 nonsense to the uninitiated. In that assembly, rich and
 
 THE JUST STEWARD 25 
 
 lettered men were mixed with ragged labourers and 
 simple women ; for wealth and poverty, learning and its 
 opposite, are only products of some chance, are outward 
 things. Here all were equal, having passed the crucial 
 tests enjoined by a religion glorifying force of character 
 even at the expense of what the devotees of outward 
 faiths call righteousness ; all were proud, the pride of an 
 exclusive race enforced in every case by stern asceticism. 
 
 While the Sheykh Ali sat and listened to the words of 
 meaning, his mind found rest, intent on inward things. 
 But when the talk came round to tidings of the day, his 
 anguish was renewed. They spoke of him with praise 
 as a true Unitarian, a credit to the circle of the Knowing, 
 one who had carved an independence out of honourable 
 service without scandal, as behoved a man ; of his suc- 
 cessor as a lewd fellow and a winebibber, a fool to boot, 
 who had not sense enough to hide his triumph with a 
 mask of care. They spoke of the approaching marriage 
 of his daughter as of a festival to which they all looked 
 forward. 
 
 " All is from God," he murmured, for the congregation, 
 fending off their curiosity with pious phrases and mis- 
 leading smiles. At that moment he beheld himself as 
 nothing, the splendour of the name which he had made 
 as all. 
 
 It was then, as he sat there, acutely suffering, painfully 
 conscious of his wife's imploring gaze, that a plan which 
 seemed miraculous occurred to him and with it a sensa- 
 tion of intense relief. He brightened then, and played his 
 part without an effort. 
 
 Once more in his own house he showed his wife the 
 project he had formed. It was to go next morning to
 
 26 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 the city, to their son the doctor, and confide in him. 
 With his help it should be possible to raise a sum of 
 money sufficient to give Sa'adeh a splendid wedding such 
 as would be talked of on the mountain-side for years. 
 That done, his wife and he would simply vanish. 
 
 " Our Lord reward thee ! " was the woman's comment. 
 " To die in one place and be reborn in new surroundings 
 is but the course of every one beneath the sun. It is no 
 hardship, and we save our honour. I could not bear the 
 pity of our former friends." 
 
 The story they would tell the neighbours was that, tired 
 of innovations and the spread of Frankish manners, 
 Sheykh Ali, having seen his daughter married, would 
 emigrate to that more distant mountain where the cus- 
 toms of the race survived in all their vigour. Their 
 daughter would of course cry out to share their exile. 
 She must be told some portion of the truth, and bidden 
 to keep silence for their house's honour. 
 
 The couple sat up talking till the dawn appeared, and 
 a bird chirrupped in the shadows of the garden. Next 
 morning, when the chieftain left the castle in his carriage 
 with outriders, attendants, and a lively company, the 
 Sheykh Ali, riding his black stallion, saluted and begged 
 leave to join his train. 
 
 " Praise be to Allah, thou no longer frownest ! " came 
 the laughing answer ; and the sheykh was bidden ride 
 beside the carriage at his lord's right hand. 
 
 Arriving in the city, the Sheykh Ali stabled his horse at 
 a khan and thence went straight to his son's lodgings. 
 The young man was within. They spoke with heads to- 
 gether for an hour, the phrase " the honour of our house " 
 recurring often in their conversation. Then the son
 
 THE JUST STEWARD 27 
 
 rushed out to borrow money where he could ; the father 
 strolled into the markets to procure rich stuff for gifts, 
 and delicacies for his daughter's wedding feast. That 
 night they reckoned up the sum available. It was enough 
 to leave Sheykh Ali's name a byword for profuse expendi- 
 ture. Both took a childish pleasure in the thought. 
 
 Returning on the morrow to the mountain village the 
 Sheykh announced a sale of all his property ; which, he 
 said, should be delivered to the purchasers on the day 
 succeeding that on which his girl departed for the bride- 
 groom's house. His wife had noised abroad his wish to 
 emigrate, and, none suspecting his real need of money, 
 he obtained good prices. 
 
 "It is natural," said the neighbours, " he should wish 
 to go. It stabs his soul to see another in his place. He 
 is rich and independent. It is sure that he desires some 
 place where he can enjoy without a pang the dignity to 
 which his wealth entitles him ; where none will call him 
 the discarded steward." 
 
 To show their sympathy the neighbours made good 
 bidding for his goods, and with the money thus received 
 he paid all debts to his own race, and added something 
 to the splendour of the wedding feasts. 
 
 Those feasts began, upon a scale unheard of in the 
 mountains. From the evening when the bridegroom's cav- 
 alcade arrived to claim the bride and were entreated to re- 
 main a week, a year ; when the first guns were fired and 
 strains of music heard ; until the end, old friends and 
 neighbours held their breath and almost worshipped, awed 
 by the vision of Sheykh Ali's wealth. They would have 
 given him their souls to keep, for honour. They praised 
 his name like courtiers round a king. Gold flowed from
 
 28 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 him ; he scattered presents broadcast as lavishly as house- 
 wives fling out grain to fowls, yet without arrogance. 
 The courteous word and modest mien were his. Each 
 costly gift was made more precious by the compliment 
 which told of friendly thought for the receiver. 
 
 As for his wife, her pride in this display was feverish 
 and so acute as to resemble pain. She moaned at 
 thought of the approaching end, which seemed like death 
 itself, yet when Sheykh AH murmured weakly of aban- 
 doning their plan of flight through tenderness for her, 
 she stormed at him. How could she face the neighbours 
 when they knew her poor? This final triumph made it 
 quite impossible. Having put her foot upon their necks 
 this once for all, she could endure the scorn of strangers ; 
 of these, never ! She told him conversations she had 
 overheard : how one old friend was thankful he was going ; 
 another called his wealth his only virtue, bereft of which 
 he would have been a thievish dog. Moreover, she in- 
 formed him how the bridegroom's father, who paid him 
 such distinguished honour now, had two days since made 
 strict inquiries of his fortune. 
 
 It was upon these revelations that Sheykh Ali cried : — 
 
 "The Hauran is too near ! I will discard them utterly. 
 Let us journey to some place remote from all our tribe ; 
 to some great city where a man is lost in multitude as a 
 single grain of sand on the seashore ; where our own 
 children shall not know our hiding-place, lest from that 
 knowledge shame adhere to them." 
 
 His wife, for prudence, murmured: "Is that wise? 
 Thou hast good introductions to the great ones of the 
 Hauran, sufficient to secure thee honour, even though 
 destitute."
 
 THE JUST STEWARD 29 
 
 " The tidings of our plight would travel thence to 
 wound our daughter in her honoured home," answered 
 the Sheykh. " Her husband and his people would revile 
 her. No, by Allah ! We will hide us in the city of 
 the Muslims." 
 
 After some argument his wife agreed. Even death 
 itself appeared to her less dreadful than to face the 
 pity of those neighbours who had graced her triumph. 
 
 The rejoicings lasted for three days ; upon the morn- 
 ing of the fourth, the bride, in tears, was carried from 
 her father's house, the bridegroom's cavalcade escort- 
 ing her. The people of the village sped them on their 
 way, men firing guns into the air, and women giving 
 forth their joy-cry. And then great silence fell upon 
 Sheykh Ali's house. The old man and his wife sat 
 still, and thought together, until the neighbours came 
 requiring farewell ceremonies, when they nerved them- 
 selves to undergo the final ordeal. 
 
 All was done correctly. When questioned why he 
 took so little luggage, the Sheykh replied that much 
 would be a needless burden, since he could purchase 
 all things needful at his journey's end. His fortune, 
 he informed his hearers gravely, had been confided to a 
 banker of Damascus, who secured him credit until such 
 time as he could place it out anew. He answered 
 every question proffered with such candour, that none 
 suspected any secret in his going. 
 
 When they left the place next morning in a hired 
 carriage, with no more luggage than a bundle on the 
 seat before them, the couple were escorted by a noisy 
 crowd, which, after running by their side and after them 
 for quite a mile, at last stood and screamed farewell to
 
 30 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 them with waving arms. Then they were driven, jolt- 
 ing, for two hours until they came to the Sultan's high 
 road, high up upon the mountain-side, commanding 
 miles of fertile plain and coast and sea. There the 
 driver got down off his box and helped them to alight. 
 
 " Good time ! " he told them. " It wants an hour 
 before the coach will pass." They urged him not to 
 wait. He wept a little and kissed their hands repeat- 
 edly before he climbed back to his box ; and as he 
 drove away, he turned repeatedly to shout some fare- 
 well blessing. When he had passed from sight Sheykh 
 AH and his wife sat down in the shade of a tree by the 
 wayside ; and taking articles of clothing from the 
 bundle, altered their appearance into that of humble 
 Muslims. Then they rose and turned their faces to- 
 wards the inland city, poor people, on the mercy of the 
 Most High. 
 
 The woman wept a little at the start, yet walked 
 erect, with firm, approving hand on the man's shoulder. 
 They were of the Knowing, so had perfect vision of the 
 vanity of all they weakly mourned. 
 
 "It is but as reincarnation, a new birth," the woman 
 said, when she had grieved awhile. "The gloom and 
 pangs of death, and then fresh light and youth." 
 
 "Aye," said Sheykh Ali, "and so life turns for ever 
 like an endless wheel. We die to-day, but we are reborn 
 instantly, although no memory remain of what we were. 
 To be able to relinquish all things without sorrow is but 
 to show obedience to the will of our Exalted Lord." 
 
 After two days of patient travel, they came into the 
 city of the Muslims, the city of warm hearts and courtly 
 manners ; where men blessed them as at setting out from
 
 THE JUST STEWARD 31 
 
 home, but for another reason. There it had been their 
 wealth that called forth kindness, here their apparent 
 poverty moved every heart. A man, the first to whom 
 they made appeal, showed them a ruinous old house 
 where they could live for nothing, and helped the 
 Sheykh to find some light employment. They lived 
 a life devoid of actual hardship, received by all around 
 them as true Muslims, observing every practice of a 
 religion which they scorned, in obedience to the injunc- 
 tions of their higher faith ; for all religions are but 
 painted cloaks, the Knowing say, which those who bear 
 the truth in mind may don and throw aside as seems 
 expedient. They were not discontented, although too 
 old to find enjoyment in new habits. They longed 
 sometimes for the communion of the Knowing, for the 
 talk and ways of thought of their own folk. The 
 Sheykh believed that there were other Druzes in the 
 city. His eyes were ever watchful of the passing crowd 
 and, if he saw a man's face of a certain type, he put 
 this question casually to some passer-by : — 
 
 " Do they sow the seed of Halilaj in your country?" 
 "The seed of what?" was the amazed reply; at 
 which the old man sighed and turned away to try his 
 question at some other point of concourse, till Halilaj 
 became his nickname in the markets. But his piety 
 found favour with the Muslims ; his probity in every 
 work he undertook, as well as a certain air of grandeur, 
 won him respect. He was appointed door-keeper of the 
 great mosque, and remained in that employment till he 
 died, having survived his wife by just two years. By 
 that time, by his great devotion and austerity, he had 
 earned the reputation of a saint. The Muslims built a
 
 32 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 shrine above his grave, which people visit who are 
 plagued with evil spirits, for his intercession. His wife 
 is buried in another place among the gardens. 
 
 Their worn-out shapes repose in Muslim graves in a 
 strange city ; but they themselves in new attire, as 
 children, now feel the sun elsewhere among the chosen 
 of their race.
 
 FATHER SABA. 
 
 "Open, O my brother! I am the bearer of grave news 
 for thee. The Sheykh Abdullah from the village has 
 come to talk to the Superior. He vows to make an end 
 of thee, for thy misconduct with his wife. Open the 
 door, I say ! Why dost thou bolt it ? Hast thou a girl 
 inside there?" said a plaintive voice outside the cell. 
 
 There followed an eclipse of the light which came 
 through a round hole in the lower part of the door as 
 the visitor knelt down and put his eye to it. 
 
 The inmate of the cell threw down the knout he had 
 been wielding, and hastened to conceal his bleeding 
 back beneath his cassock. Unbolting the door, he let 
 in the afternoon sunlight and, haloed in the midst of it, 
 a fellow-monk, a little roundabout man, whose plump 
 form and roguish countenance appeared misplaced be- 
 neath the towerlike head-dress, above the severe black 
 raiment, of a religious of the Orthodox Eastern Church. 
 At present he was serious enough, and seemed much 
 frightened on his friend's account. 
 
 " May Allah help thee, Saba ! " he continued, pushing 
 back the long hair off his ears. "Abdullah swears thou 
 hast been making love to his young wife. Think not I 
 blame thee, O my soul's delight, except for keeping thy 
 good fortune hidden from thy loving comrade. Even 
 
 (33) 3
 
 34 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 now I can hardly believe it ; thou hast such a solemn 
 air. I thought thee hardly human. Is it true?" 
 
 " By the Cross of our Redemption, by the life of 
 Allah, it is a lie ! — a filthy lie ! " cried Saba with so terri- 
 fying a suffusion of his swarthy face, with such a bound 
 of his gigantic frame, that the little monk retreated and 
 began to whine : — 
 
 " Be not angry with me, O my dear. Allah witness, 
 I did not believe it. Do I not know thee for a very 
 saint? I only came to give thee warning. Guiltless 
 though thou art, it may go ill with thee ; for our father, 
 being a Hellene, loves to find fault with us children of 
 the Arabs. It is likely thou wilt be imprisoned for 
 long months with penance. In thy place, O my sweet 
 one, I would fly at once. Thou art not like the rest of 
 us, of no account ; thou art the son of a good house. 
 Fly to some of thy relations and abide with them till 
 they can make good terms for thy return. The court- 
 yard is now empty and the gate unguarded ; all the 
 brethren are assembled in the prior's anteroom, straining 
 their ears to overhear Abdullah's charge against thee." 
 
 "Thy advice is good. I will walk forth and think. 
 Said this Abdullah anything about the girl his wife ? " 
 said Saba pensively. 
 
 " Ha, ha, dear brother ! I do after all suspect thee!" 
 chuckled the little monk, as one eased of a sad load. 
 But one glance from the other's eyes subdued him. 
 
 Paying no further heed to his well-wisher, the monk 
 Saba strode out through the vacant courtyard. 
 
 His fellows in the convent on the mountain-top had 
 assumed the monastic habit for a lazy life or from a 
 clear vocation ; not one of them could see into this man
 
 FATHER SABA 35 
 
 of passion. Profoundly religious and impressionable, 
 tormented by desires, Saba had sought in the cloister a 
 refuge from the violent temptations which assailed him 
 in the world. He stood six feet two in his sandals, and 
 was broadly built ; his long black hair grew thick and 
 curly ; and his eyes, habitually downcast, showed such 
 fire when raised as secured for him a reverence not all 
 religious. 
 
 As he strode now down the mule-path winding in and 
 out of sun-baked rocks, he cursed his shadow leaping 
 there beside him. The road declined so rapidly that 
 the convent was in a minute lost to sight. Nothing but 
 a mass of boulders, stone on stone, was seen above ; 
 while below, the rocks sloped steeply to a gorge of depth 
 invisible, beyond which rose another stony height. 
 
 Suddenly at a turn, the village came in view ; its 
 gardens as a smudge of green upon the mountain-side. 
 The red-tiled roof of the Sheykh Abdullah's house shone 
 forth down there like a carbuncle. To escape the stare 
 of it, which hurt his brain, Saba here left the road and, 
 clambering from stone to stone, attained the shadow of a 
 monstrous rock which hid the village. 
 
 The Sheykh Abdullah's young and pretty wife had 
 always smiled to Saba when he passed her door ; once, 
 when her husband was away from home, she had invited 
 him up on to the terrace, in the shade of the vine arbour, 
 and there regaled him with choice fruit and sherbet. 
 And he had taken pleasure in her talk, had flushed 
 beneath her gaze of admiration. That was all that had 
 ever passed between them ; and for that the monk had 
 flogged himself three times a day until the blood flowed 
 from his shoulders to the ground. To-day he had
 
 36 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 believed his flesh at last subdued, when the tidings of 
 Abdullah's blundering lie revived the evil. The girl 
 must have said something to arouse her husband's 
 jealousy, something to inform her husband that she loved 
 him (Saba) ; that was the thought which rose up close 
 before him, like a fire, or like a woman's form with arms 
 outstretched ; and when he turned from it and looked 
 back towards his cell in thought, it was to see the same 
 temptation waiting there. For if the Superior imposed 
 long penance, as he surely would, that penance would 
 commemorate the sin forgone, and fan the fire within 
 him till it passed endurance. 
 
 It seemed as if the fiend had been vouchsafed this 
 hour in which to let loose all seductions and all terrors 
 against the weakest and most tempted of God's servants. 
 The desolate and stony place was full of sensual allure- 
 ments for the monk. He hid his face in his hands and 
 prayed distractedly; both hands and face were dry and 
 burning hot. For all this agony he had to thank the 
 fool Abdullah — the vulgar, base old man who whined 
 to the Superior of an injury which, if received, could only 
 be washed out in blood. Might God destroy him ! 
 
 Possessed by rage against the man, he sprang up 
 suddenly. After all the best thing he could do — as- 
 suredly the last thing that Abdullah would expect or 
 wish — was to go back to the convent instantly, and face 
 his enemy. The righteous anger seething in his brain, 
 if once expressed, would shrivel up the lying charge and 
 him who laid it. 
 
 Fired by the prospect of a personal encounter, Saba 
 regained the mule-path, and was proceeding to climb up 
 it towards the convent with great strides, when he
 
 FATHER SABA 37 
 
 heard the voice of some one singing from the rocks above 
 and, looking up, espied a white umbrella moving, then a 
 tarbush and grey turban, a brown face with white 
 moustache — the head and shoulders of his enemy, the 
 Sheykh Abdullah. The old miscreant was trotting 
 homewards, croaking a facetious song and laughing 
 "Ho, ho ho," between the snatches — the laughter of a 
 man who has well trussed his enemy. 
 
 The tall monk stood concealed behind a rock, with 
 fingers busy at his neck as if he suffocated. The Sheykh 
 came close upon him suddenly round a bend of the road 
 and started back aghast, all thought of singing as of 
 laughter clean knocked out of his old body. 
 
 " May thy day be blest," he murmured lamely, scorched 
 by Saba's blazing eyes. He seemed to shrink in bulk. 
 
 " Thou comest from the convent ? " questioned Saba 
 huskily. "Did thy errand perchance concern me? If 
 so, here I stand : fulfil it." 
 
 The Sheykh Abdullah hesitated for the moment 
 necessary to reflect that the monk was returning from 
 the village, so could not possibly know anything about 
 the scandal in the monastery, before replying : — 
 
 "No, by Allah. My errand was to the Superior." 
 Emboldened by the other's presumed ignorance of what 
 had passed, he added slily : "As for thee, thou comest 
 from the village. Did thy errand perchance concern 
 me?" 
 
 " Explain thy meaning ! " answered Saba very softly. 
 
 "Is it not clear to thy intelligence? — Ha! ha! 
 Thou art a handsome youth, none like thee ; and a priest 
 too, pledged to discretion. Thou hast thus two pass- 
 ports to a woman's favour. And I am an old man with
 
 38 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 a young wife. I would not have thee call when I am 
 absent. Do not blame me ! — He, he, he ! " 
 
 The knowing laugh of the old fox drove Saba mad. 
 He felt a cruel taunt in this low jest — he, a religious, 
 bound to sigh in vain and sinfully for all that such a man 
 as this enjoyed in honour. He gave one sob, then 
 sprang. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! I do but jest ! " his foe cried out. But 
 Saba had him off the ground. " Be careful. O my soul ! 
 Be gentle with me ! I am not a wrestler. Bethink thee, 
 I am very old. I did but jest ! Allah knows thou art 
 most welcome any time ; my house is thy house, my 
 honour is thy honour, O best, O most benign of men ! 
 Help ! Help ! O Christian people ! O good God ! " 
 
 Saba, having shifted his hold suddenly down to the 
 old man's knees, swung him once in the air, then brought 
 his head down crash upon the nearest rock. He stood 
 for some time, silent, looking down upon his work, 
 shuddering, yet glad the die was cast. He could never 
 now go back to the convent ; he could never henceforth 
 hope to rank among the saints ; the strife was over. 
 
 " Our Lord have mercy on me. He was not a man," 
 he said, as he once more bestirred himself. 
 
 Having concealed the body in a crevice of the rocks, 
 the monk walked down the mountain-side till he came 
 near the village, when he turned aside and hid himself 
 in a garden until after dark. At the second hour of the 
 night he stole towards the house of his victim, which stood 
 apart from other houses of the village. There was a 
 light in the wide central archway, he observed, as he ap- 
 proached it by a terrace under olive-trees. He listened 
 for some sound of conversation, but none came. The
 
 FATHER SABA 39 
 
 woman was alone. As he came up the steps into the 
 sphere of lamplight, she rose astonished, laying down some 
 needlework. 
 
 " Go ! go, O rash one ! " she exclaimed in terror. 
 " What ails thee to come here at such an hour — and 
 on this day of all the days that God has ordered ? 
 My husband has gone up to the convent to complain 
 against thee wrongfully. God knows I tried to stop him. 
 He is mad with jealousy. All the neighbours took my 
 part against him yesterday : what will they say to-morrow 
 should he find thee here ? He may return this minute. 
 He will kill me. Have I not suffered enough on thy 
 account ? — for nothing ! " 
 
 "That man will not return. I killed him," answered 
 Saba coolly ; and after a long pause he added : " Come ! " 
 
 " What is that thou sayest ? Killed him ? Thou hast 
 killed him ? He is dead ? Our Lord have mercy on him ! " 
 
 Miriam staggered back against the wall. For a long 
 while she said nothing, seeming at the point of death. 
 Then, suddenly, she flung herself on Saba, pleading : " Let 
 me fly with thee ! If I remain here they will say thou 
 killedst him on my account, that all he spoke against me 
 was the truth. My brother or my father will destroy 
 me, for the honour of the house. At first sight I desired 
 thee, O my dear ; thy soul must know it ! Now thou hast 
 killed that teasing devil for me, I am thine till death." 
 
 " Come ! " said Saba simply. " We cannot stay here." 
 
 " Go, conceal thyself until the whole world sleeps ; then 
 I will join thee at the cairn beside the road towards A'fn 
 Juradah. Go, I will not fail." 
 
 The time of waiting was not long for Saba. He spent 
 it in pacing slowing up and down a terrace of old
 
 40 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 fig-trees near the trysting-place, forgetful of his vows, 
 his awful crime, of everything except the woman's love. 
 A sound of hoof-beats drawing near, of stones displaced, 
 made him crouch down for hiding. 
 
 "Where art thou, Saba?" he heard Miriam whisper. 
 One minute and he held her in his arms. 
 
 " O Saba, I was terrified alone. I know not how I 
 found the courage to set out," she whispered. " See, I 
 have taken thought for both of us ! Here is the mule, 
 and all the money I could find is in a leathern bag between 
 my breasts. But, Saba, think : if we should meet with 
 robbers ? " 
 
 "Fear nothing. Am I not a murderer?" 
 
 He lifted her up on to the mule and, taking the bridle 
 in his hand, set forward, feeling well content. It meant 
 relief for one who from his birth had fought with devils to 
 yield at last and feel their power behind him. He trudged 
 on through the night without fatigue, the woman speak- 
 ing to him drowsily from time to time. When daybreak 
 came they were already far from the village and the 
 monastery, following a rough road on the edge of a great 
 chasm, above which woods and fields and villages and 
 towering peaks were seen as a cloud landscape high in 
 air. An hour after sunrise they sat down beneath a group 
 of walnut-trees and partook of the food which Miriam 
 had brought with her ; then they went on again along the 
 heights ofKesserawan, where in the villages the children, 
 being Maronites, spat at sight of the Orthodox monk, 
 and called out " Heretic ! " Soon after noon they 
 found a wayside khan and, being very tired, spent the 
 night there. 
 
 Thus they journeyed for some days, without direction,
 
 FATHER SABA 41 
 
 living in a kind of dream. The woman was the first to 
 speak the question " Whither? " But Saba had already 
 given thought to it, for he replied : — 
 
 " I am not yet quite certain, O my soul ; but I think of 
 going to the land of Shuf, the Mountain of the Druzes. 
 There dwell many outlaws of our faith, with whom I 
 could associate." 
 
 " Outlaws ! They dwell in caves, and are hunted like 
 the bears and leopards," pouted Miriam; "whereas we 
 have enough to live at ease. Let us rather repair to the 
 town, where life is merry. Thou hast but to change thy 
 dress and cut thy hair, and who would ever know thee 
 in a crowd ? " 
 
 " No, that I will not ! " replied Saba flatly. 
 " Why ? " she inquired. 
 
 He could not then have told her ; the reason being 
 still far from clear in his mind ; but already he had begun 
 to feel remorse for his wickedness. His life there in the 
 monastery, his self-chastisement, his anguished prayers, 
 seemed now, as he looked back, desirable. He had an 
 inkling that with men repressed and passionate, the ob- 
 ject of desire is so transfigured in imagination that actual 
 contact and possession cannot but bring disappointment. 
 With this great thorn of disillusion in his flesh he could 
 not face the prospect of a life of ease. The twinges of 
 remorse, too, urged him to some course involving risk, 
 excitement and forgetfulness. In hardships and in perils 
 he might expiate his crime, if Allah willed. 
 
 He said: "The vows of priesthood are irrevocable. 
 Allah knows I am a priest, and it is useless to attempt to 
 hide myself from His gaze. As for the sons of Adam, 
 no one who regards God cares a jot for their opinion."
 
 42 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 "All very fine, no doubt. But what of me?" rejoined 
 the woman. " Could I live happy among savage out- 
 laws ? " She protested, however, only in the way of 
 pretty pouting, feeling certain of her sway over the heart 
 of Saba. The man who had committed murder for her 
 sake would not refuse a small boon, if she prayed in 
 earnest. She was therefore in no real anxiety ; and when 
 she saw him frown, preoccupied, estranged from her a 
 moment, forbore to harass him with questions or re- 
 proaches. It seemed natural that the father of such deeds 
 should have his hours of brooding and remorse at first. 
 
 After six days they reached a village in the land of 
 Shuf, where a rich peasant of their own religion made 
 them welcome. Knowing nothing of their history, and 
 taking Saba for a priest allowed to marry, their host felt 
 proud to entertain a holy man. He kept them in his 
 house, where Miriam helped the women, while Saba ranged 
 the mountain on his mule, seeking, as she supposed, some 
 place to dwell in. That recollection preyed upon his mind 
 she guessed, for she had heard him weeping in the night, 
 and knew for certain that he scourged himself in secret. 
 But he did not shun embraces, so she felt secure, believing 
 that in the course of time remorse would cease. She 
 was altogether unprepared for the announcement, which 
 he made to her one night, in level tones : — 
 
 " Soon I must leave thee, O my soul, though Allah 
 knows how sad the thought of parting makes me. There 
 is a band of outlaws dwelling near this place. I have 
 spoken with their chief; he bids me welcome. My call 
 is to these outcast men, who are as I am ; perchance I 
 may do good among them, may even shape them to a 
 weapon Allah's hand will not disdain. It is the one way
 
 FATHER SABA 43 
 
 of atonement Do thou pray for me, O Miriam, as I shall 
 pray for thee each hour while life endures. God knows 
 how greatly I have wronged thee. To-day I told our 
 story to the master of this house. He has compassion 
 on us, and consents to keep thee in this house so long 
 as thou desirest to remain here. In thy place I would 
 go into a nunnery. They would receive thee, and it is the 
 guarded way. That way is barred henceforth, alas ! to 
 me, a sinner ! " 
 
 " May thy father perish ! " shrieked Miriam when she 
 could find her voice for rage. " What is this thou sayest, 
 O unnatural malefactor ! Leave me thou wouldst, for- 
 sooth, and make atonement ? As if this crime of leaving 
 me were not the worst! Do what thou wilt, scourge all 
 the flesh from off thy bones, eat dirt, pray day and night 
 with fasting, thou canst never, though thou live a hundred 
 years, atone for that ; it is unforgivable by Allah, after 
 what has passed ! The money, mind, is mine ; thou shalt 
 not have one small piastre of it ; and the mule — that too 
 — is mine. Behold thee beggared ! " 
 
 "Allah knows that I seek nothing from thee save thy 
 prayers ! " 
 
 " Prayers ! Thou shalt have my curses ; hear me swear 
 it. May the curse of God be on thee both in this world 
 and the next, O destitute of all compassion. Thou didst 
 kill my husband, thou didst bid me fly with thee : I 
 judged from these things thou didst love me truly ; I gave 
 myself to thee, I followed thee to a strange land, and 
 after that thou canst forsake me. Burn eternally ! Thou 
 wouldst leave me here alone to bear thy child, with no 
 more hesitation than one has in shaking dust from off 
 one's feet. By the Cross, it is the worst of all thy deeds.
 
 44 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 Thy fine atonement, thy compunction, shall be vain, I tell 
 thee. Thou shalt suffer the great punishment hereafter, 
 O thou devil ! " 
 
 Screaming, she flung herself upon the floor, pulling out 
 her hair by the roots and tearing her bosom with her finger- 
 nails. The master of the house, his wife and daughters, 
 came and tried to comfort her, but she repelled them. 
 
 "As well now as in the morning," she heard Saba tell 
 them ; and then : " May our Lord bless the poor one, and 
 grant us both forgiveness." 
 
 Lying half-demented, she did not realize that he had 
 said farewell for ever and gone forth alone into the night. 
 When that knowledge came to her it brought despair. 
 She bit the dust with cries to Allah to restore him. 
 Then, when at length she recognized the vanity of such 
 petitions, a great and righteous hatred of him saved her 
 brain from madness. She resolved to remain where she 
 was, one place being as good as another in which to pray 
 for his destruction. She asked Allah to let her kill him 
 with her own hand — this murderer and seducer, who now 
 played the hypocrite. From an acknowledged saint, 
 a man of holy life, she would have taken her dismissal 
 meekly, she believed ; but from that evil-liver — that young 
 monk with passionate eyes, and lovely as the night — it 
 was unpardonable. She hated him as she had loved him, 
 for her own. 
 
 In course of time she gave birth to a boy, the care of 
 whom became the object of her lonely life. She sent no 
 word to Saba of the birth, though the master of the house 
 implored her to do so. She never spoke of Saba, letting 
 the world suppose she never thought of him. When a 
 man of substance in the village who had often taken
 
 FATHER SABA 45 
 
 notice of her child, sheepishly asked her to marry him, 
 she consented, as it seemed with pleasure ; and she made 
 him a good wife. Yet looking at him sometimes she 
 would think of Saba, as, looking at a monkey, one recalls 
 a man ; and never a day passed but she asked Allah to 
 destroy her former lover. 
 
 So years passed ; till Saba's fame waxed great in all 
 the mountain. He had become the chief of a great com- 
 pany of outlaws, whom he had transformed from vaga- 
 bonds and petty thieves into an army, for the protection 
 of poor Christians, good or bad, and the punishment of 
 their opponents. He surprised a guard of Turkish troops 
 on the Damascus road and set free twenty convicts who 
 were Christians. He raided the palace of a Druze Emir 
 and rescued a young girl, a Christian, whom the infidel 
 had meant to ravish. He even entered cities with his 
 men, in support of Christians, whether innocent or guilty. 
 The whole country rang with his praises. All poor 
 people, who were not Mohammedans, looked to him as 
 their deliverer. " Our Father Saba," they would say with 
 reverence. His followers were called " Companions," as 
 of a Saint. Marvels were related of his prowess and his 
 sanctity. It was said that he had healed sick persons 
 with a touch. Although a price was set upon his head 
 he moved secure. 
 
 In the midst of this excitement, hearing Saba's name 
 at every turn, Miriam kept her lips tight closed and 
 prayed to Allah inwardly. 
 
 How long could this blasphemy, this insult to high 
 Heaven, endure? This brigand chief, this murderer, who 
 had seduced her, still wore the habit of a monk of the 
 Orthodox Church, though excommunicate. Up there, in
 
 46 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 his mountain hold, he had administered the Blessed Sacra- 
 ment, and given absolution, to unbelievers, so she heard. 
 He was reported to have said that angels talked with 
 him. There were no bounds to his wickedness and his 
 presumption. And yet our Lord in Heaven held His 
 hand, and did not strike down the blasphemer. By day 
 and night she plotted to betray Saba to the Muslims, or 
 else kill him with her own hand. But his band num- 
 bered more than a hundred fighting men, and the country- 
 side was solid for him. She could descry no helper. 
 
 At length one evening, as she sat on the roof of her 
 house, hearing one of her younger sons repeat his cate- 
 chism, there came a noise of people running in the 
 narrow way between the houses. Looking down, she 
 cried a question to those passing. 
 
 A young Druze stopped and told her : " It is our 
 Father Saba. A report has reached him from the city 
 that El Islam will slaughter Nazarenes this night. Our 
 father and his men are on their way to slay the slayers. 
 They have stopped at the house of the Sheykh for a little 
 refreshment. I, too, go with them. All our youths are 
 volunteering." 
 
 " But what has it to do with thee ? Thou art a Durzi." 
 " Nazarene and Durzi are alike to Father Saba !" 
 "A true word," thought Miriam to herself. "Saba is 
 indeed become the worst of infidels." 
 
 Suddenly she felt desire to see him once again, and, if 
 it might be, throw misfortune on him with her eyes. 
 Tense with resolution, she went down into the house and 
 veiled her head, then sallied forth alone. Before the 
 house of the Sheykh of the village there was a noisy 
 crowd. She had to fight her way with strength to gain
 
 FATHER SABA 47 
 
 the door, which was guarded by two brigands armed to 
 the teeth. Of these she craved admittance, but it was 
 denied. Resigned, she stood and waited till their chief 
 came out. His long hair and his beard were nearly 
 white ; in his eyes burned the fire of madness, she re- 
 marked with glee ; but his step was still elastic, and his 
 form erect. He wore the black gown and tower-like 
 head-dress of a priest ; a belt supporting pistols and a 
 sword confined his cassock at the waist, and a long, 
 burnished gun was slung across his shoulders. 
 
 He would have passed her by, unrecognizing, had she 
 not called to him by name. 
 
 He looked at her inquiringly ; then murmured : — 
 
 "Is it thou, O Miriam? How is thy health? I pray 
 for thee daily, hourly. Have no fear for thy salvation ! 
 Have I not atoned for both of us ? I have assurance 
 that our Lord has pardoned me. He sends his angel 
 graciously to guide my hand, and inform my mind of 
 things that are to come. The Church will triumph one 
 day in this land. As for me I shall be worsted at the 
 last, but my foes will not take me alive." 
 
 " Thou art blessed indeed," said Miriam sneeringly. 
 He spoke as if God were with him. Some supernatural 
 power he had assuredly, but she knew well it was the 
 devil's. 
 
 "Farewell, O beloved! Have no fear, I tell thee! I 
 am praying for thee ; and my works, too, intercede. We 
 have kindled a fire in the land, which shall spread until 
 all evil is consumed!" 
 
 He was certainly possessed. As she watched him 
 mount his horse and ride off towards the coast plain, 
 Miriam cursed him in the name of Allah through
 
 48 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 clenched teeth. She willed it that he should not see 
 another day. 
 
 That night she asked her husband, of his goodness, to 
 have the donkey saddled at an hour before daybreak as 
 she wished to go into the city on the morrow. The 
 man, accustomed to obedience, wished to bear her com- 
 pany, but she denied him, saying that her eldest boy 
 must be her escort. The son of Saba was by then a 
 man full grown. 
 
 " But there is fighting in the city ! " 
 
 " Have no fear ! I shall avoid the scene of fighting." 
 
 In the middle of the night a cry went up : "Alas ! our 
 Father Saba." Miriam sent her husband out to learn the 
 matter. He returned and told her : " A calamity ! One 
 has come up from the city with an errand to our father 
 to inform him that the rumour of a massacre was false, 
 nothing more than a trap set for him by the Government. 
 He sped up by the shortest way, so missed our father and 
 his companions in the darkness. Pray God they be not 
 slain even now ! " 
 
 Miriam announced her will to start at once for the city. 
 Her son was roused from sleep, the donkey saddled ; 
 and she set forth in the starlight. 
 
 At daybreak, on the footslopes of the mountain — slopes 
 still veiled in darkness though the sea was white already 
 — a man's voice cried for help in Allah's name. It pro- 
 ceeded from some brushwood just below the road. 
 Miriam made her son go down and see. He called out 
 presently : " It is a dying man, one of the companions of 
 our Father Saba — may God bless him ! " Miriam dis- 
 mounted instantly and went to look, bidding her son 
 return and hold the donkey.
 
 FATHER SABA 49 
 
 A young man lay there, groaning, in a pool of blood. 
 She took his head upon her lap and soothed him as a 
 mother might, while deftly questioning. His answers 
 were articulate but very faint. In the outskirts of the 
 town, as they stole forward gleefully, Saba's men had 
 suddenly found themselves surrounded by the Turkish 
 troops. Not more than twenty, and those sorely 
 wounded, had forced their way out of that death-trap. 
 The speaker himself had staggered to the mountain-side 
 to die in peace. 
 
 "And what of our father himself? How fared he?" 
 questioned Miriam. 
 
 " We hid him in a hut in the garden of Yuhanna, the 
 scribe, outside the town. He is wounded. The least 
 injured guard him. His enemies shall not take him 
 
 alive ; he himself foretold it O lady, for the love 
 
 of Allah, give me water ! " 
 
 Miriam straightway left the sufferer and resumed her 
 journey. Her son beside her cursed the wicked Muslims, 
 and wished he could have fought and died with Father 
 Saba. 
 
 When they came among the orange groves which extend 
 far out from the town, she made inquiry for the garden 
 of Yuhanna, the scribe. At length they found it. Tying 
 up the donkey to the pillar of the gate, Miriam and her 
 son went in and saw the hut. 
 
 A man with bandaged head, who had been squatting by 
 the door, sprang up and bade them halt. 
 
 "Does our father still live?" said the woman sorrow- 
 fully. " Do but tell him here is Miriam come to say fare- 
 well ! " 
 
 The man then let them enter, with a shrug. 
 
 4
 
 50 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 Within the wretched hut, upon a bed of cloaks, lay the 
 monk, his clothing soaked with blood, his face so dis- 
 torted with pain as to be hardly recognizable. Beyond 
 him sat four more of his adherents, their eyes never quit- 
 ing his face, moaning from time to time, like faithful 
 hounds. All four were badly wounded, yet they thought 
 not of themselves. 
 
 " May our Lord bless thee ! " exclaimed Saba hoarsely, 
 when he knew whose form it was that came between him 
 and the sunlight. " I wronged thee, O beloved ; I did 
 all things wrong at first. Please God I may have done 
 things right of late, so made atonement. Yet I cannot 
 tell. O Miriam, in mercy fetch a priest, that he may ease 
 me of the burden I have borne so long alone. A secular 
 priest will not refuse to come to me, for am I not the 
 champion of God's poor? The hour of my death is 
 near. My enemies, the infidels, are fast approaching, and 
 Allah has promised that they shall not find me living. 
 Make haste. A priest, I beg of thee!" 
 
 " Move not, O my mother ! I will run like lightning." 
 
 Miriam smiled grimly as the son of Saba fled from her 
 side upon his father's last behest. One of the attendant 
 outlaws whispered : " O my lady, if thou wouldst serve 
 our father, go and call a doctor. His case may not be 
 hopeless ; if only we could move him to the mountain ! 
 No one of us dare show his face in the town. As thou 
 desirest Heaven hereafter, do this kindness ! " 
 
 " Upon my head be it. I go," said Miriam. 
 
 With their praises in her ears, she went back to the 
 donkey and mounting made haste to the Government 
 Offices. There, obtaining audience of a high official of 
 police, she laid her information as to Saba's hiding-place.
 
 FATHER SABA 51 
 
 That done, she left the donkey at the nearest khan, and 
 wandered aimlessly about the town. Her work was done. 
 When all was over, she would seek her son, and they 
 would return together to the mountain village and its 
 brute inhabitants. At present she was feeling angry with 
 the boy for his readiness to leave her at a word from 
 Saba. When choosing him for her companion on this 
 journey, it had been her thought that he might kill his 
 father. 
 
 She had wandered for a long time in a kind of dream, 
 when all at once loud shouting smote her ears. A crowd 
 came surging round a corner, swept her back against the 
 wall. 
 
 The people were escorting with loud acclamation a 
 small company of soldiers who bore by way of ensign a 
 man's head upon a pole. The head had long white hair 
 and a long white beard. To add to the mockery they 
 had put on its accustomed covering, the tall cylindrical 
 cap of an Orthodox priest. The eyes were closed ; the 
 mouth hung open. 
 
 Miriam gazed upon the horrid object without fear or 
 loathing. She now no longer hated Saba. He was hers 
 once more. 
 
 A man, pushed close to her by the crowd, kept crying 
 shame on the procession. She turned and studied his 
 appearance. It was one of the brigands who had been 
 with Saba at the last. He recognized her also, and cried 
 out, as if in terror : — 
 
 "Our Lord console and comfort thee, O lady. Thy 
 son, he too, was killed by those wild beasts of soldiers. 
 He died a martyr for the Faith. Our Lord exalt him ! 
 Thy son brought in a priest who shrove our Father Saba
 
 52 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 and gave him the viaticum as he was dying. Then, 
 after he had breathed his last, the soldiers came. We 
 told them: 'He is dead! Respect our grief!'; but 
 they rushed in and hacked the head from off the body. 
 May God repay them ! Butrus, our comrade, fell upon 
 his sword, for rage, and died immediately. Thy son — 
 God bless him ! — snatched a pistol from my belt, and 
 with it shot the mutilator. Then they killed thy son, 
 and we that were left alive ran forth, demented. They 
 cut that head which they are carrying from off a corpse, 
 let all men know it ! Allah is witness ! May the curse 
 of Allah be upon their seed for ever! " 
 
 Something gave way within the brain of Miriam, and 
 with it vanished all the years of hatred. Saba had gone 
 away ; he had taken his son up with him into Heaven ; 
 and she was left alone, whose only happiness had ever 
 been to be with Saba.
 
 COUNT ABDULLAH. 
 
 DOROTHY Lee had made the voyage from Alexandria 
 to the Levant seaport expecting to be met there by her 
 great friends, Jane and Henry Leggitt, whose intention it 
 had been to make that place the starting-point of their 
 tour in Asia Minor. But as she stood by her luggage on 
 the deck of the Khedivial steamer, waiting to disembark, 
 a young Syrian in Cook's uniform came up and, lifting 
 his peaked cap, pronounced her name inquiringly. He 
 brought a letter which, when read, informed her that Jane 
 Leggitt had been taken ill at Athens, so that she and 
 her husband could not hope to join her for another week 
 at least. 
 
 It meant a week alone in a strange country, where 
 she knew not a soul. But Dorothy was undismayed. 
 She was thirty years of age, her own mistress, and, with 
 the fashionable craving for the unconventional, was really 
 capable and self-reliant. Besides, as seen from the sea, 
 with its bright-roofed houses interspersed with foliage, 
 and great, coloured mountains in the background, the 
 seaport town appeared an earthly paradise. 
 
 Going on shore in Cook's boat, she lost that pleasing 
 vision. She was driven through the filthiest streets in 
 a dilapidated fly to the best hotel the city boasted, 
 which was far from splendid. There she was assigned a 
 
 (53)
 
 54 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 fairly decent bedroom, with a view over the sea. Hav- 
 ing seen her luggage brought in by a procession of 
 porters, she procured hot water, and a pot of tea, and 
 spent the hours till dinner happily, arranging matters in 
 her bedroom. 
 
 In a quiet dress not too low-necked, she went down 
 to the dining-room. Her appearance seemed to paralyse 
 a group of loungers in the hotel entrance ; and when she 
 had been shown her place by an obsequious waiter, she 
 met the stare of the said loungers, who had followed to 
 the doorway. Her seat was at a little table, by herself. 
 A fezzed and frock-coated Turk, with a long white beard 
 and spectacles, sat near her, at another little table. 
 There was no one else at that end of the huge room ; 
 but at the other, given over to a kind of ordinary, sat 
 and dined about a score of men — Syrians, Greeks and 
 Italians to judge from their appearance who conversed 
 together loudly in bad French. Dorothy was the only 
 woman diner. 
 
 The dinner was well cooked and promptly served ; 
 but the waiters, native Christians, dressed in European 
 clothes, looked mean to one accustomed to the grandeur 
 of Egyptian servants. Their brown hands, peeping out 
 of linen cuffs, looked dirty ; and they had forfeited the 
 dignity of Orientals by leaving off the fez and showing 
 narrow foreheads. The constant coming and going of 
 chance people during dinner annoyed her rather, though 
 she feigned serenity. 
 
 A bare-footed urchin, with no other clothing than a 
 skull-cap and a long shirt, ran in from the street and 
 gave a newspaper to one of the diners at the long table, 
 then, being paid, saluted and ran out again.
 
 COUNT ABDULLAH 55 
 
 The recipient unfolded the paper and, at the request 
 of those near him, read from it aloud, translating as he 
 went. Dorothy had already noticed this individual, on 
 account of the refinement of his clear-cut face compared 
 with those around him. Though older than the others, 
 he looked more alive. Alone of all those present, the old 
 Turk excepted, he impressed her as a creature of some 
 breeding. She had judged him at a glance Italian ; but 
 now, seeing that he read with ease an Arabic journal, 
 she supposed he must be, after all, a native of the 
 country. He gave the news in French. She caught 
 what he was saying, and grew interested. He, in the 
 distance, saw that she was listening, and read towards 
 her. Their eyes met once or twice ; and she was con- 
 scious that he felt attracted. Foreseeing some relief 
 from dullness, she rejoiced. He was the only man in 
 the hotel she would have wished to speak to her. 
 
 It was no surprise to her when, after dinner, he came 
 into the lounge upstairs, where she sat reading, and ad- 
 dressed her. His English was as fluent as his French. 
 He asked if she was staying long, and when she said, "A 
 week, perforce ! " seemed glad to hear it. 
 
 " You shall not regret it ! " he exclaimed. " Our city 
 is the most beautiful city of the Orient. Its high society 
 is so elegant and highly civilized that it is called the Paris 
 of the East." 
 
 Dorothy did not see how the elegance of the society 
 was going to enliven her week's sojourn, and she said so. 
 The city, she confessed, had looked divine when she be- 
 held it from the steamer's deck ; but on landing she had 
 been chiefly struck by the squalor of the place, the savage 
 rudeness of the people. To compare the place to Paris,
 
 56 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 for a minute, she considered, on the face of things, pre- 
 posterous. 
 
 "You speak the truth!" he laughed, and eyed her 
 sharply. " The fact is, all is ruined by bad government. 
 The city here would be in truth divine, if governed pro- 
 perly. The municipality, for instance, has much wealth, 
 but the members eat it all ; and so the streets remain as 
 you behold them." 
 
 He was a native of the place, he told her, but no longer 
 lived here. Twenty years ago, he had migrated to Con- 
 stantinople, where he had married a Greek lady of the 
 best society. He showed her photographs of his wife 
 and children, which he had in the breast-pocket of his 
 well-cut coat ; and gave her his card, on which she 
 read — 
 
 Le Comte Abdullah Salaman. 
 
 The countship, as he hastened to explain, was some- 
 thing of a joke. It had been bestowed upon his father, 
 a rich banker, by the Pope of Rome to reward his con- 
 version to Roman Catholicism from the Nestorian 
 heresy. His talk was like the peepshow of an unknown 
 world to her ; and she was really sorry when he rose to 
 go, which he did a thought abruptly, in the manner of a 
 man who has forgotten duties for a moment in unwonted 
 pleasure. When she held out her hand, he raised it to 
 his lips and then withdrew. 
 
 Dorothy thought herself extremely fortunate to have 
 met so civilized a being in this uncouth place. She had 
 not known a type existed among Orientals so different 
 from the unwieldy, gross-lipped native magnate she had 
 seen in Egypt. Count Salaman had an ascetic, intel-
 
 COUNT ABDULLAH 57 
 
 lectual face ; his hands were manicured ; his clothes would 
 have done credit to a Bond Street tailor. 
 
 The next morning Dorothy spent in writing up her 
 diary ; at lunch the Count did not appear, so, rather 
 than have no one to speak to, she succumbed to the 
 blandishments of an English-speaking dragoman, and 
 went out in a carriage to inspect the sights of the town. 
 The streets presented hillocks three feet high and corre- 
 sponding depressions ; the driving was so wild and brutal 
 as to keep her nerves on edge and prevent her from 
 listening to the guide's account of public buildings which 
 all were new and ugly and yet squalid-looking. She saw 
 two fights and a dead donkey in the open street ; and 
 returned to her hotel with feelings near to nausea, any- 
 thing but refreshed by the short outing. Secure in her 
 own room, she even cried a little. Why was such a place, 
 why were such people, allowed to exist in the world ? 
 She would have subscribed then and there to any prac- 
 ticable scheme for their destruction ; and naively wondered 
 that no such scheme had ever been proposed by the 
 civilized nations of the world in the interests of humanity. 
 She felt so miserable that it was only by an effort at the 
 last minute that she summoned courage to go down to 
 dinner. 
 
 Count Salaman, in his place at the long table, bowed to 
 her as she entered, and, when dessert was going, came 
 across to where she sat. 
 
 "I grieve," he said with a most courtly bow, "that 
 business has this day prevented me from placing myself 
 at your service as I should have wished to do. Well, 
 how do you find our city on acquaintance ?" 
 
 " I hate it," cried the Englishwoman vehemently,
 
 58 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 tears in her voice. "I have seen nothing good in 
 it." 
 
 " You look very nice when you are angry," said the 
 Count paternally. " But in truth I feel for you most 
 heartily. It is terrible to be alone in a strange, foreign 
 place. What you require is a little — I seek the English 
 word — a little divertissement this evening. Now will 
 you permit me to offer you a loge at the theatre, and to 
 accompany you ? I too am alone like you are ; it will 
 be great kindness. There is a cinema — it will seem poor, 
 perhaps, to you who come from London ; but for us it is 
 very good indeed." 
 
 Before she could consent in words or thank him 
 he had called a hotel-servant, and given a command in 
 Arabic. 
 
 " The name of the theatre," he told her, " is Zahret esh- 
 Shark, which means Flower of the East. It is the most 
 beautiful theatre in all this country. There is no need 
 to make a grand toilette. Will you be prepared in half 
 an hour? Good ! Then I will meet you in the hall up- 
 stairs." 
 
 She found him there, when she emerged from her bed- 
 room, a quarter of an hour later, having put on gloves and 
 draped a black mantilla, Eastern-fashion, on her golden 
 hair. The Count, on his side, had assumed a trim light 
 overcoat, and carried in his hand a bowler hat. 
 
 Bare-headed, he conducted her downstairs and through 
 the entrance hall to a carriage which he had there waiting 
 and handed her in ; then, putting on his hat, he took his 
 seat beside her, crying : — 
 
 " Yallah ! " 
 
 The coachman thrashed his horses cruelly. " Oh, tell
 
 COUNT ABDULLAH 59 
 
 him not to do that ! " she cried out in anguish ; and the 
 Count obeyed her. 
 
 " They are beasts, these drivers ; they know nothing ! " 
 he said soothingly. 
 
 Through narrow, crowded streets, where they seemed 
 always on the point of colliding with some other vehicle 
 or knocking down some group of footfarers ; with jolts and 
 bumps that jarred their teeth, and ceaseless shouting ; 
 they came at last into a crowded square and stopped 
 before a big shed lighted tawdrily. The Count helped 
 Dorothy to get out, then paid the driver. He led her 
 through a door into a squalid cafe packed with men, and 
 thence by steep stairs up to a wooden gallery, where a slip- 
 shod serving-man unlocked a crazy door and let them into 
 the private box assigned to them. This was bare and 
 very dirty, containing but one chair which the Count 
 placed for her, standing himself till the attendant brought 
 another. 
 
 The boxes were all occupied ; in some of these she 
 noticed well-dressed women. The floor below was 
 packed with men in fezes. Hardly was the Count well 
 seated ere a fight broke out, which threatened for a mo- 
 ment to become general, but was somehow pacified. 
 Three similar fights occurred before the curtain rose, re- 
 vealing a white sheet, and the clicking of the apparatus 
 made itself heard and felt. Then a hush fell. Individual 
 coughingsand expectorations, the striking of a match, the 
 moving of a chair became distinctly audible. 
 
 The moving pictures were quite good. Dorothy was 
 able to share the Count's enthusiasm. She forgot her 
 hatred of the city till the interval when, the lamps being 
 re-lighted, she was annoyed by the persistent staring of
 
 60 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 some men below. The offenders were a little group 
 of would-be exquisites, wearing decent European clothes 
 beneath the red tarbush. One of them left his place 
 and disappeared ; a minute later came a knock at the 
 door of the box, and the same youth entered, staring at 
 her from the threshold. 
 
 "A friend of mine," the Count presented him. She 
 failed to catch his name, and generally strove to empha- 
 size her lack of interest in his appearance. He stared the 
 more for that — it seemed, contemptuously. The ima- 
 gined insult made her cheeks like fire. It spoilt the 
 rest of the performance for her. What was her anger, 
 going out at length behind Count Salaman, to find the 
 same youth and his friends drawn up in line along the 
 exit, to have to run the gauntlet of their smiles and 
 whispers ! 
 
 She complained of their behaviour to the Count as 
 they were driven back to the hotel. He ridiculed her 
 indignation gently, as a father might. 
 
 "Do you really wonder," he inquired, "that young 
 men line your way and smile to you ? My friend assured 
 me he had never seen so fair a lady." 
 
 " That's nonsense ! " answered Dorothy impatiently, 
 rejecting the flattery with a shake of the shoulders. 
 <'I disliked that place intensely. I will never go there 
 again. " 
 
 " I am sorry," said the Count in so forlorn a tone that, 
 remembering his kind intention to amuse her, she could 
 have bitten her ungracious tongue out. 
 
 " Till to-morrow ! " he suspired gallantly as he kissed 
 her hand in the entrance-hall, in the presence of the 
 night-porter and another native servant. " To-morrow,
 
 COUNT ABDULLAH 61 
 
 if you permit it, I will take you for a drive in the after- 
 
 noon." 
 
 In spite of his politeness Dorothy felt wretched. 
 Those young men had detected something wrong in her 
 appearance. She had been treated by them to the bold 
 stare of the connoisseur which, in Europe, is reserved for 
 shameless hussies. Her colour was her own, her hair 
 was natural, her dress as quiet as could be imagined. 
 She lay awake a long while in a vain attempt to solve 
 the riddle. 
 
 In the morning, after breakfast, she went out to do 
 some shopping. The hotel people had advised her where 
 to go, and she had no difficulty in finding all the places, 
 which were close at hand. In her going and her coming 
 back, she was much stared at by young men ; so much 
 so that she now accepted the Count's theory. Yellow hair 
 and blue eyes, a pink and white complexion, common in 
 England, were unusual here. The discovery was animat- 
 ing, and she was unusually vivacious when she set out with 
 the Count that afternoon. It was the fashionable hour 
 for driving. They encountered many carriages containing 
 people whom the Count knew well, and named to her. 
 The men all gave her that peculiar stare, which she now 
 regarded as the tribute of these demi-savages to dazzling 
 beauty. All the carriages, even that of the Turkish 
 Pasha, looking shabby, and the majority of their inmates 
 underbred. Still she enjoyed the outing ; and the view, 
 as they returned, of splendid mountains flushed with the 
 sunset, behind the city roofs and palm-trees, and across 
 the bay, was simply heavenly. 
 
 But at dinner that evening, a number of young men in 
 fezes joined the company at the long table, and she recog-
 
 62 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 nized among them one or two of her admirers of the 
 theatre. They all seemed to be friends of the Count, 
 and all kept looking round in her direction. The Count 
 alone stood up and bowed to her as she passed out. 
 
 He came afterwards to the lounge upstairs where she 
 sat reading, bringing two of his young friends for intro- 
 duction. These, though formally polite, observed her 
 knowingly. If admiration moved them, it was quite un- 
 tempered by respect. Even in their farewell bows she 
 felt a point of irony. 
 
 Greatly annoyed, she spoke of their behaviour after they 
 were gone, when the Count, seeing tears in her eyes, be- 
 came infuriated. 
 
 "They are beasts," he said; "uneducated savage 
 beasts. They were my friends, I knew their fathers, 
 but I will reject them. It is enough, if they have 
 made you sad. They are ill-mannered, having never 
 travelled out of this unhappy country. To-morrow I 
 will beat them soundly. I will nearly kill them. They 
 shall ask your forgiveness, weeping. It is finished." 
 
 " Please don't do anything ! They're nothing to me ! " 
 exclaimed Dorothy, with so much vehemence that Count 
 Abdullah looked at her, and, looking, took her hand in 
 great compassion. 
 
 " Please do not be unhappy, dear Miss Lee. I grieve 
 so much to see you sad. Our city, our people, our 
 manners, our young men — all do not please you, for 
 which I am so very sorry. I would do anything ; but 
 what can I propose to make you happy? There is 
 nothing but the cinematograph, and that also does not 
 please you, does it ? In two days I leave this place ; 
 I return to Constantinople ; I may never see you any
 
 COUNT ABDULLAH 63 
 
 more. And I would give myself the pleasure, while I 
 may. Say, will you come to-night again to the theatre. 
 No one shall harm you, or insult you, while I live." 
 
 " Yes ! " said Dorothy with sudden resolution, feeling 
 penitent. Count Salaman had been so kind, she so un- 
 grateful, in their short acquaintance. 
 
 She went accordingly, and was stared at as before, 
 and again at coming forth passed between two rows of 
 grinning men, some of whom smacked their lips to 
 suggest kissing. She felt furious ; but, for the Count's 
 sake, made no comment at the time. 
 
 At luncheon the next day at the hotel there were 
 more young men in European suits and fezes, whose 
 sole aim seemed to be to make her life unbearable. 
 Some of them came up afterwards to the lounge and 
 ogled her, till she fled into her room and locked the 
 door. At four o'clock she took tea with the Count, and 
 afterwards went for a drive with him, which soothed 
 her. To dinner also her rude admirers came in force. 
 She beckoned the Count over to her table. 
 
 " If you have any power over those brutes," she said, 
 "tell them to go away and not come near me." 
 
 " I obey," he replied, bowing ; and returned to his 
 own place. 
 
 He sat alone with her that evening till she went to 
 bed, telling her curious stories of the country, which she 
 found much more entertaining than the cinematograph 
 theatre. 
 
 "It is good-bye," he murmured, when at last he rose 
 to go ; "I go on board the steamer early to-morrow 
 morning. May God bless you and keep you always, 
 dear young lady ! "
 
 64 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 Really touched by his emotion, she gave him both 
 her hands. He pressed them hard with his lips, then 
 tore himself away. In all their tete-a-tete, unconven- 
 tional intercourse, he had never made the slightest 
 movement towards flirtation, though so evidently ena- 
 moured. Now that he was going, she felt half in love 
 with him ; protesting in her heart that she had never 
 met a truer gentleman. 
 
 When he was gone the place seemed desolate. At 
 luncheon the next morning she sat down without de- 
 fence against her shameless persecutors, whose numbers 
 seemed to have increased. Passing the end of the long 
 table, as she was obliged to do, on her way out, she 
 heard a whisper : " Ch6rie ! " and again " Je t'aime ! " 
 and then a burst of laughter. Her cheeks flamed. 
 What had she ever done to earn such treatment ? 
 
 Then, as she sat by the great window in the lounge, 
 some one came and breathed on the back of her neck, 
 whispering words of love. She sprang up, furious. 
 It was a youth whose face she knew — the same who had 
 come up into the box that night. . . . She struck his 
 face, then ran into her room and locked the door. As 
 soon as she could think, she rang her bell and called for 
 the hotel manager. 
 
 That worthy came, appearing much embarrassed. She 
 told her grievance ; he looked merely sheepish, and said 
 that he had been wanting to speak to her for two days 
 past. 
 
 " I wish to ask, lady, if you mind goin' to another 
 hotel." 
 
 "Why? You have plenty of room." 
 
 "Yes; but it's best you go!" The man looked
 
 COUNT ABDULLAH 65 
 
 miserable. It was plain that he spoke thus only from a 
 sense of duty. " I not the proprietor. The proprietor 
 he come to-morrow back from Egypt. I try to do the 
 best I can, but fery difficult." 
 
 "But why? You must give some reason." 
 
 He would not give one. The proprietor was away, he 
 repeated, in Egypt, and he did not like to take strong ac- 
 tion on his own responsibility. He, therefore, begged, 
 instead of ordering, her to leave the house. 
 
 " But I know of no other place, I am a stranger here." 
 
 "Oh, we will find you a nice place, neffer fear." He 
 seemed tremendously relieved. 
 
 "Well, I'll leave to-morrow if you insist on it; but 
 I shall complain to the British Consul." 
 
 "You do what you blease, lady. It is my duty." 
 
 Soon after he had quitted her, there arose a noise of 
 shouting, at first in the hotel, and then in the street 
 without. She leaned out of her window but could see 
 nothing. Another knock at her door ! It was again 
 the manager, who entered boldly this time, with eyes 
 frankly reproachful. 
 
 "You hear that noise, lady? That was a fight 
 because of you. Yesterday there come only Christians, 
 that was bad enough. To-day three Muslims heard of 
 you and came to look. They make fight with the 
 others, bring the mob to our hotel. You go to-morrow 
 certain ; and, blease, this efenin', take your subber here." 
 
 "But what have I done?" shrieked Dorothy, beside 
 herself. " Are you all mad ? Why should men come 
 to look at me ? " 
 
 "Ah, that you know, lady. I know only that they 
 come and make bad business." 
 
 5
 
 66 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 " Please call a carriage for me. I shall go straight to 
 the Consulate." 
 
 " As you please, lady ! " 
 
 If only the Count, her friend, had still been there ! 
 Alone, she felt so helpless and so miserable that it was 
 all that she could do to speak and move consecutively. 
 
 Presently a servant came to tell her that a carriage 
 was in waiting. In her descent to it she was as closely 
 guarded as a state prisoner ; only when the horses broke 
 into a gallop did the posse of hotel-servants fall away. 
 It being too late to find the Consul at his office, she was 
 driven to his private house. In her relief at sight of a 
 real Englishman she wept a little in his presence ere she 
 told her griefs. 
 
 " I can't make it out," he said. " You are sure you 
 have told me everything ? It is the best hotel we have, 
 and entirely respectable. I never had the least complaint 
 from there before. Please tell me all that you've been 
 doing since you arrived." 
 
 She did so, to the best of her ability. 
 
 "Well, all that seems fairly harmless; though I ought 
 to tell you that it is not usual here for a lady to go out 
 in the evening with a chance acquaintance. Abdullah 
 Salaman bears the reputation of a rogue financially ; the 
 fortune of the whole family was made by shady means ; 
 but the same might be said of any wealthy Levantine." 
 
 " Count Salaman was kindness itself to me." 
 
 " I can make neither head nor tail of the affair," the 
 Consul sighed. " I can't think that they would have re- 
 quested an English lady to leave the hotel unless they 
 believed that they had some very good excuse for taking 
 so extreme a step. If you'll allow me, I'll send one of
 
 COUNT ABDULLAH 67 
 
 my Caww^ses back with you. He will be at your ser- 
 vice, and at the same time can make inquiries." 
 
 " I shall be most thankful ! " 
 
 The sight of the gold-laced back of the Cawwas up 
 on the box beside her driver was of comfort to Dorothy 
 as she returned in the carriage through the vile, half- 
 savage city. And that, or something, changed the 
 manner of the hotel servants. These were now obse- 
 quious. At the top of the steps, up which she hurried, 
 leaving the Cawwas to follow at his leisure, friendly hands 
 caught hers ; she gazed, delighted, on the faces of her 
 friends, the Leggitts. They had come at last. 
 
 " We found a steamer sooner than we thought. How 
 are you, dear? Have you been very lonely?" 
 
 Dorothy dropped her head upon Jane Leggitt's breast, 
 and there wept comfortably. 
 
 That same evening, having heard her story, Henry 
 Leggitt called up the manager, and questioned him. 
 The man confessed that there had been a great mistake, 
 for which he offered most profound apologies ; he could 
 not be induced to say how that mistake had in the first 
 place arisen. If the gentleman would only wait, he said, 
 until to-morrow, when the proprietor was expected back 
 from Egypt, all should be explained. He was only the 
 manager, and that temporarily, and had done what he 
 believed to be his duty in circumstances which he now 
 saw he had utterly misjudged. The matter, he now saw, 
 was much too high for him. 
 
 " I suspect your friend Count Salaman is in it some- 
 how," Jane remarked to Dorothy. 
 
 " You wouldn't say that if you knew him ! " was the 
 warm retort.
 
 68 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 But the Cawwas from the Consulate had, it soon 
 appeared, deduced the same suspicion from his shrewd 
 inquiries. 
 
 "But how, and why?" asked Dorothy, incredulous. 
 
 The Cawwas would not explain ; the hotel servants, 
 fearing to be blamed, were still more guarded. It was 
 not until the owner of the house arrived, that they spoke 
 out freely and the truth was known. Henry Leggitt had 
 a long talk with the landlord after dinner before he joined 
 the ladies in the lounge upstairs. 
 
 "Well, what is it?" inquired both the women fever- 
 ishly, when at last he came to them. 
 
 " It is that you, Dorothy, don't distinguish your right 
 hand from your left." 
 
 "Don't talk nonsense, Henry; it's very serious, to 
 me." 
 
 " I mean that every Oriental deems his right hand 
 honourable ; his left hand vile. And out of this the 
 native Christians have evolved a kind of a masonic code 
 for placing women. Your gentleman-like friend Count 
 Salaman put you always on his left hand, in the carriage, 
 at the theatre, and when he sat with you here ; thus 
 giving all his friends to understand that you were 
 . . . well ... in short, his mistress. Those young 
 men who pursued you he had told plainly, at first by 
 gestures only, but afterwards in plain words, that you 
 were that, and he was tired of you, and meant to leave 
 you behind when he returned to Constantinople. They 
 were simply competing for the succession." 
 
 " But it's impossible. It is too mean, too devilish ! 
 If you saw the man ! " 
 
 " I am only quoting my informant. I have only to
 
 COUNT ABDULLAH 69 
 
 call him up, and you will hear the truth at first 
 hand." 
 
 " Yes, do ask him to come up." 
 
 The hotel proprietor, when he appeared, was circum- 
 stantial. Abdullah Salaman, he said, had always, from 
 his youth up, borne the worst of characters where women 
 were concerned. He gloried in this reputation, which he 
 had well earned in his young days, and now that he was 
 getting elderly would still live up to it. He confirmed 
 what Henry Leggitt had already told her, and sub- 
 joined : — 
 
 "The young men who annoyed this lady are well- 
 known to me. Directly I got home and heard the story, 
 I went and questioned them. He who insulted you 
 here is very much ashamed ; and swears that he will go 
 to Constantinople straight, and kill Abdullah. He says 
 he paid Abdullah twenty pounds, to speak to you for 
 him; he admired you so ; and that Abdullah told him 
 that you wished to see him." 
 
 "But what made Count Abdullah do all this ? There 
 seems no sense in it," cried Dorothy. 
 
 " First, no doubt, madam, he wished to seem a great 
 man with the ladies just as formerly. Second, he wished 
 to tell a funny story to his friends in Constantinople. 
 He got about a hundred pounds from different beeble 
 for something that did not belong to him, and left us all 
 in false bositions. Many beeble think that clever, and 
 extremely funny. As for me, I only say that, if I had 
 been here, it would neffer have happened. I know 
 Abdullah well, and should have warned this lady. Also 
 I should have seen at once it was not as they thought." 
 He bowed to Miss Lee. " My men, sir and ladies, are
 
 TO TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 a little stubid ; and do not often see a young and bretty 
 English lady traffelin' quite alone like that Do blease 
 forgif them ; they beliefed all he said — the wicked liar. 
 Ah, he shall never come in here again ! " 
 
 Miss Lee's dismay was such on these disclosures that 
 she desired to fly at once from such a nightmare of a 
 country. But her friends detained her, and, after six 
 weeks' travel with them in the wilds, she saw the funny 
 side of her adventure, and valued it as an addition to 
 her store of anecdotes.
 
 JENAB UL EMIR. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE Emir AH Muhammad reclined upon the cushioned 
 couch in his presence-chamber, smoking his narghileh. 
 Around the walls of the room, upon the bare stone 
 benches, sat some thirty of his vassals and dependents, 
 their eyes obsequiously watchful of the great man's face. 
 
 The dark green leaves of a pomegranate tree, inter- 
 spersed with scarlet blossoms, brushed the lattice, 
 through which a fresh breeze stole into the vaulted 
 chamber. The coolness and shadow within formed a 
 pleasant contrast to the heat outside, which veiled the 
 slope of Lebanon in a quivering white haze, and hung — 
 a liquid mist — upon the green plain, the yellow sand- 
 belt, and the blue sea beyond. Below the terrace of the 
 Emir's palace silver olive-groves dipped in terraces to 
 the verge of a wild ravine. To the right was the vil- 
 lage, its flat-roofed stone houses seeming a natural growth 
 of the mountain side. 
 
 The Emir was clad in a long morning-robe of striped 
 silk, pale blue and yellow. Later in the day he would 
 array himself in the official frock-coat and Frankish 
 trousers, with only the fez to mark his nationality. But 
 now, in the early morning, with only his retainers about 
 him, he found ease and coolness in the garb of his 
 country. 
 
 (70
 
 72 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 He was an enormously fat man, about forty years of 
 age, with a flabby sallow face, from whose folds a pair 
 of bright brown eyes looked shiftily. He lay among his 
 cushions in silence, puffing away at his narghileh, and 
 blowing from time to time a cloud of smoke into the 
 faces of those who sat nearest. 
 
 Of the thirty men in the room, not one but had his 
 eyes intent upon the face of the Emir, but watched every 
 puff of smoke, every wink of an eye, as it had been a 
 matter of life and death. Some of those present had 
 come from distant villages to pay their respects to the 
 great man, and sit for half an hour in the same room with 
 him, simply to keep their names alive in his memory. 
 
 To have spoken aloud in such a presence would have 
 been little less than sacrilege. The splash of the foun- 
 tain in the courtyard made itself heard through the 
 arched doorway, enhancing by suggestion the coolness of 
 the presence-chamber. 
 
 " Amin ! " grunted the Emir at length, without raising 
 his head. " Bring coffee for these people ! " The Emir's 
 use of his native language was almost entirely restricted 
 to the imperative mood. He was wont to converse with 
 his equals in Turkish or French. 
 
 There was a general movement throughout the room. 
 Heads were bowed, hands laid on hearts, and a murmur 
 arose, half-grateful, half-deprecating. An old man with 
 a long white beard, and yet whiter turban, who had till 
 then been squatting in the doorway, rose hastily, and 
 shuffled off to do his master's bidding. 
 
 "Is there any greatness to compare with his?" 
 whispered a reverend Sheykh in his neighbour's ear. 
 " See ! he puffs his smoke into the face of Hamad Bek !
 
 JENAB UL EMIR 73 
 
 You and I, Hasan ibn Mustafa, are as dirt before the 
 face of our lord the Bek. What are we compared with 
 his grace the Emir?" 
 
 Hasan ibn Mustafa shrugged his shoulders, and spread 
 out his hands, seeming to say: "What would you?" 
 He was a young man, tall and well proportioned, whose 
 eyes of deep blue contrasted strongly with his black hair 
 and swarthy skin. He wore a striped cloak of camel's 
 hair, black and white, which allowed a glimpse of a 
 crimson plush waistcoat, braided with black, and trousers 
 of the Turkish pattern. Like most of the other men in 
 the room, he wore a spotless white turban wound round 
 his tarbush. 
 
 "No doubt but that he is great, O Sheykh ! " he 
 whispered. "Yet why should he treat us like dogs? 
 He is not greater than the Emir Selim of Ain Warda, 
 yet the Emir Selim is accessible to all who wish to 
 speak with him." 
 
 " Be silent, thou fool ! " whispered the Sheykh. 
 "Wouldst speak of Selim and our Emir in the same 
 breath ? Wouldst exalt the wolf with praises when thou 
 liest between the very paws of the lion ? Our Emir is 
 to his Excellency Abdullah Basha as the light of his 
 eyes. One word of his mouth has more power than all 
 the speeches of Selim." 
 
 "But the Emir Selim is head of our race," insisted 
 Hasan. "It was his father, as I have heard our old 
 men tell, who was leader in the great war of the year 
 Sixty, when the blood of our enemies flowed like water, 
 when every village of the Mowarni was as a slaughter- 
 house. But this Emir loves the Turks more than the 
 Druz. He only divides our strength, leading many of
 
 74 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 our best men, as thee, O Sheykh, to become the slaves of 
 the Muslim ; whereas the Emir Selim " 
 
 "Silence! " interrupted the Sheykh in an angry whisper. 
 " Speak not of Selim in the house of his enemy save to 
 curse him ! Since thou hast come to dwell in the village 
 of our Emir, and art about to wed the daughter of one 
 of his men, it were well for thee to give thyself wholly to 
 the service of his grace, the Emir Ali Muhammad." 
 
 Hasan was about to reply when Amin returned with 
 the coffee. 
 
 The Emir withdrew the amber mouth-piece of his 
 narghileh from his lips, and blowing another puff of smoke 
 into the face of Hamad Bey, who sat next him, murmured, 
 "Peace be upon you all," with eyes staring listlessly at 
 the vaulted ceiling. 
 
 The company rose as one man, and, with hands upon 
 their hearts, exclaimed : " Upon thee be the peace and 
 the mercy of Allah and his blessings". 
 
 Then the coffee was handed to the Emir, who gulped 
 down the contents of his tiny cup, dregs and all, and 
 replaced it upon the salver, before his guests were 
 thought of. 
 
 "See how great he is," whispered the Sheykh in 
 Hasan's ear. 
 
 " I warrant thee, Selim would have offered it to his 
 guests first." 
 
 " That is true," agreed the other, rather sullenly. 
 
 The coffee being disposed of, and the servant having 
 retired with the tray, the Emir, without moving his 
 head, murmured: "Let those speak who have anything 
 to say ". 
 
 Again the whole company rose as one man, bowed low,
 
 JENAB UL EMfR 75 
 
 and exclaimed: " If Allah will, may your Excellency be 
 ever happy ". 
 
 "And you also," grunted the Emir Ali Muhammad. 
 
 The company resumed their seats, and there was some 
 whispering between a Sheykh of patriarchal aspect and 
 Hamad Bey, in the course of which both looked across 
 to where Hasan was sitting. The Emir smoked on 
 carelessly as ever. 
 
 At length Hamad Bey, the Cadi of the district, arose 
 and bowed himself before the great man. He asked his 
 Excellency's leave to state that his Excellency's most 
 devoted servant, the Sheykh Faris Shemdan, was about 
 to give his daughter in marriage to a young man, whom 
 he (the Sheykh Faris) had brought thither that morning 
 for his Excellency's approval. His Excellency's word was 
 law to all his people ; therefore, should he not approve of 
 this youth, Sheykh Faris would seek some other husband 
 for his daughter. 
 
 The Cadi would have gone onto say much more to the 
 same effect — he had been an advocate before the interest 
 of his patron made him a judge, and he gloried in the 
 sound of his own voice — had not an impatient movement 
 of the great man's hand warned him that his eloquence 
 was ill-timed. Hamad Bey faltered, bit his lip, cast a 
 reproachful glance at Hasan, the cause — as he considered 
 — of his confusion, and at length said : " Sheykh Faris 
 earnestly desires your Excellency's approval, without 
 which no man who has ever gazed upon your face can 
 live ! " 
 
 "What is his name? " grunted the Emir. 
 
 "With your Excellency's permission, it is Sheykh 
 Faris."
 
 76 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 The Emir raised his head and looked angrily upon the 
 face of the Cadi out of the corners of his eyes. " May 
 thy house be destroyed, dog ! " he said, sinking back to 
 his former listless posture. " I ask thee the name of the 
 young man, and thou tellest me Sheykh Faris. Stand 
 aside, madman, and let the Sheykh speak for himself! " 
 
 With something like a moan, Hamad Bey resumed his 
 seat. Sheykh Faris came forward, bowed over the Emir's 
 hand, and waited to be questioned. 
 
 Ali Muhammad smoked on in silence for some seconds, 
 his eyes fixed upon a scarlet blossom of the pomegranate 
 tree without the lattice. 
 
 " Speak," he said at length, puffing smoke upon the 
 flower. " What is the name of the young man ? " 
 
 Sheykh Faris glanced meaningly first at Hamad Bey, 
 then at Hasan. Then, with eyes cast down and trembling 
 voice, he murmured : "With your Excellency's permission 
 it is Hasan Artali, son of the Sheykh Mustafa." 
 
 "What sayest thou ?" exclaimed the Emir suddenly, 
 turning upon the trembling man. 
 
 The Sheykh repeated his statement. 
 
 " I forbid it," said Ali Muhammad fiercely. " No dog 
 belonging to Selim shall marry into a household of mine." 
 He lay back among his cushions with closed eyes. 
 
 The Sheykh glanced sidelong at Hamad Bey, as much 
 as to say : " I told you so ! " 
 
 "But with your Excellency's permission," he pleaded, 
 " Hasan is willing to swear allegiance to your grace. 
 He has promised to dwell in this village, to be one of 
 us." 
 
 " Bring the man here ! " said the Emir with an impa- 
 tient frown.
 
 JENAB UL EMfR 77 
 
 Hasan came forward and bowed before the great man, 
 who never so much as deigned to look at him. 
 
 " Tell him that he may take the daughter of Sheykh 
 Faris to his house if he will be my man and fight my 
 battles. Let him have his horse, and his gun, and his 
 tongue — all things that are his — ever at my service," 
 said the Emir, without opening his eyes. 
 
 " To hear is to obey," faltered Hasan. 
 
 " Let him kiss my hand." 
 
 Hasan touched the flabby hand with his lips, and was 
 returning to his seat, when the Emir spoke again : " Tell 
 him that if he be not faithful to me, there is no man who 
 can punish as I can. Now go, all of you ! I am tired ! " 
 
 The men rose, and, one by one, stepped forward to kiss 
 the hand of their chief, who submitted to this salute, lying 
 motionless, with closed eyes. Then they trooped out 
 into the sunshine of the courtyard, and the Emir was 
 left alone in the cool shadow of the presence-chamber. 
 
 II. 
 
 Upon the lowest step of the flight which led from the 
 raised courtyard of the Emir's palace down to the meydan, 
 sat Ibrahim, the giant doorkeeper. His bushy white 
 beard proclaimed him an old man, but age had robbed 
 him of none of his strength. A pair of green eyes, like a 
 cat's, gave a strange, almost weird expression to his 
 brown wrinkled face. Like a cat, also, he sat blinking 
 in the full glare of the noontide sun, as if it were his 
 native element. 
 
 As Hasan and Sheykh Faris passed him on their way 
 to seek their horses, he rose, with a yawn, stretched him- 
 self, and went with them.
 
 78 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 "What said the Emir?" he asked, laying his huge 
 hand on Hasan's shoulder, and grinning down upon the 
 young man as a cat might grin at the mouse he worries. 
 
 " It is well, Ibrahim," Sheykh Faris answered for his 
 son-in-law. " The grace of the Emir has accepted him." 
 
 Ibrahim's grin became wider. "Thou hast changed 
 sides for the sake of a girl's bright eyes?" he purred. 
 " Is it worth the trouble? Truly young men are pos- 
 sessed with a devil. I also was a son of folly at thine 
 age. I took a slim girl to my house for the sake of her 
 eyes, that looked upon me as two stars out of heaven. 
 Then I thought them stars, now J know them for two 
 lumps of fat, set somewhat crooked in the face of a hag. 
 Then I loved to kiss her lips, now I take pleasure in 
 beating her upon the back with my staff. A woman 
 soon grows old, and when she has borne children it is 
 hard for a poor man to be rid of her. Thou, Hasan, 
 wilt learn wisdom when it is too late." 
 
 "Be silent, O Ibrahim," said Sheykh Faris. "Let 
 Hasan learn wisdom from his own experience. Thou 
 wilt honour my house with thy presence to-morrow, at 
 the hour of sunset — not so ? At the wedding feast of 
 my daughter Nesibeh there will be meat enough to fill 
 even thee, O Ibrahim." 
 
 "May my head be struck off if I come not," purred 
 the giant. " As to the meat — I have eaten a whole sheep 
 in my youth. But that was in the year Sixty, when 
 men grew hungry from much killing. But now that I am 
 old, and there is no killing to be done, my appetite grows 
 less. The Emir goes down to the court this afternoon 
 to make sure that Ahmed Effendi, whose children threw 
 stones at his Grace's carriage as he drove up from Beyrut
 
 JENAB UL EMfR 79 
 
 last month, be duly punished. Hamad Bek had better 
 drown himself than be lenient with the rascal." 
 
 "I know Ahmed Effendi, that he is a good man and 
 a peaceable," exclaimed Hasan indignantly. "Surely 
 the Emir will not ruin him for what his children have 
 done ! " 
 
 The giant grinned, and his green eyes had a peculiar 
 expression as they looked down upon the young man. 
 
 " In thy grace I depart," said Sheykh Paris, vaulting 
 into his saddle. 
 
 " With my peace," purred Ibrahim. And he stood 
 grinning after the horsemen until they were lost to 
 sight in the shade of the olive-groves that lay between 
 the palace and the village. 
 
 " This Hasan has turned traitor to the Emir Selim," 
 he thought, "even as I did years ago. He changes for 
 love, I changed for gain — that is the difference. Yet 
 Selim was a better master than this fat pig, Ali Muhammad. 
 But for this man's influence with the Mutesarrif, I had 
 gone back years ago. But Bashas fall like other men. 
 Selim's turn may come — and then Ibrahim will know how 
 to take advantage of the change." 
 
 III. 
 
 Early in the afternoon, the Emir Ali Muhammad, ar- 
 rayed in frock-coat, black waistcoat, and dark trousers — 
 all very much too tight for him — mounted his horse at 
 the steps of the palace, and rode at a foot's pace down 
 the stony path, through the olive-grove, and into the 
 village. Beside him walked Ibrahim, the giant, holding 
 a white parasol to shade the great man's head. Before a 
 long flat-roofed house the Emir reined in his horse.
 
 80 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 Two soldiers, dozing by the door, sprang to their feet, 
 and, laying aside their carbines, ran forward to aid 
 his Grace to dismount. A hum of voices came from 
 within. Puffing and panting, his face streaming with 
 perspiration, the Emir alighted, and waddled into the 
 house, leaving Ibrahim in charge of the horse. 
 
 On a raised dais, at one end of a long room, sat, or 
 rather squatted, Hamad Bey. Before him, in a posture 
 of cringing entreaty, stood a man resplendent in zouave 
 jacket and silk trousers, the advocate for the prisoner. 
 In the remotest corner of the room, almost hidden by a 
 motley and unsavoury crowd of witnesses, stood the 
 prisoner himself — a soldier at each elbow. The frown of 
 importance and authority into which the brows of the Cadi 
 were wont to be knitted vanished suddenly upon the en- 
 trance of the Emir. Hamad Bey rose and bowed himself 
 nearly to the ground. Coming down from the dais, he 
 conveyed to his patron by a series of expressive shrugs and 
 gestures that he, Hamad Bey, was but as the dust upon the 
 boots of his Excellency, that his jurisdiction was at an end 
 as soon as his Excellency set foot within the court, that the 
 seat of judgment and honour was at his Excellency's dis- 
 posal. 
 
 Bestowing a casual nod upon his servant, the Emir 
 waddled up to the dais and took his seat upon the 
 cushion which the Cadi had just vacated. Then he took 
 a cigarette from his pocket, allowed the prisoner's advo- 
 cate to light it for him, and lay back, his head against 
 the wall, the soles of his patent leather boots presented 
 to the inspection of the court. " Let the trial proceed ! " 
 he grunted. 
 
 " With your Excellency's permission," faltered Hamad
 
 jenAb UL EMIR 81 
 
 Bey, " the prisoner has all but established his innocence. 
 There remain but two witnesses to be questioned." 
 
 "What say'st thou?" said the Emir, beside himself. 
 He sprang up, flung himself upon the judge and with his 
 riding- whip struck him about the head and shoulders be- 
 fore all men present. Then out of breath he once again 
 subsided in his place against the wall. 
 
 " Come hither, thou dog ! " 
 
 Hamad Bey in tears drew near, expecting to be whipped 
 again. 
 
 " Show no mercy to this man ! " hissed AH Muhammad. 
 " He is the dog of mine enemy, of Selim — dost hear, 
 ass ? Now do thy duty," he concluded aloud. " Let not 
 thine ancient friendship for the Emir Selim prejudice thee 
 in favour of the evil-doer. Pronounce sentence ! " 
 
 A thrill of amazement and horror ran through the 
 court. 
 
 "With your Excellency's permission," sobbed the 
 Cadi, " there still remain two witnesses to be ex- 
 amined." 
 
 " Two witnesses — two liars ! " said the Emir fiercely. 
 " Pronounce sentence, dog ? " 
 
 " To hear is to obey," murmured the Cadi ; and never 
 did judge look more like a criminal. 
 
 " In the name of Allah, Merciful, Compassionate, it is 
 my solemn duty as friend and master of justice to say 
 and to pronounce that this man, Ahmed ebn Mahmud, is 
 guilty of a great crime ; on account of which crime, and 
 in expiation thereof, he shall be confined in prison for 
 five years, subject to the will and pleasure of his Excel- 
 lency, the most illustrious Abdullah Basha, Mutesarrif 
 of the Mountain, who, having ever shown himself a true 
 
 6
 
 82 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 friend to justice, and to our lord the Emir Ali Muhammad, 
 will surely ratify this sentence." 
 
 A murmur of protest arose from the witnesses, who, 
 coming for the most part from the prisoner's village, were 
 disposed to take his part. Then the court broke up, and 
 the Emir, with the assistance of Hamad Bey, waddled to 
 the door and mounted his horse, regardless of the fierce 
 eyes and sullen faces of the bystanders. 
 
 While Hamad Bey was taking somewhat voluble leave 
 of his patron, one of the loungers took occasion to draw 
 Ibrahim aside. " Two hours since, as I was upon the 
 high road, riding upon mine ass," he said, in a mysterious 
 whisper, " there passed me two horsemen, soldiers, gallop- 
 ing furiously. A little behind them came one that 
 seemed a great one, riding furiously also, as it were for 
 his life." 
 
 " What is this that thou tellest me ? " said the giant 
 disdainfully. " Is it some new thing that thou shouldst 
 meet his Excellency the Basha upon the Sultan's high- 
 road?" 
 
 "A little after," the man continued, " I met one who 
 told me that a new Mutesarrif has been sent suddenly 
 from Istanbul, and that Abdullah Basha is no longer our 
 ruler. Thou, O Ibrahim, art the first to whom I have 
 told this thing. It is worth money, this news, — not so ? " 
 
 "Thou hast done well," purred Ibrahim, stroking his 
 beard, — " very well. And thou shalt have thy reward. 
 Tell no man of this that thou hast seen and heard, and 
 it shall be well with thee." 
 
 With that, Ibrahim put up the white parasol, and, tak- 
 ing his place beside the Emir's horse, they set out on their 
 return to the palace.
 
 JENAB UL EMIR 83 
 
 IV. 
 
 Nesibeh, daughter of Sheykh Faris, was returning from 
 the spring in the cool of the afternoon, a pitcher of water 
 upon her head. She glided lightly down the stony path 
 through the olive-grove — a mosaic work of golden light 
 and grey-blue shade at that hour — crooning a love-song 
 softly as she went. 
 
 The Emir reined in his horse at the sight of her coming 
 towards him. In a peremptory whisper he bade Ibrahim 
 stand and be silent. The faces of master and man were 
 strangely alike at that moment. Both had the hungry 
 look of a cat at a mouse ; but the Emir was looking at 
 Nesibeh, Ibrahim at the Emir. 
 
 Catching sight of them, the girl drew her veil hastily 
 across her face. She hesitated a moment whether to 
 advance or retreat, and finally stood a little aside from 
 the path to allow them free passage. 
 
 The Emir urged his horse forward. "Whose daughter 
 is this?" he asked of Ibrahim in a whisper. 
 
 "What know I of girls?" purred Ibrahim, with his 
 widespread grin. " They are alike to me. Every girl 
 of the village wears a white veil. Allah alone can dis- 
 tinguish one from the other." 
 
 The Emir's face was very red, seeming fatter than ever. 
 There was a strange gleam in his little eyes. " Ibrahim ! " 
 he whispered hoarsely, " bring her to the palace, and 
 secretly. Place her in the little chamber above the gate. 
 Lock the door, and bring the key to me. Take heed that 
 no man know of it. Canst arrange it ?" 
 
 "To hear is to obey," purred the giant, with a grin 
 even more catlike than usual. "She will keep her veil 
 about her face, so that none but Allah shall know who
 
 84 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 she is ; and Allah is merciful — He tells nobody. Who 
 shall gainsay your grace ? It is an honour that the 
 greatest would seek for his daughter." 
 
 " Then stay thou here with the girl while I ride on," 
 whispered the Emir hastily. " Bring her with all secrecy 
 to the palace. When thou hast her in the chamber give 
 her food, and — and wine. If she refuse the wine, force 
 it upon her. See that none other have access to her until 
 I come." With that he took the parasol from the hand 
 of his servant and rode on up the path. 
 
 Ibrahim drew near to the girl. "May thine evening 
 be happy, O Nesibeh," he said, patting her shoulder with 
 his huge hand. "To-morrow is the day of thy wedding, 
 — not so ? The Emir has heard of it, and he wishes to 
 give thee a present and his blessing. Wilt come with me 
 to the palace ? " 
 
 Nesibeh trembled, she knew not why. She glanced 
 eagerly up and down the path, but no one was in sight. 
 "My mother awaits my return," she murmured. "She 
 has need of this water which I carry. If the Grace of the 
 Emir desires to honour me, let my father bring me to the 
 palace." 
 
 "What dost thou fear?" purred Ibrahim. "Am I not 
 an old man and a friend of thy worthy father ? As for 
 thy pitcher, bring it with thee. His Grace the Emir will 
 not detain thee long, and fresh water does not spoil in 
 half an hour. Why dost thou tremble, foolish one ? 
 Come with me ! " 
 
 He clasped her shoulder as he spoke, and the weight 
 of his hand convinced the girl that it was useless to resist. 
 So she turned back and walked with him to the palace, 
 her colour coming and going beneath her veil. A group
 
 jenAb i:l kmIk 85 
 
 of men squatting round the fountain in the courtyard, 
 eyed them curiously as they went. But Ibrahim explained 
 matters by a knowing look, and they passed unquestioned, 
 without other comment than a burst of laughter. Having 
 mounted a flight of stone steps within the house, Ibrahim 
 unlocked a door and bade her go in. 
 
 " I will not enter," she exclaimed, with a sudden firm- 
 ness. " I will await the coming of the Emir in the court- 
 yard." 
 
 "What is this?" purred the giant. "Thou wilt not? 
 Thou art mad ! " 
 
 He thrust her forcibly into the room, and locked the 
 door upon her. " I will not give her wine," he thought : 
 " it will make her too much the slave of that fatted pig. 
 And now to tell Sheykh Faris how the Emir has rewarded 
 his fidelity. I advise him to send a messenger to the 
 Mutesarrif with all speed. A man new in office has a 
 ready ear and a strong arm. Besides, there is discontent 
 in Ain Warda about the matter of Ahmed Effendi. This 
 Hasan is a fiery youth. He has many relations and 
 friends among Selim's men. If I mistake not, we shall 
 have fighting before half the night is spent." And 
 Ibrahim, remembering the slaughter of the year Sixty, 
 smacked his lips in anticipation. 
 
 V. 
 
 The Emir Ali Muhammad lay by an open window of 
 his palace, looking out upon the village. The twilight 
 was fast fading into night, and shadows were deepening 
 westward, as the light of the moon grew stronger in the 
 east. The Emir closed his eyes, and his lips parted in a
 
 86 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 complacent smile. He grunted, as very fat, self-indulgent 
 men will, like pigs, for no assignable reason. 
 
 The quavering voice of Amin, the old major-domo, 
 roused him from his lethargy. His Excellency's evening 
 meal was prepared, the old man said, with a profound 
 salaam. 
 
 " Bring hither a bottle of wine," grunted the Emir. 
 " I will eat later, at an hour of mine own choosing. 
 Stay ! " he added, with a chuckle, noticing the look of 
 horror upon the face of the old Druze. " I had forgotten 
 that thou art a true believer, and hatest wine. Speak to 
 Ibrahim that he bring it to me. Thy glance at the bottle 
 would change my drink to vinegar." 
 
 "But with your Excellency's permission, here is his 
 honour the Cadi, who wishes to speak to your Excellency. 
 He has news of importance to lay before your Grace." 
 
 " May Hamad Bek's house be destroyed, and all that 
 is in it ! If he has anything to say, let him come to my 
 presence at the wonted hour. Go, madman, and send 
 Ibrahim hither ! " 
 
 The Emir picked up a rose that lay upon his couch, 
 and held it to his nose. It was his frequent habit to carry 
 a flower about with him — not that he prized its beauty, 
 but that its perfume might defend his nostrils from less 
 pleasant smells. As he was fingering the stem carelessly, 
 a thorn chanced to prick his thumb. With an oath he 
 dropped the rose, and then, picking it up, proceeded de- 
 liberately to destroy it, petal by petal. 
 
 "So perish all enemies of your Excellency!" said a 
 purring voice from the gloom of the doorway. "Here 
 is the wine which your Excellency has commanded. May 
 your Grace have the health of two men in drinking it."
 
 JENAB UL EM IK 87 
 
 The Emir brushed the litter of rose-leaves from his 
 lap. To complete his revenge he broke the stem in two 
 and flung it from him. Then he turned to Ibrahim, and 
 bade him pour out a glass of wine. " Hast found out 
 to whom this girl belongs?" he asked, glancing sidelong 
 at the giant. 
 
 " I have obeyed your Excellency's commands in all 
 respects. She awaits your pleasure even now in the 
 chamber above the gate. Of her father she has told me 
 nothing. But what is that to our master, the Emir ? 
 Small men and great, rich and poor, all are alike his 
 servants." 
 
 " Thou hast spoken to no man of this business ? " The 
 Emir never looked straight at any one, but his eyes were 
 piercing upon his servant's face as he spoke. 
 
 " What am I, that I should disobey the commands of 
 the Emir? " purred the giant, with a cringing movement 
 of his body. " My life is between his two hands. How 
 should such as I dare to disobey him ? Who would dare 
 to uncover that which the Emir has hidden ?" 
 
 Ali Muhammad grunted his satisfaction. He was apt 
 to be blinded by the fumes of his own greatness. 
 
 "What is this that Amin has told me of Hamad Bek, 
 that he has news to tell ? If thou knowest anything of 
 it, speak." 
 
 " My lord the Bek is a good man and a just," purred 
 Ibrahim reflectively. " But he is timid — with the per- 
 mission of your Grace — a little too timid. He has not 
 perfect confidence in the power and majesty of your 
 Excellency. He reads misfortune in the frown of an 
 enemy, and ruin in a poor man's curse. There were 
 many who cursed this afternoon, when justice was done
 
 88 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 upon the evil-doer, Ahmed Effendi. There were some 
 who vowed revenge. Hamad Bek forgets that such 
 people are as dirt beneath the feet of our master the 
 Emir, whatever they may be to the wicked Selim of Ain 
 Warda. He has doubtless come hither to warn your 
 Grace of the threats that have been spoken. My lord 
 the Bek is very timid." 
 
 "I think so too," grunted the Emir. "He shall be 
 punished — degraded ! He to doubt my power ! Cannot 
 I, the Ca'i'mmacam, who set him up to be judge also drag 
 him down ? I shall speak a word in the ear of the 
 Mutesarrif. Now follow me ! I go to visit this girl." 
 
 "With your Excellency's permission," whispered 
 Ibrahim, as he followed his master from the room, "as 
 I, bearing the wine to your Excellency, passed by the 
 door, I heard her weeping." 
 
 The Emir's fat sides quaked with merriment. " It is 
 a rosebud — a rosebud with the dew fresh upon it," he 
 chuckled. 
 
 And Ibrahim, as in duty bound, laughed consumedly 
 at the great man's wit, but without noise, for fear of call- 
 ing attention to their proceedings. 
 
 " Stay thou here and keep watch ! " whispered the 
 Emir, pausing at the door of the girl's prison-chamber. 
 11 Let no man pass this way. If she scream do thou sing 
 aloud. Thy singing disturbed me once when I wished to 
 sleep — then I had a mind to kill thee for it. But now 
 sing on, and afterwards I will raise thee to great 
 honour." 
 
 So saying, the Emir turned the key, and, slipping off 
 his shoes, entered the chamber stealthily, locking the door 
 behind him.
 
 JENAB UL EMill 89 
 
 Nestbeh lay stretched upon the floor, her face buried 
 in her arm, her slender form convulsed with every 
 sob. 
 
 The Emir stood smiling at her for a few seconds ; then 
 he went to a couch at the end of the room, squatted down, 
 and proceeded to light a cigarette. " O light of my eyes ! " 
 he murmured, in a hoarse whisper. 
 
 The girl raised her head. " Who art thou ? " she sobbed. 
 " Oh, whoever thou art, let me go from this place. My 
 mother awaits me since the ninth hour of the day, and 
 now it is night. Let me go to my father's house with 
 the pitcher of water that I was ordered to bring ! " 
 
 She pointed to her pitcher, which stood in a corner of 
 the room, beside it a dish of meat and rice untouched. 
 
 " My beloved ! " grunted the Emir. " Wilt come here 
 and sit beside me on the couch, my soul ? " 
 
 " No, no, no ! " sobbed the girl. " If thou art the 
 Emir — whoever thou art, let me go ! " 
 
 For answer the Emir laid aside his cigarette, rose and 
 went to her. He stooped down and strove to raise her 
 in his arms. A piercing scream rang through the palace — 
 another, and yet another. But all save the first were 
 drowned in the inhuman din of an Arab love-song, which 
 Ibrahim, sitting on the stairs, chanted at the pitch of his 
 voice. 
 
 The girl was on her feet, struggling with the Emir, 
 who, his face streaming with perspiration, his little eyes 
 red and fierce as a rat's, was mastering her slowly but 
 surely. All at once a sound made itself heard above the 
 chanting of Ibrahim, above the screams of Nesibeh — the 
 report of a gun. 
 
 As if at a known signal, the love-song came to an
 
 90 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 abrupt end. The Emir, still keeping firm hold of his 
 victim, paused to listen. The sound of firing was con- 
 tinuous from the direction of the village. 
 
 "Open, O my master!" shouted Ibrahim, thundering 
 upon the door. "The enemies are upon us! It is the 
 men of Ain Warda, who have come to avenge Ahmed 
 Effendi. Save thyself ere it be too late ! " 
 
 The face of the Emir changed colour slowly from red 
 to ashy grey. The sweat upon his forehead was frozen 
 to beads. Nesibeh had no further need to struggle. 
 With faltering steps he went to the door and turned the 
 key. 
 
 The giant burst in. " Fly, fat pig ! " he shouted, seiz- 
 ing the Emir by the shoulder and shaking him. "Fly, 
 offspring of a thousand swine ! " 
 
 " Thou shalt be punished for this, dog that thou art ! " 
 muttered the Emir, with shaking knees. So terrified was 
 he, that he did not notice Nesibeh as she slipped past 
 him. "But say, whither shall I fly? I am an old man 
 and weak : there is no strength left in me ! " 
 
 " Then hide thyself, fool ! " shouted Ibrahim. " Go to 
 the roof — to the stables — there are places enough. But 
 stay not here, or I will let the air into thee with this," — 
 he brandished a long, murderous-looking knife in the 
 Emir's face — " I, Ibrahim thy servant ! Shall I not have 
 revenge as well as another? Run, little pig! Bah! I 
 spit upon thee ! " Suiting the action to the words, the 
 giant grasped the Emir roughly by both ears, stooped 
 down and spat in his face. " Now run, fat pig — run ! or 
 thou shalt feel this goad of mine, that it is sharp." 
 
 "Thou shalt be killed for this," stuttered the Emir. 
 "But say, whither shall I go? They will take my jewels
 
 jenAb ul EMlB 91 
 
 and my money. I will make thee Cadi in Hamad Bek's 
 stead, son of a dog, if thou wilt but save my treasure." 
 
 " Run, old pig ! Run if thou lovest life ! " Ibrahim 
 grinned, and stuck the knife into the Emir's flesh. 
 " Hark ! they are already at the gate. There will be none 
 found to resist them. None love thee, pig — not one of 
 all thy house. Run ! " 
 
 The Emir stumbled along the passage to the steps that 
 led to the roof, cursing and praying by turns. Ibrahim, 
 the old massacrer, rushed with knife drawn down the 
 steps and into the women's quarters, where his master's 
 treasure was. 
 
 Ten minutes later he emerged upon the meydan, clasp- 
 ing a strong box with one arm. There he met a dis- 
 orderly rabble running like madmen to the gate of the 
 palace, firing shots at the windows as they went. Among 
 the foremost, his face set and pale, his eyes ablaze with 
 hatred, was Hasan ibn Mustafa. 
 
 "Y" Allah!" shouted Ibrahim. "The fat pig, Ali 
 Muhammad, hides upon the roof. Kill him ! Kill all 
 and spare not ! The Druz are the best of killers. 
 Y'Allah ! " 
 
 When they had passed, he set off at a run down the 
 path to the village. A great pulse throbbed in his brain, 
 so that he did not hear the tramp and jangle of a caval- 
 cade approaching, until he was in their midst. 
 
 " Stand ! " cried a voice. 
 
 " Who art thou that bidst me stand ? " panted Ibra- 
 him. 
 
 " Madman, I speak in the name of the Mutesarrif ! " 
 
 But Ibrahim heeded not the answer. His knife was 
 already plunged to the hilt in the body of the soldier ;
 
 92 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 the warm blood was upon his hand. The victim swerved 
 in his saddle, and fell without a cry. 
 
 Ibrahim made a spring for the shelter of the olive trees. 
 There was a flash, and the report of a gun. The giant 
 let fall the box, threw up his arms, and fell forward upon 
 his face. 
 
 " Thou hast done well," said the Mutesarrif to the 
 soldier who rode before him. " That shot of thine shall 
 bring thee to honour. But go, one of you, and bring 
 hither the box. Doubtless it contains plunder from the 
 palace yonder. The Emir Selim will take command of 
 my men as well as his own. ... I shall be exceedingly 
 obliged to you, my dear prince," he added, relapsing 
 into French, his favourite language, " if you will ride on 
 and quell the disturbance. For myself, I must stay be- 
 hind and examine the box. It is a matter that must be 
 looked into." 
 
 "What an unfortunate business ! " said the Mutesar- 
 rif, an hour later, as he sat with the Emir Selim in the 
 frenchified salon of Ali Muhammad's palace. "A 
 dozen men shall die for this." 
 
 Loud wailing of women came from a neighbouring 
 room, where the body of the Emir was being laid out for 
 burial. 
 
 "An unfortunate business — most unfortunate!" he 
 repeated. " But at least it will assure the Powers of 
 Europe, by whose favour I hold my appointment, that I 
 have more energy than my predecessor. This Ali 
 Muhammad had a bad name among the Franks. It is an 
 excellent thing — as you well know, my dear prince — for 
 a public man to establish a reputation for zeal and energy
 
 JENAB UL EMIR 93 
 
 at the beginning of his career. He can rest upon his 
 laurels afterwards. After all, I am not sorry that I have 
 had occasion to distinguish myself on my first day of 
 office. I had no time to rest from the fatigue of my ride 
 from Beyrut before news came of the abduction of this 
 girl. And then you came with your tidings of a riot 
 to rescue this Ahmed Effendi — very amiable of you, my 
 dear prince — and I rode off at once at the head of my 
 men. If that does not convince the Powers of my fitness 
 for the post, nothing will. I name you Cai'mmacam in 
 the room of Ali Muhammad deceased. But the best of 
 all is that box which we took from the giant with the 
 white beard. On the whole, my dear prince " — the Mute- 
 sarrif rubbed his hands together and chuckled softly — 
 "this is a most fortunate business for all of us, except — 
 ha, ha, ha ! — except the fat Emir and the white-bearded 
 giant. Most fortunate ! "
 
 THE COOK AND THE SOLDIER. 
 
 It all arose out of a handful of lentils, as Arabs say. 
 
 Ahmed the cook kept a little eating-house at Bulac, in 
 a narrow shady street, within sound of the hammering 
 from the boat-builders' yards, and not far from the point 
 where one takes the ferry to Gezireh. Ahmed the 
 soldier, being in barracks at Abdin, found his way one 
 day to the said eating-house, and, meeting kindness from 
 the professor, returned there often. 
 
 Now Ahmed the cook — in Egypt styled "professor" 
 — was a one-eyed man ; which means he saw more with 
 his mind than is the way of two-eyed men, who stare all 
 round them. He was also a wicked wag. As he be- 
 came acquainted with the character of Ahmed the soldier, 
 he discerned in him a heaven-sent subject, and played 
 upon him to the joy of other customers, who held their 
 sides to see an upright man abused and mystified. 
 
 The soldier was childlike ; his mind possessed no fold 
 of guile or subtlety. This world was for him a place of 
 peril to the soul, whose chance of safety lay in strict 
 adherence to the divine rules ; observing which he felt 
 secure as for himself, and had no time to spare to look 
 at others. 
 
 It was long before he perceived that Ahmed the cook 
 made fun of him ; and then he took no notice, philo- 
 sophically, since in return he got well treated in respect 
 
 (94)
 
 THE COOK AM) THE SOLDIER 95 
 
 of food. When, one day, his host beguiled him into 
 handling with great reverence a donkey's hair, under 
 the persuasion that it had been plucked from the tail of 
 the Prophet's mule, he did indeed curse loudly when the 
 fraud was shown to him. But he still returned to the 
 eating-house; and, Ahmed the cook going gently for a 
 time, he soon lost the suspicions to which the touch of 
 blasphemy had given birth. For months things went on 
 amicably, till a certain afternoon when Ahmed the soldier 
 came to the shop fatigued and irritable. 
 
 The usual guests sat out beneath the awning upon 
 stools, and along the edge of the platform where the pro- 
 fessor had his brazier. Across the street there glowed a 
 stall of fruit and vegetables, diffusing pleasant odours in 
 the shade. Ahmed the cook embraced his soldier name- 
 sake, and made him sit up in the shop itself, a place of 
 honour. He gave to him a mess of rice and meat, wink- 
 ing aside to his cronies, who looked on with secret 
 smiles. When Ahmed the soldier made an end of eat- 
 ing, Ahmed the cook paid him the usual compliments, 
 and, pouring out a cup of coffee, added : — 
 
 " Thou art indeed most blessed, O my brother. Thou 
 art become, indeed, a marvel and a gazing-stock, seeing 
 there is that this minute in thy belly which no one of the 
 sons of Adam ever ate before thee. " 
 
 " What is thy meaning ? " asked the soldier, spilling the 
 coffee handed to him in his great concern. 
 
 " That meat I gave thee was the flesh of jackals." 
 " O son of a dog ! It is understood thou liest." 
 " By my beard, I tell thee ! Ask all these here present." 
 " The curse of Allah on thy faith, O atheist, O evil- 
 liver. May Allah cut short thy life for this foul crime ! "
 
 96 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 Springing to his feet, Ahmed the soldier spat at the 
 professor, then fled the place, gesticulating like a madman. 
 
 The audience remained, convulsed with laughter. 
 
 " Saw man ever the like for simplicity of under- 
 standing?" gasped out Ahmed the cook in the intervals 
 of his amusement. " Now he will curse his belly and go 
 vomiting for days, for the sake of a little mutton mingled 
 nicely with a mess of rice. To-morrow I must tell 
 him." 
 
 "By Allah, if thou do not, he will know no cleanness 
 till the Day of Judgment ! " laughed his friends. 
 
 Meantime the soldier wandered in the neighbouring 
 streets, bemoaning his disgusting plight, adjuring Allah 
 and all true believers to behold and succour him. At the 
 cry "Ya Muslimin ! " men came out of their doorways. 
 A crowd soon gathered round the wretch, and questioned 
 him. Ahmed the soldier told his story, weeping sorely, 
 solemnly cursing Ahmed the cook, the joker, who, by a 
 trick, had robbed him of salvation. Every listener 
 expressed his horror at such wickedness. 
 
 " That professor is a hellish joker. Fools laugh, and 
 egg him on from deed to deed. But now he has passed 
 all bounds of decency. He has sinned against the religion 
 of Muhammad. . . . To serve the meat of jackals to a 
 true believer, an honest customer at his shop ! Heard 
 one ever the like ? It means that there is no security. 
 No one can tell what filth is set before him. To the shop, 
 O Muslimin ! We must teach this pig, this atheist, a 
 lesson ! " 
 
 So it came to pass that, while Ahmed the cook still 
 chuckled with his friends, the street grew full of noise. 
 They saw their consternation mirrored in the countenance
 
 THE COOK AND THE SOLDIER 97 
 
 of the vendor of fruit and vegetables across the way, who 
 saw, before they could, the crowd approaching. In a 
 trice their council was dispersed by furious men, who used 
 religious war-cries as against the heathen ; the stools, 
 snatched up, were used as weapons ; the brazier was upset 
 into the street ; the cups, the pitchers, and the shishehs 
 smashed to atoms ; Ahmed the cook, thrown down upon 
 his back, was being beaten, before one present had the 
 time to cry for mercy, or so much as guess the cause of 
 the assault. 
 
 "Take that, and that, O atheist, O filthy hog ! " cried 
 one man, striking the professor with a wooden stool. 
 It was who could get near enough to spit in the face of 
 so obscene a wretch. Learning at length from the cries 
 of the assailants what the matter was, Ahmed the cook 
 began to scream that he was innocent, that Ahmed the 
 soldier was a credulous ass, a madman, a born idiot. But 
 he would none the less have very soon been bashed to 
 death, had not one of his adherents, making off up the 
 street, with intent to jump into a tram and fly to Cairo, met 
 two policemen striding to the scene of riot. Pouring into 
 their ears the true story of the disturbance, he went back 
 with them to the shop, now wholly wrecked, as likewise 
 was the fruitseller's across the street. The policemen 
 forced a way through the press. They rescued Ahmed 
 the cook from twelve assailants, and heard his explana- 
 tions, which, when known, appeased the crowd — some of 
 its members being moved to merriment, while others 
 still cried out it was a shame. The ringleaders gave 
 money to the police, so did Ahmed the cook, rather than 
 be put in prison. Then people moved away. 
 
 Alone at last among his smashed utensils, the pro- 
 
 7
 
 98 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 fessor gnawed his lip and glared straight downward with 
 his only eye. 
 
 " Would to Allah," said he viciously, " that I had fed 
 that devil jackal's meat in very truth; for see what he 
 has brought me to — the dolt ! — the madman ! By the 
 Prophet, I will give him viler food when next we meet. 
 I will give him his own flesh, and see him eat it. The 
 worst is, now he knows it was a joke. I could enjoy my 
 ruin, did he feel himself defiled eternally." 
 
 Ahmed the cook was wrong in this surmise. Ahmed 
 the soldier had not lost his sad delusion. When the in- 
 dignant Muslims, his avengers, went to wreck the cook- 
 shop, he had turned away, still weeping bitterly. What 
 they were after was an act of retribution, of religious 
 justice ; but it could not purify him. He went back to the 
 barracks, and there told a comrade under bonds of secrecy. 
 
 His friend suggested an emetic; they went together 
 and bought one at a pharmacy, and Ahmed used the 
 stuff not once nor twice, yet he could not feel clean. 
 As the days wore on, he grew inured to his predicament, 
 to the fear that at the Last Day he might arise together 
 with an unclean beast ; and only brooded on his woe 
 when downcast. But if ever there was talk of wicked 
 men, deserving slaughter, he said that he had known one 
 such, and hoped to kill him. 
 
 His good conduct and alacrity commended him to all 
 his officers, though his extreme simplicity seemed an ob- 
 stacle to much advancement. Whatever could be done 
 to help on such a blockhead was done by the authorities. 
 He was appointed shawish to an English chief inspector 
 in the provinces — a post which even Ahmed, it was 
 thought, could not fail to make lucrative.
 
 THE COOK AND THE SOLDIER 99 
 
 Ahmed satisfied his English master, and came to 
 cherish a respect for him, while lamenting his indifference 
 towards religion ; and the Englishman, on his side, swore 
 by Ahmed as regards integrity, while sometimes irritated 
 by his slow perceptions. Five years had passed since 
 the little riot at Bulac, when the chief inspector had 
 occasion to engage a new cook, the old one having 
 waxed too bold in peculation. Ahmed was seated on a 
 stool beside the garden-gate, beneath a bright blue 
 flowering tree, in conversation with the negro door- 
 keeper, when the professor appeared — a one-eyed man, 
 exceeding fat and of malicious countenance. At a glance 
 he recognized with horror his defiler, Ahmed the cook. 
 The surprise was great, for he had always thought of the 
 atheist as a part of Cairo, and now here he was in Minieh, 
 hundreds of miles from the capital. 
 
 The professor, however, passed him by without a look, 
 repaired to the kitchen and went straight about his busi- 
 ness, incurious concerning the personality of the tall 
 shawish, whom he supposed to be, like others of his kind, 
 a strutting peacock, all conceit and plumage. Ahmed 
 the soldier, who had followed, stiff with horror, watched 
 him shifting pots and pans and peeping into drawers, and 
 heard him chant a song of innocence ; till, unable to bear 
 the sight a minute longer, he went close up to the wretch, 
 and sternly bade him look upon his face. The cook obeyed. 
 
 "It is not a very nice face," he observed compassion- 
 ately ; " but we will make it do, since now it is too late 
 for thee to get another." 
 
 It was plain he did not recognize it in the least. 
 
 " Dost thou not know me, O accursed malefactor? I 
 am he whom thou didst foully wrong ! "
 
 100 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 The professor stared at him again, and stood remem- 
 bering. 
 
 " Ha ! Thou art that foul hog who wrecked my shop 
 and ruined me," he snarled at length with lowered brows. 
 " By Allah, I did never harm thee, well thou knowest. 
 But for that ill return for all my kindness, the wrecking 
 of my shop, I yet will pay thee ! " 
 
 He was going on with his work, when the soldier 
 screamed : — 
 
 "Say that again, O atheist, unblushing perjurer! 
 How ! thou didst never harm me — when thou didst feed 
 me jackal's meat? " 
 
 At those words the cook's face brightened suddenly, 
 and his whole frame was contorted with unhallowed glee. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! Thou recallest that ? Oho ! The merry 
 jest — well worth the wrecking of my shop . . ." 
 
 "Cease, devil, pig, blasphemer! Leave this place! 
 Dare not to stay where I am, I shall surely kill thee." 
 
 "Go? And wherefore, pray? Have I not as good a 
 right as thou hast to be here ? Go and mind thy busi- 
 ness, lest our master beat thee." 
 
 " Thou shalt depart this day, I swear. My lord shall 
 scourge thee forth." 
 
 "And for what cause?" 
 
 " By Allah, I go straight to tell him that thou art an 
 atheist." 
 
 "That will be to say I am his brother. He will love 
 
 me. 
 
 " I will tell him thou didst feed me jackal's meat." 
 "The Franks eat all uncleanness with avidity." 
 "Then I will kill thee." 
 " Only try, I pray ! "
 
 THE COOK AND THE SOLDIER 101 
 
 The professor snatched up a great knife and tried its 
 edge upon his sleeve, keeping watch upon the soldier 
 out of the corner of his one eye. 
 
 The latter, for his part, knew not how to act. He 
 thought it sin, on public and religious grounds, that so 
 obscene a creature should be left alive; yet feared to 
 kill him. He procured an audience of the chief inspector 
 that same day, and told him what was known of the new 
 cook : how he was a thief, a liar, and a famous poisoner 
 employed, it might be, by the Nationalist party, his 
 lordship's enemies. The chief inspector yawned and 
 shrugged his shoulders, saying that he could not be 
 bothered to change again so soon. And the professor 
 cut the ground from underneath the soldier's feet by 
 turning out a first-rate cook and economical. Ahmed the 
 soldier bore his burden, with much prayer to Allah, con- 
 tenting himself with personal abstention from every 
 scrap of food his foe had handled. He fed now in 
 the market at his own expense. 
 
 He wished for peace, but Ahmed the professor would 
 not let him be. At every chance encounter, he would 
 whisper "Jackal," or "How is thy belly?" with mali- 
 cious glee ; and when the soldier sat out in the garden 
 amid the palm-trees and sweet-flowering shrubs, the 
 cook would steal forth from the kitchen, cough to catch 
 his eye, and then put out his tongue and rub his 
 stomach. Moreover he had told the story to the 
 gardeners, base negroes who had no religious delicacy, 
 and Ahmed the soldier felt them grin behind his back. 
 
 Things came to such a pass that one day in his 
 master's presence, the soldier wept and pleaded for the 
 cook's dismissal.
 
 102 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 " Why ? " was naturally asked. 
 
 "Because he mocks me always and makes game of 
 
 me. 
 
 " I will tell him not to do so any more." 
 Ahmed the cook was summoned from the kitchen. 
 He heard the charge against him with entire dismay. 
 Then, when the chief inspector finished speaking, he 
 smiled deprecatingly. 
 
 " Efendim," he submitted, " this soldier is a very 
 foolish man. I am afflicted with a dryness of the lips 
 which necessitates my thrusting forth my tongue to lick 
 them frequently ; also I suffer much from indigestion, 
 which obliges me to rub my belly for relief. He thinks 
 — the silly fellow ! — that I do these things at him, by 
 way of insult. Judge now of his unreason, O my lord ! " 
 " Well, let me hear no more from either of you." 
 " Thou seest all thy malice is in vain," sneered the 
 professor when they left the presence. He put his 
 tongue out, rubbed his belly, and then strode off towards 
 his kitchen with a swaggering gait. 
 
 Two days later, when the chief inspector was enjoying 
 his midday sleep, Ahmed the cook came out into the 
 garden, and discovered Ahmed the soldier reposing on 
 his back in the shade of a hybiscus hedge, snoring 
 loudly, with his mouth open. The professor, stooping, 
 picked a lump of dirt up off the ground, popped it in the 
 soldier's mouth, and while the sleeper woke, alarmed and 
 spluttering, escaped as quickly as his fat would let him. 
 Ahmed the soldier followed to the kitchen, crying : — 
 "Now will I kill thee, O thou wicked devil! Thou 
 didst feed me jackal's meat, as doubtless thou hadst done 
 to others. It will be a blessing to mankind, a deed
 
 THE COOK AND THE SOLDIER 103 
 
 pleasing to Allah, to rid this world of thee and thy 
 iniquities." 
 
 The cook snatched up a carving-knife and faced him 
 valorously, snarling : — 
 
 "Jackal's meat, sayest thou? By Allah, I will feed 
 thee pig's meat, dog's meat, rats and mice, vultures, 
 dung-beetles ! I will make thee eat thy own foul flesh ; 
 and justly, too ! " 
 
 The shawish, strong and active, closed with him and 
 flung him down. Finding the knife snatched from him, 
 seeing death at hand, Ahmed the cook fastened his teeth 
 upon the soldier's wrist, and, thrusting a hand into his 
 assailant's mouth, strove hard to tear it where it joins 
 the cheek. Both gave forth gasping cries like men half- 
 murdered. All at once the door burst open. They 
 gave no heed, absorbed in their death-grapple, till blow 
 on blow came down on both impartially. The cook 
 first loosed his hold. He was lying on his back, so saw 
 the new assailant. The soldier saw the look on the 
 cook's face, when he too slackened hold and turned his 
 head. 
 
 There was the chief inspector, in his sleeping-suit, 
 flourishing a chair out of the dining-room by one leg. 
 
 "Go out, O shawish!" he thundered. "And thou, 
 O professor, stir not from this kitchen. I will settle up 
 this business in an hour." 
 
 In less than the time mentioned, the two were called 
 on to appear before his Excellency, who sat upon the 
 divan in the entrance-hall, by his side another English- 
 man of the high officials of the province. He caressed 
 in his hands a formidable whip of rhinoceros hide. 
 
 No sooner did the culprits spy each other than, for-
 
 104 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 getful of the presence, they began again to quarrel, 
 screaming foul abuse, gesticulating insults. 
 
 The chief inspector rose and cracked his whip. 
 
 " Efendim, this man fed me jackal's meat — he truly 
 did. Five years have I lived denied ! . . . O offspring 
 of Eblis, confess the awful crime ! " 
 
 Even at that moment, when his place depended on it, 
 Ahmed the cook would not relinquish the advantage he 
 so much enjoyed. To deny the reality of the jackal's 
 meat was to leave Ahmed the soldier victor, having 
 wrecked his shop. For answer, he grinned teasingly, 
 then put his tongue out slowly. The chief inspector 
 used his whip in earnest. 
 
 After conferring with his friend a moment, he turned 
 to the culprits, who stood trembling with their mutual 
 rage, and said urbanely : — 
 
 " Listen ! You have a grievance against one another, 
 is it not so ? — and you wish to fight. Capital ! Most 
 excellent ! Nothing could be better ! We English, as a 
 race, are fond of fighting. But a fight like yours — a com- 
 bat such as never was ! — should not be done in secret in a 
 dirty kitchen, but openly, upon the meydan, for the joy 
 of all. Moreover, you must fight like heroes, not like 
 wild beasts. You must fight with quarter-staves, your 
 country's weapon, and that with every compliment and 
 form of war. 
 
 " Now hear what I shall do. I write at once to the 
 mudir, and all the notables, and also to the leading foreign 
 residents, inviting them to witness your great fight, which 
 will take place on the open shore beside the river, this 
 evening, an hour before sunset. It will be as in old days 
 — a single combat making sport for multitudes. He who
 
 THE COOK AND THE SOLDIER 105 
 
 dies will die most gloriously, and he who wins will hear 
 the shouts of thousands. The people will enjoy a splendid 
 show for nothing, and you two heroes will settle your 
 difference in a creditable and becoming manner. 
 
 "Be ready at the hour appointed. Now depart." 
 
 But neither of the champions showed desire to move. 
 Both looked profoundly downcast. They exchanged shy 
 glances, now no longer furious. 
 
 " Efendim, Allah knows I have no wish to kill this 
 man, nor any ground of quarrel with him save his foolish- 
 ness," muttered Ahmed the cook sullenly. 
 
 " I would not hurt him if he would leave me alone," 
 murmured Ahmed the soldier, his voice choked with tears, 
 " though Allah knows he well deserves to die. He fed 
 me jackal's meat — a dreadful crime ! " 
 
 " It is as I have said. You fight this evening." 
 
 "Efendim, by the noble Coran, I never fed him jackal's 
 meat," Ahmed the cook cried out despairingly, his point 
 of vanity at last lowered. "I fed him mutton; and he 
 was fool enough to think it jackal's meat, because I said, 
 to tease him, it was jackal's meat." 
 
 " Say that again ! " screamed Ahmed the soldier, start- 
 ing forward with intent to hug the sly professor. He 
 checked himself and asked: " Canst thou bring witnesses?" 
 
 " I can — five excellent witnesses, none like them for 
 veracity and honour, all of them men thou knowest in 
 Bulac. I will take thee back to Masr and confront thee 
 with them." 
 
 Ahmed the soldier flung his arms around the fat cook's 
 neck. 
 
 " Then there will be no fight ?" inquired the chief in- 
 spector in tones made mournful by great disappointment.
 
 106 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 " A shame to rob the city of so fine a spectacle ! Make 
 but a show of fighting, I entreat you ; give but a little 
 cudgel-play that the mudir and the notables may not be 
 baulked of all enjoyment." 
 
 " Efendim, mercy ! I am a peaceful man, fat and most 
 unwarlike," pleaded Ahmed the cook ; while Ahmed the 
 soldier kept vociferating : — 
 
 " Praise be to Allah ! Praise to the Best of Creators ! 
 Praise to the Healer, to the Purifier ! Praise to the Most 
 Merciful of those who show mercy ! " in an ecstasy of 
 thanksgiving for his sudden cleanness.
 
 HASHtSH. 
 
 A MERCHANT of Mansurah left two sons, of whom the 
 elder, Mustafa, succeeded to his father's business, while the 
 younger, Muhammad, gave his share of the inheritance 
 over to his brother, content to live upon the latter's 
 bounty. The two had always been attached to one 
 another. The generous trust of Muhammad affected 
 Mustafa to tears. 
 
 " Allah witness, thou shalt have thy part of everything 
 — whatsoever I succeed in gaining by my efforts," he cried 
 out ecstatically. "The business is sure of a blessing 
 owing to this deed of thine." With that he fell upon his 
 brother's neck and blubbered ; while Muhammad held 
 him in his arms and wept, he, also, protesting that the 
 money was a gift. 
 
 But, though accepting the impeachment of nobility of 
 soul with such emotion, Muhammad had been animated 
 by mere laziness. He could not be bothered to employ 
 the money on his own account, and, having to fear his 
 brother's censure of his idleness, thought it pleasant to 
 disarm it in this childlike way. It were a sin to harass 
 by a word of blame one who had thus thrown himself on 
 the mercy of God. Mustafa thought so ; and thenceforth 
 he worked for both, happy to know that one of Allah's 
 simple ones, who bring good luck, was interested in the 
 profits of his business. Muhammad heard the story-tellers 
 
 (107)
 
 108 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 in the taverns or sat out with his cronies in the fields 
 where there was shade. The rascal's gift of improvising 
 a facetious couplet upon any subject endeared him to the 
 strolling minstrels and low dervishes ; and one of these 
 it was who first induced him to make trial of the drug 
 hashish. The stuff was set before him in the form of 
 jam ; he ate three mouthfuls by his friend's direction. At 
 that time he was sitting in a squalid hut outside the town, 
 in the company of three men, partakers like himself, and 
 of the landlord of the place, one Ali. A little later, 
 though he had not moved, he was seated on a cloud which 
 floated high in the air, not far from three companions, 
 also sitting upon clouds, and shining gloriously. Their 
 conversation had acquired a heavenly brilliance. They 
 said the wisest, quaintest things, and laughed uproariously ; 
 now close to one another, now a good way off. Stories 
 were told of wonders each had seen and done, of men 
 changed into birds and beasts, of magic journeys through 
 the sky. 
 
 Then all at once a senseless earthly voice, proceeding 
 from the tavern-keeper, of whose presence Muhammad 
 had preserved a dim perception, intruded : — 
 
 " O my masters, all that happened long ago. Since 
 strangers came and built the iron road, all the devils have 
 fled to the Mountain. May our Lord have mercy on 
 them ! " 
 
 The hashshashin sat up, astounded. That voice was 
 as a bee that buzzed around their heavenly wits. It stung 
 at length, and then their wrath descended. With eyes 
 dilated, with appalling cries, they sprang towards the 
 hound who dared address them — a figure only half-dis- 
 cerned.
 
 HASHfSH 109 
 
 " The curse of God on the religion of the English ! 
 Defiled be he who built the iron road ! " 
 
 They rushed upon the tavern-keeper with intent to 
 kill ; but somehow ran right through him — there was 
 nothing there. They stood and gaped a moment, puzzled, 
 till one cried : — 
 
 " Run ! May Allah help us ! Run, for life ! " Then 
 they sped between the palm-trunks, with a sob and 
 chuckle, skimming the ground like swallows in low flight. 
 Entering the town, they saw the traffic of the streets as 
 silly shadows, and pushed men aside. 
 
 "Oah! Oah! Curse thy father, son of a dog ! Thou 
 didst all but overturn his Excellency, the English in- 
 spector." 
 
 Muhammad was seized by a policeman with strong 
 hand, and the strokes of a cane resounded on his loose 
 black cloak. Escaping from that grasp he turned and 
 ran again with fears renewed. Alone, in a quiet spot, he 
 cast himself upon the ground, and wept and railed against 
 the evil influence which had somehow fought with and 
 destroyed unheard-of bliss. 
 
 " The English ! May the English perish utterly 1 
 The curse of God on the religion of the English," his lips 
 kept muttering without his will. As his normal wits re- 
 turned the utter cheerlessness of life appeared to him, and 
 he was seized with shudders. 
 
 Seeing he could take no food when he came home that 
 night, his mother and Mustafa supposed he had a touch of 
 fever, and wished him to remain indoors next day ; but, 
 after noon, he stole out unperceived, and bent his steps 
 towards the tavern of the hashshashin. 
 
 As he acquired the habit of the drug it ceased to
 
 110 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 treat him magically as at first ; but, in revenge, it never 
 quite released him. He became half-witted ; only, after 
 each fresh dose, his half-wit flashed with preternatural 
 brilliance. The reasoned likes and dislikes of his sane 
 existence were now confused with prejudices found in 
 dreams. Thus, the love he bore his brother Mustafa 
 became a frenzy equally with his aversion for the 
 English he had never seen. To mention the latter in 
 his presence was to call forth endless cursing and ex- 
 pectoration. 
 
 When he sat out in the doorway of a morning, people 
 passing on the Nile bank would throw questions to 
 him, taking omens for their business from his random 
 answers. At weddings and at circumcisions he was in 
 request for merry-making. He loved good cheer and 
 songs and girls and laughter. The giver of a feast 
 which he attended was a king, the guests all princes ; 
 as such he referred to them afterwards in the tavern of 
 the hashshashin. When his brother Mustafa espoused the 
 daughter of a rich fellah his joy was boundless ; he went 
 from house to house, sobbing for happiness, informing 
 all men that the bride was the pearl of her time, and 
 that his brother had paid a thousand pounds, red gold, 
 for her ; he danced and sang in person before the pro- 
 cession of the bridegroom to the bath, and at the feast 
 itself recited a species of epithalamium in which the 
 facetious, the poetical, and the obscene were blent so 
 deftly that all who heard it were delighted. 
 
 Mustafa, on his marriage, left the mud-built house 
 beside the Nile for a new building in the heart of the 
 town, where, as in Cairo, each floor held a separate 
 household. Muhammad saw this building as a palace.
 
 HASHtSH 111 
 
 Each day he went and sat upon its doorstep, hugging 
 himself as he remembered that his brother dwelt within. 
 He carried a provision of hashish about with him in 
 these days ; only repairing to the tavern for congenial 
 company, as an angel, weary of his work on earth, might 
 fly to Heaven. There his talk was all of the grand 
 marriage of the prince, his brother, of the charms of the 
 princess, the bride ; which latter he extolled so know- 
 ingly that the hashshashin sighed gustily as men 
 enamoured. 
 
 "Bid the emir, thy brother, have a care," one coun- 
 selled. " Many are sure to covet such a pearl ! " 
 
 This admonition, oft repeated, supported by a thou- 
 sand stories of the craft of women, put Muhammad 
 in a tremble for his brother's honour. He passed the 
 warning on to Mustafa, bidding him beware especi- 
 ally of the English as accomplished ravishers ; and his 
 brother, while he laughed about the English, felt 
 troubled, being but a homely man, with no pretensions 
 to good looks or bravery. 
 
 " Keep her close, I tell thee ! " hissed Muhammad, 
 " for the whole town is watchful of her lattice. They 
 name her in the markets. Men have sworn to reach 
 her." 
 
 His drugged brain having power to visualize its own 
 imaginings, he spoke as of the thing that he had seen 
 and heard. 
 
 " The guile of dervishes is great ; the guile of the devil 
 is greater ; but the guile of women equals both together ! " 
 was another of those earnest warnings, which gradually 
 terrified the bridegroom. 
 
 About this time it happened that Mustafa was obliged
 
 112 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 to go to Cairo for the day. This of itself was an alarm- 
 ing prospect, since he had been there only once before, 
 in boyhood ; it meant, moreover, leaving his young wife 
 alone for hours. Who was to protect her from the lust 
 of wicked suitors, as well as from the promptings of her 
 woman's nature? There was no one he could trust im- 
 plicitly except Muhammad. The hashshash, having no 
 business of his own, could keep a watch upon the door 
 till his return. 
 
 " Trust me ! " exclaimed Muhammad, when the task 
 was laid on him. " I swear by the Prophet (may God 
 bless and save him !) the dogs shall enter only over my 
 dead body. Our mother also must stay with her in the 
 house lest one of them should bring a ladder and invade 
 the window." 
 
 At earliest dawn upon the day in question Muhammad 
 took his station on the landing just outside his brother's 
 door, a pitcher of water and two slabs of bread upon the 
 floor beside him, a provision of hashish within the bosom 
 of his robe. 
 
 " Have no fear, my son ! She will be safe with me," 
 his mother told him, as she entered. " The girl is good 
 and docile. Thou canst go thy way." 
 
 Muhammad shook his head and chuckled knowingly, 
 the guile of old women being worse than that of young 
 ones to his certain knowledge. His mother also had the 
 woman's nature. A bribe from any suitor would secure 
 her favour. When Mustafa departed for the railway 
 station, Muhammad bade him have no fear, the house 
 was guarded. 
 
 Then he sat down again, and mused, and waited. 
 He thought what he would do when they began to come.
 
 HASHISH 113 
 
 By Allah ! he would grip their throats and strangle 
 them ; then fling the corpses down on to the floor below, 
 on to a certain flag which he could see illumined by a 
 ray of sunshine from the doorway. By Allah ! he would 
 take his pocket-knife and stab their eyes ! At the out- 
 set he felt strong enough to cope with thousands. But 
 as the day wore on his courage waned. He imagined 
 a man fully armed — a big, strong suitor — coming up 
 against him, and conceived grave doubts. 
 
 He had neither sword nor battleaxe : he was defence- 
 less : he could offer no resistance to men armed and 
 resolute. Realizing his own weakness, he began to cry. 
 These suitors were strong and powerful. They kicked 
 him aside. What could he do, save weep and wring his 
 hands? 
 
 Another dose of hashish, and he beheld them, all the 
 great ones of the city, the Mufti, all the ulema — fie ! fie ! 
 such holy ones— all the rich merchants, all the English 
 in the world. They had gone into his brother's rooms, 
 where, did he follow, they would mock him, perhaps 
 kill. He sobbed forth imprecations, as he sat and rocked 
 his woe. 
 
 Some one descending from the floor above stopped to 
 inquire the cause of his great grief. He imparted the 
 whole story, hiding nothing. They were all in there — 
 the great ones, the oppressors — in there, together with the 
 lovely bride. Mustafa — poor man ! — had gone a journey. 
 Alas ! the guile of women ! Woe the day ! 
 
 "Allah protect us!" gasped the listener, and fetched 
 the neighbours out to hear the marvel. 
 
 " Come, stop that noise ! Be silent ! Come inside ! " 
 Muhammad's mother looked out at the door and spoke 
 
 8
 
 114 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 severely. " There is no need to sit and weep out there. 
 She is thy brother's wife: thou art admissible." 
 
 " No, no ! By Allah, no ! I will not enter while 
 those men remain. Go back, O wicked, O abandoned 
 woman ! " 
 
 The bride herself came out with wish to soothe 
 him, but at his look retreated hastily and barred the 
 door. 
 
 He made so fearful and prolonged a din that the 
 neighbours in the end lost patience and ejected him. 
 
 Hurled forth into the road, thoughtful of nothing save 
 his brother's honour, he ran in the direction of the railway 
 station, shaking his fist back towards that house of sin. 
 It was the hour of sunset, and the train had just come in. 
 As Mustafa emerged from the gateway, Muhammad ran 
 and knelt to him and kissed his robe. 
 
 " Have mercy ! Oh, have mercy, O my brother ! 
 Allah witness, I was powerless to withstand them. What 
 was I, poor and unarmed, against those great ones ? No 
 sooner wast thou gone than they began to come — the 
 Cadi, all the English — the whole world ! They bribed 
 our mother, poor old woman, with red gold and jewels. 
 They kicked me aside, laughed at me, spat on me — all 
 the ulema — I do assure thee ! And when I cried aloud 
 for help they beat me grievously and flung me out upon 
 the road for dead." 
 
 The speaker's grief was unmistakably genuine. Mak- 
 ing allowance for his brother's known insanity, which 
 garbled everything, it still seemed clear to Mustafa that 
 more than one strange man had seen his wife that day. 
 The news confirmed his fears. He also wept. A group 
 of his acquaintance gathered round him.
 
 HASHISH 115 
 
 " Be witness, all of you ! " he cried aloud. " I divorce 
 Bedr-ez-zaman, the daughter of Hafiz. In the name of 
 Allah, and according to the Law, I divorce her, I divorce 
 her. Three times. Without recall. Amin. Now be 
 so good as to attend me to the scene of crime, that none 
 may say I had no ground for furious action." 
 
 They went, a goodly crowd, the hashshash with them. 
 When they came into the street where the house stood, 
 people lounging in their doorways inquired their business, 
 and, on being told of it, laughed loud. 
 
 ■ It is a lie, O Mustafa. By Allah ! nothing of the 
 sort has happened. It is all in the imagination of this 
 mad hashshash." 
 
 "A lie you say?" called out Muhammad wildly. 
 " Was not I cast out from this house and beaten by de- 
 filed adulterers? Be ashamed of such false testimony, 
 sons of shame ! " 
 
 " Come up with me and judge, all you, my witnesses ! " 
 cried Mustafa, who still attached some credit to the story. 
 " If strange men have been in the chamber we shall spy 
 some trace of them." 
 
 They all went up together, and soon heard the truth. 
 Mustafa's wife complained with anger of Muhammad's 
 conduct, declaring that she would return at once to her 
 own people rather than submit a second time to such 
 indignity. Mustafa's mother bore out her report. 
 
 As he ushered out his friends the master of the house 
 made moan : " O Lord, have pity on me ! See what I 
 have done in haste and blindness, on a false report ! I 
 have divorced my love three times, without recall. How 
 can I tell her that she is not now my wife ? O Lord, have 
 mercy ! "
 
 116 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 " Say nothing about it," counselled one old man. 
 " All we, thy witnesses, will keep the secret." 
 
 "But I divorced her before Allah. It is sacred law. 
 She is not, cannot be, my lawful wife." 
 
 " Go to the Cadi's court to-morrow early, with all 
 who can by any means confirm thy tale. His Honour 
 can annul thy words, since they were spoken on false 
 information. Else, as thou knowest, there is no return 
 save through her marriage and divorce by some one 
 else." 
 
 Muhammad was by this time in the tavern of the 
 hashshashin, where he told his story with such feeling to 
 those facile sympathizers that they wept with him, making 
 loud outcry as if thrones had fallen. 
 
 Next morning a crowd of more than two hundred wit- 
 nesses accompanied the luckless bridegroom to the Cadi's 
 court. Muhammad joined them, unobserved, in exulta- 
 tion. 
 
 " Now their guilt will be established — all those great 
 ones ! " thought he to himself, supposing that the witnesses 
 were on his side. 
 
 There was not room for all of them in court ; but 
 Muhammad fought his way as if men's lives depended 
 on it. Feeling a tickle in his head at the moment of 
 entrance, he removed his skull-cap for convenience of 
 scratching, and so appeared before the judge bareheaded. 
 
 "Cover thyself, this instant, O devoid of manners!" 
 cried an usher, enforcing obedience. 
 
 " State your cause, O people!" cried the judge ; and 
 Mustafa had begun to speak in humble tones, when 
 Muhammad interrupted, crying out in a frenzy : — 
 
 41 Hear, O monarch of the age ! I denounce the Mufti,
 
 HASHfSH 117 
 
 and the Cadi, the great notables, and the ulema,with all 
 the English — curse their religion ! — for misconduct with 
 the wife of this my brother. I was set to guard the 
 door, but they pushed by me. What could I do, alone 
 and unarmed as I was, excepting weep and cry to Allah 
 for redress." 
 
 There ensued great uproar. " Out of my sight, O 
 rogues ! " the judge screamed out. " May Allah destroy 
 your dwelling-place for this impertinence." 
 
 Mustafa and all his witnesses were driven forth with 
 beatings. Out in the street they swarmed like hornets 
 round the madman, striking him, tweaking his nose, his 
 chin, spitting between his eyes, and heaping curses on 
 his parentage. 
 
 " I am as vexed as you are ! " roared Muhammad. 
 " There is no justice since the English order everything. 
 Saw one ever such a mockery of trial ? His Honour did 
 not even stay to count the witnesses." 
 
 "Approach his Honour privately, O Mustafa," a friend 
 advised. " Whatever happens leave behind this mar- 
 plot." 
 
 The bridegroom, acting on this counsel, secretly ob- 
 tained the judgment he required before the evening. 
 His wife, however, was unpleasant with him, vowing to 
 sue for a divorce herself unless he sent away his hateful 
 brother. That, he explained to her, was hard to do, 
 since Muhammad had confided to him his whole fortune. 
 
 "Return to him his money, with the interest," the girl 
 insisted, " or I leave thee. To force me to consort with 
 him is gross ill-usage, and a crime in law." 
 
 Thus threatened, Mustafa at length consented. He 
 reckoned up his just debt to Muhammad, and managed
 
 118 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 to procure the sum in ready money. This he paid to 
 his brother in the presence of witnesses, on the under- 
 standing that Muhammad would depart to a far distant 
 village where they had relations. The hashshash wept 
 profusely, lamenting that his brother's love for him was 
 turned to sternness ; he swore, however, to obey his will 
 in all things. Mustafa embraced him tenderly, and all 
 seemed done. 
 
 But next morning when the elder brother set out for 
 his shop, there was Muhammad on the doorstep just as 
 usual. 
 
 "Thou are not gone then?" 
 
 "No, my mind is changed." 
 
 " Merciful Allah ! And the money ? " 
 
 "I threw that away." 
 
 In point of fact he had taken the money, seven hundred 
 pounds in gold — "red gold," as he expressed it gloat- 
 ingly — to the tavern of the hashshashin, where, in an 
 orgy such as poor men never knew, the visionaries had 
 thrown it in the air and stood and bathed in it as in a 
 fountain ; had paved the floor with it and danced exult- 
 ant ; had kissed and fondled it, and played sly games, 
 as with a bride. Two of them swallowed some of it. 
 Then, in the end, forgetting all about it, they had returned 
 each to his own dwelling. In the small hours of the 
 morning, Muhammad, suddenly remembering the heap 
 of gold, had sped back to the place, to find it empty. 
 The tavern-keeper had decamped with all the money. 
 Realizing this, he had returned quite simply to sit upon 
 his brother's doorstep as before. 
 
 "Allah's will! " he shrugged. 
 
 Mustafa also saw the hand of Allah in this strange
 
 HASHISH 111) 
 
 occurrence. Nothing thenceforth could persuade him to 
 discard Muhammad. His wife, enraged, returned to her 
 own people, and obtained divorce upon the ground of 
 his unreason in compelling her to bear the pranks of a 
 malignant madman. When, a year later, Muhammad 
 was sent to an asylum after an attempt to kill an English 
 tourist in the open street, it was too late for Mustafa to 
 regain his pearl of women. He wedded an inferior bride, 
 whom he chastised severely by way of satisfaction for his 
 ruined life.
 
 HIS HONOUR'S PLEASURE : A STUDY IN 
 PURE NERVES. 
 
 THE little daughter of the Sheykh Selim, who had run out 
 into the fields to guard the buffaloes, was brought home 
 in the evening lifeless, made unrecognizable, beaten ruth- 
 lessly to death with sticks as men destroy a noisome rep- 
 tile, and the house was filled with fearful lamentation. 
 The Sheykh Selim himself went mad with grief, tearing 
 his flesh with teeth and nails, grinding his face into the 
 dust, then springing up and rushing towards the door, 
 intending with his bare hands to assail the murderers. 
 A host of kindly neighbours, his adherents, wrestled with 
 him. In the end they dragged him violently from the 
 death-room, and bore him up on to the house-top ; where, 
 seated round him in a hedging circle as he howled and 
 bit the mud, they called on Allah to console him, and 
 waited the return of reason with sad eyes. 
 
 After an hour or two, the stricken man sat up, assuming 
 a more decent garb of grief. He cast away his cap and 
 turban, and threw dust upon his forehead, sobbing: "O 
 Allah, pity ! O kind Lord, avenge me ! " 
 
 His comforters gave praise to the Most High. 
 
 " Half of the village sorrows with thee," they assured 
 him soothingly ; " and the other half has equal cause for 
 grief, seeing that the first-born of the Sheykh Mahmtid 
 was slain this evening, and the grandson of his brother 
 received serious wounds." 
 
 (120)
 
 A STUDY IN PURE NERVES 121 
 
 "What is all that to me ? " the Sheykh replied. " My 
 dove, my pretty one is slain ! The fiends ! Our Lord 
 reward them ! " 
 
 He wept and gnashed his teeth, gazing blindly out 
 across the flat roofs interspersed with palm-trees, across 
 the veiled plain, to the range of desert hills whose 
 jagged outline was cut clear against the sky. The stars, 
 pulsating with their cold essential life, seemed conscious 
 of his woe and yet indifferent. 
 
 " Now Allah witness my decision ! " he exclaimed at 
 length. "Those children of Eblis have slain my brother 
 and my brother's son, the foster-father of my younger 
 wife and other relatives, not to speak of friends and ser- 
 vants. But now they have done worse — the work of 
 devils! I will make an end. If they have hired assas- 
 sins, so will I. I will send this minute for the mighty 
 Basim, acknowledged sheykh of all the murderers in 
 Egypt." 
 
 Upon that resolution, which was much applauded, he 
 went into the house to find a messenger. 
 
 In the dwelling of his enemy, the Sheykh Mahmud, 
 meanwhile, a scene precisely similar had been enacted. 
 The aged notable, distraught with grief and fear, likewise 
 resolved to have recourse to hired assassins. He sent a 
 runner to the town of Kafr Tin ah, to a rogue named 
 Casim, already bound by ties of service to his family. 
 
 The origin of this relentless feud was so obscure that 
 all involved ascribed it to the spite of devils. The village 
 had been peaceful till a month ago ; although the faction 
 of MahmOd had long been jealous of the Sheykh Selim, 
 who, owing to his natural talents and his readiness to 
 trust new-fangled institutions such as banks and companies,
 
 122 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 had risen till his grandeur rivalled theirs. Selim, on his 
 side, had endured a jaundiced life through envy and re- 
 sentment of their claimed supremacy. Each party, 
 crediting the other with the deadliest hate, had walked 
 in daily apprehension of some outrage ; but courtesy had 
 marked their intercourse until a certain day, when a 
 quarrel of two children in the fields, no rare occurrence, 
 was followed by four cruel and mysterious murders. 
 Since then there had been slaughter every evening, per- 
 formed so secretly and with such inhumanity that many 
 deemed it not the work of men. A scream, a shot, was 
 heard ; the watchmen ran in the direction of the sounds, 
 to find some fellow-creature — a woman or a child, it 
 might be — dead or dying, but not a vestige of the slayer 
 came to light. The inhabitants of Mit Surur were 
 nervous in the daytime, which was rendered sinister by 
 wailings and the chant of funerals ; but when night fell 
 their fears became a frenzy. Each clutched a weapon, 
 ready to shoot or strike at anything that moved, to beat 
 its life out savagely, and flee in terror. The leader of 
 the village watchmen, Kheyr-ud-din, was in despair, and 
 vowed with tears that these unheard-of crimes were due 
 to witchcraft. Everybody spoke of summoning the pre- 
 fect of police, but feared to do so, conscious of some 
 share of guilt. 
 
 All this and more was known to the redoubted Basim 
 from the conversation of his guide, by the time he 
 reached the village at the fourth hour after noon. The 
 hardly less redoubted Casim had arrived before him. 
 
 This prince of rascals was big-limbed and burly, of a 
 cheerful countenance. As he rode his donkey through 
 the narrow 1 ways of Mit Surur, clad in a cheap blue gown
 
 A STUDY IN 1M/RE NERVES 123 
 
 and a white skull-cap, nothing spoke of hurry or concern. 
 He rode into the courtyard of the Sheykh Selim, and 
 there, dismounting with all customary blessings, accepted 
 some refreshment, then talked business with his host. 
 The Sheykh poured out his grief, concluding : — 
 
 " Now thou knowest. Allah witness I have had 
 enough to bear. The whole of that accursed brood must 
 be exterminated. Deal with them as thou wilt, bring in 
 a hundred helpers. I will pay." 
 
 "Ah," nodded Basim with his pleasant smile, "there 
 be many who talk thus before the deed, yet when the 
 deed is done belittle it and grudge the price." 
 
 For answer his host rose and fetched a bag of money. 
 Basim weighed it in his hand, then loosed the neck and 
 peered in at the contents. 
 
 "Good!" he murmured. "With thy permission, I 
 will set to work at once." 
 
 " Thou hast the list of names I wrote for thee? " 
 
 " By Allah ! Have no fear ! Trust Basim ! " 
 
 After pausing in the yard to light a cigarette, the 
 murderer proceeded leisurely down paths so narrow that 
 he brushed a wall with either elbow, stepping over sleep- 
 ing dogs, winking at women who looked out from door- 
 ways, smiling always like a man at peace with all the 
 world, till he came before the gateway of the Sheykh 
 Mahmud. It chanced that Casim was emerging from it 
 at that moment. 
 
 " Is it thou, O son of virtue ? " Basim cried. " Welcome 
 and twice welcome ! Come and talk ! " 
 
 " Is it thou, O Basim ? Lucky day ! " the other 
 answered. "What brings thee here? Some good, in 
 sh'Allah."
 
 124 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 " Wallahi. I am the right hand of Selim. And thou ? " 
 
 " The right hand of Mahmud ! Then we are enemies ! 
 I will not have it so. I will retire." 
 
 "Do nothing, O beloved ! Come and talk ! " 
 
 Basim therewith took hold of Casim's hand and led 
 him to a pleasant spot outside the village, where a tall mi- 
 mosa hedge kept off the sun's rays. Here they sat down 
 and eyed each other lovingly. Both, being half-bred Sou- 
 danese, possessed the negro's grin and flash of teeth. 
 
 " What thinkest thou of our affair? " asked Basim. 
 
 "Black as pitch," was the rejoinder. 
 
 "How many have been given thee to slaughter?" 
 
 "Twenty-five." 
 
 "And me, near forty. O Divine Protector! Am I 
 a pestilence to kill so many ? The deed were madness, 
 but the money is good money." 
 
 11 Wallahi ! But the deed is madness, as thou sayest 
 What is to be done? " 
 
 " Listen ! Instead of slaying half the world, we will 
 preserve them. Bring me hither the chief watchman." 
 
 "God forbid! He is a fool, a bribe-refuser. He 
 would sit upon a cactus hedge to please the Government." 
 
 " Bring him," said Basim in a certain tone, and Casim 
 
 ran. 
 
 After about five minutes he returned escorting a lean 
 athletic man of eager profile. The captain of the watch 
 was in his uniform, a brown robe and a high cylindrical 
 felt cap, alike in hue, a few shades lighter than his 
 anxious, hawk-like face. He carried in his hand a 
 quarter- staff. 
 
 Basim rose up and blessed his coming with choice 
 compliments, which Kheyr-ud-din returned with watch-
 
 A STUDY IN PURE NERVES »«5 
 
 ful glance on both the strangers, well known to him by 
 reputation as vile miscreants. 
 
 " A grievous trouble, this we hear of in your 
 village," began Basim amicably. " May Allah comfort 
 thee, for well I know how it must vex thy soul. My 
 surprise is great that any son of Adam should dare disturb 
 a village guarded by a man like thee." 
 
 At that the watchman's circumspection vanished ; he 
 cried out in anguish : — 
 
 "Allah witness! It is not by men the place is 
 troubled. None but devils — our Lord knows it — could 
 escape my vigilance. And the proof is that the cry 
 comes always in the dark when fiends have power, and 
 never in the blessed light of day." 
 
 " None the less," laughed Basim condescendingly, 
 "the criminals are sons of Adam, men thou knowest. 
 Bend down and listen. I will name them to thee." 
 
 Kheyr-ud-din inclined his ear. A minute later he 
 sprang back, incensed, protesting : — 
 
 "Cut thy life! What words are these? Those men 
 are high in honour. Come with me and repeat thy 
 charge before the omdeh ! " 
 
 " God forbid ! Thy omdeh is among the chief 
 offenders, being brother to Mahmud. Casim here is just 
 come from his presence with orders to exterminate the 
 faction of Selim. And I have orders from Selim to 
 massacre the whole house of the omdeh." 
 
 "O Salvation! O Protector! O kind Lord, have 
 mercy ! " 
 
 Kheyr-ud-din collapsed upon the ground, defiled his 
 face and wept aloud, a strange sight in that pleasant spot 
 at that sweet hour.
 
 126 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 "But we," concluded Basim, "have religious princi- 
 ples. We seek refuge in Allah from killing madmen. 
 We tell all to thee, entreating thee to go at once and 
 warn the prefect ! " 
 
 At that request, the watchman's first distrust returned 
 upon him. He sneered : " Extremely nice ! And while 
 I am away, you slay and ravish." 
 
 " Nay, we bear thee company." 
 
 " In that case, I must take two others with me." 
 
 " Take twenty, if it please thee ! " 
 
 "Good. I go." 
 
 The deputation came to Kafr Tinah at the sunset, 
 when clouds of dust went up from all the roads, enve- 
 loping the town and palm-trees in a golden haze. The 
 title of the Captain of the Watch, his great excitement 
 and the plea of urgent business, oft reiterated, procured 
 them audience of the prefect at his private residence — 
 a whitewashed house which gleamed in the blue twi- 
 light. The dignitary gnawed his thick moustache and 
 mopped his forehead, as he heard their story. 
 
 "This is a case for the English inspector," he declared 
 with awe. " O Abdul Halim ! " — he summoned a 
 young clerk — " at once dispatch this telegram to the 
 respected Mister." Beneath his breath he added : " God 
 forbid that I should put my own hand in a nest of 
 hornets ". 
 
 The deputation then returned to Mit Surur. A new 
 moon setting plunged the village lanes in double shadow. 
 They were standing in a group about to separate, when 
 some one, issuing from an alley which crossed theirs, 
 received the clamour of their voices suddenly, screamed, 
 fired a shot and ran. Kheyr-ud-din made a bound to
 
 A STUDY IN PURE NERVES 127 
 
 follow, but the hired assassins held him back, reminding 
 him : "We have resigned things to the Government ". 
 
 " The right is with you," the chief watchman shrugged 
 and sighed. "Well, I have learnt one curious fact from 
 this encounter ; which is, that it is the killer not the 
 killed who gives the death shriek." 
 
 " That is known," laughed Basim. ''May thy night 
 be happy ! " And he went his way, with many an un- 
 easy glance behind him. The hooting of an owl de- 
 prived him of existence for a moment as he set foot in 
 the courtyard of the Sheykh Selim. In the guest-room, 
 which was crowded, his employer hailed him with an 
 eager question : " Has the work begun ? " 
 
 " Trust Basim ! " was the answer. " But I have grave 
 news for thee. At sunset as I walked outside the village, 
 a fellow passing on the dyke cried out to me : ' A happy 
 night, O thou who wilt be hanged to-morrow ! ' I ran 
 and seized his throat and asked his meaning. He told 
 me that the English, hearing of the crimes at Mit Surur, 
 are coming to take vengeance on the criminals. Con- 
 sidering thy welfare, O my lord, I then made haste to 
 Kafr Tinah where I ascertained that the great Krumer 
 will arrive to-morrow with his executioners ! " 
 
 "Praise be to Allah, my two hands are clean. I will 
 place myself in his protection," said the Sheykh Selim. 
 
 "Pretty!" laughed Basim. "But the English area 
 curious race. If a son of the Arabs or a Turk were the 
 Inquisitor, he would search for men like me and see us 
 hanged. But with Krumer it is altogether different. 
 Show him a man like me, he cries in anger : ' This is but 
 the hand. Bring me the heart, the head, that I may 
 eat it ! * "
 
 128 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 " Merciful Allah ! " gasped the Sheykh Selim. " Then 
 I must hide." 
 
 " All fugitives are guilty in their sight. The adversary 
 will remain and they will hear him." 
 
 " O Protector ! " wailed the Sheykh, completely 
 terrorized. " Is there no help ? Are all roads closed 
 against me ? " 
 
 "Trust Basim!" said the murderer with kindly em- 
 phasis. " Basim knows all their ways even as he 
 knows his own old donkey's tricks, and can frustrate 
 them. A gift to Basim is not money wasted." 
 
 "Thou hast much already." 
 
 " More is needed. Is not the tremendous Krumer 
 more redoubtable than a host of wretched frightened 
 fellahin ? " 
 
 "The right is with him," cried all those who listened. 
 " Do all he asks of thee to save our lives." 
 
 Thus Basim gained another bag of gold, a little 
 lighter than the first, but still respectable. 
 
 Casim, meanwhile, had played the same tune on the 
 heart-strings of the Sheykh MahmQd and with the same 
 result. The plan had been devised by Basim on the 
 road from Kafr Tinah. Both sheykhs were scared out 
 of their wits, and terror spread like wildfire through the 
 village. A wholesome fear of men for their own skins 
 it broke the foul, inhuman spell which had bewitched the 
 place. Although it was dark night, the hour of dread, 
 men went from house to house as if by day, their panics 
 hushed like strife of sparrows where the falcon hovers, 
 made brethren by the awful whisper : "Krumer comes 1 " 
 Mahmudi and Selimi spoke together, and both sought 
 counsel of the hired assassins, as frightened children have
 
 A STUDY IN PURE NERVES 129 
 
 recourse to grown-up persons. Before day came again, 
 the Sheykh Selim and all his following were seated in 
 the guest-room of the Sheykh Mahmud debating how to 
 meet the common peril. 
 
 " But when he sees us friendly," moaned the Sheykh 
 Selim, " surely he will know they lied who told him there 
 was blood between us." 
 
 " Not so," said Basim, " for your crimes are known. 
 Are there not thirty murders, well authenticated, not to 
 speak of lesser woundings, rape and robbery ? " 
 
 "True! True! O Allah, pity!" wailed the audience. 
 
 "A gift of money, all contributing," suggested one. 
 
 " The English count that worse than murder ! " groaned 
 another. 
 
 " Perhaps His Majesty loves feasting," said Mahmud, 
 "or women. There are sweet girls in the village." 
 
 " Fear nothing ; only wait ! Trust Basim ! " grinned 
 the murderer, who in truth knew nothing of the English 
 or their habits, beyond what people said, that they were 
 easy to deceive and so made better masters than the Turks. 
 
 " By Allah, we must truly save our men or flee the 
 country," he remarked to Casim, when at length they left 
 the house. " It is important for me to see the Inquisitor 
 and fathom all his nature before these brainless ones flock 
 round and spoil the view." 
 
 Accordingly, he took the road betimes that morning. 
 It was certain that His Honour would arrive by train at 
 Kafr Tinah, there take a horse and escort from the station, 
 and ride out on the dyke to Mit Surur. Basim and 
 Casim strolled to an inviting group of trees, and there 
 sat down, observant of the morning stir upon the fertile 
 plain, the changing colour on the desert hills. Here 
 
 9
 
 130 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 they were joined by Kheyr-ud-din and fifteen watchmen, 
 come out to pay due honour to a great one of the Govern- 
 ment. 
 
 At length a troop of horsemen came in sight, preceded 
 by a single rider — the Inquisitor. At his approach the 
 waiting group sprang up. The watchmen ran before, 
 brandishing their staves and bellowing to clear a way 
 which none obstructed. Basim and Casim made profound 
 obeisance, and then presumed to walk beside His Honour, 
 who was riding slowly. The arbiter of life and death was 
 tall and stiff and had a reddish beard. He wore spectacles, 
 as they believed, on purpose to make his rigid face the 
 more inscrutable. 
 
 " Command me, O my lord ! " said Basim humbly. 
 " I am he who first gave warning of the evil doings. I 
 can tell thee." 
 
 " Await the time and place," replied the great one. 
 
 Basim smiled obedience. 
 
 " It is a nice place — Mit Surur," he hazarded. " All 
 good things abound there. A delicious feast will be pre- 
 pared for thee at noon." 
 
 The great one took no notice. He was not a glutton. 
 Basim tried once more : — 
 
 "And girls, efendim ! Ah, the girls are sugar. A 
 sight to make the heart ache and the mouth run water." 
 
 Again the Englishman was quite unmoved. Had he no 
 feeling ? 
 
 " Efendim," pursued Basim, " am I not thy servant ? 
 I will tell thee, what they need, these fellahin. They are 
 good, harmless people when oppressed, but in prosperity 
 grow jealous and cause fear in one another. Oppress, 
 them, O my lord, apparently "
 
 A STUDY IN PURE NERVES 131 
 
 His speech was interrupted by the one word, " Go," 
 pronounced emphatically. The rogues fell back in horror. 
 Basim sank down beside the way and tore his raiment. 
 
 " Now Allah teach me what to do," he moaned. " For 
 that he is in killing mood is very evident. When our 
 sheykhs are brought before him, he will string them up 
 like onions. Woe the day ! " 
 
 "Fly ! Let us fly at once," urged Casim warmly. 
 
 " An easy thing to say for one like thee, who has no 
 property. But I own house and land ; and the report 
 against me will fill all the country if my sheykh is 
 hanged. . . . Praise be to Allah I still see a way ! He 
 wishes our men dead, so they shall die. Up, run like 
 lightning to thy man and make him dead ! " 
 
 " Merciful Allah ! Must I kill him ? " spluttered Casim, 
 horrified. 
 
 " O ass, I said not ' Kill thy man ! ' Make him seem 
 dead ; and I will do the same with mine. The Inquisitor 
 seeks nothing but their death. Hearing that Allah has 
 forestalled his vengeance he will go away again, and ours 
 the glory. Run, make haste." 
 
 Casim required no further bidding, he outran his chief, 
 and rushed into his patron's house wild-eyed and breath- 
 less, with brows dripping sweat. His terrible appearance 
 winged his errand. The Sheykh Mahmud, who, being 
 deaf, had no conception of the matter, was flung down 
 on a bed, while one son rubbed his face with flour, 
 another stripped him, and the women brought out grave- 
 clothes and began to wail. Casim dashed out again, and 
 bent his steps towards the omdeh's house, approach to 
 which was choked by a great crowd through which he 
 fought his way. Declaring stoutly that he was a witness,
 
 132 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 he gained access to the presence. Basim arrived a minute 
 later, having done his business, in like manner, with the 
 Sheykh Selim. 
 
 They were only just in time, for hardly had they 
 mopped their brows and glanced around them ere the 
 Englishman commanded : — 
 
 « Call the Sheykh Selim." 
 
 " Efendim, he is dead. Our Lord have mercy on 
 him ! " said Basim in heart-broken tones, then wept aloud. 
 " Our Lord have mercy on him," gasped the whole as- 
 sembly. 
 
 "When did he die?" 
 
 "An hour — two hours ago. What do I know?" 
 sobbed Basim, mad with grief. 
 
 "Then call the Sheykh Mahmud." 
 
 At that word, Casim uttered shriek on shriek, as if 
 reminded of a grief which stung like bees. "Dead too! 
 All of them dead ! " he bellowed. " O despair ! O 
 Allah!" 
 
 "Mahmud — my brother — dead? It cannot be!" ex- 
 claimed the omdeh at the great man's side. 
 
 "Where is his corpse?" asked the Inspector dryly. 
 
 "Efendim, it is in his house prepared for burial." 
 
 " And the Sheykh Selim is dead too?" 
 
 " Very dead," sobbed Basim. 
 
 " I must see the bodies." 
 
 " Honour them ! " was cried on all hands. 
 
 The Inquisitor bestrode his horse once more ; the 
 watchmen ran before to clear the way. The great one 
 found two households mad with grief, and saw two stiff 
 recumbent forms attired in grave-clothes. He was 
 puzzled.
 
 A STUDY IN PURE NERVES 188 
 
 " Of what illness did they die?" he questioned Basim, 
 who held his stirrup in the courtyard of the second 
 house. 
 
 "Of plague, Efendim," said the rascal promptly. 
 
 The foreigner started and blanched visibly, but only 
 for a moment, then his face resumed its wonted cast of 
 incredulity. 
 
 "And the burial is when? " 
 
 "The third hour after noon." 
 
 " I shall be present." 
 
 As soon as he could slip away unnoticed, Basim sought 
 his colleague, burdened with this fresh anxiety. They 
 looked at one another, shrugged and sighed profoundly, 
 then set to work with all the fervour of inspired fanatics. 
 It was as much as they could do in the short time avail- 
 able to overcome the strong reluctance of the sheykhs 
 to being coffined. 
 
 " It is impossible ! " Selim kept groaning. 
 
 "Then come to life and let him hang thee," thundered 
 Basim in a rage. " Have I not told thee, the Inquisitor 
 attends the funeral ? He is sure to look into the coffins ; 
 and what will happen if he finds no corpses? — Have no 
 fear ! He will not wait to see you in the grave. When 
 he departs, you rise up, cleared of blame for ever." 
 
 At last persuasion triumphed, and the funerals set 
 forth. Loud chanting and the wail of women filled the 
 sunlight. The two trains met and moved united towards 
 the cemetery. At every turning Basim looked for the 
 Inquisitor, but descried no vestige of him till they reached 
 the place of graves — a brown patch rough with mounds 
 amid green fields. There the tyrant was discovered with 
 his escort, waiting in the shadow of a ruined dome, the
 
 134 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 shrine of some forgotten saint, which stood between the 
 graveyard and a field of maize. As the funerals 
 approached, the soldiers met them, speaking softly to 
 the bearers. The foremost mourners heard the words, 
 "By order of the Government," and passed them on. 
 The soldiers claimed the coffins and their occupants, be- 
 cause, they said, their lord the Mister had a shrewd 
 suspicion that the two recipients of Allah's mercy had 
 been poisoned. He therefore claimed the bodies for 
 examination, as was right, that wickedness might not 
 be hid nor crime unpunished. They would rest beneath 
 the old saint's dome until the morning, when a doctor 
 from the city, a good Muslim, would pronounce upon 
 them. 
 
 Basim, beside himself with apprehension, approached 
 each coffin secretly, and whispered : " Hush ! They put 
 you in the cubbah. It is open. You walk out." 
 
 Having seen the coffins carried to the ruined shrine, 
 the crowd returned towards the village with much ex- 
 clamation, regarding Krumer as the cleverest of clever 
 devils, who had trapped the two sheykhs nicely, to tor- 
 ment them at his leisure. 
 
 Basim and Casim waited afar off, meaning to release 
 their clients when the coast was clear. But, walking 
 round the ruined shrine a half-hour later, with that end 
 in view, they found to their dismay a solid door new 
 fitted ; which door was locked, and sentries placed to 
 guard it. 
 
 " I seek refuge ! " grunted Basim. " He has won. 
 He buries them alive — a fearful death ! It is time for 
 me to travel. I bequeath my donkey to the village." 
 
 "And I my mule!" said Casim. "Yallah! Let us
 
 A STUDY IN PURE NERVES 185 
 
 walk, and quickly." And they set out for the open 
 country with great strides. 
 
 The two sheykhs, thus imprisoned, lay quite still till 
 after dark. They feared to move so long as they heard 
 voices, and the sentries talked till late. When all was 
 still, the Sheykh Selim sat up and shouted to theSheykh 
 Mahmud, who sat up likewise. Both wished to stretch 
 their limbs. 
 
 " Wallahi, I am very hungry," sighed Mahmud. 
 
 "And I would give a guinea for a drink of water," 
 groaned Selim. 
 
 " Where is Casim ? " 
 
 "Where is Basim ? " 
 
 " Patience, doubtless they will come when all is safe." 
 
 Through a rift in the dome they could behold great 
 peaceful stars, a strip of jewelled blue let into darkness. 
 They held each other's hand and wept a little in pure 
 wretchedness. Then Selim heard the grumble of a sentry 
 turning over in his sleep, and told Mahmud, who was a deaf 
 old creature, " I hear some one. Doubtless it is Basim 
 come to let us out." 
 
 " Praise to Allah J It is Casim, a good faithful lad." 
 
 11 Ya Basim 1 Ya Basim ! " howled Selim with all his 
 might. 
 
 11 Ya Casim ! Ya Casim ! " piped Mahmud, whose voice 
 was weaker. 
 
 And when their cries brought no release, they yelled 
 the louder, weeping, driven mad with fear. But there was 
 no longer anyone at hand to hear them, for the guards 
 had fled, believing that the heavenly examiners were at 
 their work on the deceased, whose awful howls denoted 
 sins past thinking.
 
 136 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 The captives wept and wailed through all the night, 
 pressing one another's hand, made one by misery. When 
 the eye of day looked down upon them, they were quite 
 worn out, and slept a little in their own despite. Selim 
 was awakened by a noise of some one fumbling with the 
 door. He roused his comrade. Expecting the deliverers, 
 they both sat up, but at a foreign voice of stern command, 
 fell back again as stiff as corpses, sure of death by torture. 
 Selim was conscious of some son of Adam bending over 
 him, then of a startled cry : " This person lives ! " and of 
 the sound of many feet retiring hurriedly. Conceiving 
 all hope lost, he sat up slowly and began to say upon him- 
 self the prayers of death. 
 
 "And is the other man alive? " asked the Inquisitor. 
 
 "Alive, Efendim," groaned the Sheykh Mahmud. 
 
 "What does this mean? " exclaimed the great one in 
 
 a voice of wonder. " I am weary of this village full of lies 
 
 and riddles. In the name of Allah for what reason did 
 
 you two feign death ? " 
 
 "They said it was your Honour's pleasure," whined 
 Selim. 
 
 " Merciful Allah ! What is this I hear ? I come here 
 with no other purpose than to see you reconciled." 
 
 " The praise to Allah ! Then they lied to us. The 
 Sheykh Mahmud is dearer to me than my eyes ! " cried 
 Selim wildly. 
 
 " I swear by Allah and His Apostle (May God bless 
 and save him !) that the Sheykh Selim here present is my 
 soul and liver 1 " shrieked Mahmud. 
 
 The pair would have embraced each other had their 
 shrouds permitted. The transports of their love found 
 vent in tears.
 
 A STUDY IN PURE NERVES 137 
 
 The Englishman, with shoulders shaking, gave com- 
 mand : — 
 
 " Release them ! The feast of reconciliation will take 
 place at noon." 
 
 By that time Basim and Casim were quite forty miles 
 from Mit Surur ; and still they fled.
 
 THE STORY OF HAFIZ. 
 
 This tale is of a man devout and upright, who, believing 
 in his neighbours, kept no watch upon himself, any more 
 than one looks to the charging of his pistol in a friend's 
 house ; and so, when disillusion came at last, it snatched 
 away his reason, delivering him over to the fiend which 
 lurks in every man beneath a scorching sun like that of 
 Egypt. 
 
 The iron road, which runs so close to El Fakharah 
 that the smoke from passing trains blows in at doorways 
 of the village and defiles its palm-trees, brought one 
 advantage unsuspected of its founders. It banished the 
 whole swarm of jinn, ghilan and afarit, with which the 
 place had been infested from of old. Such creatures 
 shrink from the approach of iron, as savage beasts dread 
 fire. At the clank of the first rails they left the village 
 and lurked in the adjacent palm-grove, watching anxi- 
 ously ; at sight and noise of the first locomotive — tons of 
 iron — they fled with wailings to the desert hills. 
 
 But there is another kind of fear which walks in dark- 
 ness, and this the presence of the iron road did not dispel. 
 Bad men have more temerity than devils ; as was proved 
 one sultry night when shots rang out, and all the in- 
 habitants of El Fakharah sprang awake immediately, 
 though the thunder of the night express had failed to 
 rouse them. The women screamed ; the dogs were bark- 
 
 (138)
 
 THE STORY OF HAFIZ 139 
 
 ing furiously. Every one ran out, snatching up things of 
 value, and fled in the direction opposite to that from 
 which the fear proceeded. 
 
 The brigands fired a second volley, then a third, and 
 then sat down and waited, listening ; until they judged 
 the village empty of inhabitants, when they advanced 
 to pillage at their leisure, never troubling to reload. But 
 they had not reckoned with the valour of the village 
 watchmen, who, encouraged by their leader Hafiz, a 
 brave man, waylaid the rascals in a dark and narrow 
 place, and brought their staves down hard. The watch- 
 men being ten in number, while the robbers were but five, 
 with guns unloaded, as already stated, the latter were 
 compelled to take to flight. They had left donkeys 
 tethered in the palm-grove. Three reached the place 
 and, mounting, rode away, belabouring their little steeds 
 with fury. The donkeys broke into a plunging gallop. 
 One fell and threw its rider, who was taken prisoner. 
 
 Clear of the palm-trees on a bank above the open 
 plain, the two survivors slackened speed and rendered 
 thanks to Allah, deeming themselves safe ; till, glancing 
 back, they saw men running steadily with loins girt up, 
 prepared for a long chase. 
 
 " Separate ! Let us separate at the first chance," 
 panted the robber chief to his companion, as the pair 
 resumed their panic flight. Accordingly, at the first 
 branching of the dyke they parted company, the chief 
 rogue choosing for himself the shortest cut to safety, an 
 embanked path running straight up to the desert hills. 
 Not until he reached the beach of sand at the foot of 
 those hills did he pause to look behind him once again. 
 Then, at the sight of only one man following, he
 
 140 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 chuckled to himself and chose his ground. He urged 
 his donkey up a little gully, not more than twelve feet 
 deep, but strewn with boulders, affording plenty of 
 cover from which to take cool aim at the pursuit. 
 
 By then the dawn was breaking. The desert range, 
 upstanding, caught mysterious light. Hafiz, the watch- 
 man, shuddered as he reached the sand, for it was to 
 this wilderness that all the devils of the plain had fled for 
 refuge at the coming of the iron road. But his heart 
 was set upon the capture of the brigand chief, so, com- 
 mending his cause to Allah, he strode on, undaunted. 
 Though densely stupid in the market or the guest-room, 
 as is the way of men endowed with bravery above the 
 common, in his own business he was not devoid of guile. 
 On entering the small ravine he used precaution, having 
 nothing but his quarter-staff for attack, whereas his 
 enemy possessed a gun and pistols, and moreover oc- 
 cupied a strong position. He ran, exposing his whole 
 form with seeming recklessness, then ducked behind a 
 rock, then ran again obliquely to his former course. In 
 this way he had gained the shelter of a little cave with- 
 out eliciting the shot he needed to locate his adversary, 
 when a movement of the donkey caught his ears. 
 
 It sounded close at hand. With a shout he sprang 
 out and exposed his body for two seconds, flung up his 
 hands and fell. The shot rang out, arousing awful 
 echoes in that lonely place. Hafiz the watchman lay 
 quite still upon his face, with arms drawn in as if to 
 ward a blow. He heard his foe give fervent praise to 
 Allah, and knew that he was coming forward to inspect 
 his work. 
 
 The rogue drew near and gloated on his fallen foe.
 
 THE STORY OF HAFIZ 141 
 
 He kicked the corpse and was addressing it facetiously, 
 when both his feet were plucked from underneath him. 
 
 Then Hafiz rose and chuckled in his turn, for the 
 robber chief lay senseless. His head in falling had 
 come down upon a rock, a stunning blow. The watch- 
 man tore off strips from his brown robe and bound the 
 wretch ; then, bringing up the donkey, lifted his captive, 
 still insensible, upon its back ; picked up his staff and 
 made the ass move forward, himself supporting its limp 
 burden tenderly. In truth this captive was as dear as 
 life to Hafiz, being his claim to honour in the eyes of all 
 mankind, a heritage of glory for the son on whom he 
 doted, and for his children's children to the end of time. 
 As he issued with the donkey and its burden from the 
 shadow of the little gorge, the sun appeared and laughed 
 into his face, strewing the sand with rose-leaves for his 
 triumph. 
 
 When he reached the village at the third hour of the 
 day, the women raised their joy-cries and the men cried 
 blessings on him, pressing forward to spit upon and 
 smite the helpless robber ; and an enraptured crowd be- 
 set his progress to the omdeh's house, where fresh 
 honour was in store for Hafiz, for the omdeh, the official 
 headman of the village, fell straight upon his neck and 
 kissed him tenderly. The prisoner was at once dis- 
 patched with a strong escort to the chief town of the 
 district ; and, that done, the headman offered food and 
 drink to Hafiz with his own hands. Nor was that all. 
 When he had heard the watchman's story, he caused it 
 to be written down and forwarded, along with the official 
 report of the incident, to the local governor. Thus 
 Hafiz reached the pinnacle of glory.
 
 142 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 He remained a simple soul, devout and docile. The 
 blast of popularity but fanned his zeal to fresh exertions. 
 He and his men became fanatical about their work. 
 They never strolled or walked ; they ran like madmen. 
 But, when off duty, Hafiz was the same as ever, afraid 
 of his old mother's scolding tongue, a slave to every 
 caprice of his little son. His wife had died a year be- 
 fore, but he had not yet manifested any longing to 
 replace her, absorbed in his devotion to his boy, con- 
 tented with his mother's way of housekeeping. 
 
 If he ever showed a sinful pleasure in his fame, it was 
 upon his child's account, who would inherit honour. 
 They say in El Fakharah he assured the child that 
 he need never feel ashamed to name his father, without 
 the " In sh'Allah ! " prescribed for boastful phrases. For 
 this, some folks maintain, misfortune fell on him. How- 
 ever that may be, misfortune came; nay, even in the 
 heyday of his reputation, it was gathering. 
 
 The omdeh had made mention of his servant's prowess 
 to the local governor, thinking only to gain credit for 
 himself thereby ; and the local governor, in reporting the 
 brave exploit to an English inspector who watched three 
 provinces with a paternal eye, had no other object than 
 his own aggrandizement. What happened was as un- 
 expected as it was disgusting to these functionaries. 
 Hafiz himself was summoned to the capital and there, 
 in presence of a group of foreigners, received a silver 
 medal for his daring. From that day forth the omdeh 
 hated Hafiz, now a personage, though he judged it 
 wisdom to caress him while his vogue endured ; and the 
 local governor was much put out over the incident. Were 
 not the village headmen and provincial governors held
 
 THE STORY OF HAFIZ 143 
 
 responsible for all the evil-doing in their districts ; ought 
 they not therefore to obtain the praise accruing from any 
 good which might be done by anyone from time to 
 time? How was discipline to be preserved in Egypt, if 
 the English rulers slighted chiefs and honoured menials? 
 Thus they reasoned, grumbling. But the omdeh, 
 accustomed as he was to cringe to every caprice of 
 authority, accepted the position for the nonce ; fearing 
 that, if he acted as his feelings prompted, Hafiz would 
 run whining to the English, and procure his downfall. 
 
 The watchman wore his medal proudly on the bosom 
 of his long brown robe. The omdeh could not bear the 
 sight of it. The watchman's fervour of devotion to the 
 Government was wearisome, and tacitly reproached the 
 omdeh's sloth. From the speech which had been made 
 to him when he received his medal, Hafiz had gathered 
 something of the wishes of the English with regard to 
 village government, along with an unbounded admiration 
 for their wisdom and their generosity. In his eagerness 
 to further their desires, he sometimes gave advice un- 
 asked, forgot his station ; for he credited all servants of 
 the Government, however lofty, with a devotion equal 
 to his own. His mistakes and the exasperation of the 
 headman were observed by many in the course of time ; 
 but no one cared to warn him ; it was no one's business, 
 and to interfere between such potentates seemed ticklish 
 work. At length, a girl, the village beauty, one Selimah, 
 took him to task one evening as he sprawled upon the 
 dustheaps in a leisure moment, playing with his little son. 
 
 This maiden, by her coquetry and her good looks, 
 joined to great physical strength and utter fearlessness, 
 had risen to a kind of sovereignty occasionally reached
 
 144 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 by women in Egyptian villages. The men deferred to 
 her in their disputes ; the women recognized her as their 
 champion ; and her voice was heeded in all village coun- 
 cils. Betrothed in early childhood to a neighbour's 
 son who grew up imbecile, she pleaded her betrothal 
 jokingly with other suitors, and thus had reached her 
 eighteenth year unmarried, with all the men of El 
 Fakharah at her heels. Nor were the women jealous, 
 for she kept no secrets from them ; if she had to box the 
 omdeh's ears, she told his wives ; and it was known that 
 her desires were fixed on Hafiz, who was no one's 
 property. For men in general — those who thought 
 themselves intelligent — she cherished a robust contempt ; 
 for him, the upright fool, she felt both kindness and re- 
 spect. As she stood upon the dustheaps, looking down 
 on him, her headveil loose, a pitcher on her head, her 
 form transfigured in the evening light, Hafiz, who was 
 lying on his back, the child bestriding him, could only 
 gasp in admiration : — 
 
 "O delight!" 
 
 " Am I so dear to thee ? Then heed my words ! " 
 she answered, smiling. " Thou art become a busybody 
 and a nuisance. The omdeh is offended with thee, all 
 men see it. He only waits an opportunity to work thy 
 ruin. Mend thy ways, I pray thee ; fall behind him ; 
 go his pace ! Thy restless fervour is a plague that turns 
 him yellow." 
 
 " What words are these, O sweet one ? " Hafiz laughed, 
 incredulous " They have deceived thee, for the omdeh 
 is my loving patron. This very day he praised my zeal 
 and energy. Say now, who told thee ! Let me know 
 the liar ! "
 
 THE STORY OF HAFIZ 145 
 
 "I know; that is enough. Accept the warning," 
 Selimah whispered, seeing people coming. She did not 
 care to tell him that the omdeh himself had told her 
 of his aim to ruin the chief watchman, swearing to 
 renounce that purpose only in return for favours she 
 would not accord him. 
 
 Hafiz thought her fears preposterous, but it fretted 
 him to think that anybody could conceive his services 
 to be unwelcome. He kissed the omdeh's hand upon 
 the first occasion, and asked point-blank if his kind lord 
 had aught against him. The headman, in alarm at this 
 home-thrust from one whom he believed to have the 
 English up his sleeve, declared by Allah and the Prophet 
 it was not so, that he loved this best of watchmen as the 
 apple of his eye, and prized his service above earthly joy. 
 
 " I knew they lied ! " quoth Hafiz in exultant tones. 
 "It is done from guile, my lord, for thou and I together, 
 head and hand, are much too strong for evil-doers in the 
 place. They think, if they could sever me, the hand, 
 from thee, the head, authority would die in El Fakharah 
 and they could work their will, the malefactors ! " Hav- 
 ing thus said and made obeisance, he went his way, 
 light-hearted as of yore. 
 
 " O fool ! " Selimah murmured, when they met again. 
 " To go and ask the fox himself : ' Art thou a rogue?' and 
 to believe his answer 1 " She spoke without contempt, in 
 utter sadness. 
 
 "How knowest thou of that?" said Hafiz warmly. 
 "Did he tell thee?" 
 
 "No matter how I know 1 Thou art a fool in this 
 world, though altogether worthy of the other." 
 
 The watchman, scornful, bade her have no fear on 
 
 IO
 
 146 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 his account. But the strangeness of her manner had 
 impressed him ; he became uneasy, doubtful of the 
 headman's favour, very eager to secure it by correct 
 attendance, by a brisk obsequiousness which, in the state 
 of feeling of his chief, was wood to fire. 
 
 At last one day, when irritated beyond bearing, the 
 Sheykh cried : — 
 
 " I ask pardon of Allah ! Who am I to be thus 
 honoured by thy countenance, and conversation ? For the 
 love of Allah, do what pleases thee ! Leave me in peace ! " 
 
 At this rebuke the watchman louted and withdrew, 
 his face distorted, the blood in all his body turned to 
 poison by that smart rebuke. It made the medal on 
 his breast a mockery. Arrived in his own house he tore 
 it off and sat down in the darkest corner by the wall, 
 pushing his little child away with fury, repelling his old 
 mother's consolations ; gnashing his teeth and moaning, 
 till the evening, when, his grief abating, he went out to 
 join his men, and set the watch as usual. 
 
 "What did I tell thee?" called Selimah from her 
 father's doorway. "And if thou art so downcast at the 
 first rebuke, what will thy plight be in the face of cruel 
 wrong ? I know thee. Thou canst think no evil. When 
 evil thrusts itself upon thy notice, it will drive thee mad. 
 Thou wilt slay thyself and all those dear to thee for 
 grief that such things can be done in God's creation. 
 Take my advice, sell all thou hast, and go ! " 
 
 " No, that I will not ! " answered Hafiz proudly. " I 
 have done no wrong ! " 
 
 "Our Lord protect thee, then! At least perform thy 
 duties quietly in future, and avoid his presence. In 
 time he may, perhaps, forget his enmity."
 
 THE STORY OF HAFIZ H7 
 
 " Allah reward thee ! " murmured Hafiz. " I had 
 thought of that. Henceforth he has no cause to blame 
 my forwardness." 
 
 But if from that day onward Hafiz shunned the 
 omdeh's sight, he did so in a manner which proclaimed 
 his sense of wrong. He could not bear to look upon 
 a fellow-creature who disliked him. This sullenness in- 
 creased the omdeh's loathing which was kept concealed 
 through terror of the English, till a certain day, when, 
 visiting the chief town of the district, he waited humbly 
 on the local governor. In the course of conversation, 
 the visitor from El Fakharah chanced to mention Hafiz 
 delicately, as a personage enjoying high protection. 
 
 "What!" exclaimed the great one. "That base 
 watchman ? And the English ? Pshaw ! Having given 
 him that medal, to affront me, they have forgotten his 
 existence as completely as the sea forgets the ship when 
 it is past." 
 
 The omdeh, once assured that this was so, laughed 
 soft and long and rubbed his hands together. He was 
 now free to show his feelings towards the watchman, 
 while waiting opportunity to wreak full vengeance. A 
 good excuse was needed lest Hafiz should set up an 
 outcry which might reach the English and arouse their 
 memory. In the meanwhile it was in his power each day 
 to make the watchman's life unpleasant in small ways. 
 
 Hafiz, grown used to slights, no longer raged ; but 
 went about his work with patience, saying, whenever 
 any friend condoled with him : " I am a Muslim, and 
 resign my cause to God ". 
 
 When his mother shrieked her indignation at his evil 
 treatment, he rebuked her sadly, and he sometimes wept
 
 148 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 when gazing on his little son. Selimah often urged him 
 to forsake the village, but he would not hear of such a 
 course, repeating: "I am a Muslim, and the fault is his. 
 What have I done?" 
 
 The omdeh had professed his readiness to spare the 
 watchman if Selimah would but gratify his passion. He 
 thought to catch her through her love for Hafiz. She 
 refused with scorn. She was herself, and Hafiz was 
 another. God has said : " The fate of every man is bound 
 about his neck, nor shall any laden bear another's burden ". 
 Moreover, there was no concern of love between them, 
 the watchman being by this time too profoundly occu- 
 pied with his misfortunes to be other than an object of 
 commiseration. She tried to make him see his danger; 
 tried to rouse the indignation of the village, but in vain. 
 The people, sympathizing with him, grumbled, but they 
 feared to brave the omdeh. Having done her best to 
 put a stop to it, she watched his persecution with the 
 thrill of interest one has in listening to a tragic story ; 
 sure that in the end — the next world — all would be repaid. 
 
 The dignity inherent in all innocence kept Hafiz from 
 succumbing to a host of petty tyrannies, designed to 
 rouse him to commit some breach of discipline. He 
 wore his medal proudly, as a protest, a reminder to 
 beholders of his service in the past. He could now do 
 nothing right, to that he grew resigned ; but when the 
 tyrant passed from simple fault-finding to lying statements, 
 sneers and gross abuse, his brain throbbed painfully and 
 he had much ado to keep his fingers from the old man's 
 throat. Still he endured it, crying, "Lord, how long?" 
 and praying that the trial next to come might not break 
 through his strength of self-control. This posture of
 
 THE STORY OF HAFIZ Hi) 
 
 long-suffering still more incensed the omdeh, who took 
 counsel with his sons how to destroy the hated creature 
 in some manner gratifying to the English, whom alone 
 he feared. 
 
 It was then that he bethought him of the iron road, 
 running so close to the village, that the watchman 
 might be blamed if aught went wrong with it ; beloved of 
 the English, who made laws for its protection such as 
 guard the state of kings. 
 
 One night, two hours before the great express was 
 wont to pass, a goods train came up slowly, whistling as 
 the driver's compliment to El Fakharah. All at once 
 the noise ceased with a bumping sound, and the whistle 
 sounded of alarm. Hafiz and his men, seated not far off 
 among the dustheaps, sprang up and hurried to the spot. 
 The engine had gone off the line. The lanterns showed 
 large bits of wood upon the metals and bundles of thick 
 dhurra stalks — a barricade. Hafiz despatched a runner 
 to the nearest signal-box, himself with the remaining 
 watchmen offering to lift the engine bodily upon the rails. 
 They were trying to persuade the driver that this plan 
 was feasible, when the omdeh came upon the scene with 
 his two sons. 
 
 "What is this, O Hafiz?" he cried out in anger. 
 " Curse thy religion ! Is not this thy doing? Whoever 
 laid all this upon the road must have been seen by thee. 
 The deed has not been done an hour, and thou wast near. 
 Thou hast dishonoured the whole village, thou hast 
 brought my house to shame. The curse of God upon 
 thee, O thou hog ! " 
 
 The omdeh' s fury was unfeigned ; he was beside him- 
 self. As he uttered the last words he rushed on Hafiz.
 
 150 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 seized him by both ears and spat in his face deliberately ; 
 then flung him off. The watchman reeled and staggered 
 like a drunken man. Recovering his strength, he gave 
 one gasping cry and ran off sobbing towards his house, a 
 madman. 
 
 At the door, his little son, who had been wakeful, met 
 him with a shout of joy. It seemed the worst of insults 
 to his frenzied mind. He seized the child and dashed his 
 brains out on the doorpost, then rushed indoors, and 
 sank down, making hideous moan. At that time he felt 
 no compunction for his awful deed. His thought was: 
 " Now the omdeh will be sorry ". 
 
 His aged mother, witness of the crime, ran out, as mad 
 as Hafiz, and aroused the neighbours. A minute, and 
 the little room was full of mourners, who prayed for Hafiz 
 ceaselessly throughout the night ; while wailing women 
 took the body of the child into another house and laid it 
 out for burial. 
 
 As Selimah glided towards the fields betimes next 
 morning, a tray of basketwork upon her head, she met 
 the omdeh. Accompanied by two policemen from the 
 mudiriyeh, he was strolling towards the house of Hafiz 
 with complacent looks. 
 
 " My dear, may Allah comfort thee ! " he cried to her. 
 "A sad calamity! I share thy grief. Did I not always 
 tell thee that the man was bad? O rashness to put 
 things upon the iron road ! O wickedness to try to 
 wreck the honoured train ! " With head held loftily and 
 curling lip, she dropped one scathing glance on him from 
 out the corner of her eyes as she swept by. " And now 
 he has defiled the village by a crime unheard of," was 
 called after her. " Our worthy lords, the English, will
 
 THE STORY OF HAFIZ 151 
 
 be horrified. Thy poor lover will be hanged ; our Lord 
 have mercy on him ! Even now we go to take him to 
 the prison." 
 
 Selimah stood stock-still a moment ere she turned upon 
 him. 
 
 " Hanged ! Who says it? Art thou mad, O thing of 
 dung, O stinking atheist ? The blood is in his house, 
 the sorrow his. No one save Allah has the right to 
 judge him." 
 
 " It is the law. His crime is known. He will be 
 hanged. The English will not suffer such a wretch to 
 live." 
 
 Selimah flung away her tray and ran about the 
 village, screaming " Ya Muslimin ! " with all her 
 might. 
 
 At that religious cry the houses poured forth their 
 inhabitants. The omdeh, leaving the policemen to fulfil 
 their task, fled back to his own house ; but he was over- 
 taken. A furious mob of men and women, even children, 
 shouted death to him. Of a man respected and much 
 feared, whose oppressions had been watched till now in 
 frightened silence, the proof of irreligion made a dog, a 
 noisome reptile. His cap and turban were plucked off 
 and trodden under foot ; men beat him solemnly with 
 sticks, while women scratched his face and spat upon 
 him ; he was thrown down upon his back and kicked and 
 trampled. He called for help upon the village watchmen, 
 his own servants; but, as true believers, they declined to 
 interfere. They did not beat him, but they smiled on 
 those who did. In the end, when he was senseless and 
 his death seemed sure, the crowd desisted and with smiles 
 dispersed. His wives and children took his battered body
 
 152 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 to the house and there revived it. That night he fled 
 with all his house from El Fakharah. 
 
 In the meantime Hafiz had been led away unnoticed ; 
 his old mother following him with tears to the gate of 
 the prison, whence two days later he was carried to the 
 public madhouse.
 
 VIRGIN AND MARTYR. 
 
 McLean, the junior surgeon, had gone up on to the roof 
 of the Mission hospital that evening in search of a breath 
 of air perchance untainted by the Eastern city's ancient 
 filth. He had settled himself in a deck-chair and put his 
 feet up on the parapet when he was annoyed by the ap- 
 pearance of Cotaxy, his loquacious chief. 
 
 There was a good deal of the Levantine about Cotaxy 
 which made McLean, who was quite British, inwardly 
 pity and deride the man. It showed in his lank black 
 hair, his too expressive eyes, his flashing smile, his unction 
 in religious talk ; still more offensively, to one who prized 
 reserve above all virtues, in a facile tendency to fall in love 
 and then discourse of his sensations. In the two years 
 of McLean's acquaintance with him he had been engaged 
 three times to different nurses in the hospital, without the 
 slightest diminution of his sanctimony. But for Cotaxy's 
 faculty for diagnosis and sleight of hand — it was no less 
 — in operation, McLean would altogether have abhorred 
 him. As it was, he wished he could be kept in an asylum 
 whenever he was not required professionally. 
 
 " Dear man, I've come up here to tell you something," 
 murmured Cotaxy as he now approached. McLean had 
 heard that tone from him before. 
 
 " Quite the worst nurse I ever had to do with," was his 
 weary answer. 
 
 (153)
 
 154 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 " Now that's unfair, my friend," his chief remonstrated. 
 " She naturally feels a little strange out here at first." 
 
 McLean surveyed Cotaxy wonderingly out of the 
 corner of his eye. However much he himself had been 
 in love with a girl, he would still, he fancied, have had no 
 illusions about her merits as a nurse in hospital. Cotaxy, 
 though a genius, was a fool. 
 
 Cotaxy, soon emerging from the little cloud, suspired : 
 " I am so happy, my dear man ! I have won the heart 
 of the dearest, the most Christian of girls. She holds 
 the faith in its entirety just as we do. It makes me feel 
 so humble. I pray to be made worthy of so great a 
 blessing." 
 
 " Gammon ! " said McLean between his teeth. 
 
 " Really, old man ! One would suppose you had no 
 faith — no reverence ! " 
 
 " Excuse me ! I say ' Gammon,' meaning that you are 
 quite good enough for the young woman. She's a 
 healthy-looking girl, but nothing wonderful. At home I 
 should say she would have given the eyes out of her head 
 to catch a professional man." 
 
 " McLean, you are insufferable this evening ! If I 
 didn't know you by this time, I should be hurt. I shall 
 leave you to recover your good temper." 
 
 McLean was left to the enjoyment of his pipe. The 
 hive-like hum from the bazaars was soothing. All the 
 familiar nuisances to sight and smell were left below or 
 had become spectacular. He liked the place and the 
 work, and could have made himself quite happy there but 
 for Cotaxy. And even with that drawback things had 
 been going pretty comfortably lately, till this new girl
 
 VIRGIN AND MARTY B 155 
 
 came. McLean had disapproved of her at once because 
 he saw that her heart was not in nursing. Cotaxy too 
 would find her out in time, and slip away from her, no 
 doubt, as glibly, eke as piously, as he had done from 
 others ; but in the meantime McLean had to look for- 
 ward to weeks, perhaps months, of his infatuation. Nurse 
 Letty was the kind of person to presume on her engage- 
 ment to the chief ; and Cotaxy, while his madness lasted, 
 would be pretty certain to support her impudence by as- 
 cribing all complaints of her to prejudice. 
 
 Well, it was peace, which meant efficiency, at any 
 price. He must put his pride in his pocket and be civil 
 to the minx while dispensing with her services as far as 
 possible. 
 
 Going his rounds that night, he could not but observe 
 that the province of Nurse Letty was ill managed ; but 
 in pursuance of his resolution he said nothing to the girl 
 herself, but taking aside Nurse Ellen, asked her to go over 
 the newcomer's work. 
 
 " It's no use saying anything," he murmured in con- 
 clusion, with a shrug. " The Grand Signior has thrown 
 his handkerchief, and she can do no wrong." 
 
 " Oh, never mind ! " replied Nurse Ellen with a comical 
 grimace. " Although I must say she is rather silly. She 
 has got it into her head that we all hate her because we 
 have to speak sometimes about her being careless and un- 
 tidy." 
 
 " Well, give up bothering about her now, and just make 
 good deficiencies." 
 
 But Nurse Letty proved as touchy as she was incom- 
 petent. Finding herself put down to elementary tasks,
 
 156 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 she asked the reason, sulked and quarrelled with the matron, 
 and eventually complained to Cotaxy. When, in spite of 
 all her efforts, the indignity continued, she tried to have 
 things out with McLean in a regular scene. At a bedside, 
 he had asked her to fetch something for him when, quite 
 unexpectedly, she burst out sobbing. 
 
 " You only make me fetch and carry for you. You 
 never let me do anything interesting. You give me work 
 which ought to be done by natives. You hate me, all of 
 you — for nothing ! It's a shame ! " 
 
 " I asked you to fetch me some lint and while you are 
 complaining of my cruelty, some one else has brought 
 it," said the surgeon calmly, taking what he required from 
 the hand of Nurse Joan. 
 
 " Oh, how brutal you are! How you will misunder- 
 stand me ! You wouldn't speak to me like that if Mr. 
 Cotaxy were in the ward." 
 
 McLean considered it the safest course to hold his 
 tongue, the work in hand affording him a good excuse 
 for silence. There was humiliation enough in store for 
 the poor ill-balanced creature, he reflected, when Cotaxy 
 wearied of her simple charms and told her she was 
 quite unsuited for the Mission life, would pine in exile, 
 be made ill by hardships, and so on. He could not then 
 foresee the series of events which were to make of her 
 the one enduring passion of Cotaxy's life, although that 
 series of events was close at hand. 
 
 One morning, when McLean was busy in the 
 children's ward, his chief looked in on him and 
 said : " I want you, please, as soon as you can spare a 
 minute".
 
 VIRGIN AND MARTYR 157 
 
 McLean stayed but to give a few directions to Nurse 
 Miles. 
 
 " The most extraordinary case ! " exclaimed Cotaxy, 
 seizing his arm. " Virulent and no doubt contagious — 
 new to me ! An old negress — dragged herself in a quar- 
 ter of an hour ago. I've put Nurse Ellen in charge 
 with strong injunctions about disinfecting." 
 
 So saying, Cotaxy took a key from his coat-pocket and 
 unlocked the door of what was called "the private room" 
 from its being generally used for paying patients. The 
 fact that he had locked the door impressed McLean 
 more than his words had done. 
 
 I It's very rapid," said Nurse Ellen, as they entered. 
 McLean made close examination of the sufferer. 
 
 II It's plague," he muttered, looking very blank. 
 "Yes, but not the sort we know," replied Cotaxy. 
 
 "You see the symptoms. I can only add that the poor 
 old creature was alive enough to crawl in here and state 
 her needs intelligibly" — he looked at his watch — "well, 
 it can't be more than half an hour ago." 
 
 When it came to diagnosis, McLean revered Cotaxy 
 as a prophet. 
 
 "You might call in Peccoux," was his one sug- 
 gestion. 
 
 "Can you think of it? That debauched old man — a 
 drunkard and notorious unbeliever ! " 
 
 The man referred to was an old French doctor, of long 
 Oriental experience, who had adopted all the customs of 
 the country saving abstinence. 
 
 " I don't see what that has to do with it," said McLean. 
 " He's the only man within call ; and he's hand in glove
 
 158 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 with the Turkish authorities. He can help us enormously 
 if we have to fight an epidemic." 
 
 " Perhaps you're right. I'll send a note to him directly 
 by Selim. . . . The risk is in the nursing," said Cotaxy, 
 frowning. " Our Englishwomen are so valuable. I wish 
 that I could trust it to a native." 
 
 "For shame, Doctor!" cried Nurse Ellen, flushing 
 angrily. " We're here to save their lives, poor dears, not 
 they ours. They're so resigned, it makes the thought 
 more horrible. I'm not afraid, indeed ! It's what we're 
 here for." 
 
 "Well, remember all I told you about disinfecting." 
 
 Cotaxy locked the door again as they went out. When 
 he had purified himself under Cotaxy's direction, McLean 
 went back into the children's ward, to the case which he 
 had been attending when Cotaxy called him. It was that 
 of an Arab boy who had been half-killed by a rutting 
 camel. The child was still in the same pain as when 
 McLean last saw him, though the nurses had had full 
 instructions to relieve it. There was no nurse present. 
 In his anger and surprise, the doctor swore aloud. Nurse 
 Letty then came tripping from the neighbouring ward. 
 
 "Can I do anything, Doctor? Nurse Miles who was 
 in charge was called away to take Nurse Ellen's place, 
 and I knew you wouldn't trust me to do anything. ..." 
 McLean swore once again. Ignoring her, he called a 
 native servant to do his bidding as he went from bed to 
 bed. He knew that Letty had retired in tears, but felt 
 no pity. A servant came to tell him Dr. Peccoux had 
 arrived. 
 
 The Frenchman, having dismounted from his donkey
 
 VIRGIN AND MARTYR 159 
 
 at the gate, was dragging his huge bulk, attired in gaudy 
 flannels, up the steps into the court, when McLean dashed 
 out to meet him. Cotaxy was already on the scene. 
 As the matter was expounded to him in bad French by 
 the two English doctors, the monster stroked his unkempt 
 beard and his little eyes waxed bright behind their gold- 
 rimmed glasses. He was like a child with playthings 
 where diseases were concerned. After staying many 
 minutes in the sick-room, he came forth vociferating, 
 " C est epatant ! " The old negress had just died in his 
 presence. 
 
 According to this enthusiast, it was the loveliest, the 
 most magnificent of plagues, in many points resembling 
 the Black Death which ravaged Europe in the Middle 
 Ages. He rubbed his hands as he opined there must 
 be other cases in the city. To the great disgust and 
 horror of Cotaxy, he suggested that the nurse should be 
 made drunk with brandy — "saturated with it till she 
 fell like dead ". The patient's rags, the bedclothes and 
 the nurse's garments must be burnt in the room, he said ; 
 and the body wrapped at once in disinfected sheeting, 
 to be carried out at night and put in quicklime. Nurse 
 Ellen must be confined to the private room and visited 
 only by the doctors for at least two days. Peccoux 
 volunteered himself to apply to the native authorities for 
 the sanction and materials needed to destroy the body. 
 
 He came again about four o'clock to announce that the 
 Turkish authorities placed their whole organization and 
 material at the disposal of the English doctors. 
 
 "We are in luck, my friends," he told Cotaxy and 
 McLean, "for it seems that we have caught the very
 
 160 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 germ of the outbreak. I can hear of no other case. 
 Imagine such a pest let loose in this old festering city, 
 where the people for the most part take no alcohol. 
 Here in a hospital, with lots of cognac for the heart, we 
 can fight the demon scientifically and destroy him. If 
 the nurse sickens, you will not permit another nurse to 
 run the danger ; you will let her die. And if anyone 
 besides yourselves should by misfortune penetrate into 
 the room, you will assassinate that person gently with a 
 little dose. I have spoken to the Government ; you are 
 quite free to take your measures ; they will not investigate. 
 I speak as a scientist, que diable ! " he added with im- 
 patience, catching sight of the expression on Cotaxy's 
 face. " For great ills, great remedies. One must save 
 the city." 
 
 " A disgrace to civilization and humanity ! " exclaimed 
 Cotaxy after he had gone. " He talks as if a Christian's 
 life had no more value than a dog's." 
 
 At ten o'clock that night the body of the negress was 
 removed by scavengers, under the direction of a fezzed 
 and frock-coated Turkish medico. As McLean returned 
 from bowing out this functionary, he was accosted by 
 Nurse Joan who happened to be on night duty. 
 
 " I have a favour to ask of you, Dr. McLean," she 
 said nervously. " Ellen and I are old friends. If she falls 
 ill, will you persuade Dr. Cotaxy to let me nurse her." 
 
 " If I had my way, no one should nurse her," was his 
 testy answer. "I should do as old Peccoux advised; 
 but Cotaxy won't hear of it ; no more would I in any 
 ordinary case. If things go badly, you may have your 
 way."
 
 VIRGIN AND MARTYR 161 
 
 "Thank you so much. You have relieved my 
 mind." 
 
 Those words of thanks for the inheritance of ghastly 
 death made McLean laugh — a thing he seldom did — for 
 pride in human nature. It was a downfall when next 
 minute he was lectured by Cotaxy. 
 
 " McLean, I must speak seriously about your language 
 in the wards. It is not always that of a gentleman, 
 much less of a Christian missionary. If this kind of 
 thing goes on I shall feel it my duty, however disagree- 
 able, to report the case to the Society. You were rude 
 to the lady whom I am going to marry, so I have a 
 double right to feel offended." 
 
 " I'm sorry, but it was enough to make a saint forget 
 himself. If you'd been in my place, you'd have been 
 put out. Just imagine leaving a poor little wretch in 
 agony for twenty minutes. ..." 
 
 " I don't want to hear or say another word upon the 
 subject. Let's forget it, please." 
 
 At twelve o'clock that night Nurse Ellen seemed quite 
 well. The doctors went to bed in hopeful mood. But 
 McLean was roused at six o'clock next morning by 
 Selim, who stole into the room and laid a note beside 
 his bed. The note was from Nurse Joan, to say that, 
 relying on the doctor's promise of the night before, she 
 had taken the key of the private room, and would re- 
 main with Ellen, who was ill. 
 
 McLean at once got up and dressed himself. Before 
 going to the private room he went up on to the roof and 
 walked there for a few minutes, for air and exercise and 
 to arrange his thoughts. A curious yellow fog hung 
 
 1 1
 
 162 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 over the city with its minarets and countless domes, 
 staining the sunlight. It was hot, and very little air was 
 stirring even on the housetops. The colour of the fog 
 set him wondering whether it might not be some such 
 emanation from foul ancient cities which made the Arabs 
 name the cholera " The Yellow Wind ". The atmosphere 
 was one in which disease was sure to thrive. The town 
 looked plague-stricken already to his thinking. 
 
 The first thing that he did upon descending from the 
 roof was to go to the private room, and get the key from 
 Nurse Joan. He then locked the door on the outside. 
 The room, he vowed it, should be sealed thenceforth 
 except against Cotaxy and himself. Nurse Joan, having 
 gone in, should not come out, nor should another nurse 
 have access to her. Unless such drastic measures were 
 adopted, there might be no end to the mortality. He 
 went at once to tell Cotaxy his opinion, but Cotaxy 
 would not hear him to an end, waving him off and fleeing 
 from him, charging him with atheistic views derived 
 from Peccoux. The idea of leaving an Englishwoman 
 to die without proper attendance ! On no account 
 would he allow such wickedness ; and so on. 
 
 McLean pursued him, but it was not until late in the 
 afternoon that he could get an opportunity to state his 
 case. They had just come from the deathbed of Nurse 
 Ellen, and were walking together on the housetop, each 
 deeply moved in his way. 
 
 " Look here, Cotaxy," McLean burst out suddenly. 
 " We must stop this scourge, whatever happens, brutally, 
 for the sake of all those thousands of poor devils." He 
 pointed out over the city. "We must sacrifice our-
 
 VIRGIN AND MARTYR 163 
 
 selves, if necessary — that, of course; but we must also 
 be prepared to sacrifice our friends or anyone." 
 
 "Yes, I see that," agreed Cotaxy huskily. 
 
 "Well, the first thing in my mind is this. It's folly, 
 considering the character of the disease, for both of 
 us to go in there. I want you to leave that room to 
 me, and treat me as a leper, keep your distance from 
 me. 
 
 " No, no, my dear old man ! No, God forbid ! I 
 cannot let you run the risk alone." 
 
 "Why not? It's only sense; and besides it's your 
 clear duty. You're the genius of this place. You're a 
 born healer, therefore irreplaceable ; whereas I'm just 
 an ordinary rule-of-thumb practitioner. You could raise 
 a hundred such at home with one advertisement. You're 
 the head, into the bargain. No, you can't be spared. 
 Honestly, I don't consider the risk great for me. Here 
 are we both alive to talk about it, while the best nurse 
 we had, in spite of all the precautions, all the remedies, 
 that science can suggest, has become the horrid thing 
 we saw just now — the merest cinder of a human form. 
 That brings me back to my old point : There must be 
 no more nursing." 
 
 "No, no, I can't have that!" Cotaxy cried, stopping 
 his ears. " One never knows. We've seen so few cases. 
 There may be such a thing as a recovery. Let's give it 
 one more trial." 
 
 "One more life!" 
 
 " Oh, don't say that, dear man. One never knows. 
 God is so good." 
 
 "Well, don't infect another room, I do implore you.
 
 164 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 We have few enough as things are. Nurse Joan has 
 offered to stay where she is." 
 
 " Yes, yes, my dear fellow, anything except the nurs- 
 ing." 
 
 McLean, made savage by his impotence to stop the 
 mischief, went down into the house. Four hours later, 
 about ten o'clock at night, Cotaxy came to McLean's 
 bedroom where McLean sat smoking, and exclaimed 
 with every symptom of distress : — 
 
 "I've been thinking over your ideas. You may be 
 right." 
 
 The fact was, Peccoux had been with him and had 
 argued strongly. 
 
 " Good — if it's not too late ! " McLean was on his 
 feet in an instant. 
 
 In the white-washed, vaulted passage leading to the 
 locked room, he found Nurse Miles and another nurse 
 whispering together in dismay. They ran towards 
 him. 
 
 " Oh, Dr. McLean. Such an appalling thing has hap- 
 pened. I am more distressed than I can say," exclaimed 
 Nurse Miles. " Poor Joan was moaning. Catherine ran 
 to fetch me. Letty was in my room. I am afraid we 
 had been giving her rather a bad time, we were so angry 
 at her complaining to Dr. Cotaxy about your blaming 
 her the other day. I'd been scolding her, and Catherine 
 added something. Will you believe it? The unhappy 
 child snatched up the key you gave me and ran straight 
 to that room. She was in before we could prevent her. 
 She is in there now, and has locked the door. When 
 we go near she calls out that she's not a coward and not
 
 VIRGIN AND MARTYR 165 
 
 frivolous, and so now we know. It's all too horrible." 
 Nurse Miles dissolved in tears. 
 
 " Poor Nurse Joan ! " said McLean quietly. The hag- 
 gard, weeping women looked quite grateful for that tone. 
 "Oh, what will Dr. Cotaxy say? We do so pity 
 him ! " 
 
 " How long has she been in there?" 
 "About five minutes." 
 
 "Well, I'll try and get her out for Cotaxy 's sake." 
 McLean went up to the door, and shouted for Nurse 
 Letty to come out at once, trying to give her some con- 
 ception of the risk she ran. There was silence within 
 while he was speaking. Then a loud " Ha, ha ! " in 
 tones which rasped his nerves. 
 
 "I'm not a coward! You won't frighten me! And 
 besides I've got the key. I'll come out when I like. 
 Dr. Cotaxy won't let you kill me, though of course you'd 
 like to." 
 
 "Poor little beast ! Hysterical ! " remarked McLean 
 to the two nurses. " You oughtn't to have talked to her. 
 What did it matter? I'm off to tell Cotaxy. He must 
 do as he thinks fit. She has been in there so short a 
 while, and isn't likely to have touched the patient." 
 
 "Oh, but I fear she has!" Nurse Miles exclaimed; 
 then stopped, as fearing she had said too much. McLean 
 had to command her to explain. " She told us she had 
 kissed her." 
 
 " Why, in the name of goodness ! " 
 " Just bravado, I suppose." 
 
 " Well, that settles it. Just watch that door ; or better 
 — taunt her, will you ? "
 
 1(K) TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 McLean went back to his own room, where Cotaxy 
 sat distressfully awaiting his report. 
 
 "Well, were you in time to stop Nurse Miles?" his 
 chief inquired. 
 
 " She had not gone. It seems that some one had been 
 throwing doubt upon Nurse Letty's courage, zeal for 
 nursing and all that, with the result that she snatched 
 the key suddenly from Nurse Miles, and ran into that 
 room and locked the door. It is she who is to save the 
 lives of all of us. I call it splendid of the girl, though 
 against discipline." 
 
 Cotaxy clutched tight hold of McLean's arm. For 
 many seconds, told forth sharply by a little clock upon 
 the dressing-table, he uttered not a word. When he did 
 speak it was in a tone which McLean had never dared 
 to hope for from him — a sensible and friendly tone. 
 
 "Did she know of our decision about the nursing?" 
 
 "No, I shall have to tell her that — a nasty job." 
 
 " May I go and see her — only once ? " 
 
 " I don't advise it. There would be a scene. Nurse 
 Joan still sees and hears. Take my advice, go to your 
 room and rest." 
 
 Cotaxy proved obedient, to his colleague's great sur- 
 prise. 
 
 McLean then hastened to relieve Nurse Miles at the 
 locked door. He cried that he was coming in to see the 
 patient, but received no answer. Nurse Letty was in 
 absolute rebellion, and he could not now invoke Cotaxy, 
 who alone might have had influence. He pretended to 
 retire defeated. After a quarter of an hour or so of 
 silent watching he noticed that the key was turned ; the
 
 VIRGIN AND MARTYR 167 
 
 door began to open. He hid behind a pillar till he could 
 be sure of catching her, then sprang ; and there ensued 
 a stand-up fight. She fought like a wild cat ; but he 
 took the key from her, and step by step propelled her 
 back into the room. It seemed matter for thankfulness 
 that Nurse Joan was then unconscious. 
 
 " I will get out ! " she screamed. " George ! George ! 
 oh, help ! They're killing me ! " 
 
 "Cotaxy quite agrees with me, I have to tell you," 
 said McLean. " We can't consult your pleasure or con- 
 venience. We've got to stop the course of a most 
 terrible disease." 
 
 " Oh, brutes ! you brutes ! You both come in and out. 
 You're as likely to catch it as I am." 
 
 " If I do, I shall not let a soul come near me. It is 
 to save the city. Doesn't that rouse something in you ? 
 Come, be a plucky girl ! If you do all I tell you with 
 regard to disinfecting, you may be all right." 
 
 "I'll do nothing — nothing. I'll just die and you'll 
 have killed me." 
 
 " Oh, no, you won't ! You're really pluckier than you 
 pretend to be. You'll take every precaution for Cotaxy 's 
 sake. I haven't told him why you came in here. He 
 thinks it was your bravery." 
 
 Nurse Letty was reduced to tears. 
 " Poor little beast ! " McLean kept muttering to him- 
 self when he had left her locked up safely. The quiet 
 self-devotion of the older nurses had not thus affected 
 him. It made him sick, like being cruel to an 
 animal. 
 
 Nurse Joan was already past all help from nursing.
 
 168 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 She died at daybreak. When McLean went in to see 
 about the body, he found Nurse Letty humbled and re- 
 pentant. She begged him to write to her mother and to 
 certain friends in England, seeming quite to have for- 
 gotten poor Cotaxy. He suspected that she was be- 
 ginning to feel ill, and that suspicion was confirmed by 
 her complaint of giddiness. She said she did not fear 
 to die — it was not that — only she dreaded being left 
 alone. She was afraid, most horribly afraid. She burst 
 out weeping ; and McLean, made sick with pity, lost his 
 head. He took her in his arms to comfort her. She 
 clung to him. He felt a new emotion, which, he sup- 
 posed, resembled what Cotaxy felt. He locked the 
 door on the inside, pocketed the key, and nursed the 
 wretched girl devotedly until the end. This came about 
 five o'clock, in time for the night scavengers to take her 
 body with the other. 
 
 Cotaxy wished to see him. He demanded Peccoux. 
 The Frenchman, as a devotee of alcohol, maintained the 
 theory that the abstinence of Orientals was the reason 
 why they fell like corn before the scythe in epidemics. 
 He dosed McLean with brandy, to Cotaxy's horror. 
 After the long strain of excitement and overwork, 
 the brandy made the patient sleep and sleep again. 
 He lay down quite prepared for death, but he awoke 
 one morning to hear Peccoux, chuckling, command 
 him to throw off his clothes and jump into a bath 
 outside the door. The time of quarantine was up, and 
 he was well. 
 
 The announcement left him dazed, and strangely dis- 
 appointed. He endeavoured to avoid all private con-
 
 VIRGIN AND MARTYR 109 
 
 versations ; but Cotaxy came into his room that evening 
 after every one had gone to bed. 
 
 " My dear old man," he said in husky tones, "how can 
 I ever thank you for your brave attempt to save poor 
 darling Letty ! She was all the world to me ; I shall be 
 faithful to her memory till death . . . What can I say 
 . . . your goodness . . . this most fearful ordeal ..." 
 
 Breaking down completely, Cotaxy flung his arm 
 round his companion's neck. McLean made haste to 
 free himself from the embrace. 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't be an ass," he murmured wearily.
 
 THE PRUDE AND THE WANTON. 
 
 A LADY, who has just alighted from the train from Hor- 
 sham, stood on the arrival platform at Victoria and 
 scanned the face of every man who passed her with de- 
 bating eyes. Then she walked a good way towards the 
 exit, paused, retraced her steps, and once more scrutinized 
 the males in sight. These were by that time mostly 
 porters, the output of the train dispersing rapidly. One 
 loiterer there was who kept his eye on her ; but he 
 seemed much too young and fashionably dressed, too al- 
 together irresponsible, to accord with her conception of a 
 family solicitor, the sort of person she expected to be 
 there to meet her. After waiting yet a minute or two, 
 seeing no one else appeared, she glanced anxiously at her 
 bracelet watch. It wanted but half an hour of the time 
 appointed in such solemn language in her citation. To 
 be put in prison for contempt of court would be too 
 dreadful. Nerved by that apprehension, she approached 
 a waiting hansom. 
 
 " To the Royal Courts of Justice." 
 
 The driver inclined his ear and put a hand up to it, 
 funnel-wise, as hard of hearing. 
 
 " Royal Courts of Justice." 
 
 " Law Courts, Miss ? " 
 
 (170)
 
 THE PRUDE AND THE WANTON 171 
 
 " I suppose it's the same thing," said the lady, blushing 
 slightly. 
 
 " Miss Kelly ? " A patronizing voice at her left 
 shoulder made her start. Half turning, she beheld the 
 youthful dandy whose appearance she had already 
 weighed and found wanting in gravity. " I am from Moss 
 & Davidson's. I should have spoken to you before, only 
 they had told me to look out for an old lady." Miss 
 Kelly, though approaching fifty years of age, appeared 
 still youthful by virtue of neat figure, fresh complexion, 
 clear-cut features and bright eyes. "The cab and every- 
 thing is our affair. Please get in." 
 
 Seated in the hansom, which began by going slowly on 
 account of the press of traffic round the terminus, Miss 
 Kelly felt dejected and confused. The proximity of this 
 gay youth, his haw-haw tones, vulgarized her approach 
 to a terrific ordeal. In her forecast of the day its horrors 
 had begun with her admission to the actual Court of 
 Justice ; she had made no allowance for this disconcer- 
 tion at the very outset, supposing that the being sent to 
 smooth her way would take the form of a discreet old 
 lawyer of one or other of the types familiar to a devoted 
 reader of Dickens. Now, when the need of silence, intro- 
 spection, prayer, was instant, her escort asked if she had 
 seen " The Merry Widow ". 
 
 While answering his remarks politely, she strove to 
 focus all her powers of mind upon the coming trial, to 
 prepare herself by foresight of its dangers. Ever since 
 she had been cited to appear as a witness for the de- 
 fence in a divorce suit brought against her favourite pupil, 
 " Tommy " Charters, her fear had been lest she should
 
 17:2 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 express herself amiss before the judge, and so incur that 
 " laughter in the court " which made her shudder when 
 she read of it in newspapers. 
 
 All the way up from Horsham she had kept her mind 
 in a strained and studied calm and now this self-com- 
 placent young solicitor's clerk, by his intrusion, had 
 plunged it back in tumult. 
 
 It was a frosty February morning. A bluish rime lay 
 in the shadows of St. James's Park ; a whitish mist en- 
 veloped distant buildings, people, trees. The sunlight, 
 where it fell, awoke no glow more lively than that reflected 
 from a buttercup beneath the chin. The simile sprang 
 naturally in the mind of one who all her life, till lately, 
 had had care of children. It recalled the childhood of 
 poor "Tommy," now so cruelly ill-used. 
 
 Tired at last of opening conversations which were closed 
 immediately, her companion hummed a stave and looked 
 out of the side- window. 
 
 She was free to think. But think ahead she could not 
 any longer, for the terror drew too near. She found her 
 mind play wantonly with bygone things : Tommy's naugh- 
 tiness in the schoolroom, her unconquerable taste for slang, 
 her tomboy escapades, and then the winning way she had 
 of saying she was sorry, clinging to her censor, which 
 atoned for everything. 
 
 "Tommy" (christened Thomasina) was the youngest 
 of the three daughters of Sir Reginald and Lady Trotton, 
 to whom Miss Kelly had been governess for seven years. 
 Of all Miss Kelly's former pupils, and they numbered quite 
 a score, this "Tommy" was the best beloved. She had 
 early found the way to her instructor's heart ; and, when
 
 THE PRUDE AND THE WANTON 173 
 
 grown up and free to pick and choose her friends, had not 
 grown distant as her sisters and the rest had done, but kept 
 up a warm friendship with her former governess. When 
 " Tommy " married Mr. Terence Charters, she had had 
 Miss Kelly in the house as chief adviser. Miss Kelly 
 had helped to dress her for the ceremony, and was her 
 first visitor after the honeymoon. Miss Kelly received 
 great hampers of fish and game in season from the 
 Charters properties, and was invited to the Charters big 
 "At Homes" — small things which, notwithstanding, 
 gave her consequence in the eyes of a small quiet circle 
 down at Horsham, where she dwelt retired. In the pre- 
 vious summer, on some difference with her husband, 
 " Tommy " had taken lodgings at Cowes and had sum- 
 moned Miss Kelly there to keep her company. It was 
 about that period of two months — a time of innocent en- 
 joyment — that Miss Kelly understood she would be 
 questioned now in court. The solicitors had begged her 
 by letter to recall every incident and conversation tend- 
 ing to show their client's innocence ; and Tommy herself 
 had written three full sheets, imploring her to forget 
 everything that could by any possibility be turned against 
 her. It needed no such adjurations. Miss Kelly, con- 
 vinced of her old pupil's innocence, indignant for her 
 honour, now impugned, could vindicate her to the judge 
 in all good faith. Her only fear was lest she should be 
 overcome with nervousness, and so prevented from ex- 
 pressing herself clearly. For this cause she had forborne 
 to read the case for the prosecution as reported in the 
 daily papers ; its prominence alone upon the placards at 
 the Horsham news-shops sufficing to raise panic in her
 
 174 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 mind. She had made out a good defence of Tommy in 
 imagination, and rehearsed it carefully; but now as the 
 cab made its slow way at the tail of a line of omnibuses 
 up the Strand, she could not recall a single point of that 
 defence. 
 
 With studied firmness, when they reached the Law 
 Courts, she stepped out on to the pavement, disdaining 
 the assistance her companion offered. But her heart 
 sank as she followed her conductor through the portal. 
 She felt entombed. Through corridors whose echoes 
 chilled her brain, alive with flitting barristers in wig and 
 gown, with youths of the same species as her guide who 
 exchanged nods with him as they sped by, and with 
 gentlemen in top-hats and morning coats, she was shown 
 at length into a place which at first sight struck her as 
 more like a lecture-room than a court of law. It was 
 full of people. A gentleman came and shook hands with 
 her, and led her to a seat with other witnesses, where she 
 was at once made welcome by a tearful creature whom 
 she recognized as Ellis, Tommy's maid. 
 
 " Oh dear, Miss ! " sighed the Abigail in whispers. 
 " It's little we can do to help her now, poor lady. The 
 prosecution's made the talk of London, and there's no 
 denying what's been fairly proved. But I will say 
 always she's a dear kind lady and never would've gone 
 on as she 'ave done if she'd had her mother living, or 
 anyone like you, Miss, always by to turn to. I'm here 
 to prove a little thing I fear won't help much. She 
 never was at Brighton when that foreign waiter took his 
 oath she was. It wasn't till next day ; but she forgot, 
 poor dear." The maid then sank her voice ere she pur-
 
 THE PRUDE AND THE WANTON 175 
 
 sued, directing Miss Kelly's notice to a much-bedizened 
 lady, evidently of the highest fashion, who was seated near 
 them : " She's called, but it's a pity. She'll do harm 
 instead of good. She has a lot to answer for with Mrs. 
 Charters, and's a real wrong 'un, though she's kept her 
 husband so far. She's the sort as love to figure in a case 
 like this, just to see her name in the paper." The 
 general rising on the judge's entrance stopped her 
 speaking. 
 
 Miss Kelly was striving to assimilate the news imparted, 
 to think of Tommy's case as nearly hopeless and re- 
 construct her evidence to fit this new conception, when 
 her name was shouted and an usher beckoned. A minute 
 later she was in the witness-box, a gazing-stock for all 
 those callous eyes. The vision of the court then burst 
 upon her. The judge's robes, the wigs, the keen hawk- 
 faces, the be-ribboned gowns, with all the associations 
 with Magna Charta, Habeas Corpus, and the Rights of 
 Man which their array set whirling in her instructed 
 brain, deprived her of identity for the moment. She 
 seemed a shrinking figure out of story-books. Her tongue 
 refused to move to take the oath ; she kissed the book, 
 however, and they did not scold her. Then she was 
 trying hard to think of a beginning, something cogent, 
 strictly to the point and quite irrefutable ; assailed the 
 while with visions of her room at Horsham, the window 
 looking on the wintry garden, hedged with holly, the 
 warm fire, the table laid for tea, magazines upon the 
 sofa awaiting her perusal ; when she realized that a 
 gentleman was talking to her, and the world stood still. 
 The accents were not those of loud command, but
 
 176 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 chatty, kindly, suited to a private room. In her relief 
 she could have wept. The lean-faced barrister address- 
 ing her was counsel for the defence. He went on 
 talking in a general way till he could see that she had 
 recovered from her first confusion, then observed : " I 
 think I am right in saying, Miss Kelly, that you have filled 
 the same post in other well-known families, and that there 
 never has been a doubt of your strict vigilance in that 
 capacity ; rather, I may say, that you have always been 
 regarded as the soul of propriety — if anything a little 
 over-strict? " 
 
 " That is quite true," Miss Kelly said, she feared 
 inaudibly. It was terrible to find her lips and mouth 
 so dry. 
 
 "You have known my client intimately from the time 
 she was seven years old, and are still at this present day 
 her most intimate friend?" 
 
 "Yes." This time Miss Kelly felt that she had 
 shouted. It seemed so hard to regulate the voice at 
 such a time. 
 
 "And what was your judgment of her character as a 
 young girl ? " 
 
 " She was very headstrong and inclined to idleness, but 
 straightforward, loyal and extremely generous. Quite 
 incapable of wickedness." 
 
 Miss Kelly felt alarmed at her own prowess in enun- 
 ciating so long a sentence in a level voice. 
 
 "Thank you. ' Quite incapable of wickedness.' That 
 is a word we seldom hear in these days — a good old- 
 fashioned term for some delinquencies. I understand 
 you. Now, please, tell me, have you, from what you have
 
 THE PRUDE AND THE WANTON 177 
 
 seen of Mrs. Charters since her marriage — and I am 
 aware that you have seen a great deal of her — found 
 any reason to change the opinion which you formed of 
 her as a child ?" 
 
 " None whatever. She is always the same." 
 
 " During the two months in her company which you 
 spent at Cowes last summer did anything transpire, did 
 you notice anything, however slight, which could have 
 led you to suspect that all was not quite as it should be 
 in her relations with any of the gentlemen she met 
 there ? " 
 
 " I am sure I did not, knowing her so well. She was 
 always free and easy with the gentlemen of her acquaint- 
 ance. If that is a fault in her, it is one of manner only. 
 It might be misconstrued by minds prejudiced against 
 her, or by those who do not know her intimately." 
 
 " Have you ever heard my client say that she had 
 enemies, who were bent on poisoning her husband's mind 
 against her? " 
 
 Miss Kelly admitted that she had heard poor Mrs. 
 Charters say so more than once, and, in view of these 
 proceedings, quite believed it. No, Mrs. Charters had not 
 named any one person, but had seemed to allude in 
 general to her husband's relatives. No, she had not been 
 in the least surprised when Mrs. Charters went off with 
 Lord Heidsieck in his yacht for a whole day. She her- 
 self had been invited, but she feared the sea. Besides, it 
 was a party ; Lord Heidsieck had invited other ladies, he 
 had told her so himself. Mrs. Charters had shown no 
 predilection for Lord Heidsieck's company more than for 
 that of other gentlemen at Cowes who planned amusements 
 
 12
 
 178 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 for her. Nor had the witness seen anything suspicious in 
 Mrs. Charters's intercourse with Mr. Barratt. Mrs. Char- 
 ters treated Mr. Barratt as a boy and often laughed at 
 him. She had told Miss Kelly that she hated being ab- 
 sent from her husband, who would make the mistake of 
 consulting other people about her, whereas if he had 
 come to her honestly all would have been straight. 
 
 " So, from your knowledge, you consider these proceed- 
 ings absolutely groundless, based on a total misconcep- 
 tion of my client's conduct? " 
 
 " I am sure of it." 
 
 Conceiving her ordeal ended, Miss Kelly warmed to 
 the prospect of the journey home, relieved of all anxiety, 
 to a quiet tea before a cosy fire. She was moving to re- 
 tire, when a new voice detained her with the words : — 
 
 " One moment, please ! " 
 
 Its owner showed a suave, cherubic face, extremely 
 rubicund, beneath the rakish wig. She knew that she 
 was going to be cross-examined. The whole scene 
 changed its character, appearing ghoulish, altogether 
 heartless, in the Hogarth manner. 
 
 "During the visit to Cowes already mentioned," began 
 her tormentor in mock dulcet tones, " were you con- 
 stantly with Mrs. Charters, may I ask? I mean, did 
 you join in all her excursions and amusements?" 
 
 "I have already said that I did not accompany her 
 when Lord Heidsieck took a party in his yacht. And 
 on more than one other occasion she allowed me to re- 
 main at home, when she thought the outing would be 
 overtiring or distasteful to me." 
 
 " And she set off alone with a male companion?"
 
 THE PRUDE AND THE WANTON 179 
 
 "Never with only one. There were always three or 
 four at starting." 
 
 "And at returning?" 
 
 " She sometimes did return with one alone." 
 
 "Always the same one? " 
 
 "Not by any means. There was no one whom she 
 really liked at Cowes." 
 
 " Did she see many ladies? " 
 
 "Yes; but none that she or I cared to mix with." 
 
 "Did it not impress you as strange that she should 
 consort with gentlemen ? We know of a dozen at least 
 who formed her court at Cowes." 
 
 " I might have thought it strange, had I not known 
 her intimately." 
 
 " But do tell me, did it not just a little shock your 
 notions of propriety which my learned friend depicted as 
 so rigid?" 
 
 " My notions are old-fashioned, I am well aware. In 
 these days no girl who has left the school-room quite 
 conforms to them. Mrs. Charters told me — she declared 
 — I trusted — " here for a space Miss Kelly became 
 incoherent — "at least, I mean, I noticed nothing worse 
 than I had seen allowed of late years in the best 
 houses." 
 
 Here the judge, who had been lolling in his seat de- 
 spondently, made an assenting gesture, and sat up to 
 listen. The move restored her courage which had al- 
 most ebbed away. 
 
 "You knew that her relations with her husband were 
 at that time strained, that there was need for her to be 
 more than usually circumspect in her behaviour?"
 
 180 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 " She told me all about the trouble with her husband. 
 There were faults on both sides. She hoped, as I did, 
 that the difference would be adjusted. Mr. Charters 
 never really understood her." 
 
 "And those gentlemen at Cowes struck you as under- 
 standing her a little better. So, for her sake, that she 
 might be understood — the goal of sentiment with many 
 quite good women — you shut your eyes to what was 
 going on ! " 
 
 " I never said so. That is not the case." 
 
 Counsel for the defence here made a protest, which 
 the judge allowed. The questioner pursued in blander 
 tones : — 
 
 "You were Mrs. Charters's paid companion — in the cir- 
 cumstances, we might almost say, her chaperone?" 
 
 " No. She invited me to stay with her at Cowes as a 
 friend. She paid for me with her accustomed kindness. 
 I was not engaged in any capacity whatever." 
 
 " Let me put it to you in another way. You are aware 
 that Mrs. Charters wrote and told her husband you were 
 with her, and that he replied that he was much relieved 
 to hear it. Indeed, such faith had he in your propriety, 
 that his mind remained at rest about the time at Cowes 
 until a chance acquaintance told him of the doings there. 
 Do you not now consider that you should have used 
 more vigilance than by your own admission you appear 
 to have exercised ? " 
 
 " Certainly, in view of these proceedings. But really 
 at the time I saw no reason — it was all so innocent 
 
 " Even when Lord Heidsieck stayed till after midnight
 
 THE PKUDE AND THE WANTON 181 
 
 alone in the lodging-house sitting-room with Mrs. Char- 
 ters ? " 
 
 " He only outstayed the others by a few minutes, and 
 Mrs. Charters was extremely angry. I was indisposed 
 that evening so could not go down." 
 
 " I submit," exclaimed the torturer with sudden fierce- 
 ness, "that you knew perfectly well that impropriety 
 was going on, that you no doubt remonstrated at the 
 time, and now deny it only in the hope to screen 
 your friend and former pupil." 
 
 Miss Kelly felt a strong desire to sob aloud. The 
 judge here intervened, remarking that he saw no cause 
 to doubt the bona fides of the witness. 
 
 " You did not know she went to Brighton for five 
 days with Mr. Barratt, leaving you at Cowes?" 
 
 "Certainly not. She wrote me a letter from her 
 aunt's house in London. She went up to London to 
 do some necessary shopping and transact some other 
 business." 
 
 "Indeed? And her intimacy with Major Parker did 
 not shock you? You still maintain that you saw nothing 
 at all in all those weeks to justify suspicion? " 
 
 " Indeed, no." 
 
 "Then I imagine that when these facts are divulged 
 by the public press, there will be competition for the 
 services of so benign a chaperone. Thank you, Miss 
 Kelly, that is all." 
 
 The inquisitor bowed, sat down ; and there arose that 
 " laughter in the court," which she had so much dreaded. 
 Miss Kelly then retired, assisted by an usher. She had 
 pulled down her veil to hide her state of feeling, but her
 
 182 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 bowed head and heaving shoulders published it. Hear- 
 ing that she would not be recalled, she left the court, 
 and was conducted through the sounding corridors by her 
 former escort, who strove to cheer her up by saying : — 
 "You mustn't feel cut up, Miss Kelly. It was a 
 forlorn hope anyhow, and you stood fire splendidly. 
 The other witnesses are bound to go down like a house 
 o' cards. We shall know the judgment to-night, I 
 shouldn't wonder." 
 
 Out in the Strand she begged him to be good enough 
 to leave her, to his great amazement, for he had, he said, 
 received command to see her safely to Victoria. 
 
 " You're quite sure you can manage by yourself? " 
 "Quite sure, thank you; I am much obliged to you." 
 Lifting his hat and flushing, the young blood strode 
 off. Miss Kelly for a minute stood quite still and looked 
 about her, bewildered by the clamour of the traffic, and 
 the hurrying crowd. She was crying like a small child, 
 uncontrollably, not for her personal discomfiture, but for 
 the sickening doubt of Tommy's honesty, which had 
 come to her under cross-examination. When she could 
 command her limbs she walked down Fleet Street to the 
 nearest office of a daily newspaper, where she bought 
 the back numbers reporting the Charters Divorce Case. 
 Then she hailed a hansom and was driven to Victoria. 
 
 Reading those papers, in the train, her eyes which had 
 been streaming became dry and haggard. It was the 
 beginning of an ordeal far more grievous to her person- 
 ally than that she had endured in court so lately. Was 
 Tommy really guilty? Had she cruelly and deliber- 
 ately deceived the friend who loved her, as she knew, with
 
 THE PRUDE AND THE WANTON 183 
 
 perfect faith ? Long before the train reached Horsham, 
 Miss Kelly's last resisting doubt had been demolished. 
 She could recall so vividly that time at Cowes. 
 
 Tommy had seemed to have no secrets from her. 
 She had gone off with Lord Heidsieck with a face of 
 innocence, when all the while . . . And then her ab- 
 sence of five days, for every hour of which she had 
 accounted simply . . . Well, there were a score of 
 witnesses to prove that she had been with Mr. Barratt as 
 his wife. Miss Kelly had never before seen baseness at 
 close quarters ; had always thought about it as belong- 
 ing to an outer world. Her neighbours, students of the 
 trial upon her account, might well think she had borne 
 false witness knowingly. She felt personally defiled ; 
 and still disgust came second to pure grief for Tommy. 
 
 Her maid had tea all ready in the cosy parlour, which 
 contained a hundred souvenirs of Tommy Charters. It 
 was her chosen meal and hour, when usually she felt 
 supreme contentment ; but on this evening she could 
 take no pleasure in it. A hundred souvenirs — a hundred 
 heartaches ! 
 
 She was sitting dejectedly before the fire, having 
 finished tea, when her maid entered, bringing her an 
 evening paper. 
 
 "With Dr. Jones's compliments, Miss. He said he 
 wouldn't trouble you by coming in. Can I take away 
 now?" 
 
 When the girl had gone out with the tea-tray Miss 
 Kelly unfolded the newspaper. She saw the verdict : 
 Tommy's cause was lost, and, having learnt that fact, 
 could read no further. She felt much too miserable.
 
 184 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 The danger of poor Tommy growing hardened in her 
 evil-doing, and quite shameless, appeared to her all at 
 once with sickening clearness. If only she could talk to 
 the poor child. But she was forgetting. Tommy was 
 no more the same. Tommy had deceived her, lied to 
 her. Her old conception of her pupil's character had 
 been at fault. She would have to view her as a stranger 
 if they met. 
 
 She was sitting with her head between her hands, 
 staring sadly at the fire, when a double knock at the 
 front door made her jump. A minute later the small 
 handmaid brought a telegram : " Can you house me for 
 a week? Am coming. TOMMY." 
 
 Miss Kelly sprang up, feeling ten years younger. 
 Her first sensation after reading the short message was 
 the keenest joy ; and she bustled about, adorning the 
 spare bedroom, and giving the maid directions as to 
 supper. But when that work was done and she sat down 
 and waited, she saw difficulties. Tommy was coming to 
 her on the strength of the evidence which she had that 
 day given. She naturally would suppose that she (Miss 
 Kelly) still believed her innocent. There would have to 
 be an explanation, which, with a girl of Tommy's spirit, 
 might well mean estrangement. That was a prospect 
 she could not endure. She prayed that the gift of per- 
 suasion might be granted her for this one night, that 
 some good angel might but touch her mouth, robbing its 
 words of power to wound or anger. 
 
 Finding herself grow nervous as she faced the task 
 before her, she shut her mind against the thought of it, 
 and went back to her preparations. It was the first
 
 THE PRUDE AND THE WANTON I8fi 
 
 time that Tommy had ever come to see her in her quiet 
 home ; and in spite of everything the visit gave her 
 pleasure. She felt quite excited. 
 
 But when the guest arrived her nerve forsook her. 
 Miss Kelly trembled as she went into the narrow hall, 
 and gave a frightened shudder in the arms of the tall 
 lovely woman, whose well-made walking-dress displayed 
 her charms too boldly. 
 
 "You are a brick!" cried Tommy in an ecstasy. 
 " The one friend who has really stuck by me ! There 
 is no one else I know who would receive me now. It's 
 no use mincing matters, I'm what men call 'broken'. 
 Lost the custody of the child — lost everything. I 
 haven't a shred of reputation left for covering. All 
 through that damned cad Terence and his beastly 
 lies!" 
 
 "Hush, Tommy!" said Miss Kelly very earnestly, ap- 
 prehensive chiefly lest her maid should overhear. 
 
 " Oh, you dear, dear thing ! I am so sorry I forgot 
 myself. One thinks in swear-words in a fix like mine. 
 But what could be meaner than including 'others' in 
 the charge. It takes away my chance — I stood a good 
 one — of being Lady Heidsieck in a few months' time ; and 
 robs me of every other blessed thing I might have clung 
 to. And the extraordinary thing is every one seems to 
 believe the lies he's raked up on me, except you. I 
 must kiss you again for being such a trump. But you 
 always were — to Tommy, anyhow ! " 
 
 Miss Kelly disengaged herself from the embrace as 
 soon as she could do so without rudeness, and showed 
 her guest to her room, remarking as she left her : " I hope
 
 186 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 you will find all you require. Supper will be ready when 
 you are." 
 
 Tommy expressed supreme delight with everything. 
 It amazed Miss Kelly to observe that she seemed quite 
 impenitent, exactly her old self in all respects. 
 
 At supper, as the little maid went in and out, Miss 
 Kelly kept the conversation upon general grounds ; 
 knowing that she must have it out with Tommy presently, 
 but anxious to put off the contest to a season when they 
 should be perfectly secure from interruption. 
 
 The time came when, supper being over, they sat over 
 the parlour fire at coffee ; and Tommy, having asked her 
 leave to smoke, began to talk of Cowes, and how in- 
 humanly her doings there had been misconstrued. 
 Leaning back in the low chair with hands clasped behind 
 her neck, her blue eyes sparkling, her cheeks a little 
 flushed, she had never been so lovely in Miss Kelly's 
 eyes. The old maid, as she gazed, could pardon every- 
 thing except the base deception practised on herself. 
 After listening in silence a good while, she interrupted 
 drily : — 
 
 "You needn't trouble to tell me any more stories, 
 darling. I see the truth now clearly, having read the re- 
 port of the trial. I had not done so when I gave my 
 evidence this morning. My devotion to you, which, as 
 you know, is great and real, does not extend to perjury, 
 believe me." 
 
 The wild-rose colour waned in Tommy's cheeks, then 
 deepened, overspreading neck and brow. She scowled. 
 
 " So I did wrong to come here. You, too, hate me, I 
 suppose."
 
 THE L'RUDE AND THE WANTON 187 
 
 " I'm sure you cannot think so honestly, unless you 
 look on one's affection as simply a good conduct prize." 
 Miss Kelly smiled and sought her dear one's eyes ; but 
 Tommy did not care to meet that candid gaze. " Now, 
 suppose you tell me plainly the whole truth, just how you 
 came to get in such a mess. Why did you ever deceive 
 me ? Of course I should have made you change or else 
 have left you ; but anything would have been better than 
 putting such a cruel fraud on one who loved you. How 
 could you, dear?" 
 
 " Oh, just because you were useful." Tommy spoke 
 with brutal frankness, which Miss Kelly judged a false- 
 hood on the other side. " Your respectability, your 
 virtue, are self-evident. That fool Terence had a great 
 respect for you. What better screen could I erect to 
 hide my beastliness ? I even joked about your wonder- 
 ful credulity, your ostrich-like capacity for digesting un- 
 palatable facts, when asking my solicitors to call you as 
 a witness." 
 
 With this confession which she imagined the last 
 straw, Tommy fixed her eyes defiantly upon Miss Kelly's 
 face. She found it undisturbed — nay, smiling — and 
 stopped speaking suddenly. 
 
 " That was unkind of you," observed the listener with 
 equanimity, beholding in the pause a call for some re- 
 mark. " But how were you ever drawn into such 
 courses? " 
 
 "Oh, men — just men! ... I was so dull with Ter- 
 ence and his family — above all his family ! so watchful 
 of my ways, so disapproving ! — that I set myself to work 
 up some excitement. Men always roused me, took me
 
 188 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 off my feet; and, being dull to desperation, I just let 
 myself go. They were decent sorts — the set you met at 
 Cowes — and I did them a lot more harm than they did 
 me. Three or four of them were honestly in love " 
 
 "But, Tommy, dear, why talk of men in crowds? 
 Surely you mean one man, or none at all ! " 
 
 "One man ! " The younger woman turned to solid scorn. 
 "There isn't one man on earth I would have deceived you 
 for. I prefer any pleasant woman's company to any man's. 
 I love you more than any man I ever met. It's men in 
 the crowd, the risk, the jealousy, the devilry, the wild 
 excitement that I love. I can no more endure the in- 
 sipidity of mere flirtation than I can the boredom of 
 married life. In both it is the one man, with his few 
 weak notes, eternally repeated, like a tiresome bird. 
 It's a game I took up as people take up golf or arch- 
 ery ; and it's more engrossing than any other game I 
 know of, for it claims you body and soul. I feel off it 
 now, but the attraction will return, and I shall go back 
 to it just as keen as ever and less scrupulous." 
 
 Miss Kelly, perceiving her old pupil's wish to shock 
 
 her, repressed every symptom of religious horror. 
 
 " Now you know me as I am and hate me, don't 
 you ? " 
 
 Miss Kelly gave a curious little laugh which made the 
 sinner rigid with surprise. Then, after a pause, employed 
 in staring at the fire, she turned impulsively and holding 
 out her arms sighed : " Tommy ! " 
 
 With a gasp the culprit slid down off her chair and 
 buried her face in the old maid's lap. 
 
 " Tommy, you do not know how much I love you, or you
 
 THE PRUDE AND THE WANTON ISO 
 
 wouldn't — couldn't — talk to me like that. Nothing you 
 may ever do can alter my affection, bear in mind. Rather, 
 I love you more, the more you need it. Now, won't you 
 promise to give up all that ? Do come and live with me ! 
 We could travel together, or live where you chose. It 
 would make a lonely woman very happy, and we could 
 think things out together, talk them over plainly, facing 
 everything. I never felt so near to you as at this 
 minute, now you've told me the whole truth. Do 
 promise ! " 
 
 " I won't. I should break my word." 
 
 " Promise to try ! " 
 
 "What is the good of that? It would be just a farce. 
 I know quite well beforehand I shall fail. I'm doomed 
 to lead the life of an adventuress, grabbing what fun I 
 can in shady ways. It's my beastly nature. You must 
 wash your hands of me." 
 
 The utterance of this last speech was choked with 
 sobs. Its breath was honest ; here was no deception. 
 Miss Kelly's heart warmed to the dear impenitent. She 
 bent her cool ascetic face close down to that hot, volup- 
 tuous one, and whispered : — 
 
 "Well, I'm going to ask you something easy. Promise 
 to stay here just as long as you like ; we won't speak of 
 this again, unless you wish it; and when you choose to 
 go I shan't dissuade you. And promise, too, whenever 
 you want rest and quiet, a thorough change from naughti- 
 ness, to come to me. I shall remove from this place 
 where your story, and my part in it, is known, and shall 
 settle somewhere else to avoid gossip. With me you 
 can take up your life where you have left it ; I shall ask
 
 190 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 no questions. Only come, and promise never again to 
 deceive me." 
 
 Tommy promised, with face hidden in Miss Kelly's 
 lap, and Miss Kelly, fondling her beloved's hair, recalled 
 old days, old jests, old jollities, till Tommy's sobs were 
 silenced and she talked connectedly.
 
 HEE-HAW ! 
 
 The broad South London thoroughfare ran north and 
 south away into the night, its pavements lined with huck- 
 sters' stalls and cumbered with a throng of seedy loungers ; 
 huge, lighted trams went gliding by with clanging bells ; 
 about each street lamp and each hawker's flare the particles 
 of frosty fog swarmed visibly like gnats. Before a hoarding 
 where two shops had been pulled down Hicks stood and, 
 with hands buried in the pockets of his lordly ulster, 
 gazed at a certain poster long and lovingly ; seeing no 
 more than this : — 
 
 Miss Amy Jakes. 
 
 For eighteen months, at his lonely post in the Soudan, 
 the thought of Amy Jakes, her smiles, her kisses, her 
 misspelt, gushing letters had preserved him from insanity ; 
 and only yesterday, on his arrival in England, he had 
 called at her flat and been received with every symptom 
 of the wildest joy. Having learnt that she was playing 
 the part of Aladdin in the pantomime at a South London 
 playhouse, after leaving her it had occurred to him, for 
 fun, to obtain for himself a part of some sort in the same 
 production. Accordingly this morning he had been down 
 to the theatre and had interviewed the stage-manager, 
 a fat young Jew with an immense cigar attached to his 
 
 (190
 
 192 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 thick lips, who, hearing he was quite prepared to pay 
 his footing, agreed to bring him on in some capacity. 
 As he stood now in the lamp-lit street, among the loafers, 
 it was in his mind to brave the world and marry 
 Amy. 
 
 Turning away from the advertisement which blazed 
 her fame, Hicks looked at his watch. Time was creeping 
 on, and the Jew had told him to be sure and get there 
 early. Alarmed, he made his way as fast as he could 
 through the sauntering, disputing crowd till he saw the 
 lighted facade of the theatre, when he looked at his watch 
 again, and, after a minute's hesitation, turned into a side 
 street of appalling squalor. A lamp above an entry, 
 illuminating grimed and greasy walls, bore the legend 
 " Stage Door" in letters some of which were half erased. 
 Hicks passed beneath it, mounted a short flight of steps 
 and knocked at a door. 
 
 "What message, please?" 
 
 A shock-headed boy looked out. Seeing a swell, he 
 narrowed the opening of the door to a mere slit through 
 which he peeped distrustfully. 
 
 " I'm in the show," said Hicks. 
 
 The imp replied : " I don't fink ! " and was going to 
 slam the door, when Hicks cried out peremptorily: "Just 
 call Mr. Marcks. He knows me. Here's my card." 
 
 "Well, just you wait there ! " 
 
 The door was shut and bolted. Hicks was left to 
 kick his heels upon a dirty landing, strewn with cigar 
 and cigarette-ends, paper-bags and nutshells. A draggled 
 girl came up and grinned at him, then, finding the door 
 fastened, banged on it and shouted : " Smiler ! "
 
 HEE-HAW! 193 
 
 The boy, at length returning, flung the door wide 
 open, bowing and grinning to the girl's abuse. 
 
 " My word ! " he said, with eyes admiring Hicks. " A 
 torf what 'as paid to come on. Jest step this way, 
 m' lord ! " 
 
 Across a kind of lumber-room and down a passage 
 where people, rushing in the opposite direction, elbowed 
 him aside unseeing. Hicks was led with speed into a 
 dusty, echoing place, inadequately lighted. His guide 
 here buttonholed a working carpenter and fell to whis- 
 pering behind his hand for greater secrecy ; though 
 Hicks, bewildered by the novelty of his surroundings, 
 deafened moreover by a noise of hammering, would not 
 have heard a loud voice at that moment. 
 
 "So that's all, is it? " sighed the workman as the boy 
 ran off. He then drew near to Hicks and remarked that 
 it was a cold evening by way of preface to an offer to 
 relieve him of his hat and coat. Having stowed the 
 things away in some corner known to himself, he con- 
 tinued : " Marcks he told me to look after you. Yer 
 on in the first scene of all, so as soon as the other gent 
 comes I'll rig yer up and teach yer what to do. It's a 
 hanimal's skin. Tother gent spoke first, so 'e's the front 
 'alf. You're the 'ind-quarters, so to speak." 
 
 Hicks drew himself up. 
 
 " Confounded cheek of that damned Jew ! " he mut- 
 tered. 
 
 "That's what /say; but Marcks, 'e knows what 'e's 
 about, you bet ! 'E 'ates to 'ave young torfs a-foolin' round, 
 and if they jib at the donkey's skin — it is a donkey, sir, 
 I won't deceive yer ' — so much the better to 'is way o'
 
 194 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 thinkin'. It's that or nothink. Don't yer like it, out yer 
 
 go! 
 
 " Oh, since I'm here I may as well go through with 
 it. Who's the other man ? " 
 
 " New 'ere like yerself. I asks no questions, 'taint my 
 business ; I jest 'olds my tongue ; but if yer like to know 
 what I think : why, I'd see myself 'anged and drawn in 
 quarters before I'd so demean myself. You'll pardon me." 
 
 The carpenter here turned away and spat for em- 
 phasis. Hicks smiled uneasily, and bit his lip. 
 
 By then the dressed-up crowd began to gather. The 
 girls fell into giggles at the sight of Hicks. With 
 shoulders slouched and hands plunged deep into his 
 trouser-pockets he strove to show the greatest unconcern. 
 Some of the women came quite close, and studied his 
 appearance saucily. 
 
 " 'Ere comes the other gent ! " the carpenter cried out 
 suddenly. "I'll cut along and fetch the blessed 
 moke." 
 
 He strode off, leaving Hicks alone to face a blushing 
 youth to whom the impish boy presented him as " Your 
 'ind-quarters, capting ! " 
 
 "We're in the same boat, I think," seemed the only 
 possible remark. 
 
 "That swine Marcks deserves a jolly good thrashing," 
 was the reply, as the new arrival, a most elegant figure, 
 glared round upon the giggling group of girls. " For 
 my part I've a damned good mind to get out of it. I 
 gave the brute a tenner." 
 
 " I've got off cheaper than that. But you're the head." 
 
 "Oh, come, let's chuck the thing."
 
 HEE-HAW! 195 
 
 " That's just what all these blighters here are waiting 
 for. It's too late now ; we must go through with it." 
 
 " Well, let's stick together." 
 
 " Seems we've got to." 
 
 The carpenter appeared, dragging a strange long 
 garment with a donkey's head and ears. 
 
 "'Ind quarters gets in first!" 
 
 11 If I may advise you, take your coat and waistcoat 
 off, sir," said a man in Chinese costume, much above the 
 crowd ; no less a personage, in fact, than Aladdin's self- 
 styled uncle, Abanazar. " You too, sir, I advise to do 
 the same." 
 
 The debutants obeyed. As Hicks was fitting his 
 long legs into those of the painted jackass, he heard a 
 girl ask: "Who're they gone on?" and another sneer: 
 "What fools all Johnnies are in love! Likebabies!" Then 
 noises were removed a long way off. The carpenter by 
 shouting made him understand that he was to catch hold 
 of his companion's waist and keep his head ducked. 
 
 " Now try walkin ' ! Four steps forward ! Now two 
 back ! Now mark time, both together, left then right ! " 
 
 Applause and laughter could be faintly heard. The 
 carpenter then bellowed : " You're a picter — a fair treat ! " 
 and added : " Now you foller this 'ere gent and when 'e 
 stops draw up on 'is left 'and " — instructions Hicks took 
 as addressed to his leader, since he himself saw nothing, 
 so could follow no man. He waited for a long while in 
 extreme discomfort, then he fancied he could hear the 
 ping of an electric bell. Feeling his colleague moving, 
 he moved too. In darkness, with head bowed, and 
 nearly stifled, moving when his front rank moved,
 
 196 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 stopping whfen he stopped ; hearing vaguely strains of 
 music, bursts of laughter, speeches, songs, applause, 
 Hicks sought relief in thoughts of Amy and the joys to 
 follow — the surprise, the supper, the drive home, the 
 laugh over this uncomfortable adventure in luxury after- 
 wards. Thus absorbed, he forgot for a moment where he 
 was, and moved independently. His leader kicked back 
 at him, he returned the favour ; a furious whisper came 
 to " Stop that fooling" ; and then, no doubt to cloak the 
 internecine strife, his front half broke into a sort of 
 dance which called forth distant laughter, but caused 
 Hicks to swear. At last his colleague started backing 
 swiftly ; Hicks retreated from him. They were off. 
 
 His head released from that accursed skin, Hicks 
 beheld the carpenter holding out two foaming tankards 
 towards him and his companion, and seized one of them. 
 The other man, with hair absurdly ruffled, eyed him 
 angrily above the rim of his pint-pot. 
 
 " I wish to goodness you'd keep still, old chap ! " he 
 remarked in tones of sad remonstrance as he wiped his 
 lips on his shirt-sleeve. 
 
 " That's pretty cool when you kicked out at me ! " 
 
 "You devilish nearly spoilt the whole performance!" 
 
 ' ' I take no pride in the performance, I can tell you ! 
 Glad you do ! " 
 
 " My good man, if it hadn't been for Amy " 
 
 " Amy Jakes ? " 
 
 " Yes, do you know her? Rippin' little girl ! " 
 
 " Who the hell are you ? " 
 
 " My name's Jenkins. I run a show of my own in the 
 hinterland of Sierra Leone."
 
 HEE-HAW! 197 
 
 "Never heard of you ! My name's Hicks — I'm in the 
 Soudan." 
 
 "The chap she broke with years ago." 
 
 "You little fool! I saw her yesterday." 
 
 The carpenter reposed his head against the wall. It 
 looked like a case of sudden and complete exhaustion. 
 Some of the performers came and asked what ailed him. 
 He pointed speechless to the two young swells in shirts 
 and braces, their nether parts still hidden in the don- 
 key's skin. They were glaring at one another with fists 
 clenched. 
 
 "That's a damned lie, anyhow!" cried Jenkins, and 
 then stopped speaking, seeing they were not alone. 
 
 "Miss Jakes — both of 'em. Oh, my Gawd, what 
 larks ! " A damsel slapped her tights, and went off into 
 fits of silent laughter. 
 
 "We'll settle afterwards," said Hicks through grinding 
 teeth. 
 
 Soon came the order to go on again. He bowed him- 
 self once more and walked in darkness, with head against 
 the man who claimed his girl. He had to butt the fool 
 a thought ungently, considering that he might be here 
 with Amy's knowledge. Jenkins pushed back ; he butted 
 harder still. There came a hush. A girl was speaking 
 — surely Amy's voice. It kept them quiet while it lasted. 
 Then came laughter and applause ; and then the band 
 grew noisy once again. 
 
 To think that that confounded ass in front of him, in 
 the same stuffy skin, made sure of Amy ! Seizing the 
 occasion of a forward move, he butted Jenkins hard. 
 Jenkins kicked out and caught him on the shin. Hicks
 
 198 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 retorted savagely. The other turned. There was a deaf- 
 ening crack, the cover parted ; the two halves of the 
 donkey stood confronting one another, deaf to the hurri- 
 cane of glee their act evoked. Struggling blindly, they 
 were hustled off into the wings, where a lisping unctuous 
 voice said : — 
 
 "Well, of all the thomething, thomething, thomething 
 thomethingth ! Fine gentlemen, aren't yer ? A couple 
 o' drunken mithbegotten guttersnipeth. Come, 'ook it ! " 
 
 The Jew Marcks, masticating a cigar, as yet unlighted, 
 stared contempt at the two angry gentlemen. Hicks 
 wanted to reply, but Marcks was in his place, whereas he 
 (Hicks) was too evidently out of his to swear with dignity. 
 Jenkins let fly an ineffectual oath. They then resumed 
 their proper clothes, assisted by the carpenter, whose hands 
 shook. While they were thus engaged, Miss Jakes passed 
 near them, insolently radiant, in her costume as Aladdin. 
 
 « Amy ! " 
 
 "I say, Amy! " 
 
 She just looked at them. 
 
 "You wretched ass!" Jenkins cried out in pain. 
 " You've gone and spoilt my evening — made her wild 
 with me ! " 
 
 " Gentlemen," pleaded the carpenter, " I'm sorry as yer 
 show 'ave ended sudden. I done all I could ; I fetched 
 the stout and paid for it. Yer won't forget me ! You're 
 the right sort, you are. Wish yer could come again to- 
 morrer night and every night so long as I work here. 
 But it's no good my wishin', for I know yer won't, so 
 'ere's long life and luck to both of yer." 
 
 Jenkins had the lead at going out. Seeing him turn to
 
 HEE-HAW! 199 
 
 the right outside the door, Hicks struck off to the left, but 
 in a few steps was brought up short by the high blank wall 
 of some enormous workshop. Returning, he walked slowly 
 to give his adversary time to get away. At the corner of 
 the crowded thoroughfare, however, he met Jenkins re- 
 turning towards the stage-door. It was clear that they 
 were both marking time with the same object : to pounce 
 on Amy when she came out after the performance. H icks 
 looked at his watch. There was still an hour before the 
 show could end. To avoid encountering that nincompoop 
 at every turn, he entered the saloon bar of a public-house 
 and took a stool at its counter, keeping watch upon the 
 clock. When he returned to the stage-door he found 
 its neighbourhood invested by a crowd of local bucks 
 and ragamuffins, shabby-looking girls and grey-shawled 
 women, which enabled him to stand and wait unseen of 
 Jenkins. 
 
 At length muffled forms began to emerge ; the crowd 
 drew closer. Some of its members finding those they 
 sought, moved off, talking and laughing. Hicks pressed 
 forward. Once more he and Jenkins stood confronting 
 one another but, except for a fleeting scowl, ignored the fact. 
 
 Miss Jakes came out at last beneath a monstrous hat, 
 a fashionable figure, wrapped in furs. Beside her slouched 
 a lean and pallid actor. 
 
 " That's 'er ! That's Amy Jakes ! My, ain't she classy, 
 jest ? " was whispered in the crowd. 
 
 Hicks and Jenkins narrowly escaped collision, as they 
 stepped out simultaneously, hat in hand. 
 
 Miss Jakes embraced them both in one slow withering 
 look, then bending her head, snake-like, hissed : —
 
 200 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 " You wretched fools ! " 
 
 With marked withdrawal of her skirts from each of 
 them she glided on, saying to the pale actor, whose arm 
 she had now taken — : 
 
 "Fetch a hansom for me, Vernon, there's a dear." 
 
 The rivals, left to their despair, felt moved to kill each 
 other. But, glaring into Jenkins's eyes with that intent, 
 Hicks beheld his own feelings so accurately reflected there 
 that a bubble of mirth rose in his throat involuntarily. 
 It broke in a dry laugh. 
 
 "We're still in the same skin, old man. We may as 
 well be friends and stick together." 
 
 The other laughed then also but with greater bitter- 
 ness. 
 
 "Well, let's get out of this ! " 
 
 At the corner they saw Amy go off in a hansom, waving 
 a jewelled hand to Vernon, the lean actor. 
 
 " He's the chap who recommended us to take our coats 
 off. Seems a decent sort. Might stand him drinks and 
 make a night of it," suggested Hicks. 
 
 " Right you are ! " said Jenkins listlessly. " We must 
 do something. " 
 
 Vernon, approached, consented cheerfully. They hailed 
 a passing cab and, sitting closely packed together, were 
 driven through fast emptying streets towards Piccadilly. 
 
 "Army men, I presume? " observed the actor in the 
 highest manner. 
 
 " No," replied Hicks. 
 
 Each then described himself. 
 
 " Ha ! empire-builders ! " cried the actor rapturously. 
 He seemed to have a natural bias towards enthusiasm.
 
 HEE-HAW ! 201 
 
 " Are you indeed ? How splendid ! To be making his- 
 tory, to feel the eyes of England always on one ! " 
 
 "Come and try it for a month at Kumberara ! " 
 
 " Or Picandi." 
 
 It's a man's profession anyhow and not, like mine, a 
 dog's." The actor sighed. " I myself was destined for 
 the Diplomatic Service. But the poor old governor got 
 into difficulties — hundreds of thousands out — shot himself, 
 and all that ! — Faugh ! — a ghastly business ! and I was 
 flung into the gutter practically — couldn't pick or choose. 
 Of course I'm not under my own name ; wouldn't dis- 
 grace it. But let's be cheerful ! It's a shame to bore 
 you dear good men with all my private troubles." 
 
 Set down by the London Pavilion they made their way 
 along the pavement to a house of revelry ; passing whose 
 doors, they met a dense warm atmosphere and din of 
 chatter worthy of a parrot-house. Finding a vacant table 
 after careful search, they took seat round it, Hicks and 
 Jenkins leaning over towards the actor in deference to his 
 discourse, which was of former grandeur. At length there 
 came a pause; he seemed exhausted and sat back, glass 
 in hand, regarding the surrounding throng with disillusion. 
 
 " Lord, what a fool I've been ! " sighed Jenkins 
 savagely. " Never again will I put faith in any woman ! " 
 
 " You're not alone, old man ! " assented Hicks. "Same 
 skin, you know ; two halves of one damned donkey." 
 
 " Don't take the thing so much to heart, dear boys, 
 I do entreat you ! " cooed the actor, sipping his whisky 
 with the graces of a wine-taster. " We all look fools 
 occasionally, all go through the mill ; and no one whose 
 opinion matters thinks the worse of us. If I'd never
 
 202 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 shown up worse than you men did to-night, I should be 
 happy. Bless my soul, we've all been asses ! I went 
 the pace too as a youngster — women and wine, you know, 
 and all that — betting and gambling — had to chuck the 
 Service. But for that you wouldn't see me as I am to-day. " 
 " Awfully decent of you to talk like that, old chap," 
 said Hicks emotionally, "but all the same we have been 
 filthy idiots." 
 
 When the restaurant shut, as it did but half an hour 
 after they had taken seat there, the actor took them to a 
 haunt of his profession, a night-club round in Leicester 
 Square. There they sat down in a quiet corner. Drinks 
 continued. 
 
 " Pshaw ! What a fool I've been ! " said Jenkins 
 for the hundredth time. He could not shake off the de- 
 filement of that donkey's skin. A talk with Hicks hav- 
 ing convinced him that Amy had fooled them both — 
 had never, that meant, really cared a straw for either of 
 them — he felt that he had suffered all that ignominy in a 
 worthless cause. The hateful and, as he now saw it, the 
 degrading memory for long prevented him from getting 
 happily drunk, as he desired to be. With Hicks it was 
 much the same. As for the actor, his head was like an 
 empty house illuminated for some public festival ; all 
 his wit, his wisdom and his virtue shone outside. With- 
 in was pleasant gloom wherein he lay at ease and 
 blinked, admiring his own brilliance. Accepting the 
 role of mentor with enthusiasm, sure of two good and 
 submissive listeners, his tone grew almost clerical, his 
 words a sermon : — 
 
 " My dear old boys ! " he cried with high indulgence,
 
 HEE-HAW! SOfl 
 
 " don't worry yourselves about that any more. Un- 
 worthy of you both — the whole connexion — that, of 
 course ! But then you're young, and youth must have 
 its fling — learn by experience, you know, and all that ; 
 as I know, God forgive me, to my cost. I can't think 
 what induces well-born men to follow girls like that — 
 mere common hussies. Miss Jakes is well enough, in 
 her own sphere, but she is not a lady, not the kind of 
 girl for men like you. I have heard her use such lan- 
 guage as would sicken a bargee " 
 
 "Damned amusin', I thought it," put in Jenkins, in 
 accents of appreciation joined to sad remembrance. 
 
 The actor quite ignored the interruption. 
 
 " Now I who speak to you have done a lot to be 
 ashamed of — more than well-bred men like you would 
 dream of in a lifetime. But one thing I can tell you, I 
 have never done : I have never let myself become en- 
 tangled with a girl of that kind. As a lad I was 
 betrothed to a girl of my own class — thorough-bred — a 
 thrilling creature, with such eyes ! Of course when the 
 smash came, and the poor old dad had to fly to America 
 under an assumed name ; when the dear old place was 
 sold, with the old family pictures and all — so heartrending 
 — I had to break it off. Only fair to the girl. She was 
 an earl's daughter, master of the hounds and all that — 
 you would know her name ; and I was left without a 
 penny. I have not seen her since that day. She is now 
 among the highest in the land. But I know that once 
 upon a time she loved me only. And I've been faithful 
 to her always. Her remembered image has preserved 
 me from the snares of common women."
 
 204 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 At this point Jenkins, deeply moved, held out his 
 hand for the actor's hand, and wrung it feelingly. 
 
 " And when I see fine manly fellows — gentlemen like 
 yourselves — like I was then — the sport of vulgar, mer- 
 cenary women, my heart bleeds for them. I think of 
 the ancestral home, the dear old parents, the delicately 
 nurtured sisters, who must sorrow for it." 
 
 Jenkins gave way completely ; he had drunk too 
 much. Hicks feelingly besought the preacher not to 
 rub it in. He called for more drinks to restore their 
 spirits. The actor, sipping his, spoke still more earnestly, 
 charmed to the point of tears by the effect his words 
 created. Jenkins gave up trying to disguise his sobs. 
 Hicks sat with face averted and head bowed. 
 
 " In your place I would fly from such unworthy 
 creatures ; I would spend my holidays in manly sports, or 
 travel, that when the right girl came, I might be able to 
 look her in the face, as pure, as bright as she was ! Ah ! 
 the love of a pure woman, dear boys! How splendid! 
 How divine it is ! Prepare for it through life with prayer 
 and fasting." 
 
 With that, and a pull at his glass, he rose to go ; de- 
 claring that his wife was getting anxious. " Ah, the 
 love of a pure woman and the kiddies ! " he exclaimed 
 with an intrusive hiccup. " You fellows don't know 
 what that means to a man. You will some day, though 
 — Please God you both will some day ! " 
 
 They supported him to the street, vowing that he had 
 done their souls more good than all the parsons ever 
 born could possibly have done, all put together. They 
 called a cab for him.
 
 HEE-HAW ! 205 
 
 " Oh, I say, you dear old pals," he murmured tear- 
 fully as on a sudden fearful recollection, " I've just re- 
 membered ; I can't run to that. Cleaned out — dead 
 stoney — have to tramp it down to Clapham." 
 
 Jenkins and Hicks each thrust a sovereign on him ; it 
 seemed too small a price for their conversion. Vernon 
 in each case squeezed the giving hand. 
 
 " Thank you, true friends in need," he murmured, cheer- 
 ful once again. " Pay back to-morrow, honest. Spa 
 Road, Clapham. Make him understand." 
 
 With Alpine efforts he climbed up into the vehicle, 
 collapsing sidelong on the seat with a weird laugh. 
 Jenkins, who then lost every notion of his whereabouts, 
 and wished, he said with sundry random chuckles, to 
 be conducted to the nearest convent, was supported 
 tenderly by Hicks to his own rooms in Jermyn Street. 
 Hicks spoke of the new life that he was going to lead. 
 They swore eternal friendship, and so parted.
 
 BUTLEY; THE PRELUDE OF A NOBLE LIFE. 
 
 "You leave me alone, you brute! You dirty little 
 wretch ! You'd best, I tell you ! " 
 
 "You must learn, once for all, to obey." 
 
 " You obey me, then ! I'm your master, I am. My 
 father pays you wages ! " 
 
 Lord Butley, with a face of crimson rage, stood square 
 against his governess, with fists ready. It was the first 
 great crisis in his lordship's life. 
 
 At the time of his birth there had been great fes- 
 tivities at Clanston Park ; a deputation from the adja- 
 cent town had waited on his father with a congratu- 
 latroy address ; his health and long life had been drunk 
 with musical honours at a great banquet given to the 
 tenantry ; the butler had brewed a hogshead of strong 
 ale and laid it down against his coming of age festivities > 
 and then — he was forgotten. His mother and his father 
 having their own interests which left them little time to 
 think about their offspring, the charge of him devolved 
 upon two well-trained nurses. The whole year round he 
 stayed at Clanston Park, whither his parents came but 
 for a few weeks in the shooting season. And the same 
 nurses who had been efficient when his age was eighteen 
 months still held nominal sway when he was eight years 
 old and spent most of his time in the stables. Then his 
 
 (206)
 
 BUTLEY ; THE PRELUDE OF A NOBLE LIFE 207 
 
 mother, who had always spoilt him when they met, 
 suddenly awoke to duty. 
 
 The shock which had roused her came from Butley's 
 use of a coarse word — "bitch" — together with "ugly" 
 and "old," to designate a duchess who was staying in 
 the house. She then and there decided he must have a 
 governess. 
 
 " Send him away to school ! " her husband counselled. 
 
 But no ; dear Butley was too delicate and highly 
 strung as yet. He must be broken in gently ; he must 
 begin with a governess. A man present happening to 
 recommend a girl he knew, "devilish hard up" and 
 "quite a lady," named Maud Manners, Butley's mother 
 wrote to her forthwith. 
 
 Miss Manners when she came looked strong and 
 cheerful ; and evidently wished to please ; so her appoint- 
 ment was confirmed. Butley had, at first, felt no fore- 
 bodings, regarding her simply as another menial to do 
 his bidding like the stable-boys and his two nurses. 
 While his mother was in the house, he had only, he 
 knew, to run to her with tales of grievance in order to 
 secure the end of any edict of Miss Manners. 
 
 It was only when his parents and their guests had all 
 departed that the fight began. Lord Butley, calmly 
 wishing to return to his own haunts and habits, felt out- 
 raged when she dragged him in to lessons by main force, 
 and called her every name that he could think of. The 
 servants, cowards all, obeyed her orders, instead of sup- 
 porting their young master ; he told them also what he 
 thought of them. By the end of a month he had 
 learnt that he could not escape Miss Manners. He
 
 208 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 fought then at bay with all the passion of his untamed 
 nature. His resolve was to do nothing that she told 
 him ; he bit and scratched, he barked her shins, he swore 
 at her ; yet every time, it might be after hours of battle, 
 she forced him to obey. He could not score a single 
 point against her. It would have soothed his pride to 
 know that he had made her cry but once. He felt sure 
 that he must have done so often, but she was artful and 
 reserved her tears till after he had gone to bed. 
 
 " If you could see yourself at this minute, Butley ! 
 How ugly ! " 
 
 " Ugly yourself, you filthy, dirty beast ! " 
 " I wouldn't be a silly little boy if I were you." 
 This scrap of dialogue is typical. She never lost her 
 wool, the ugly wretch ! And she was sly, for ever on the 
 watch to take some mean advantage. Having learnt 
 that Butley was afraid of the dark, she used that know- 
 ledge treacherously against him. 
 
 "Well, if I leave the nightlight, will you say you're 
 sorry?" 
 
 Of course he would, and did ; but he despised so base 
 an enemy. In moments of victory she would address 
 him kindly, explaining that all her beastliness was for 
 his good ; but if he feigned to listen, it was just to put 
 her off her guard that he might seize a chance to slip off 
 to his own devices. He hated going out for walks with 
 her, and was always more than usually cross on these oc- 
 casions. Once, under her very eyes, he climbed a tree, 
 and from its branches hurled defiance at her. All her 
 commands to him to come down had no effect till, after 
 two hours, they were enforced by a gardener's hose —
 
 BUTLEY ; THE PRELUDE OF A NOBLE LIFE 209 
 
 another of her dirty tricks. Yet, in spite of all that he 
 could do, she ruled his life. He fought for the last 
 vestiges of independence with despairing courage, aware 
 with horror that his strength was giving out. 
 
 Now, on this May evening, came the crucial strife. 
 He had to overcome her now, or else give in and lead a 
 slavish life, bereft of colour. 
 
 "You leave me alone, you dirty little wretch!" he 
 hurled at her. 
 
 Though it was long past the usual hour, he had re- 
 fused to go to bed when the nurse came for him. Miss 
 Manners told the nurse to go ; she would soon bring 
 him. Lord Butley read determination in her devil's face 
 which he had once with stupefaction heard his mother 
 call "quite handsome". 
 
 " Butley, you sha'n't have that nightlight 1" 
 
 "Who cares, you stinking beast ! You ugly devil ! " 
 
 He put his tongue out slowly, and then spat. Her 
 nasty face went crimson ; she was wild. Lord Butley 
 flushed with satisfaction. 
 
 " I'm going to make you obedient, once for all, my 
 boy. Do you know what I'm going to do? I'm going 
 to put you out of doors in the dark until you're good." 
 
 " Yah, I'd run in at another door." 
 
 " I'll have them locked. I'm mistress here, you know ! " 
 
 " You daren't, and you're not the mistress ! I'm your 
 master. My mother pays you wages. You're my ser- 
 vant. ... I say, my mother's coming this week-end. 
 I'll tell her what you're doing ; yes, I will ! Let go, you 
 wretch, you hog ! Oh, damn ! Oh, damn ! " 
 
 He shrieked and fought, but she was much too strong
 
 210 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 for him ; he was liftedyoff his feet and carried out across 
 the hall to the great door. 
 
 " Oh, brute ! Oh, brat ! " he yelled, striving with hands 
 and feet to take her life. She thrust him out, and shut 
 the door against him, saying coolly : — 
 
 " Stay there till you recover, naughty boy ! " 
 Lord Butley kicked and hammered on the door. He 
 knew that she was standing just inside, waiting for him 
 to ask forgiveness. In his own house ! The thought in- 
 creased his rage. 
 
 " You let me in, you dirty little devil ! " 
 There was no response. 
 
 " Very well, then. You'll be sorry ! Wait till Mother 
 comes ! " Therewith he burst out sobbing. 
 
 Turning his back upon the door, he ran out from the 
 portico, down the broad stone steps and straight across 
 the lawn. His purpose was to lose himself entirely, that, 
 when his mother came and found no Butley, she might 
 have that filthy brute behind there hung for murder. 
 
 When he had passed from the gardens to the outer 
 park, the gate in the fence, the shrubberies behind him, 
 became as a great wall erected between him and home. 
 He felt cut off completely, desolate, at the mercy of 
 the powers of night, through that beast's fault. Sobs 
 gathered in his gullet as he ran, and broke forth one by 
 one, in measure with his footfalls on the turf. His wrath, 
 abating, gave place to a fierce self-pity. He wanted all 
 the world to pity him, to cry aloud in horror at his 
 grievous plight. And all at once what seemed a bright 
 thought struck him. He would kill or wound himself, 
 do something desperate, to teach her once for all that he
 
 BUTLEY; THE PRELUDE OF A NOBLE LIFE 211 
 
 was somebody to be respected. The vile beast had a 
 way of smiling at his tantrums, which was maddening. 
 She should never smile again, if he could help it. 
 
 He fumbled in his pocket for the little knife, given him 
 on his last birthday by an under-gardener, which he gener- 
 ally carried there, meaning to gash his hands and face with 
 it and make them bleed. It was not there. 
 
 He remembered now that he had left it on the window- 
 sill of the day-nursery, now his schoolroom, where he had 
 been trying to make a whistle from a stem of elder, as he 
 had seen George, his particular stable-boy, do. Bother ! 
 
 Determined to hurt himself somehow, he ran on sobbing 
 towards a clump of trees. Tree-trunks were hard enough 
 to hurt him badly. He would be found beside them, life- 
 less, when the morning came. He put down his head 
 and charged at one of them ; but ere he struck it he 
 slowed down instinctively. The shock was not so great 
 as that intended ; severe enough, however, to make him 
 rub his crown and bellow fearfully, sufficient to decide him 
 not to try again. 
 
 Then, as he stood still, weeping, fast recovering from 
 the blow, the stillness of the starlit night, the ghostly 
 shrouding of the trees came home to him, begetting in his 
 mind a nameless fear. His hair began to bristle and his 
 flesh to creep. Then came the consciousness of some- 
 thing terrible, unearthly, close behind him. He perceived 
 it vaguely with the corner of his eye, but when he rounded 
 on it, there was nothing there ; the thing had flitted with 
 his gaze, and was still just round the corner of his patch 
 of vision. There was something beastly after him ; and it 
 was all her fault.
 
 212 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 " Oh, curse, — oh, damn her ! " he reflected desperately. 
 The remembrance of Miss Manners brought on a fresh 
 fit of sobbing, and he ran again. Why couldn't she let 
 him alone instead of always interfering ? It had all been 
 jolly till she came and spoilt it. She was a filthy beast, 
 she was ! A blighter and a cur, into the bargain ! On 
 second thoughts, he would not lose himself, he would 
 wander round the house till she grew anxious and came 
 out to fetch him. She would have to coax him hard and 
 beg his pardon ; then, when he had fairly conquered her, 
 he would go in. 
 
 He stopped again. That horrid thing was close be- 
 hind him now. Trembling, he kept turning round to try 
 and see it, ready, had he done so, to shriek out and run at 
 it, head down, with all his might. He failed to fix it. 
 It seemed dancing round him. And, what was worse, it 
 was not now alone. He fancied he could feel a breathing 
 on his neck. His heart jumped wildly, his teeth chattered. 
 Then, hopeless, he resumed his sobbing run. 
 
 Supposing she did not come out to look for him. She 
 was such a wicked brute, she might not feel for him. It 
 would be beastly rough to have to give in after all. 
 Fresh weeping followed on the bare conjecture. 
 
 The horror of the darkness deepened all around him. 
 The monstrous trees held out their arms to stop him. 
 The stars were laughing at him, he imagined, and winking 
 at each other. They were up to something. His ears 
 were full of a weird tune, four notes, and then four thumps, 
 as beating time, and then the notes again ; it never 
 ceased. 
 
 He must go home. But the house wa» far away, and
 
 BUTLEY ; THE PRELUDE OE A NOBLE LIFE tfl3 
 
 every step of the road was now a separate terror. More- 
 over, having turned about so many times, he could not 
 feel quite sure of the direction. 
 
 Then a new dread seized him, seeming to explain his 
 haunted plight. That nasty pig had told him that the 
 devil could get hold of naughty boys. And he was 
 naughty now. When he came to think of it, he did not 
 know that he had ever in his life been naughtier. For- 
 getting pride, he set off hastily in what he took for the 
 direction of the house ; but after running for a long, long 
 while, till he was blown, he found himself quite lost among 
 the outer woods. He seemed to hear derisive chuckles 
 in their shadows, so turned and ran again. Though very 
 short of breath, and with a bad stitch in his side, he kept 
 up manfully, till, in the shadow of some trees, he tripped 
 upon a root and fell and hurt his nose — also both knees, 
 it took him time to realize ; also one of his hands. 
 
 "Oh, you beast, you dirty little hog!" he hurled at 
 the remembrance of Miss Manners. " Now I've hurt my- 
 self, I'm dying ! And it's all your mangy fault. Oh, 
 won't you catch it when my mother comes ! " 
 
 That was the last rally of his beaten pride. Next 
 minute, when the pain was over and his fears returned, he 
 called upon Miss Manners as a strong deliverer, with 
 heart-broken sighs. He confessed himself beaten, and 
 had now but one idea : to get back quickly to the house 
 and throw his arms around the old pig's neck. He kept 
 rehearsing : " I am really, truly sorry," and found some 
 comfort in the thought that strife was over. 
 
 But even as he thus approved his own surrender, he 
 heard shouts in the distance and saw lights moving to
 
 214 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 and fro beneath the trees. The voice of Miss Manners 
 wailing, " Butley \ Butley, where are you? " with anguish 
 in its tones, borne upon the wind, informed him that he 
 was not beaten after all. She had repented ; she had 
 come to look for him. In a trice his pride grew stiff again ; 
 his heart was hardened. 
 
 " Hi ! " he shouted. " Here, over here ! " Thereafter, 
 on a sudden inspiration, he cast himself upon the ground 
 and lay there, on his back pathetically, giving vent to 
 plaintive moans from time to time. 
 
 "Where are you, Butley?" 
 
 "Here! Oh, here ! Close by this beech-tree. Oh, 
 do, please, make haste ! " 
 
 When the light of the lanterns shone on him at length, 
 his groans increased. Miss Manners knelt upon the 
 ground beside him. 
 
 "Butley, tell me what's the matter? Have you hurt 
 yourself? Be brave, my darling ! Here has your mother 
 come home unexpectedly. We've all been hunting for 
 you. What is it? Where's the pain, dear? " 
 
 " My leg, my leg ! " whined Butley, writhing painfully. 
 He added, for a bit of finish : " And my head ! " 
 
 " Had we better pick him up and carry him, Miss, or 
 send back to the house for a stretcher? " questioned Robbs 
 the coachman. 
 
 " Oh, carry me, get me home at once ! " implored 
 the sufferer. 
 
 " Lift him up very gently. Oh, do, please, take care ! " 
 Miss Manners spoke as one distraught with shame and 
 grief. 
 
 Lord Butley gave an awful shriek as they laid hold of
 
 BUTLEY ; THE PRELUDE OF A NOBLE LIEE c 215 
 
 him, and continued groaning and exclaiming, " Oh, my 
 leg ! My head ! " all the way back to the house. 
 
 He heard his mother cry, " My darling ! What has 
 happened?" and felt her kisses on his face. He could 
 see nothing, having closed his eyes for fear their lustre 
 might betray his great enjoyment of the game. He was 
 carried up to his own room and put to bed ; his mother 
 sitting near him till he seemed asleep. He heard his 
 tyrant's voice no more that night. 
 
 Somehow he could not sleep at first, the grand excite- 
 ment of his victory causing him to review every incident 
 of the great fight. It seemed to him at last that he had 
 done too much to punish that old wretch's impudence ; 
 she was not really such an utter beast. With the thought 
 that he would make it up with her to-morrow, a peaceful 
 thought, he fell asleep at last. 
 
 He woke to find his mother bending over him. 
 
 " Oh, I say, where's Miss Manners? Make her come 
 here, will you ? " he said as soon as he knew where he 
 was. 
 
 " You should have spoken two hours earlier, my darling, 
 if you wished to see her ! She went by the early train. 
 She will not come back. After what she did to you last 
 night I hope never to set eyes on her again." 
 
 " Oh, damn ! " said Butley to his mother's horror, and 
 then, to her amazement, burst out crying.
 
 THE DOG OF DISCORD. 
 
 One cloudy October afternoon old Carter pottered along 
 the by-road which connects the village of Teddishall in 
 the county of Suffolk with the hamlet of Ash — an em- 
 bankment between ditches choked with reeds, its edges 
 marked with white posts in the grass at intervals. He 
 leaned forward on his stick with hands up, in the posture 
 of a kangaroo about to jump ; and it would have oc- 
 curred to an observer that in a few years' time, did 
 nature spare him, he must inevitably forsake that 
 posture and go on all fours frankly, like a beast. As a 
 rule his pace was of extreme deliberation, with frequent 
 stops to gape at anything that hove in sight, from man or 
 cow to bird or bumble-bee; but on this particular after- 
 noon he covered the ground at a goodish rate for one so 
 feeble, pausing only when obliged to do so by exhaustion. 
 Then a mongrel dog, partaking of the collie and the 
 lurcher, a greyish dog with stripes and spots of black, 
 which had been inspecting the white posts ahead, seeing 
 him motionless, ran back and fawned on him. The dog 
 had one eye white and one eye brown ; it was altogether 
 an unsightly beast ; but old Carter showed his toothless 
 gums in satisfaction, murmured, " Good dawg ! Good 
 dawg!" and coughed for lack of breath. 
 
 (2 1 6)
 
 THE DOG OF DISCORD 217 
 
 As he rested thus upon the hump of the one-arch 
 bridge from whence the cottages of Ash are seen through 
 rows of poplars, some children playing by the stream 
 cried out, " Hallo ! " A woman running from the nearest 
 dwelling in pursuit of the said children, said : " Good 
 evenin', Mr. Carter. What ! Yow got a dawg ? " 
 
 Old Carter beamed. " He be a stray and follered me. 
 He ha' been about the village days and days, and no one 
 fare to want un. A good dawg he be. He'll be like 
 company for me and Ed'ard. Come, good dawg ! Good 
 dawg ! " 
 
 Leaning hard upon the knob of his stick with one 
 hand, he lowered the other slowly till it touched the 
 mongrel's head. 
 
 " Why, yow'll ha' to pay a licence and no end o' fuss. 
 And don't yow go expectin' me to dew for ta dawg as 
 well as yow and Mr. Grice together." 
 
 "Don't yow consarn yerself, Miss Tarl ; Ed'ard and 
 me'll see to ta dawg all right." 
 
 "Well, o' all the duzzy ole fules ! " sighed Mrs. 
 Turrell in loud soliloquy ; then, turning from the old 
 man and the dog, she put her hand to her mouth and 
 shouted to the children : — 
 
 " Come yow in at once together. Dew yow hear, ye 
 little mucks ? Don't, I'll gie ye what for ! " 
 
 Old Carter hobbled on to his own place. Old Grice 
 was out and leaning on the gate. 
 
 "Why, what ha' yow got there?" he cried at vision 
 of his housemate. "Not a dawg? Well, there now, 
 that's a rum un ! " 
 
 Old Grice was a ruin of a stronger build. Old age
 
 218 TALKS FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 had bowed his head alone, its ravages being chiefly 
 shown in a spasmodic twitching of the mouth and chin. 
 His frame to the shoulders was still massive and erect ; 
 his eyes under shaggy brows were dark, and still re- 
 tained a glint of devilry, whereas old Carter's were of 
 wintry blue, red-edged, and vacant as a baby's. 
 
 " That's a stray, they tell me. Been about the village 
 yonder. No one don't fare to want un, so I brought un 
 home. I thought as how that'd be company for you 
 and me." 
 
 "Aye, aye; I likes a dawg about ta place. Here, 
 Rover, Charley, what's yer name ! Good dawg ! Good 
 dawg ! " 
 
 The dog obeyed the call and, placing his forepaws on 
 the top bar of the little gate, received old Grice's patting 
 with a wagging tail. 
 
 "That's a niceish dawg, that is. I got a mind to 
 keep un, bo' ! There's some scraps indoors as I was 
 a-savin' for Joe Tad's pigs. Go yow in and gie 'em 
 to our new pardner, and I'll stump round and get a cask 
 or some'at." 
 
 " Glad yow took to un, Ed'ard. A's a good dawg, he 
 be." 
 
 Old Carter went into the cottage and fed the mongrel 
 in the living-room with ceaseless ejaculation of "Good 
 dawg ! Good dawg ! " 
 
 Old Grice went the round of the hamlet, returning 
 after a quarter of an hour in the wake of a small boy 
 who carried on his head an empty packing-case. Old 
 Carter was then sitting in his Windsor arm-chair, 
 fondling the dog's head on his knee.
 
 THE DOG OF DISCORD *19 
 
 "Here! Good dawg! Good dawg !" old Grice called 
 out peremptorily, and the brute went to him, to old 
 Carter's chagrin. For a moment the forsaken one ex- 
 perienced a rush of bitter feeling ; it passed, however, 
 and he went to view the kennel. 
 
 "That can stand in the back'us to-night," observed 
 old Grice. " To-morrow sometime I'll make shift to get 
 a staple and a bit o' chain. Then we can tie un up o' 
 nights agen the back wall here." 
 
 " Good dawg ! Good dawg ! " murmured old Carter 
 compassionately, fondling the dog which had again 
 returned to him. 
 
 "What's amiss wi* what I be a-sayin', Dan'l?" asked 
 old Grice severely. " 'Tis the way to keep a dawg. Ye 
 marn't be alius dandlin' on 'em, dew yow'll spile their 
 nater." 
 
 " I knows as much o' dawgs as what yow dew, ole 
 pardner, bein' as I ha' kep' a many. There be dawgs 
 and dawgs." 
 
 "Well there ain't no mander o' call for yow to fare 
 that riled." 
 
 " I beant riled, bless ye ; only don't yow go and think 
 as yow be t' only one as ever kep' a dawg afore." 
 
 Such breezes sprang up often in their sheltered life to 
 save them from the lethargy which always threatened. 
 Hitherto the squabbles had concerned their shares in 
 housekeeping, or else the merits of their respective 
 daughters. Old Grice's daughter, while in service in 
 London, had managed to enchant and wed a man of 
 means. She allowed her father a pound a week. Old 
 Carter also had a daughter ; but she was married to a
 
 220 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 labouring man and overwhelmed with children. He 
 owed his independence to the bounty of a former master, 
 who had willed to him an annuity of £35 a year, 
 doled out weekly by a legal firm at Beccles. 
 
 Old Carter, when a little out of sorts, would say that 
 Grice, considering his larger pension, ought to contribute 
 more towards the household ; and would, if further 
 vexed, cast doubt on Grice's daughter's virtue, exclaim- 
 ing :— 
 
 " Ha' yow seen the marriage lines? Yow know yow 
 ha'n't. I'd soon ha' seed 'em if she'd been my 
 daughter." 
 
 "And need to!" was the sniggering reply. "A gel 
 like yourn as hev a baby only look at her. My gel 
 ha'n't had none yet, and the feller stick to her, that's 
 sarten proof as she be married safe and sound." 
 
 " I thanks the Lord my Sally fare perlific." 
 
 Old Grice then dropped a word concerning " rabbuts," 
 and old Carter wept. 
 
 Such quarrels had arisen pretty often, whenever a touch 
 of cold or a twinge of rheumatism made one or other 
 of the gaffers irritable. They had counted for but little 
 in their friendly life ; and neither of the old men dreamt 
 that the coming of a dog could set them by the ears. 
 Yet so it did. 
 
 That evening after tea, each sitting in his own arm-chair 
 beside the fireplace, they again had angry words about 
 the mongrel, which lay and blinked between them on the 
 patchwork rug. 
 
 " Makes hisself at home," observed old Carter, chuck- 
 ling. " Seems he ha' tuk to us all right."
 
 THE DOG OF DISCORD 221 
 
 "Aye, I seed he were a fecternate kind of a dawg. 
 That's why I kep' un," said old Grice with judg- 
 ment. 
 
 " Yow kep' un, Ed'ard ! That's a good un, that is ! 
 I like that, when I brought un home o' parpose ! " 
 
 " Without no thought o' me, I reckon, pardner ! Well 
 let me tell ye plain and straight ; so sure as I set here, 
 that wouldn't be a layin' where that dew if I hadn't took 
 to un." 
 
 "Ye lie!" 
 
 " It's yow be lyin', Dan'l, black and crool ! " 
 
 A few more angry words, and Carter's tears began to 
 fall : old Grice, compassionate towards the vanquished, 
 then made light of the affair, and gave good counsel to 
 his housemate as a father might. 
 
 But there remained in both a little soreness which 
 rankled with the lapse of days instead of healing. Old 
 Grice was all for discipline, old Carter for indulgence ; 
 but their roles were much confused, sometimes inverted, 
 by sudden unforeseen attacks of jealousy. Old Grice 
 would privately caress the dog ; when Carter, in surprise, 
 was moved to hit it. 
 
 " Pore dawg ! What's that for, Dan'l ? " Grice would 
 then inquire. 
 
 " Gettin' right i' my way, drat un ! Might ha' tripped 
 me up." 
 
 " He's a stingy brute, is Dan'l. Never mind, good 
 dawg ! " 
 
 " Yow talk as if the dawg was yourn. He's mine, 
 I found un. I've no patience wi' ye, alius naggin' the 
 pore beast."
 
 222 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 "Be I a-naggin' now, I ask ye solemn, Dan'l? Hew 
 was it struck un just this minute ? " 
 
 " Ye'll spile his temper between ye ! " Mrs. Turrell, 
 who scrubbed and swept for them, exclaimed each 
 morning. " Talk of a dawg's life : what wi' one and 
 then tother on ye, never knowin' which to look to, I 
 'ouldn't be that dawg o' yourn for suffen handsome ! " 
 
 Their jealous strife concerning that most undesirable 
 of mongrels became a standing joke among the neigh- 
 bours. On Sunday afternoons the men and hobbledehoys 
 forsook the paling of Joe Turrell's pigstye, their ac- 
 customed leaning-place, for the backyard of the cottage 
 where the gaffers dwelt. It was so easy by sly comments 
 on the dog to draw them out, and make them ludicrous. 
 The point in chief dispute was that of ownership. Each 
 claimed to be the absolute possessor. By deft support 
 of one and then the other the flame of difference could be 
 fanned so high that the parties shook their sticks at one 
 another. Then Joe Turrell, or some one else of modera- 
 tion, ran in and stopped them, crying : — 
 
 " For shame, two such old ancient aged gentlemen, 
 retired and independent-like and all, to go a-quarrelling 
 and a-fightin' about a dawg." 
 
 " Well, he begun it," old Carter would then whimper ; 
 and peace would be gradually restored. 
 
 Old Carter felt most keenly this vexed point of owner- 
 ship, since it was he who had first found the dog. He 
 was determined to assert his right in this respect, to settle 
 the dispute for ever by a cunning move. Reminded by 
 a chance remark of Mrs. Turrell's that the time of licences 
 drew near, for three weeks previous to the ist of January
 
 THE DOG OF l>ls< 'OKI) 228 
 
 he kept back half-a-crown of his allowance instead of 
 depositing the same in the Post Office Savings Bank. 
 Old Grice, whom he watched closely, seemed to have for- 
 gotten all about the licence. Old Carter rubbed his hands, 
 having no doubt but he would gain his point. 
 
 The first two days of the New Year were rainy ; on 
 the third the sun shone out, and old Carter prepared to 
 start for Teddishall Post Office. Old Grice, though much 
 the haler of the two, walked out but seldom. 
 
 " Yow can tek the dawg, if ye like," he called out 
 graciously. Old Carter had quite meant to do so, but 
 his chum's permission made the course impossible. He 
 went out alone, indignant, yet with triumph in perspective, 
 fingering the seven-and-sixpence in his waistcoat pocket. 
 
 He got the licence at the post office, exchanged tidings 
 with one or two cronies, then hobbled back across the 
 marshes, pausing often to regain his breath, which was 
 shorter than ever that day because of chuckling. At 
 every pause he turned and grinned towards the village 
 as a confidant. The white sails of the windmill, the dark 
 pines in the rectory garden on a knoll, touching the clear 
 blue sky, enhanced its brilliance. "Like a summer's day!" 
 he thought, and then, reverting to his grievance, "Togo 
 a pratin' as the dawg be hisn, whereby I found un, and 
 fetched un home meself along this very road. Ridicker- 
 lus ! " 
 
 Old Grice was leaning on their cottage gate, enjoying 
 the rare sunshine, when he came in sight. 
 
 "I ha' bought some'at yow forgot, I reckon, bo' — 
 that there dawg's licence," piped old Carter, drawing 
 near.
 
 224 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 Old Grice lifted his head and looked contempt at him, 
 then shrugged and threw up his hands. 
 
 " Gawd bless my soul and body ! " he guffawed. " Well, 
 of all the shanny on-bethinkin' fules ! Well, there now, 
 Dan'l. Why to marcy couldn't yow ha' spoke afore ? I 
 got that yesterday fro' Beccles by ta boy Tarl." 
 
 " Well, o' all the artful stingy tricks to play ! " 
 
 " Reckoned I were doin' ye a kindness, Dan'l, that's 
 the fack I did." 
 
 '■ Yow gie me back my seven-and-six ! " 
 
 "Go and arst 'em at ta Post-Awfus. Or haps yow'd 
 like to git another dawg." 
 
 Old Carter, fairly weeping, went indoors. Old Grice, 
 the dog at his heels, went round the hamlet, telling the 
 joke to Mrs. Turrell and everybody. 
 
 "Stars and Garters ! I done the old un a fair treat, I 
 tell ye. He be in there now a-blubberin', pore old 
 dear ! " 
 
 Having enjoyed his triumph, he returned and said to 
 Carter : — 
 
 " I nivver reckoned yow'd take on like that, ole dear ! 
 Gawd love ye, why, that's jest my fun. Yow found ta 
 dawg and brought un home ; an' then I concided fer to 
 keep un. He belong to both on us. That's ship-shape, 
 ain't it now ? " 
 
 Old Carter remained speechless like a sullen child. 
 For days he would not even pat the dog, and sulked with 
 his housemate, feeling much defrauded. 
 
 It was while he thus moped that his daughter came 
 to see him, bringing as usual an instalment of her 
 family.
 
 THE DOG OF DISCORD 225 
 
 " Drat the woman ! " cried old Grice by inadvertence, 
 when the visit was announced to him beforehand. 
 
 " Yow ha'n't no call to take an' blast my daughter, 
 Ed'ard. She were alius a well-conducted mawther, and 
 respectful towards yer." 
 
 "Who's a-blastin' of 'er." 
 
 " You did, Ed'ard. The Lord knows as I ha'n't got 
 much left fer to pleasure me. I take it hard as yow 
 conject her visitin'." 
 
 The visits of his daughter had always been great 
 triumphs for old Carter. He made the children show off 
 before " Uncle Ed'ard " and often sighed, " A mortal pity 
 you ha'n't got no grandchil'en ". And old Grice was 
 usually civil, even abashed, in presence of the mother, 
 reserving adverse criticisms until they were gone. To- 
 day he was the same as always, cordial to " poor Annie," 
 whom he rather liked, and patient of the children, till, 
 plagued by these last, and at a loss how to amuse them, 
 he brought in the dog. 
 
 "What d'ye want to bring in that for?" cried old 
 Carter fretfully. " He'll bite the chil'en." 
 
 Poor Annie expressed the like anxiety and Mrs. Tur- 
 rell, always to the fore on these occasions, seconded her 
 entreaties. Old Grice derided their timidity, chuckling : 
 " He be a good dawg. He 'ont bite 'em." 
 
 The children fell with one accord upon the mongrel. 
 Annie, rocking to and fro to still the baby at her breast, 
 resumed an intimate, murmured talk with Mrs. Turrell, 
 and forgot them ; till there came a yell from the little 
 girl, succeeded by a roar, in which her brothers joined. 
 The dog had bitten her, 
 
 15
 
 226 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 Annie was on the spot instantly. Clutching the baby 
 with her left hand, she laid the right upon the shoulder 
 of the sufferer and, shaking fiercely, asked to see the 
 wound. 
 
 Old Carter struck the dog with his stick, calling 
 out: "What did I tell ye, Ed'ard? That be all your 
 fault." 
 
 " There be nought ta matter ; that ha'n't broke ta 
 skin," rejoined old Grice, contemptuous of all the outcry. 
 " Yow dare strike that poor dawg again, Dan'l, and I'll 
 gie ye suffen for a rememberer." 
 
 Old Carter made another savage hit, old Grice took a 
 step towards him, stick upraised. Annie and Mrs. Turrell 
 sprang between. 
 
 "Did you ever see the like, my dear?" observed the 
 latter lady when peace had been vociferously restored. 
 " 'Tis the talk of the neighbours — two old aged gentlemen 
 that jealous and cantankerous about a dawg. I can't 
 see nawthin' in it — sich an ugly brewt. My husband say 
 as that's the rummest go he ever see. There's folks come 
 here from Teddishall to see 'em quarrel of a Sunday. Joe 
 say they're better than old clowns, seeming so natchrel. 
 That's the trewth, my dear, they're as good as a play, 
 two sich old charicters ! " 
 
 " I'm right ashamed o' father," exclaimed Annie 
 loudly, still rocking the baby, of which she had not 
 once let go. 
 
 " Wa, I don't care a pig about ta dawg," sneered old 
 Carter contemptuously. " It's him what make the fuss. 
 I fared on-sensed when 'Melia started hollerin', bein' as I 
 thought the stingy beast had took and bit her."
 
 THE DOG OF DISCORD 227 
 
 He escorted his daughter a mile on her road to the 
 station and returned with tear-stained cheeks, feeling 
 anything but pugnacious. His chum was peaceful also, 
 and so quiet reigned. 
 
 In the first days of March old Grice caught a cold, 
 which developed into severe bronchitis. He was kept 
 in bed a fortnight by the doctor's orders. Old Carter 
 suddenly renewed affection for the dog, now all his own, 
 had him into the living-room of an evening, and fed him 
 with tit-bits before the fire, exclaiming, " Good dawg ! " 
 at frequent intervals in a tone to be heard of the invalid. 
 Old Grice would bang his stick on the floor, as if re- 
 quiring something. 
 
 " Good dawg. Lie yow still ! I'll be back d'rectly," 
 said old Carter, opening the staircase door which was 
 papered like the wall, and groping his way up the steep, 
 doubling flight. 
 
 It was : — 
 
 "Dan'l where be that there dawg? I ha'n't heerd un 
 shake his chain outside these tew hours." 
 
 "I let un set and warm hisself afore ta fire." 
 
 " Yow'll make a molly of un ; yow're ondewin' all 
 my work. But now he be in let un come up here for 
 company." 
 
 Old Carter called, the dog came bounding up, and 
 ran about the narrow chamber with tail wagging. 
 
 " It's my belief as he've forgot ye, Ed'ard ! " 
 
 " Go yow along ! He know me right enough. Here, 
 good dawg ! Git ye down, ye varmint, soilin' that clean 
 coverlet. . . . Good dawg ! Good dawg ! Yow ain't 
 forgot yer pore ole master; no, nor ever will. I know 
 what dawgs be."
 
 228 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 Old Carter only smiled indulgently. Being undisputed 
 master in those days, he sniffed the incense of his rival's 
 spite. 
 
 " Ha' yow give that dawg his supper? " was another 
 cry. "Sure there's water in his dish out there? I'm 
 afeared he'll fare neglected now I'm laid abed." 
 
 " Never fear, bo' ! He 'ont miss ye." 
 
 Old Grice, usually the better-tempered of the two old 
 men, was thus by cunning taunts, administered maliciously 
 and with intention, worked up to a morbid irritability 
 where the mongrel was concerned. When at last he 
 came down stairs one afternoon, the dog was in the 
 living-room before the fire. 
 
 " Here, come yow out o' that ! " he growled 
 severely. 
 
 The dog looked up and wagged its tail, but did not 
 budge. 
 
 " Here, good dawg ! Come here ! " cried Carter in 
 much louder tones. Old Grice turned ronnd on him 
 with eyes ablaze beneath their thick white thatch. 
 
 " What's that for, ye botty ole muck ? Can't the dawg 
 understand what I say ? " 
 
 The mongrel had obeyed old Carter's call. 
 
 " O' coorse," old Grice pursued, " he come for shoutin'. 
 So would any dawg. The thing is to make em come 
 for a word spoke quiet. He marn lun to obey, and I'm 
 a-goin' to teach un. He ha' got in a precious state 
 along o' yow as don't know a dawg from a mousehunt. 
 See this strap o' mine?" Old Grice hitched up his 
 waistcoat and loosed a leathern strap from round his 
 middle.
 
 THE DOG OF DISCORD St9 
 
 " No, Ed'ard ! no, ye don't ! The dawg ha'n't done no 
 wrong. Yovv dare to beat un ! " 
 
 " Dare me, dew ye, ye garpin hyayna ! an* what right 
 ha' yow to stop me teachin' o' the dawg ? Take that, ye 
 dommed and dusterin' ole hodmadod ! " 
 
 Grice hit out with the strap at Carter's head, but missed 
 it by an inch. Old Carter seized his coat-sleeve to pre- 
 vent a second blow ; old Grice resisted ; old Carter put 
 out all his aged strength ; the two old men went tottering 
 together round the little sitting-room, struggling, with 
 crab-like movements, striking unexpectedly the chair, 
 the table, impacts easily to be avoided by obedient limbs. 
 Old Carter struggled for his life ; he squealed for mercy, 
 for old Grice had his head down like an angry bull. Old 
 Carter managed to get free. Old Grice, pursuing, tripped 
 on a stool that was not in the way, and fell flat on the 
 floor ; old Carter heard his head bang and was frightened- 
 The dog sprang forward, growling ; then, suddenly quiet, 
 sniffed at the lifeless form. 
 
 " Hi, bo' ! Ole pardner ! Ha' yow hut yer- 
 self?" 
 
 Old Grice made no reply. Old Carter, terrified, put 
 on his reefer overcoat and hobbled round to Mrs. 
 Turrell's. 
 
 " I'm in a way about pore Ed'ard. He've fell in a fit 
 or suffen, pore ole dear ! " 
 
 Mrs. Turrell left her washtub in such haste that she 
 was still wiping her hands on her apron when she stooped 
 over old Grice. She ran and fetched her husband, who 
 went shortly for the doctor. 
 
 Grice was dead.
 
 230 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 Old Carter was chief witness at the inquest, which took 
 place next day. 
 
 "The pore ole dear," he testified with sobs, "fell 
 down onexpected and his head bumped fit to smash 
 lit" 
 
 The doctor showed clearly that the case was one of 
 apoplexy. 
 
 " I'll miss the pore ole dear, there's no denyin'," old 
 Carter confided to the mongrel afterwards. " But he 
 hadn't no right to hide yow wi' ta strap for nawthun. 
 Yow and I'll make shift together — eh, good dawg ? " 
 
 The dog looked up a moment, thumping with its tail 
 upon the hearth, then dropped its head again and went to 
 sleep. 
 
 Old Grice had left a mass of directions as to his funeral, 
 not only to his house-mate but to all the neighbours. It 
 was to be a noble one as poor folks reckon — a hearse with 
 plumes, attended by six men with proper hatbands, 
 and two mourning coaches with a pair of horses each. 
 His daughter had at once been written to by Mrs. Turrell. 
 It was expected that both she and her husband would 
 come down for the funeral ; and old Carter was very 
 curious to get a sight of the much-vaunted creature, about 
 whose virtue he had always had his doubts. 
 
 " I'll lay a pound as she ain't married to the chap," he 
 said to Mrs. Turrell, who also was prepared to sniff at 
 Grice's daughter. 
 
 " If she come by herself to the funeral that'll show as I 
 be right." 
 
 She did come alone, but appeared so dainty and 
 ladylike, so courteous in her speech to every one, and so
 
 THE DOG OF DISCORD 231 
 
 pretty when she pushed up her thick crepe veil, that old 
 Carter could only murmur, " Yes 'm," " Thankee 'm," and 
 knuckle his forehead when she spoke to him. 
 
 She came in a hired fly from Beccles on the day before 
 the funeral, bringing two handsome wreaths, and asked to 
 see her father for the last time. Old Carter took her up to 
 the bedside, and, at her own request, there left her. 
 Waiting for her down in the living-room, he sat staring at 
 the sleeping dog with tear-dimmed eyes. The majesty of 
 Grice's daughter exalted Grice in his memory and in- 
 creased his sense of loss. He felt that he had lived in a 
 reflected glory, unappreciated at the time, and now de- 
 parted. The very dog now seemed to him a sorry object, 
 bereft of the glamour conferred by Grice's patronage. 
 " Good dawg ! " he murmured, but the tone was near 
 disgust. 
 
 As she was leaving the house, old Carter and Mrs. 
 Turrell in obsequious attendance, the mongrel sniffed at 
 her skirts. 
 
 "What an ugly dog!" she said. 
 
 " A good faithful dawg 'm," whined old Carter. " Your 
 dear father were main fond on un. I thought of offerin' 
 un to yow, 'm, as a kind o' remembrance like, though he 
 be my own, and like a child to me." 
 
 It was the highest tribute he had paid to her gentility, 
 this cadging for a fee ; and it slipped out quite uncon- 
 sciously, in a tone he would not have dreamt of using to 
 any but real gentry. 
 
 " Well, I never did ! " cried Mrs. Turrell. " He be 
 offerin' yow ta creatur he love best on arth, mum — pore 
 old dear!"
 
 232 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 Grice's daughter appeared touched by this announce- 
 ment. As she was entering her fly, she turned and gave 
 old Carter half a sovereign, with a gracious hesitation and 
 kind words. Old Carter asked "the Loord in Hivven" 
 to bless her. She promised to return on the morrow, 
 before the undertaker's people came. 
 
 " A real leddy ! " he remarked to Mrs. Turrell. 
 Returned indoors, old Carter looked at the half-sove- 
 reign, then at the dog, and was bound to confess that the 
 half-sovereign was the more pleasing object. 
 
 The mongrel was not worth a quarter of that sum of 
 money. "Good dawg! Good dawg ! " he murmured 
 pensively. 
 
 Now that no one grudged him its possession, the dog 
 was tiresome, always getting in the way. When he came 
 back from old Grice's funeral to the empty house, he 
 stooped and patted the poor brute for form's sake, and 
 said : "There, good dawg ! " But happening to stumble 
 over it a minute later, he called it out and chained it in 
 the yard. It whined and howled ; he muttered, " Drat 
 the dawg ! " and put out its plate of supper without one 
 caressive word. 
 
 The cottage seeming desolate now Grice was gone, he 
 sought a lodging in his daughter's neighbourhood ; and 
 hearing of a two-roomed house quite close to hers, 
 determined to move into it without delay. 
 
 " I say, Joe, yow can take and shoot that dawg ; yow 
 got a gun," he told his neighbour. " Tis more marciful- 
 like than lettin' that go stray, an I can't dew wi' that 
 where I'm a-goin'."
 
 THE DOG OF DISCORD 233 
 
 " Right ye are ! " said Joe, with a wink aside at his 
 wife, which meant that so historical a beast should live its 
 life out in his yard to illustrate a story of the kind most 
 dear to country-folk, who, blind to wit, delight in char- 
 acter. It was a byword.
 
 MAN TO MAN. 
 
 It had been Josiah Forman's custom, time out of mind, 
 to stroll over his farm in the cool of each fine summer 
 evening, gun in hand, at an hour when the blush of sunset 
 faded to a shadow, and the shadow slowly deepened into 
 night. Perusing the furrows or the meadow-grass, his 
 mind in painless travail with the order and disposal of 
 fresh crops, he would all the while keep an eye on the 
 rabbits at play in every meadow, which scampered to the 
 hedge at his approach. This he had called sport, and 
 to this he had looked forward as a recreation. 
 
 Even now, though it was almost his last night on the 
 old place, force of habit made him take up his gun and 
 saunter forth into the twilight. 
 
 Without a word his wife of thirty years watched him 
 set out. But her lips tightened in a woeful smile ; and, 
 after he had gone, she flung her apron over her head, sat 
 down on the pig-stool in the backhouse, and rocked to and 
 fro in a paroxysm of despair, with bitter cries which she 
 no longer tried to stifle. Another week, and stock, furni- 
 ture, even house-linen — everything, would be sold by 
 auction. She and her Josiah, old as they were, must 
 start afresh in life, and at the bottom of the ladder. What 
 would she do ? O God, to what could they turn ? . . . 
 The redness at the low, square-paned window, and its 
 
 (234)
 
 MAN TO MAN 235 
 
 faint reflection on the floor of yellow brick, worn uneven 
 by the tread of dear, known feet, was like the flush of tears 
 upon a human face. 
 
 The man was likewise at his wits' end for grief, but he, 
 even in solitude, preserved a stolid countenance against 
 the world. He did not, perhaps, fully realize the truth of 
 the calamity. Native obstinacy, a certain deafness of the 
 mind not uncommonly vouchsafed to those who suffer 
 much, withstood the burden of misfortune, maintaining 
 numbly, in the face of fact, that it did not exist. As he 
 strode up the " drift," or private lane, by which the tum- 
 brils and wains had access to the fields, the hedge on 
 either hand was a blur to his dazed eyes. In the farm- 
 yard left behind, the fowls were already settling to roost ; 
 hens clucked singly, a cow lowed, the pigs kept up a sub- 
 dued grunting. It was all so familiar, so unchanged, 
 that the man of habit could not credit his sad thoughts. 
 
 " I fare right crazed to think o' leavin' the old home," 
 he kept on saying to himself with trembling of the under- 
 lip ; but he felt nothing save a dull uneasiness, just as he 
 might have done on any other evening. 
 
 Pausing at a gate which admitted to a field of beet, he 
 filled and lighted his pipe. The broad green leaves shone 
 whitely in the gathering night. Below he could see the 
 roofs of the farmstead where his fathers had dwelt before 
 him. It stood on the edge of marshland, nestling in a 
 rookery of old elms. Smoke from the kitchen chimney 
 went up pale against the trees. He could not even now 
 believe that he would ever really have to leave the place, 
 though his brain retraced mechanically the course of his 
 ill-luck down to the present ruin.
 
 236 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 In his memory the face of one man grinned despitefully 
 — the coarse red face, stupid yet malignant, of a labourer 
 whom he had once employed and had dismissed with 
 sharp words and a hiding for a piece of drunken insolence. 
 That was five years since, just five years at harvest, and 
 now it was near Michaelmas. 
 
 In the November following that man's dismissal, four 
 of the farmer's cows had died in one day. The veterinary 
 surgeon's examination showed them to have been poisoned, 
 maliciously as it seemed ; but no clue could be found to 
 the poisoner's identity. A subscription, headed by his 
 landlord, had partly repaired that loss for him. But in 
 the following year, one night a fire had broken out in his 
 rickyard, in several places at once, and all the golden 
 store had been reduced to ashes. His fences had been 
 broken down by night, his crops trampled, his watch-dogs 
 poisoned, his fowls stolen. The police, though avowedly 
 sharing his suspicions with regard to the author of these 
 depredations, could not gather evidence sufficient to 
 justify the man's arrest. At hint of an inquiry, at sight 
 of a dark uniform, the whole country-side became as one 
 deaf man. 
 
 Last and meanest blow of all, a report had been put 
 abroad that Josiah Forman's misfortunes were too frequent 
 to be altogether genuine, that he damaged his own pro- 
 perty in hopes to reap the benefit of a subscription such 
 as on two occasions had been raised for him. 
 
 His landlord had latterly refused to make any allowance 
 from his rent. People once his friends fought shy of 
 him, and smiled a knowing smile if he bemoaned his 
 losses. So he saw himself obliged to leave the home of all
 
 MAN TO MAN 237 
 
 his life, and fare forth with his wife into the callous, almost 
 unknown world beyond the circle of horizon to be seen 
 from thence. It seemed that a relentless fate had been 
 pursuing him these last five years. And one man's face 
 appeared before him grinning. One ignorant, malicious 
 man had been the cause of all that ruin. Josiah For- 
 man's brain throbbed painfully, his fingers tightened on 
 his gun. 
 
 " If I could meet that feller, man to man, this minute 
 I'd shoot the chap same as I would an old destruction 
 crow," he muttered with teeth clenched. " He ain't fit 
 not to dung the land. A bad un ! " The spasm of his 
 anger passed, and he went numb again. 
 
 Along the crest of the rise, a wood of fir-trees raised 
 weird tufts against the western sky. It marked the 
 boundary of his land in that direction. Having reached it, 
 he pushed through the hazel-twigs that formed a ragged 
 hedge, and sat down in the gloom, his gun across his 
 knee. A footpath ran within ten yards of him, skirting 
 the field. 
 
 The place was very lonely, silent but for a faint sobbing 
 of the breeze among the pine-tops and the last cheep and 
 croak of a few sleepy birds. Between the hazel-bushes 
 he could see the field he had left, as a pale lawn. The 
 moon, at her full, shone golden to eastward, conquering 
 the last of daylight. Drowsily he sat and pondered his 
 fate. " God's will be done," was the burden of his mus- 
 ing. But the phrase was a moan of despair in his mind, 
 and not the Christian's sigh of resignation. He felt him- 
 self unjustly treated, could not see that he had ever in his 
 life done anything to merit such misfortune ; yet was too
 
 238 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 well used to plod on with his eyes upon the ground, tak- 
 ing sunshine or rain as Heaven willed, to dream of wrest- 
 ling with his destiny. 
 
 Presently he heard footsteps drawing near along the 
 path. Peeping through the hazel-boughs, he saw a man 
 he knew, a gamekeeper, and called to him by name ; 
 though he had really no great wish to speak with him 
 when he came to reflect. 
 
 " That yow, Mr. Forman ? Yow be right snug and no 
 mistake," the man replied, " I a'most did take ye for a 
 poocher. Only mind and don't distarb the pheasants. 
 We have to be precious partickler just now, I can tell ye, 
 bein' as the season's so nigh, and the lordship have a fine 
 party comin' down ta farst week in October." 
 
 The man in velveteen, glad of some one to talk to, stood 
 at ease, leaning on the big stick he carried. Unable to make 
 out his interlocutor, he addressed his remarks to the hazel- 
 bush from which the voice had seemed to come. 
 
 " And so yow be a-leavin' the parish come Michaelmas, 
 Mr. Forman ! Well, that 'on't fare like ta same place 
 without ye, and so my missis was a-sayin' only an hour 
 ago. Ye marn't take on, sir ; 'tis just bad luck and the 
 Lord's dewin', when all's said an' done. But that fare 
 main hard on yow and your good lady to ha' to move 
 house arter all these years : that that most sart'nly dew." 
 
 He shifted the weight of his body on to the other foot 
 before proceeding in a manner more mysterious : — 
 
 "'Tis my belief, Mr. Forman, and a many think so, as 
 how there's them in this here little parish as knows 
 more'n they'd like to tell about this job o' yourn. Hew 
 was it did for them kine ? — that's what 1 arst — that's what
 
 MAN TO MAN 239 
 
 I'd like to know ! . . . And hew was it fired them ricks ? 
 That must ha' been someone, that that wholly must — 
 and someone not far off, that's how I argy. . . . That 
 there feller — I've no call to name no names — wasa-sayin' 
 only o' Saturday night at the public as yow was rightly 
 sarved. ' Sarve the ole badger right,' them was his 
 wards. . . . Such men as him didn't ought to be let live. 
 They ought to be shot same as weasels, trod on same as 
 creepin'-toads, that's my opinion. Hew went and put it 
 about as yow done that all yourself for the subscription ? 
 There's another thing I'd like to know. . . . Ah, there be 
 a sight o' things we can't fare to understand in this warld. 
 No need to talk to me o' ghosts and sich-like. 'Tis 
 wholly wonderful the way some folks get off. An un- 
 accountable rum warld, that be, the Lord knows that 
 as well as I dew. . . . But there, I'm talkin' ! Good 
 night, Mr. Forman. Yow'd best be gettin' home, yow'U 
 catch cramp in your jints a-settin' there." 
 
 With a farewell flourish of his stick the gamekeeper strode 
 off. The farmer still sat on, regardless of the hour, ab- 
 stracted, half in thought and half in dream. So everybody 
 knew the truth of his misfortunes. His enemy had said in 
 public that it served him right. Why had not those who 
 heard him stopped his mouth with blows? Why had 
 not some one knocked him down and trampled on him ? 
 The wood was grown very quiet, lulled by a faint murmur 
 of the wind through upper branches of the fir-trees like 
 the sea-sound in a shell. In the distance a dog barked — 
 two sharp yaps and then a melancholy howl. The moon 
 shone with strength now, making the field seen through 
 the hazel bushes milky. Within the wood it raised tall
 
 240 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMIMEYS 
 
 mists of light, like ghostly figures. For a second there 
 was flapping of strong wings overhead as a bird resettled 
 its claws on the bough. Then again all was still. 
 
 Fresh footsteps on the path reminded the old man that 
 his wife at home might well be growing anxious. He 
 stayed, however, for the wayfarer to pass. The man, 
 whoever it might be, appeared the worse for drink, for 
 his feet fell out of time, and he crooned to himself some 
 kind of song, interspersed with hiccups and absurd re- 
 marks. Through a gap in the hedge, Josiah Forman got 
 a good view of the stumbling form as it drew near, and 
 in a trice his lethargy fell from him. He struggled to his 
 feet and took a long stride forward. 
 
 " Bill ! " he called. " Bill Cartwright ! Look this 
 way ! " The drunkard gave a sudden lurch, then pulled 
 himself together and stood gaping at the hedge, keeping 
 his legs with difficulty. 
 
 " Hew's that keep callin' Bill?" he asked contemp- 
 tuously and with tipsy dignity. " Hew the devil be 
 yow ? — Hew be yow, master: dewyow hear me 'quire? " 
 
 " Josiah Forman," shouted the farmer, not four paces 
 distant. " Look me straight in the face this once, Bill 
 Cartwright. 'Tis our day o' reckonin'. " 
 
 He lifted his gun, took deadly aim, and fired. 
 
 "O Christ ! " . . . was the ruffian's last word. That 
 was the sickening part of it. It seemed somehow to turn 
 the tables upon human justice. 
 
 Josiah Forman threw away his gun and plunged into 
 the wood ; not that he was afraid — no, far from that, he 
 was exultant — but to escape the blasphemous echo of 
 that death-cry. The commotion of many wings raised by
 
 MAN TO MAN 241 
 
 the report of the gun had not yet subsided. There were 
 short, hoarse cries of startled birds in the air. The 
 bracken crackled beneath his tread one minute ; the next 
 the ground was slippery with needles. 
 
 The fir wood was not thick. Beyond its shadowed col- 
 onnade the mist of moonshine appeared boundless as the 
 sea. Soon he was out in it, all shadows left behind. A 
 vast stretch of heath rolled away to the horizon where 
 other fir woods floated in the moon-haze, like a distant 
 shore. He advanced swiftly, with strange leaps and 
 gesticulations. Tripping on a snag once, he sprawled 
 headlong, but arose unhurt, as light and gleeful as a man 
 part drunken. He was young again. His eyes were 
 open, it seemed, to take in sights which mortals rarely see. 
 A grey rider on a steed with eyes of flame sped by with- 
 out a sound, leaving no mark on the expanse of whins 
 and heather. He saw the shapes of men and women 
 long since dead flit past him in the moonlight ; yet he 
 felt no terror. 
 
 A strong assurance of his righteousness sustained him. 
 Born of devout Protestant parents, steeped from his 
 infancy in thoughts of Israel, he knew himself now for a 
 judge and a deliverer, well-nigh a prophet. Had not his 
 right hand slain the unjust tyrant — the man of wrath, 
 obnoxious both to God and man ? His thoughts became 
 a psalm of vengeance satisfied, of judgment fitly wrought 
 on the transgressor. The person of his enemy was now 
 forgotten. It was as if he had destroyed a hundred 
 men, had overthrown kings in their pride and trampled 
 armies underfoot. 
 
 But by and by his footsteps flagged ; he began to 
 
 16
 
 242 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 feel fatigue, and triumph withered. He was out in the 
 midst of the waste, and the woods were distant upon 
 either hand. He thought he was far from the shore, 
 and drowning — slowly but surely drowning. He was 
 an old man, all alone. His case was pitiful. The crying 
 of an owl went over him ; the baying of a watchdog 
 came out of the unseen distance. It seemed that the 
 same dog had been howling ever since the world began. 
 The shrieking of the owl, too, had a vast significance. 
 A sudden shadow fell on him alone. He heard again 
 the hiccup of the dying man : — 
 
 ■ O Christ ! " 
 
 It mingled with the beat of mighty wings. A host of 
 threatening creatures flew towards him, gibbering with 
 silent lips. Then he knew that he had wrought in vain 
 to kill his enemy, who now controlled the powers of 
 darkness and the air. Dank with horror, he fell prostrate 
 on the heath and strove to pray. It was in that posture 
 that he fell asleep. 
 
 The land was blushing like a wild-rose leaf when he 
 awoke. The woods that hid the dale were touched 
 already with fire from the rising sun. Stiff and old and 
 feeble, he looked round him, shivering, still in the shadow 
 of his evil dream. 
 
 " That marn ha' been some kind o' fet, I reckon," he 
 reflected. "Anyway I'm over old for such work — sleep- 
 ing in the open and that. I fare right cramped, and 
 that's the trewth of it." 
 
 He got up with a groan, and stretched himself, just as 
 the sun's first rays shot over the heath, like spokes of a
 
 MAN TO MAN S48 
 
 vast horizontal wheel of light; and started painfully 
 upon his homeward way. 
 
 But the evil dream which he had dreamt still kept 
 him shuddering ; the spot was so clear in his mind, the 
 way the brute had fallen with one arm up to his face, 
 and then that ringing awful death-cry — what a night- 
 mare ! 
 
 To get rid of fhe impression it had left on him, he 
 went back to the place so clearly pictured in his brain. 
 The sun now flooded field and footpath, making golden 
 bristles of the stubble, and lighting dewdrops on the 
 leaves of the hazel-scrub and on the burdocks of the 
 underhedge. Birds made a merry noise. He searched 
 for the corpse a long while, but found nothing ; only 
 the grass of the bank was bent and trodden a little at 
 the point where he had pushed his way into the wood. 
 Afar off he could hear the homely clamour of his own 
 farmyard. 
 
 " Thank God ! " he muttered fervently, lifting his hat, 
 and at the same time scratching his white head in which 
 the phantom of a doubt still flitted vexingly. 
 
 " Thank God ! " he said again as he replaced his hat. 
 " An unaccountable bad dream, that's all that was. But 
 I did start out with my gun, that's certain sure. I 
 marn ha' dropped that or hulled that away when the fet 
 took me. That'll be the way on't. I've had a stroke or 
 some'at. The doctor'll put me right in next to no time. 
 But the missus '11 've been in a rare takin' along o' me 
 stoppin' out all night, poor old dear ! " 
 
 In the gem-like beam of the autumn morning the farm 
 looked singularly peaceful with its barnroofs like green
 
 244 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 velvet for mosses, and the honey-coloured stacks up- 
 lifting cones about it. A thread of smoke from one of 
 the house chimneys went up straight in the still air. 
 As he drew near it down the drift, Josiah Format! 
 thought of his breakfast with a moistening of the lips. 
 Having eaten, he would go upstairs and lie down for a 
 bit before getting to work. His grief at leaving the old 
 home was drowned for the time being in his immense 
 relief at knowing that he had but dreamed. 
 
 One of his men at work in the yard, seeing him come 
 down the drift, flung down his pitchfork and ran to the 
 back door. 
 
 "Ah, the missis '11 have been in a fine takin', poor old 
 dear ! " thought the farmer with compassion, quickening 
 his pace. 
 
 The door was shut when he came to it. Not a soul 
 seemed to be about. Yet he had seen the man go in. 
 Perhaps his wife had fainted. 
 
 He lifted the latch and stepped into the shady bake- 
 house with its well-scoured floor of yellow brick, its copper 
 and big white-washed oven, which he knew so well. 
 Where was he? To his first bewildered glance the room 
 seemed full of strangers. The door was promptly slam- 
 med and locked behind him. 
 
 " Josiah Forman, I arrest you ..." It was Jerry 
 Ditcher speaking, — the village constable, a man whom 
 he had known from a two-year-old, and always liked. 
 Besides poor Jerry there were more policemen present. 
 A man of florid complexion, in the peaked cap of an 
 inspector had got him (Forman) by the wrists, was doing 
 something.
 
 MAN TO MAN 21-5 
 
 "William Levett Cartwright . . . " — Who was he? — 
 and charge of murder. What was Jerry saying? The 
 faces round him vanished into fog. 
 
 Stupefied and staring blindly straight before him, he 
 felt the chill of the handcuffs and heard them snap as 
 they closed on his wrists. He saw his poor old woman 
 rush out from the corner where she had been cowering, 
 and kneel to one after another, asking mercy for him in 
 God's name. It was but a play of shadows in a mist. 
 The clucking of the poultry in the yard, the gobble of 
 a turkey filled his ears, just as if those peaceful sounds 
 had been in the room with him and the clash of human 
 tongues had been outside. 
 
 At length a shudder ran through all his frame ; his 
 chin fell on his breast, with consciousness. 
 
 " I done it, O my God ! " he groaned. ' ' I raly done it ! "
 
 WHATEVER IT WAS. 
 
 Tinker's Dell Farm lies buried in a copsy hollow of 
 the Sussex Weald, beside a little stream which dries in 
 summer. By day the woods encompassing its pastures 
 form a friendly rampart, but in the darkness they are 
 changed to a beleaguering foe, and cause a shudder to 
 sick persons and young children. The mistress of the 
 farm, Eliza Soper, a victim of religious mania in her latter 
 years, knew them for the Hosts of Midian as she lay awake 
 of nights beside her husband, whose snoring trumpeted 
 the easy prey. Occasionally, when she thought she heard 
 them coming, she would rouse the old man with a shout, 
 calling him lost sheep and foolish virgin and other names 
 ill-suited to his personality, adjuring him to save his soul 
 while mercy lasted ; and he would answer with an oath 
 and go to sleep again, being dog-tired from a long day's 
 work. 
 
 One soft September night, whose coolness followed on 
 a day as hot as June, she had that minute gone to sleep, 
 or so it seemed to her, when she was roused by a tre- 
 mendous voice, like nothing earthly. Heart in mouth, 
 she lay and trembled, with strained ears. Again she 
 heard the wild, disturbing cry. It was neither howl nor 
 roar, but had the terrifying power of both combined. A 
 second of dead stillness followed ; then arose a strange 
 
 (246)
 
 WHATEVER IT WAS 247 
 
 commotion in the farmyard. Fowls clucked, pigs grunted, 
 cattle lowed and horses whinnied. "Like a thief in the 
 night," the words occurred to her ; and then — for her dis- 
 ordered brain had long confused the Bridegroom and the 
 Adversary in one apprehension — "a roaring lion seeking 
 whom he may devour ". The nightlight made uncanny 
 shadows in the room. For a moment she lay rigid, in a 
 kind of trance. Then, frantic squeals arising from the 
 pigsty, as if the whole herd struggled in the butcher's 
 grasp :— 
 
 " William, the hour 'ave come," she cried, beside herself. 
 "'Ow often 'ave I said as it'd find you sleepin' ? Didn't 
 you 'ear that awful voice of doom ? And 'arken to them 
 pigs ! Repent, for mercy ! " 
 
 The old man gaped on her a moment while his wits 
 returned, then seized her by the throat and shook her 
 furiously. 
 
 "Stop that!" he growled. "I'll learn yer ! 'eard a 
 yowlin', did yer? Some old dog-fox!" — He flung her 
 back upon the pillow, and, when she lay subdued and sob- 
 bing, settled down to sleep again. — " Repent indeed ! A 
 pretty fancy! Some old dog-fox! I'll give yer mercy; 
 I'll soon learn yer." He had no doubt but that the cry 
 of which she spoke was quite imaginary. 
 
 He changed his mind, however, in the morning, when, 
 going out into the yard betimes, he heard the man who 
 worked for him declare : — 
 
 "There's summat wrong. That black hog's missin', 
 and there's blood about, and tracks of feet like none I 
 ever see. Just come and look." 
 
 With face devoid of all expression, pending judgment,
 
 248 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 Mr. Soper followed his informant to the pigsty, where he 
 saw the blood ; and on across the cart-track and the 
 meadow, verifying the report of footprints. The paws 
 of a gigantic cat ten times as large as the complacent 
 tabby sunning her sleekness at the moment on the 
 garden wall, if such a prodigy could be imagined, might 
 have made those marks. " Whatever 'twas," as Mr. 
 Soper and his man thought best to phrase it, had fouled 
 its feet in the mire of the sty, which left a pattern well- 
 defined on trodden ground. They traced the mysterious 
 raider's course into the meadow running up to Duppet's 
 Copse and, brought up by the hedge, stood gazing to- 
 wards the covert. 
 
 " Well, I never ! " muttered Mr. Soper, tilting back his 
 hat to scratch his forehead in the middle with a hooked 
 forefinger. 
 
 "Whatever 'twas lays up in that there copse," said 
 
 John, his man. 
 
 The farmer waved aside the statement. For him the 
 
 time had not yet come to frame conjectures. 
 
 " Get you to your milkin', John ! There's work won't 
 
 wait for nobody. We must be doin', " he observed 
 
 severely. 
 
 But John was not to be put off so easily. He made 
 
 a step to go, and, having thus expressed obedience, 
 
 turned and said : — 
 
 "I'll tell yer my opinion, guvnor: whatever 'twas 
 
 'ave 'scaped from that menadgery at Mossly Fair. My 
 
 missis went to see it; there was lions and a tiger; and 
 
 'tis my opinion as 'ow one o' them devourin' beasts 've 
 
 broke away to terrify the countryside."
 
 WHATEVER IT WAS 249 
 
 " I never did 'old with menadgeries," said Mr. Soper. 
 "But don't you go a-namin' lions here! That's what 
 the missus is for ever ravin' on, and if she knew they'd 
 come . . . My word ! " He rubbed his forehead. 
 
 But the mistress of the farm was cunning since her 
 mental illness, and one of her illusions was that every 
 one was plotting harm against her. She had stolen out 
 to see what mischief they were hatching and she over- 
 heard. 
 
 " Yes, lions ! " cried a voice which made the two 
 men jump. "William, you laughed at what I said last 
 night. Remember them young limbs what mocked 
 Elisha. There's no way but repentance for yer, that 
 you know." 
 
 "Lions! Don't talk so silly!" was the sharp reply. 
 " Whatever 'twas 'ave 'scaped from the menadgery. As 
 soon as I can spare a minute, I'll get the keeper at the 
 Park to come and kill it." 
 
 "Kill it! He won't kill it!" screamed the woman, 
 with a laugh that set the two men's teeth on edge. 
 
 "You get indoors and mind your business," snapped 
 her husband ; and his tone of anger proved medicinal, 
 for she at once obeyed. 
 
 " Poor soul ! She mean no arm," he told himself. 
 "But if I could only see the end to her diversions some- 
 when. . . . Well, this 'ere is the rummest start I ever 
 'eard on. And to come to me of all folks, with a wife 
 like mine. Well, trouble do breed trouble, as the sayin' 
 goes. I'll step round to the keeper arter breakfast." 
 
 The men then went about their morning's work. 
 John, the milking over and the cattle out, found a job to
 
 i>50 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 suit him in the farmyard near the gate, where there was 
 a chance of passers-by on whom to vent the tidings 
 which, contained, oppressed him. A little boy who 
 came each day for milk learnt all there was to know 
 about "whatever 'twas" before arriving at the door and 
 hearing Mrs. Soper talk of lions. The two accounts to- 
 gether so impressed him that he ran home headlong, 
 spilling good milk all the way, informed his mother, and 
 then made haste to bear the tale to school, where some 
 of the children were so frightened by it that a pious 
 teacher had in charity to tell them that lions have power 
 only over wicked persons. 
 
 The news was thus sown broadcast. Mr. Hawes, the 
 keeper, had already heard it by the time the farmer called 
 on him at ten o'clock. 
 
 " So there's something in it, is there ? " he remarked 
 judicially. " You lost a pig ? That seems to indicate a 
 largeish animal. Lion, I shouldn't think. But there, 
 you never know ; and if it's out of a menadgery it might 
 be anything. Well, thank you for informing me, Mr. 
 Soper. I'll see Sir Christopher this evenin' and consult 
 about it." 
 
 "Oh, do come now and kill it, Mr. Hawes!" 
 
 " No, that I can't. A lion'll need hunting in a special 
 way. It's a providence that we've got Mr. Addison, the 
 big game man, down here just now. . . . Besides Sir 
 Christopher is very tender for all foreign creatures. I 
 shan't forget the row I got in when I shot a bustard. 
 The party's out to-day at Lord Killooney's ; but they'll 
 be back to dinner. You meet me at the Causfield gate 
 at eight o'clock and come up with me to the house."
 
 WHATEVER IT WAS 2.51 
 
 Returning sadly to his farm in Tinker's Dell, Mr. 
 Soper found a little crowd about the door. The three 
 young ladies from the rectory had descended from their 
 governess-car which the groom-boy guarded, and were 
 hearing Mrs. Soper's version of the strange occurrence ; 
 John and John's wife stood by, corroborating ; the man 
 who kept the Causfield village shop, reporter of all local 
 marvels to the county paper, had driven over in his 
 gig ; and another cart, a butcher's, also waited, while its 
 driver drank the story at the fountain-head. The owner 
 of the farm drew near with the approved demeanour of 
 misfortune's favourite, and met all questions with a 
 dignified reserve. When the Causfield shopkeeper re- 
 quested to be shown the actual sty, he led the way to it 
 in silence and pointed out the bloodstains with a weary 
 shrug. The exhibition was repeated often in the after- 
 noon, fresh bevies of inquisitives arriving ; and Mrs. 
 Soper, rendered reasonable by the bustle, received the 
 women in the house and gave them tea. "What are 
 you going to do about it ? " was the usual question, and 
 the sufferer replied : " Consult Sir Christopher this 
 evenin' " ; on which, as at a formal invitation, the later 
 visitors decided to remain and bear him company. Ac- 
 cordingly, when he set out at half-past seven, leaving 
 John's wife in charge of Mrs. Soper, it was in the centre 
 of a group of nearly twenty persons. 
 
 Before the ornamental iron gates of Settfield Park, 
 the keeper waited. He moved at sight of Mr. Soper, 
 who went in beside him. The escort waited their re- 
 turn beside the lodge, discussing the excitement in 
 the gathering darkness.
 
 252 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 Arriving at a backdoor of the mansion, Mr. Hawes 
 and Mr. Soper were made welcome in the servants' hall. 
 Sir Christopher was set at dinner, they were told ; but, 
 in consideration of the wondrous nature of their errand, 
 one of the housemaids took it on herself to tell a foot- 
 man, who told another footman, who with reverence in- 
 formed the butler, who took advantage of some detail 
 of his service to drop a whisper down his master's neck 
 at table; with the result that they were shortly sum- 
 moned to the hall, where the baronet came to them with 
 his table-napkin crumpled in his hand and jaws still 
 munching. 
 
 "What's all this?" he questioned cheerily. 
 
 "Well, sir," said Hawes, "by what I make of it, one 
 of the lions have escaped from that menadgery as was 
 at Mossly Fair. It took a pig, the property of Mr. Soper 
 here, from Tinker's Dell last night. And a lot of people 
 say they heard a roaring. One of the school-children, 
 John Nokes's boy, has seen the beast a-crossing Sandpit 
 Lane. By what I learn, it's lying up in Duppet's Copse ; 
 I haven't seen the tracks myself, but many have ; and 
 Mr. Soper here can witness that they're those of a big 
 cat of some kind." 
 
 " But if a lion had escaped we should have heard about 
 it," Sir Christopher objected. 
 
 " I'm not so sure of that, sir, supposing no one saw it 
 making off. You see the beast means money to the 
 showman, and he and his mates would wish to get it 
 back alive." 
 
 "You think there really is a lion?" 
 
 " I feel sure, sir ! "
 
 WHATEVER IT WAS 253 
 
 " Good biz ! " exclaimed the baronet with boyish 
 glee. "We'll hunt him down to-morrow. Hawes, you 
 make certain of his whereabouts and bring me word at 
 eight o'clock to-morrow morning." 
 
 "Can't anything be done to-night, sir?" pleaded Mr. 
 Soper. " My wife do suffer so with horrors, and I can't 
 afford to lose another hog." 
 
 " Have patience, there's a good chap ! I'll make good 
 the damage. By Jove, I should be savage if our friend 
 cleared off; and your fat hogs are just the bait to keep 
 him happy." 
 
 With that Sir Christopher went back to dinner; while 
 Mr. Hawes and Mr. Soper sought the servants' hall, 
 whence, primed with stimulant, they re-crossed the park 
 to the great gates. A larger crowd than they had left 
 awaited them. The news that Sir Christopher would 
 hunt the lion on the morrow evoked cheers. Despite 
 his oft-repeated declaration that he must be getting home, 
 Mr. Soper, as the lion's caterer and general favourite, was 
 led in triumph to the Causfield village inn and there 
 well plied with liquor. He had not caroused for years, 
 and the fact that he was being treated made him rash. 
 By ten o'clock his sun of happiness had passed the 
 zenith, and when they all trooped out into the road, he 
 blubbered at the thought of going home. 
 
 "Cheer up, old soul! You live too lonesome, that's 
 about the truth of it," his boon companions told him. 
 "We'll see yer home all right past Duppet's Copse." 
 
 One of them recollecting that outlandish monsters are 
 afraid of fire, with the innkeeper's assistance pinewood 
 torches were provided, and by their flare, which reddened
 
 254 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 on the hedgerow tree-trunks, Mr. Soper was borne home- 
 ward in a roystering procession and with song. 
 
 Meanwhile the gentlefolks at Settfield Park showed 
 more excitement at the story of the lion, which amused 
 them, than they would have deigned to show on hearing 
 of the nation's ruin. Though all well-educated and of 
 good intelligence, they called each other by absurd pet 
 names, used foolish catchwords, and aimed in all their con- 
 duct at a blind frivolity. The men of the party stood sur- 
 rounding the big game hunter, Mr. Addison, before the 
 mantel-piece in the long drawing-room ; the ladies formed 
 a seated group apart. They had talked of nothing but the 
 lion for two solid hours. 
 
 " Isn't it too thrilling, Fluffy ? " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Addison, seizing both hands of a small, blue-eyed laugh- 
 ing creature, known to London curiosity-dealers as the 
 hardest driver of a bargain to be found in nature. 
 
 "So splendidly shivery!" was the ecstatic answer. 
 " But I say, Cuckoo, we mustn't be kept out of all the 
 fun. I won't be shut up here to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Oh, we shall go all right, I'll see to that," the mis- 
 tress of the house, a scornful, lounging blonde, remarked 
 with her slight sneer. She was staring at a distant 
 corner of the room, in which her sister, a most queenly 
 woman with a diadem of reddish hair, sat talking with a 
 studious-looking man of forty. The others followed the 
 direction of her gaze. 
 
 " A case, I think ! " said Mrs. Addison. 
 
 " A good thing, too, for Madeleine. I shall be glad. 
 She's had such a time of it with that unspeakable husband 
 of hers. Teddy's a good sort — a bit poetical and high-
 
 WHATEVER IT WAS 
 
 falutin perhaps, but then so's she. But she's religious, 
 you know, and doesn't believe in divorce. And so con- 
 scientious ! She worries herself positively haggard over 
 points of conduct." 
 
 " Oh, you'll find her scruples vanish if she gets it 
 badly." 
 
 The subject of this conversation, at length becoming 
 conscious of their notice, rose and came towards them, 
 her admirer following. 
 
 "Why aren't you playing bridge as usual?" she in- 
 quired good-temperedly. 
 
 " We can't with this excitement in the air. Just look 
 at them ! " replied her sister with a sweeping gesture to- 
 wards the men. 
 
 " What excitement ? " 
 
 " What excitement ! Only hear her ! Why, the lion, 
 you most aggravating of all women ! " 
 
 " Still the lion ? I had quite got over that." 
 
 " Well, I shall go to bed ! " remarked the mistress of 
 the house, stifling a yawn beneath a languid hand. " Kit 
 wants us all to start at some ungodly hour." 
 
 The man called Teddy hurried to the door and held it 
 open for the passage of the ladies. As Madeleine went 
 out last, he whispered : " In your hands — the future." 
 She turned and gave him a last look, half-pained, half- 
 grateful. 
 
 Alone in her own bedroom she assumed a woolly wrap, 
 and sat beside the window, looking out. By day the 
 view was beautiful, embracing miles of undulating wooded 
 country bounded by the roll of downs, which always 
 seemed to her to wear an aureole of light — refracted from
 
 256 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 the sea beyond. But now the stars of heaven alone were 
 definite. Beneath them spread a sea of darkness, faintly- 
 sighing. Her soul was filled with a rebellious longing 
 strange to her ; she gave way to demoralizing dreams of 
 bliss. The tone of levity prevailing in her sister's house 
 was not without its influence upon a mind unused to 
 happiness. The fact that she was separated from a brut- 
 ish husband, whose conduct offered legal ground for a 
 divorce, released her from the bond, her friends assured 
 her. But she believed in marriage as a sacrament and 
 held adulterous a second union while the husband lived. 
 She stood upon the verge of an abyss, attracted by a 
 summer landscape far beneath her. The heights she trod 
 were winterly and cheerless. She burned to take the 
 plunge which would destroy her. The temptation and 
 the horror waxed vertiginous. 
 
 All at once, amid her musing, a strange cry arose — a 
 cry, it seemed, of exultation and of high defiance. Some- 
 where in the darkness of the woods down there was 
 Tinker's Dell. She remembered the escaped wild creature 
 with a pang of sympathy, a hope that it might cheat its 
 laughing hunters on the morrow, to die at least by some 
 revengeful hand. It seemed an insult that its tragic 
 freedom and fierce beauty should have for knell the ha- 
 ha-ha of idle sportsmen. She fancied that the creature's 
 case was like her own. 
 
 When at last she left the window she stood hesitating. 
 To say prayers in her froward state seemed almost blas- 
 phemous. She had besides a superstitious feeling that 
 the act would militate against fulfilment of her heart's 
 desire. She judged it wisdom to omit them for this once ;
 
 WHATEVER IT WAS 257 
 
 but, in her bed without them, she felt so unhallowed that 
 conscience forced her to slip out again and ask for strength, 
 though all her blood cried out for irresistible tempta- 
 tion. 
 
 At breakfast in the morning Sir Christopher asserted, 
 on the word of Hawes, the keeper, that the lion was still 
 sojourning in Duppet's Copse. It had descended upon 
 Tinker's Dell again last night, and carried off another pig 
 of Mr. Soper's. Punctually at nine o'clock the guns set 
 out, accompanied by all the ladies of the house-party. 
 These last looked cool and business-like in tailor-made 
 costumes, with lackadaisical soft hats and drooping 
 feathers. The men were uniform in their affected care- 
 lessness, each soft felt hat deformed in a prescribed 
 manner, the belt of every Norfolk jacket dangling its two 
 ends. Madeleine, as she walked behind them with her 
 sister's children and their governess, saw with disgust 
 that her admirer was just like the others. The tempting 
 dream was gone, and she felt angry with herself for having 
 ever, for a single instant, entertained it ; for allowing its 
 departure to deject her as it did this moment ; for lack- 
 ing strength of mind to choose a path for good or ill. 
 With nerves strung up to breaking-point, she was in no 
 mood for quips and laughter. The earnest prattle of the 
 children was the note required. 
 
 In Tinker's Dell the sportsmen found a crowd assem- 
 bled. 
 
 Tradesmen's carts and farmers' gigs and motor-cars 
 were in the lane ; a host of bicycles reposed against the 
 cowhouse wall ; pedestrians thronged every point of view ; 
 a mob of beaters waited in the charge of Hawes. Sir 
 
 17
 
 258 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 Christopher took counsel of the farmer, who was looking 
 haggard ; he then, with Mr. Addison, arranged the field. 
 The copse, a largeish square of brushwood with but few 
 grown trees, was to be beaten inch by inch, and noisily, 
 from the top end nearest Settfield down towards Tinker's 
 Dell. In the meadow just beneath, the guns were posted. 
 Mr. Soper, approaching the ladies from the Park with 
 great respect, invited them to take their station in his bit 
 of garden, whither chairs were brought. 
 
 Standing apart, beneath an apple-tree, Madeleine was 
 surveying the scene — the sunlit mead, the darker wood, 
 the glint of gun-barrels, the eager faces topping every 
 hedge — with irritation, when a hand fell on her arm and, 
 looking round, she met a curious gaze, half-fierce, half- 
 sly. Mrs. Soper had slipped out in search of news. 
 
 "They're never bravin' it, my dear? The beast, I 
 mean. Bain't they afeared, with all that noise and shout- 
 in' ? There'll come a judgment on 'em somewhen. That 
 we know ! " 
 
 Madeleine, at a loss for a reply, took the old woman's 
 hand in hers and stroked it soothingly. 
 
 " Mad as a hatter, poor old thing," her sister 
 whispered ; adding aloud : " It's all right, Mrs. Soper, 
 they'll soon shoot it." 
 
 "Bain't they afeared to anger one above?" the mad 
 voice with its harrowing note continued. " The Beast's 
 a token of the wrath of God. That's written in the 
 Book. The doom draws nigh. You know all that, my 
 dear, I see, as well as I do." 
 
 Madeleine blushed beneath a searching fiery glance. 
 She was on the point of saying something soothing, when
 
 WHATEVER IT WAS U59 
 
 a gun went off beyond the copse. Mrs. Soper gave a 
 cry and ran indoors. 
 
 " How perfectly gruesome ! " shuddered Mrs. Addison ; 
 and another of the ladies answered with some warmth. 
 " I call it positively disgraceful. She ought not to be 
 at large, to frighten people." Their talk was like a 
 plague of gnats to Madeleine. To escape from it she 
 wandered forth into the meadow. 
 
 " Be careful, dear ! " her sister called to her. 
 
 Passing near the man called Teddy, whose post was the 
 extreme left of the line of guns, she sauntered round the 
 corner of the copse to where a group of men, women and 
 children waited as near to it as they dared venture, in 
 hopes to spy the monster. The shouting of the beaters 
 sounded very near. 
 
 All at once there came the cry which she had heard 
 last night, no more of exultation, but of hopeless rage. 
 Men, women, children fled upon the instant ; she was 
 left alone. There was a parting of the twigs and some- 
 thing sprang — a flood of light, it seemed. It fell with 
 the free graceful curve of water and lay heaped upon the 
 sward. A creature of pure sunshine, yellow, spotted, 
 crouched there, luxuriating in its sense of strength. Its 
 eyes were grassy green ; they flashed on her. She grew 
 aware of people shouting to her and turned her head a 
 moment in annoyance. When she looked back again 
 towards the copse, the animal was several paces nearer, 
 and was gathered in the act to make another spring. 
 Without a thought of fear she stood observing it, ab- 
 sorbed in admiration of its grace of movement. A shot 
 rang out. That beauty sprang into the air, fell on its
 
 260 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 side and made a few convulsive movements, then lay 
 dead. 
 
 Her feelings at the moment were of pure annoyance. 
 She had much ado to make polite rejoinders to the storm 
 of questions and congratulations from a crowd of people, 
 who instantly, or so it seemed, surrounded her. The 
 man called Teddy cried: "Thank God, you're safe! 
 I never dreamt that I could do it ; my hands shook so." 
 
 His great emotion seemed to her ridiculous, the fer- 
 vour of his tone a thought impertinent. Mr. Addison was 
 saying : " It's a lynx — a ripping specimen." Mr. Soper, 
 in a tearful voice, gave thanks to every one. 
 
 As soon as she could slip away she did so, strolling 
 back towards Tinker's Dell. Half-way to the farmhouse 
 she met Mrs. Soper. 
 
 " It's you, my dear ! " The mad old woman clung to 
 her. " They say they've killed it. Let me see with my 
 own eyes, and pray to the good Lord for them as done 
 it. There be awful days a-comin' by the signs and 
 tokens. My 'usband was brought home last night in 
 fire, with Satan and his angels singin' filthy songs. 
 Show me the Lord's own Beast, my dear, and let us 
 pray for men." 
 
 Madeleine turned back with the distracted creature. 
 The crowd had moved off towards a fresh excitement ; 
 the body of the lynx lay unregarded. 
 
 " Must kill fings, I suppose! Can't 'elp it, can yer?" 
 cried a man's voice angrily. "'Ere 'ave I been lookin' 
 for 'im everywhere as I could think on, and only 'eard 
 this blessed mornin' 'e was 'ere and up to mischief. 
 Drove all the way from 'Astings with two chaps as know
 
 WHATEVER IT WAS 361 
 
 the business ; and now 'e's dead, and all the fools on 
 earth a-gapin' at 'im. I'd ha' paid you gents to stop 
 at 'ome and suck yer fumbs — that's straight, I would ; 
 and made good all the damage what poor Charley done." 
 
 "Mind who you're talking to, my man!" exclaimed 
 Sir Christopher. 
 
 Madeleine with Mrs. Soper's hand in hers stood con- 
 templating the dead lynx, the glorious creature which 
 had become for her the emblem of romance, of 
 natural beauty, natural passion, of all she longed for 
 in an over-ordered world. All civilized and smug 
 existence seemed contemptible beside her vision 
 of the higher freedom which consorts with danger. 
 Suddenly she grew aware of her companion trembling 
 violently, and heard loud breathing, a deathlike rattle. 
 The old woman was the victim of a fit of some kind. 
 She would have fallen but for Madeleine's support. 
 Mr. Soper ran to her assistance, calling out from force of 
 habit: " I'll soon learn yer!" The whole crowd surged 
 around the group with good advice. Mr. Soper and his 
 man between them conveyed the stricken woman to the 
 farmhouse. 
 
 " Come home now, Madeleine," the ladies urged. 
 " Surely you've had enough horrors for one morning." 
 
 " I'd rather go indoors and see what I can do to help," 
 was her reply. 
 
 " There's no accounting for tastes," her sister sneered. 
 
 The man called Teddy followed Madeleine and hung 
 about the farmstead till she came away. Three hours 
 he kicked his heels in her near neighbourhood. 
 
 *' It is you ! " she cried on catching sight of him.
 
 268 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 " How good of you to come ! But I'm not feeling 
 sociable at present. I'd rather walk alone, if you don't 
 mind." 
 
 " I won't talk if you'd rather not," he answered gently, 
 but paid no further heed to her objection. 
 
 The tone of friendly master}- was what she needed. 
 She suddenly remembered that the man had saved her 
 life that morning. She ought, she felt, to say she was 
 obliged to him, or something of that kind. She tried to 
 do so, but at the first word of gratitude he burst out in 
 passionate entreaties such as she had never heard. His 
 words rang true. She felt the old attraction, an irresis- 
 tible temptation to be happy with this man who loved 
 her. Tears were in her eyes, her heart was melting 
 when he said : — 
 
 " I bought the skin of that lynx from the menagerie 
 man, thinking you might like it. It would make a rug, 
 or we could have it stuffed. It will be a souvenir of an 
 eventful day for both of us." 
 
 Then in an instant she became as ice to him. His 
 chance was gone. She saw again the lynx in all its 
 grace and beauty ; heard the shout and saw the brilliant 
 creature changed in a second to an ugly heap upon the 
 grass. And that was the gift offered to her by the man 
 who asked her troth. Dejected by a sense of utter lone- 
 liness, she told the wretch that he was nothing to her, 
 bade him leave her, and, when he still kept pleading 
 walked calmlv back to Tinker's Dell, whence she sent 
 John the cowman with a note to ask Sir Christopher to 
 send a carriage for her. 
 
 " Whatever 'twas has caused a deal o' trouble," Mr.
 
 WHATEVER IT WAS 
 
 Soper told her. " I shan't get the place straight under a 
 fortnight, and my poor missus she won't never leave her 
 bed no more, and there'll be doctor's bills and all to pay. 
 The poor soul keep a-callin' death and judgment down 
 on all mankind. That's crazed her ten times more than 
 what she were afore. They ought to do away with 
 they menadgeries."
 
 LOVE'S CONVERT. 
 
 Madame de Beauriat was a slim girl of twenty — a 
 widow after one year's experience of married life ; so my 
 landlady informed me, who had it from Marie, the car- 
 penter's daughter, who was on intimate terms with 
 Madame's maid. She had the pale, wax-like complexion 
 of an Italian, a pair of large black eyes, and a wealth of 
 black hair, seeming almost too heavy to be carried by 
 so frail a creature. At first I had been disposed to resent 
 her coming to my mountain village. I had spent so 
 many summers at my ease in Bonthex, the only visitor 
 save for a commercial traveller now and then, or some 
 stray tourist, his pocket bulging with Baedeker, who left 
 after a day or two, having exhausted all the interest of 
 the place, that I had come to look upon the Commune as 
 in some sort my property. Therefore, when Madame de 
 Beauriat came to take up her abode at the new chalet 
 which had sprung up in the winter immediately opposite 
 the village inn where I lodged, I watched her arrival and 
 the bustle it created with a jealous eye. 
 
 " She is a countess, or a duchess, or something of the 
 sort," Samuel, the butcher, said to me on the day of her 
 arrival ; " a great lady, they assure me, monsieur. She 
 has taken the chalet for five months. There is herself, 
 
 (264)
 
 LOVE'S CONVERT 266 
 
 and her dame de compagnie and two domestics. Be- 
 yond that, they are asking for a girl of the village to help 
 in the house, and they are offering good wages — so good 
 that I might well have sent my daughter Sidonie to fill 
 the post ; but since Rose is married we have need of her 
 at home." 
 
 From the window of my bedroom I looked out across 
 the " place" to the new chalet with its ornate balconies, 
 and to a patch of greensward at one side, shadowed by 
 the boughs of a giant apple-tree and separated from the 
 road by a low wooden fence and a ragged hedge of goose- 
 berry bushes. In this shady spot Madame de Beauriat 
 would spend hours together, reclining in her deck-chair 
 with a novel in her lap ; while her companion, Made- 
 moiselle Fournier, would sit beside her in a straight-backed 
 chair, knitting incessantly. Formerly, when I looked out 
 of my window, it had been to watch the giant lights and 
 shadows chasing one another on the slopes beyond the 
 valley, or admire the whiteness of the snowy peaks above. 
 But now my eyes had grown more lazy, for they seldom 
 strayed beyond the shadow of the apple-tree. Little by 
 little my sentiments towards the youthful widow changed 
 from jealousy and spite to a remote devotion. 
 
 " Is Monsieur unwell ? " my landlady inquired, with 
 every semblance of anxiety. " Monsieur is more often in 
 his bedroom now than formerly, and for some time past 
 he has not taken one of his long walks of ancient days.'' 
 
 On my assuring her that I was perfectly well, she 
 shrugged her shoulders, and her eyes still questioned. 
 
 " Monsieur has not yet made the acquaintance of the 
 lady from the chalet opposite?" she said. "It is a
 
 266 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 pity. She is charming, according to what they tell me, 
 and Monsieur has need of something to make his life here 
 more agreeable and less solitary." 
 
 I suppose I must have reddened at this thrust, for she 
 smiled knowingly, and repeated her advice that I should 
 go and call upon the French lady. Madame would be 
 pleased to see me, she felt sure. Samuel, the butcher, had 
 told her only yesterday that Madame de Beauriat had 
 been asking him who was the little English gentleman 
 who lived at the hotel and had the air so amiable ! It 
 was certain that she would receive my visit gladly. 
 
 " Perhaps I shall go — one of these days," I said a little 
 shortly. Madame de Beauriat's view of my personal ap- 
 pearance, as Samuel reported it, did not arride me. As a 
 matter of fact I had long since made up my mind to call 
 at the chalet in the near future, but shyness and my 
 growing admiration of the girlish widow made me hold 
 the resolution on from day to day. And so it happened 
 that I was no nearer to the coveted acquaintance when 
 Frank Bostock came and devastated everything. I had 
 ail-but forgotten his existence when one evening, as I 
 waited at the post-office to get my letters, he jumped 
 down upon me from the top of the "diligence," and 
 almost knocked me over with the fervour of his greeting. 
 Then I recollected that I had, in a moment of weakness, 
 given him a standing invitation to come and stay with me 
 at Bonthex. He was a tall young man of six and twenty, 
 with a sunburnt face, blue eyes, and a flaxen moustache 
 of quite preposterous growth. He called himself an artist, 
 but I never knew him paint for more than an hour at a 
 sitting, and then he would take a week's holiday to re-
 
 LOVE'S CONVERT 2C>7 
 
 cover from the fatigue of it — " to clear the cobwebs out of 
 my brain," as he himself expressed it. 
 
 " Forced work's no good," he explained to me once. 
 " Pegasus in harness, you know ! " 
 
 It was his misfortune to have a large allowance, and a 
 prospect of wealth in the future. When, at his home in 
 England, I had pressed him to come out to Bonthex, his 
 mother had been very earnest in entreating me to see to 
 it that he did not leap down precipices or crevasses, or in- 
 dulge in other acrobatic feats conducive to a broken neck. 
 Upon his arrival he took possession of me at once, as if 
 he had been the host and I the guest. There was never 
 the least question of my looking after him. 
 
 " What a jolly place ! " he exclaimed, as we walked 
 towards the hotel, drawing a deep breath, with his eyes 
 fixed on the white peaks that bound the valley. " We'll 
 go up to the top of that conical one to-morrow." 
 
 The "conical one," of which he spoke thus lightly, was 
 a mountain that had caused the death of expert climbers 
 — one of the most dangerous, so Maximin, the veteran 
 guide, had often told me, in the whole canton of 
 Valais. 
 
 He won my landlady's heart at once by his high spirits 
 and evident delight in all her makeshifts. 
 
 " How handsome he is ! " she exclaimed, with hands 
 upraised, while Bostock was upstairs unpacking his effects. 
 " And how amiable ! And his manner of speaking French, 
 it is so droll ! I hope that he will stay for a long time." 
 
 He spoke French very badly, with the true British 
 accent. Whenever he was at a loss for a word he ex- 
 pressed his meaning in English, pronounced in the French
 
 268 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 manner as he conceived it. Strange to tell, he generally 
 contrived to make himself understood. 
 
 After supper that evening I took him up to my bed- 
 room that he might smoke his pipe in comfort. I had 
 two deck-chairs up there, which were greatly to be pre- 
 ferred to the rigid fauteuils of the little salon. Before he 
 had spent two minutes in the room he must needs throw 
 open the window and lean out. 
 
 " What a jolly view you have ! " he exclaimed ; " I must 
 try my hand at those mountains one of these days. We 
 might shift the bed a bit to one side and fix up my easel 
 here by the window. That apple-tree would come in well 
 in the foreground, and I could daub in a cow or two, and 
 a girl with something red about her, just to give point and 
 colour to the thing." 
 
 I was aghast at his impudence. He, my visitor, was 
 proposing to take possession of my bedroom and make of 
 it a studio for himself without so much as " by your leave ". 
 What next, I wondered ! 
 
 "Hallo!" he went on. "Who's the slim girl in 
 black lolling there under the apple-tree? Looks like a 
 lady ! I thought you said there was no one else 
 here?" 
 
 I told him all that I had learnt of the history of Madame 
 de Beauriat. He listened with a careless interest, puffing 
 away at his pipe, his eyes intent to pierce the shadow of 
 the apple-tree. 
 
 " Poor little girl ! " he exclaimed, when I had finished. 
 " What beasts these French parents are. I suppose they 
 married her to some old codger who ought to have been 
 dead and buried before she was born. To think of a
 
 LOVE'S CONVERT 269 
 
 girl being left a widow at that age ! She must be 
 jolly glad, though, now that she's rid of him and free to 
 choose for herself. We'll go and call on her to-morrow." 
 
 I could have kicked him as he leaned there, speaking 
 of her whom I had all but chosen for my divinity, as 
 though she had been some commonplace young woman. 
 I had been schooling myself to think calmly of that visit 
 for more than six weeks, and he spoke of it as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 " Is she at all pretty?" he asked. 
 
 Upon my replying somewhat coldly that I found her so, 
 he seemed much pleased. 
 
 " I'll get her to sit for me," he exclaimed, slapping his 
 knee. " We'll throw a red cloak over her and I'll put her 
 in the foreground among the cows. I never think much 
 myself of a picture that hasn't got a girl in it." 
 
 I said nothing. His impudence bereft me of the power 
 of speech. He went on to regale me with a large variety 
 of anecdotes concerning pretty girls of his acquaintance. 
 And all that while the mountain peaks were flushed with 
 rosy light from the sunset. I love to watch the colour 
 deepen imperceptibly and then as slowly fade. But he, 
 the painter, gave no heed to it. 
 
 " Awfully jolly," with a fleeting glance, was all his com- 
 ment when I ventured to call his attention to it for a 
 moment from his anecdotes. " As I was saying, her 
 people were as poor as rats, ..." and he went on with his 
 narrative relentlessly. 
 
 It was after half-past ten before he said "Good-night " 
 and left me. 
 
 " It's time I went to bed," he remarked, looking at his
 
 270 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 watch. " I mean to get up by five o'clock to-morrow 
 morning. I'll wake you and we'll see the sunrise, and 
 have a bathe in the torrent before breakfast." 
 
 If there is one thing that I resent more than another it 
 is the being forcibly aroused from sleep. I like to get up 
 at my own good time, and, although I like a cold bath in 
 the morning, a shivering plunge into a swirling torrent, 
 ice-cold from the glacier, has no charms for me. 
 
 Luckily I happened to be up betimes next morning, 
 and I climbed the forest slope behind the village, my 
 towel on my arm, while my friend was still insensible 
 between the sheets. There was a secluded spot I knew 
 of, sheltered by huge rocks from all the winds, where a 
 tiny cascade splashes in a shallow pool — a natural shower- 
 bath. 
 
 Greatly refreshed from my ablutions, and feeling my- 
 self in vigour and animal spirits a match even for Bostock, 
 I was returning down the steep path to the village when 
 I met Maximin, the veteran guide and chamois-hunter, 
 quite a personage in Bonthex. He was climbing the 
 path slowly, a hotte on his back, and smoking a briar 
 pipe with a metal lid to it. He raised his hat and wished 
 me " Good-day". 
 
 " Monsieur has a friend at the hotel ? " he asked, taking 
 his pipe from his mouth. The query was of mere polite- 
 ness ; he knew well enough. " His friend will be wishing 
 to make the ascent of some of our mountains without 
 doubt?" 
 
 I answered that I thought it not impossible. 
 
 " It is I who know all the paths, monsieur. I have 
 run over the high summits ever since I was a little boy.
 
 LOVE'S CONVERT 271 
 
 There is no one of the village who knows how to conduct 
 messieurs Us c'trangers better than I." 
 
 I assured him that, if ever Bostock should require a 
 guide, I should recommend him to take Maximin and not 
 another. 
 
 " I thank you infinitely, monsieur. Bonthex begins to 
 have the air of a summer resort, riest-ce pas ? The 
 foreigners begin to arrive. There is Monsieur your friend, 
 and there is Madame the French lady who has rented the 
 butcher's new chalet for all the summer. Also one can 
 count the two young Englishmen whom I have guided 
 across the great glacier two months ago. Already they 
 are beginning to build the hotel of Pierre Tripet on the Alp 
 up yonder. When that is finished Bonthex will be gay 
 and fashionable. I myself have the idea to build a chalet 
 like that of Samuel upon the piece of land belonging to 
 rne near the Post Office. Monsieur has seen this French 
 lady without a doubt? Ah, how beautiful she is! and 
 charming ! " 
 
 Upon my admitting that I had seen her and admired 
 her often, he went on to say, "Ah, yes, she is beautiful ! 
 Her skin is that of angels. One longs to touch it with 
 the finger-tips for healing. I have remarked her in church. 
 She is very devout, Monsieur understands — an excellent 
 Catholic, almost a saint ; Monsieur le Cure visits often 
 at her chalet. And to think that she is younger 
 than my daughter Reine — and a widow at that age ! Au 
 revoir, Monsieur." 
 
 He went on up the path, and I pursued my downward 
 way towards the village with a mind disturbed. On the 
 steep slope by the church I found Samuel, the butcher,
 
 272 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 struggling with a calf upon whose life he had de- 
 signs. 
 
 " Bonj'our, Monsieur," he shouted. " Your friend awaits 
 you ; I saw him walking in the village half an hour ago." 
 
 I went on down the stony road between the brown, old 
 chalets. There was vigour in the early morning air that 
 made brisk walking both a joy and a necessity. Arriving 
 at the square I looked about me for my friend. Could 
 I believe my eyes ? There he was, not twenty yards 
 away, leaning over the fence of the new chalet, talking 
 to Madame de Beauriat with the easy familiarity of an 
 old acquaintance. 
 
 Catching sight of me, he shouted out : " Come hither, 
 sluggard, and be introduced ! Don't be alarmed ! 
 Madame has been expecting you to call for ages." 
 
 He introduced me to the widow as his friend, and went 
 on to explain to her in his atrocious French that I was 
 timid and a bit of a misogynist ; this to excuse my hesi- 
 tation about calling on her. She smiled, and looked upon 
 me kindly, though with laughing eyes. Bostock had done 
 his best to wreck my chances with her by presenting me 
 as something undeveloped and absurd. I felt that she could 
 never after that regard me seriously. In my confusion I 
 could only ask her pardon in a stupid way. She laughed, 
 and said that she would be delighted to receive me when- 
 ever I found time to pay the dreaded visit. I should not 
 find her very terrible. Then, turning to Bostock, she in- 
 quired how long he meant to stay at Bonthex. 
 
 " I can't say," he replied with a shrug. "A few weeks 
 or a few months. Anyhow, we'll have some promenades 
 together, if you please."
 
 LOVE'S CONVERT 273 
 
 I was glad to notice what I thought a hint of coldness, 
 almost of sarcasm, in Madame de Beauriat's tone, as she 
 replied that he was very amiable, but that her companion, 
 Mademoiselle Fournier, was not, alas ! a good walker. 
 Bostock, however, was not to be snubbed. 
 
 " Oh, we can put her on a horse, or a mule," he said, 
 " and she can follow up with the luncheon. Au revoir } 
 Madame." 
 
 While we were at breakfast that morning at the inn, I 
 took occasion to reprove Bostock for what I considered 
 his effrontery in the matter of the widow. He laughed 
 with pity of my innocence. 
 
 " What a shy chap you are ! " he exclaimed. " Why, I 
 never thought twice about it. Seeing a pretty girl, who 
 is to be my neighbour for the next few weeks, walking in 
 her garden before breakfast, I spoke to her as a matter of 
 course — asked her how she liked the place, and all that. 
 I'm really smitten with her looks. Nice eyes ! and jolly 
 hair!" 
 
 I resented this off-hand eulogy of her appearance more 
 than words could express. 
 
 "We'll call there this afternoon," he went on to say, 
 " and persuade her to come for a walk with us." 
 
 I would much rather have gone alone on my first visit ; 
 I should not in any case have wished to go with Bostock, 
 but he was not to be escaped. He had taken me com- 
 pletely, underneath his wing, and claimed the right of 
 organizing all my doings. In the little drawing-room of 
 Madame de Beauriat's chalet that afternoon, he set himself 
 to "draw me out," as he expressed it, till, in despair, I 
 gave up my part — a very small one — in his conversation 
 
 18
 
 274 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 with our hostess and devoted myself to Mademoiselle 
 Fournier, who sat by the window with her knitting. 
 
 " My friend is a droll, — eccentric, you know, but good," 
 I heard him explain to Madame in that strange jargon 
 which he thought was French, using an apologetic tone 
 which I found most offensive. " He lives the life of a 
 hermit. Eccentric, as I say, but amiable. I hope, now 
 I am here, to persuade him to behave a little more like 
 other people." 
 
 Madame laughed merrily — at Bostock's funny way of 
 speaking, I suppose. 
 
 When, the visit over, we returned to the hotel, my 
 friend was in high glee. Madame had consented to take 
 a walk with him — "with us ! " he phrased it — and she 
 had half-promised to join him in a climb up to the 
 glacier. 
 
 "She's the nicest little girl I ever set my eyes on!" 
 he exclaimed, with real enthusiasm. " Seems friendly 
 too. I've more than half a mind to marry her and settle 
 down somewhere on the Continent." 
 
 " She is very devoted to the Church of Rome, I be- 
 lieve," was my only comment. " Her father confessor 
 might find objections to her marrying a heretic." 
 
 Bostock stroked his moustache thoughtfully. He had 
 never thought of her religious views, he confessed. But, 
 upon the whole, he saw no objection in that quarter. 
 The difference between the Churches was only upon the 
 surface. For his part, caring little for such matters, he 
 would as soon call himself a Roman Catholic as an 
 English Churchman. Anyhow, he liked plenty of ritual 
 — it was so picturesque. I suggested that his parents,
 
 LOVE'S CONVERT 275 
 
 who were pious Protestants, might possibly object. He 
 said that they would soon get over it. 
 
 Perhaps I ought to have borne him company in those 
 walks with Madame de Beauriat, but my objection to be- 
 ing made to seem ridiculous before a woman I admired 
 was very great. His people blamed me afterwards for 
 my neglect, which they mistook for treacherous conniv- 
 ance. But, even had I accompanied them everywhere in 
 the thankless capacity of a third person, I fail to see how 
 my mere presence could have had power to deter a man 
 of Bostock's overbearing personality from following a 
 course on which his mind was set. 
 
 His passion for Madame de Beauriat grew apace, as 
 their acquaintance ripened to intimacy, and I was doomed 
 to listen to his rhapsodies, for he was never reticent. One 
 morning he got up at some inhuman hour, dressed him- 
 self in mountain trim, and went across to the new chalet, 
 where madame was waiting for him, also dressed for 
 climbing, a satchel of provisions slung across her back. 
 Maximin, the guide, soon joined them, and the three set 
 out for a long day's climb among the snow. There was 
 envy in my heart, as surreptitiously I watched them start- 
 ing, from my bedroom window. They supposed me fast 
 asleep. I heard Bostock saying : " He is lazy. He 
 sleeps always late." 
 
 They returned that evening laden with rare wild-flowers ; 
 and Bostock's face, I saw at dinner, was burnt very red, 
 his nose showing a tendency to peel, — a horrid object. 
 He assured me that he had enjoyed his day im- 
 mensely, but seemed reluctant to give any details of 
 the said enjoyment, from which I gathered that he
 
 276 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 was beginning to be seriously in love with Madame de 
 Beauriat. 
 
 Once or twice, for politeness' sake, I went to call at 
 the new chalet, and was privileged to drink tea with my 
 hostess and Mademoiselle Fournier in the shade of the 
 apple-tree. I was never at my ease there, for Bostock 
 was always of the party, and his manner towards 
 me partook at once of the protector and the show- 
 man. 
 
 I could not help wondering what ground of sympathy 
 there could be between a girl whose lightest word or 
 gesture told of delicacy and good breeding, and a man 
 like Bostock. There appeared none possible, and yet 
 she evidently welcomed his attentions. There was little 
 doubt in my mind as to whither they were tending. It 
 was obvious that he would, in course of time, propose to 
 her ; and, judging from what I had seen of their inter- 
 course, it seemed more than likely that she would ac- 
 cept him. Mixed marriages are seldom happy, I re- 
 flected, miserably, all my pity being for the poor young 
 widow who was about to give her life away for nothing 
 better than a handsome face, blue eyes, and an outrageous 
 fair moustache. 
 
 One sunny afternoon when he had gone out for a 
 stroll in the forest with his lady-love and Mademoiselle 
 Fournier, I was loitering about the village in splenetic 
 mood, when Samuel met me. 
 
 " Aha, Monsieur! " he exclaimed with a smile at once 
 sly and triumphant. " The good work begins. The 
 heretics become converted. Some day, perhaps, we shall 
 have the pleasure of seeing you yourself received at the
 
 LOVE'S CONVERT 277 
 
 font into our Holy Church, Catholic, Apostolic and 
 Roman." 
 
 " What do you mean?" I asked impatiently. I was 
 not at the moment in the best of tempers, and his 
 air of joyful mystery annoyed me. 
 
 " Is it possible you have not heard ? " he cried in genuine 
 surprise. " It is that your friend, Monsieur Bostock, has 
 become converted. I always said the little countess was 
 a saint. The fact is proved, since she has wrought this 
 miracle. He is to be baptized in our parish church at 
 the beginning of August. There will be a grand fete. 
 The whole village will be decorated. Monseigneur the 
 Bishop of the diocese will perform the ceremony in his 
 proper person. Dame, it is not every day that one 
 converts a heretic — and one, too, of the great world — in 
 such a little village of the mountains." 
 
 I could hardly believe my ears. "But he has been 
 baptized already," I said. " Surely it is useless to do 
 it a second time." 
 
 There was a mischievous twinkle in Samuel's eyes, as 
 he replied : — 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur! you, alas! are still in darkness. All 
 that is worth nothing at all. There is but one Catholic 
 Church : that is ours. All the other so-called Churches 
 are but snares of Satan. Please God you also will 
 perceive your error one of these fine days. At least, one 
 hopes it. Au revoir, Monsieur ! " 
 
 He went off, chuckling, and I was left alone with my 
 amazement and disgust. Why had not Bostock himself 
 told me of his change of faith, I wondered ? It was un- 
 like him to keep so big a matter secret. What would
 
 278 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 his parents think about it ? They would lay the lion's 
 share of the blame at my door, of that I felt assured. 
 Maximin was standing in the doorway of his chalet as I 
 passed. He raised his hat, and wished me a good even- 
 ing. 
 
 " You have heard the news, monsieur ? " he asked. 
 " It does not altogether please me. I fear that it will 
 give messieurs les etrangers a bad idea of Bonthex, that 
 they will not like to come here in the future. Your 
 friend is a Christian — riest-ce pas, Monsieur? Then 
 why should one baptize him anew ? One could under- 
 stand it if he were a Turk, or even a Calvinist. But, 
 from what some Englishmen whom I have guided tell 
 me, the English are a sort of Christians much like us. 
 Also the country looks to them for its prosperity. It 
 would be bad for all of us if we offended their religious 
 prejudices. All this ceremony is nonsense. It disgusts 
 me, for it may enrage the English tourists and make 
 them stop away. But I have foreseen it since the day 
 when I led them — that is to say, your friend and the 
 countess — to the glacier. Madame discoursed on the 
 religion and Monsieur seemed to experience grave 
 doubts." 
 
 Returning then to the hotel, I questioned my land- 
 lady with regard to the disturbing news. She had 
 known it for several days, she then confessed to me, 
 but had not liked to speak of it for fear I might be 
 angry. As for the ceremony of re-baptism, she stig- 
 matized it, under her breath, as barbarous. Many 
 people in the village disapproved of it. But it was the 
 rule of Holy Church, and what could they do?
 
 LOVE'S CONVERT 279 
 
 I knew that all the while she quite approved of it, 
 and, had she owned the power, would have had me and 
 every other heretic baptized by force into the Roman 
 Church. She was a good woman, and desired all men's 
 salvation. As for Bostock himself, he was very sheepish 
 when I broached the topic. We were sitting in my 
 bedroom, smoking pipes. 
 
 " I should have told you long ago," he said, "only she 
 made me promise to keep it a secret from you. I half 
 made up my mind to change the moment you told me 
 she was a devout Roman. She's a dear little girl in 
 every way, but rather bigoted, and she would not have 
 consented to marry a heretic. But I never dreamt of the 
 bishop coming, and a grand ceremony of re-baptism, and 
 all this humbug. My belief is she's just trying me, old 
 man, to see how much I'll go through for her sake. It 
 would take a good deal more than that to choke me off, 
 I can tell you." He puffed hard at his pipe. 
 
 " Has she accepted you ? " 
 
 " Not yet." He frowned a little as he answered. 
 " The fact is, I haven't exactly asked her. But I think 
 she's fond of me, and after all this fuss in which her 
 name will be mixed up with mine she can't very well 
 refuse." He looked wistfully out of the window to 
 where the foliage of the giant apple-tree loomed, black 
 and massive, in the twilight. 
 
 I walked across the room and rang the bell. 
 
 "What's that for?" he inquired in some surprise. 
 
 " I am going to ask for my bill," I said curtly. " I 
 cannot possibly stay in Bonthex when all the village is 
 talking of your folly. I'm an Englishman, and you're
 
 280 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 here as my friend. Can you wonder at my leaving the 
 place?" 
 
 " I never knew you were so bigoted ! " he answered 
 wonderingly. 
 
 I tried to explain that it was the intolerance that 
 prompted this re-baptism which disgusted me ; but he 
 still gaped incredulous. 
 
 " But I say, old man ; I was looking to you to back 
 me up at the function," he exclaimed. "All's fair in 
 love arid war, you know. I think you might at least 
 have seen me through it." 
 
 I paid my bill that night, and asked my landlady to 
 have a seat reserved for me next morning in the dili- 
 gence. 
 
 She was sorry for my going but expected it, she said. 
 As a good Catholic she could not but rejoice, of course, 
 that a wandering sheep had found its way back to the 
 fold. But she was sorry that the blessed event should 
 have caused me any derangement. 
 
 On the following morning, after an early breakfast, I 
 set off for the post-office, whence the " diligence" starts. 
 My landlady's eldest son accompanied me, bearing my 
 valise. As we were passing the new chalet the door 
 opened, and Madame de Beauriat appeared in hat and 
 cloak. She came towards me, blushing and confused. 
 
 " You will pardon me," she said. " I desire so much 
 to speak to you. Can it be true that you are going to 
 quit Bonthex ? " 
 
 I told her it was true, adding that I must make haste 
 if I wished to be in time for the poste. 
 
 " I was just going to ask you to allow me to bear you
 
 LOVE'S CONVERT 281 
 
 company so far," she said, moving forward. " I wish to 
 speak of your friend, Monsieur Bostock." 
 
 I made the boy run on ahead, in order that our con- 
 versation might be strictly private, as Madame's nervous 
 manner suggested that she wished it to be. She would 
 not have me go away in the belief that she had exercised 
 the slightest influence on my friend's faith. Monsieur 
 Bostock had had doubts before ever she met him. At 
 the most, she had but helped to resolve or to dispel 
 those doubts. All the merit of the conversion lay with 
 Monsieur le Cure, and with Monsieur Bostock himself. 
 I was not to think that she had estranged my friend 
 from me. The change would have taken place in any 
 case, she was convinced. Monsieur Bostock was already 
 half a Catholic when she made his acquaintance. I must 
 not attribute the change in him to any outside influence. 
 It was a true conversion, coming from the heart. 
 
 As she walked beside me, her face aglow and her 
 eyes bright with enthusiasm, I felt that stronger and 
 more conscientious men than Bostock might have done 
 what he was doing for her love. And yet methought 
 her fervour was rather of the devotee than of the lover. 
 She stood by while I took my seat in the coach, and 
 gave me her hand through the window when the time 
 came to say " Good-bye ". 
 
 u An revoir, Monsieur" she murmured ; " ton voyage." 
 
 I blushed from head to foot with pleasure, was pre- 
 pared to die for her. Surely, never had Church so re- 
 doubtable a missionary. 
 
 Before I had been absent from the place a week I came
 
 282 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 to the conclusion that I had done a foolish thing in leav- 
 ing Bonthex. Nowhere else in the whole country could 
 I find an inn which so exactly suited me in every way. 
 Besides, I was anxious to know how Bostock prospered 
 in his suit, and how he was prepared to face his ordeal. 
 I had come away upon the impulse of an angry moment, 
 and repented now at leisure of my haste. What did it 
 matter to me if Bostock chose to make an ass of himself ? 
 Since that morning when Madame had walked with me 
 to the post-office I could sympathize with his infatuation 
 and excuse it in great measure. Bonthex had become 
 a second home to me, and I suffered many of the pangs 
 of exile in the crowded, gay hotels where I was 
 forced to stay, missing all the familiar, friendly faces. 
 But the time passed somehow till at length, having read 
 a grandiose account of my friend's baptism in the can- 
 tonal gazette, I felt at liberty to return. 
 
 As the coach jolted slowly up the steep zig-zag road 
 through the pine-woods, my thoughts were chiefly of 
 what form my wedding gift to the Bostocks should take. 
 There was some difficulty in deciding where the bride 
 was French and her tastes unknown. 
 
 It was a sunny day, and the village looked delightful 
 with its brown chalets dotted among the mountain 
 pastures, and clustered thickly in the hollow below the 
 church. It seemed a paradise for lovers, with great 
 forests close at hand on every side. Bostock was a lucky 
 man. 
 
 Alighting at the door of the post-office, I left orders 
 for my luggage to be sent after me to the hotel, and 
 walked up the dusty road.
 
 LOVE'S CONVERT 283 
 
 Maximin was sitting on a bench before the little 
 shrine, which is opposite the Maison de Commune, 
 whittling a stick with great deliberation. He seemed 
 astonished at the sight of me. 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur is come back ! " he exclaimed. " You 
 are welcome, Monsieur ! Bonthex seems not the same 
 place without you. You have read of the ceremony, 
 without doubt? — I mean, the baptism of Monsieur 
 Bostock. It has been described in all the journals. It 
 was very fine ; and Monsieur Bostock bore it like a hero. 
 Monseigneur the Bishop has given him the names of 
 Ignace and Theodule. Why Ignace, I do not know, 
 but he is called Theodule out of compliment to the 
 patron of our country, where he was converted." 
 
 I could not help wondering what my friend's parents 
 would say when their son, whom they had known as 
 Francis from his birth, appeared before them as Ignace 
 Theodule Bostock. 
 
 "How does Monsieur Bostock find himself?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " Monsieur Bostock ! Do you not know, then ? He 
 is gone away. He quitted Bonthex yesterday morning. 
 No one knows why, but we have thought it probable that 
 he has been called to England upon business in connexion 
 with his family. He had asked me to guide him in an ascent 
 that he proposed to make in the company of Madame of the 
 new chalet. When I went to seek him at the hotel he 
 was upon the point of departure. It is a pity — is it not, 
 Monsieur? " 
 
 As I drew near to the new chalet, I ventured to glance 
 over the fence. Madame de Beauriat was reclining as of old
 
 284 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 in her chair under the apple-tree. Before I could retreat 
 she saw me, started to her feet, and came towards me 
 quickly. She was paler than I had ever seen her, and 
 her eyes looked as if she had been crying. 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur!" she exclaimed, with hands clasped 
 to her bosom. " Why did you go away ? At the least 
 you might have told me the truth when I walked with you 
 on the morning of your departure. Men confide in one 
 another, whereas their conversation with us women is 
 nothing but a mask to hide their thoughts. He must 
 have told you his real motive at the beginning. It was 
 cruel of you not to warn me." 
 
 I was at a loss to guess her meaning, and I told her so. 
 She blushed, and her eyes fell. 
 
 "You do not know? Truly, you do not know?" she 
 asked, incredulous. " Then you will find it hard to be- 
 lieve. Your friend came to me the morning after his 
 baptism, and asked me to marry him. There could be 
 no objection, he seemed to think, now that he was a 
 Catholic. He said it so funnily — you know his way of 
 speaking French — that I could almost have laughed at 
 him. But then I saw that he had been deceiving me — 
 me, who had been so proud of my part in his conversion, 
 and I knew not whether to laugh or to cry or to be angry. 
 At the last I believe that I laughed." 
 
 " How did you answer him ? " I asked excitedly, trium- 
 phal music starting in my head. 
 
 " I told him that he was very foolish and wicked, and 
 that he ought to be ashamed of himself for deceiving me 
 so. He seemed exceedingly astonished and for a long 
 time would not believe that I was really in earnest. He
 
 LOVE'S CONVERT 285 
 
 said that I was bound to marry him because I had make 
 him suffer so much — I have not the least idea of what 
 he meant, Monsieur — and because — it is laughable ! — be- 
 cause he had written to his parents to tell them that he 
 was going to marry me. Then I became altogether 
 angry, and he went back to the hotel. The next morn- 
 ing, I am told, he quitted Bonthex. You are the only 
 person to whom I have spoken of the reason of his going. 
 It is very ridiculous, but it has caused me pain. How 
 could one marry a man who spoke French like that? "
 
 THE POULTRY-YARD. 
 
 In an upper valley of the Jura, not five hundred yards 
 from the frontier-line of France and Switzerland, upon the 
 Swiss side, at the foot of climbing forests, stands the Pen- 
 sion Courvoisier. With no pretence at a garden or a 
 yard of any kind, it rises sheer out of green grass beside 
 a straight white road ; and its yellow walls, green shutters 
 and pure scarlet roof become an eyesore every time the 
 sun shines forth. Elise Courvoisier, who owns it, calls 
 the place her poultry-yard, with characteristic scorn of 
 those who lend themselves to exploitation. 
 
 Sole offspring of a former president of the commune of 
 Le Paz, this lady always from a child disdained the 
 thought of marriage, devoting her soul to the more serious 
 and lasting joys of money-making — a pursuit for which she 
 was of nature marked by the possession of a shrewd and sel- 
 fish mind, an iron body and relentless will. As a girl she 
 was in foreign service in Lausanne. It was thanks to that 
 peep into the outer world that, on inheriting her father's 
 hoard at forty, she formed the project, reckoned daring at 
 Le Paz, of building a great boarding-house below the 
 forest. The gossips shook their heads, but Elise knew 
 what she was doing. She had been struck by the multi- 
 tude of foreigners who colonize Geneva and Lausanne 
 from motives of economy. They all went up to the 
 
 (286)
 
 THE POULTRY- YARD 287 
 
 mountains in the heat of summer, but could not afford to 
 pay the price of grand hotels. A price they could afford 
 they paid like clockwork. By charging an average of five 
 francs a day for board and lodging she hoped to fill her 
 house with these desirables. She could put up forty 
 persons at a pinch ; and forty persons at five francs a head 
 per diem. . . . There was profit ! 
 
 Her venture was successful from the start. At a small 
 cost for advertisement she filled most of her rooms the 
 first summer ; and succeeding years were better as the 
 place got known. Elise was counted happy in her 
 poultry-yard. 
 
 It was precisely in the light of poultry that she viewed 
 her guests. She provided for them a clean house, furnished 
 only with necessaries, and a sufficiency of wholesome food 
 at stated hours, also a splendid run in field and forest. 
 If, with all that, they moped or grumbled, out they went. 
 She had the same contempt for them, their airs and dig- 
 nities, their ailments, squabbles, occupations, interests, as 
 if they had in truth been silly fowls. Scorning to mix 
 with them, she never left her kitchen and its purlieus un- 
 less it were to deal with some bad layer or pacify some 
 cherished bird whose plumes were ruffled. But she 
 watched over and controlled them, keeping herself mi- 
 nutely informed of their behaviour by the intermediary of 
 two stout peasant girls who did the housework. In re- 
 turn, the little world extolled her management, while 
 generally ignoring her existence as a power above them. 
 They referred to her in talk as " Mademoiselle". 
 
 Her pride was to maintain them peaceful and in good 
 condition ; and so unobtrusive yet efficient was her sway
 
 288 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 that for years she had had no serious difficulty in so 
 doing. But in the summer of 1902, as soon as the pen- 
 sion opened, she smelt trouble. They were as good a lot 
 to look at as she had ever kept. She did not doubt the 
 capacity of a single one of them to lay the weekly 
 egg with punctuality. It was the mixture of the breeds 
 which made her anxious. She feared fighting, which 
 might grievously reduce their numbers, not to name the 
 insult to her pride as keeper. There were French and 
 Germans, an Italian captain, a Brazilian and three Bel- 
 gians, without counting the old English strain, her special 
 fancy. 
 
 On the very first day of the season she charged Marie 
 and Adele to keep a sharp look-out, and at a hint of dis- 
 agreeables to inform her instantly. Nor had she long to 
 wait. 
 
 Adele reported : — 
 
 " The old English lady keeps her room this morning. 
 Her maid informs me she is furious." 
 
 "Eh, eh! but this is grave!" Elise exclaimed. "I 
 go at once to learn what has displeased her." 
 
 This old English lady, Mrs. Draycott, was Made- 
 moiselle's prize bird, a famous layer. She had returned 
 each summer since the house was opened, paying ten 
 francs daily for herself and maid, and seven francs for her 
 son, who joined her for the month of August. Moreover, 
 she had recommended hosts of clients. Having tidied 
 herself by pulling down the sleeves of her print bodice, 
 Elise made haste to Mrs. Draycott's room. 
 
 " Excuse, Madame, but having a moment of leisure, I 
 come to ask how Madame goes, if she is content, if there
 
 THE POULTRY-YARD 289 
 
 is anything that one can do to make her sojourn more 
 agreeable ?" 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, dear Mademoiselle." The old 
 Englishwoman's sombre visage spoke of grievance. " I 
 know well that you do all you can. But to-day I am 
 feeling ill, disgusted. Last night at dinner I was insulted 
 by that widow with the two children — as I have never 
 been before in all my life. She replied insolently to 
 a remark of mine ; she dared to set me right upon a 
 point of etiquette. I told her she should push her chair 
 in when she rose from table, and she replied : • How 
 bourgeois ! ' — just like that. It is unheard of. She calls 
 herself English, but such manners would not be tolerated 
 in our country for a single instant." 
 
 To Elise Courvoisier the ground of quarrel seemed 
 ridiculous, like everything that caused a flutter in her 
 poultry-yard. To soothe her prize hen's agitation, she 
 remarked compassionately : — 
 
 "Ah, she is not well brought up, that is evident! 
 She lacks Madame's distinction, her advantages of edu- 
 cation ! " 
 
 " She is a dangerous woman, Mademoiselle, an adven- 
 turess, I am convinced of it. See how her cheeks are 
 rouged ! See how she rolls her eyes at the Brazilian — 
 and the colonel too ! I believe she was never married, 
 though she has two children." 
 
 " That may well be," sighed Mademoiselle, to whom 
 this also appeared immaterial ; these idle, daisy-plucking 
 guests of hers seeming all alike immoral to her practical 
 mind. "But Madame must not distress herself, I do 
 entreat. That little lady is so much beneath her, and 
 
 19
 
 290 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 every one respects Madame so highly, and looks up to 
 her as to a queen — it is well known. When Monsieur 
 Adolphe comes we shall be gay once more. Ah, the 
 handsome boy ! I hope that Madame has good news of 
 that dear Monsieur Adolphe ? " 
 
 Mrs. Draycott, thus beguiled, discarded dudgeon for a 
 time, to speak the praises of her son Adolphus, who was 
 now in Germany studying the language with a view to 
 consular employment. She hoped, she said, to have him 
 with her in a fortnight's time. 
 
 " Ah, Madame ! What pleasure it will be to see him 
 once again ! He is so good, so considerate, and he makes 
 the house so gay ! " 
 
 With these words Mademoiselle Courvoisier backed } 
 smiling and bowing, from the presence, alleging with re- 
 gret her many duties. She did not, however, return 
 straight to the kitchen, but went first to the bedroom oc- 
 cupied by Mrs. Brett, the young widow whose imper- 
 tinence had angered Mrs. Draycott. Getting no reply to 
 her knock, she opened the door. The room was empty. 
 Holding her apron to her nose to obviate a delicate per- 
 fume which lurked within, and glancing contempt at an 
 array of objects on the dressing-table, she crossed to the 
 window and looked out. There was the coquette at play 
 with her two babies on the grass, posing for the admir- 
 ation of the monkey-faced Brazilian, and the English 
 colonel. 
 
 Retreating with much care to close the door, Elise 
 Courvoisier went clumping down the bare deal staircase 
 to the back door. 
 
 " If Madame would have the extreme goodness to ac-
 
 THE POULTRY-YARD 291 
 
 cord me one small minute ! " she said gravely, wiping her 
 hands in her apron as if she had that minute come from 
 work in the kitchen. 
 
 "Willingly," replied the widow, jumping up. 
 
 Having drawn her out of earshot of the gentlemen, 
 Mademoiselle, with a stern air of deprecation, sighed : — 
 
 " Ah, Madame, I am so ashamed. How shall I tell 
 it ? It desolates me, but I misjudged the cost. The 
 children eat as much as grown-up persons, and give, alas ! 
 so much more trouble ! Ah, Madame, I am truly sorry. 
 I must charge full price for them." 
 
 " Is that all ? " laughed the widow. " I agree, of course. 
 You must not ruin yourself, dear Mademoiselle, and all 
 your prices are so moderate." 
 
 The face of Mademoiselle expressed relief. "And, 
 Madame," she added, as a pleasant afterthought, " it is 
 not fair that you should have the burden of the children 
 all day long. Adele could take them sometimes. It 
 would be a little extra — a mere bagatelle — say, five francs 
 a week. We shall not quarrel about that ! " 
 
 " How kind you are ! " replied the widow gratefully. 
 " I had not dared to ask it, seeing both the chambermaids 
 so hard at work." 
 
 Having raised Mrs. Brett's laying value to more than 
 that of Mrs. Draycott by this sly manoeuvre, Elise was 
 pleased to wash her hands of the dispute, regarding it as 
 fraught with little danger, since the disputants were of one 
 nationality. Her fear had been of race attacking race ; 
 it was their nature, she had learnt from books at school. 
 She surveyed the whole pageant of history, empires, wars, 
 conspiracies, from the same height from which she watched
 
 292 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 her poultry-yard, and half-unconsciously confused the 
 two. Now, though the quarrel grew, she kept her kitchen 
 and only smiled at the reports brought in by Marie and 
 Adele. 
 
 There were, of course, two factions in the house. The 
 stronger, that supporting Mrs. Draycott, numbered all the 
 English, with the solitary exception of the grey-haired 
 colonel, and such members of other nations as had visited 
 the Pension Courvoisier in former years. The other, in 
 the interest of Mrs. Brett, consisted of new-comers who 
 knew nothing of the customs of the house, nor cared one 
 jot for its antique proprieties. The conservatives were 
 scandalized when Mrs. Brett indulged in a long walk with 
 the Brazilian and a Belgian lad of seventeen. They dealt 
 in innuendoes at the dinner-table. The independents 
 waxed indignant at such prudery, and in defiance made a 
 heroine of the fair widow. It became a custom with Mrs. 
 Draycott and her intimates after dinner to talk aloud of 
 their aversion in the latter's presence, naming no names, 
 while frowning over hands at bridge. 
 
 At the words : " Well, where's her husband, I should 
 like to know ? Is he dead ? I don't believe she ever 
 had one ! " hurled forth by Mrs. Draycott on one such 
 occasion, Mrs. Brett burst into tears and left the room. 
 She had been out that afternoon alone with the Brazilian, 
 to appease the latter's jealousy of the young Belgian 
 boy. This it was which had incensed her critics to 
 that point of rudeness. 
 
 Her sympathizers gathered round her in the entrance, 
 hall. The Brazilian cried out : " Ah, if that old hag 
 were but a man, or had a man to answer for her ! "
 
 THE POULTRY-YARD 293 
 
 with terrific meaning. " My faith, I will go in and pull 
 her nose ! " 
 
 His charmer laid her taper fingers on his arm and, re- 
 moving the lace handkerchief from her fine eyes a glanc- 
 ing-space, implored him to be peaceful for her sake ! 
 He raised the fingers to his lips in speechless homage. 
 Already he had stirred her pulse that day by threatening 
 to kill the Belgian boy unless she snubbed him. She 
 loved the sensation of men striving for her, maddened 
 by the passion she exhaled as flowers shed perfume ; 
 while she knelt, praying, helpless, fragile, a prize for the 
 victor. This Brazilian, lean and swarthy, whose bronze 
 face, prematurely wrinkled, bore the scars of many con- 
 flicts, impressed her as distinguished, an uncommon 
 figure. His vehemence reposed this lily amorous of 
 tempests. He was, besides, the only man available, 
 the colonel being much too elderly and too sedate, the 
 Belgian boy too indiscreet, for fine flirtation. She let 
 herself be swayed by his exotic ardours, intending to 
 accord him no more than her dreamy smile, and the 
 pleasure that may be derived from kissing finger-tips. 
 She wished for nothing more, but he went on to vio- 
 lence. Offended by a piece of roughness on his part, 
 she had resolved to walk no more alone with him, and 
 was seeking refuge in devotion to her babies, when 
 Adolphus Draycott came upon the scene. 
 
 Adolphus was a dapper youth of twenty, with more 
 of elegance and less of boyish shame than would have 
 fallen to his lot if schooled in England. He was also 
 far more touchy on the point of honour, more punctual 
 in bows and little courtesies than is usually the case
 
 294 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 with home-bred youngsters of that age. His colouring 
 was fair, relieved from insipidity by darker brows and 
 eyelashes, which lent becoming shadow to the rather 
 pale blue eyes. In the article of clothing he was most 
 particular, and even in the mountains studied every point. 
 
 When Mrs. Brett first met his gaze her heart beat 
 faster. He had but that minute arrived, and was look- 
 ing for his mother, when he came upon the youthful 
 widow playing with her babies on the grass behind the 
 house. Mrs. Brett was on her knees, with back towards 
 him. She turned her head at the noise of footsteps, and 
 remained thus, chin on shoulder, staring with fawn-like 
 eyes that spoke a kind of terror. He, too, stood spell- 
 bound for a moment. Then he raised his hat. 
 
 " Excuse me, I am looking for my mother — Mrs. 
 Draycott." 
 
 " Oh, I think she must be in her room," said Mrs. 
 Brett, and slowly turned away. 
 
 Adolphus with a quickened pulse returned indoors. 
 He heard his mother's judgment upon Mrs. Brett. It 
 was only what might be expected from his mother ; 
 she never had a decent word for pretty women. For 
 his own part he discerned an interest in life which 
 reconciled him to the thought of spending weeks in 
 that dull place. He had fled the year before after a 
 fortnight of it, he had been so bored. 
 
 As for the widow, vengeance upon his mamma ranked 
 second in her hopes to his subjection. He was indeed a 
 very personable youth. After a day or two of mutual 
 shyness, of tentative, self-conscious glances, and of panic 
 flights, they came together.
 
 THE POULTRY -YARD 295 
 
 "She's all right, there's nothing wrong with her," 
 Adolphus told his mother one fine day. " It's a shame 
 for all of you to treat her as you do. Poor thing, it's 
 not her fault if she is all alone. She was married at 
 sixteen to a most awful brute, and got a divorce at last 
 on account of his cruelty. She has the custody of the 
 children. That proves there is nothing wrong with her. 
 People are beastly." 
 
 Mrs. Draycott shook her head forebodingly. She was 
 too wise to bid her son take care. Instead she thought 
 it diplomatic to abate her rigours. She did not wish to 
 have a quarrel with Adolphus, which would aggrandize 
 the creature in his mind. There was then a truce to 
 innuendoes. The pretty widow was accorded wintry 
 favours. And when Adolphus gave it out as his inten- 
 tion to spend the whole of his holidays at the Pension 
 Courvoisier his mother felt indulgent towards the 
 woman who, after all, was preferable to some common 
 hussy. Adolphus had no wealth to tempt so elegant 
 a siren ; and all young souls must try their wings in 
 love. 
 
 " Your mother thinks me an adventuress," sighed Mrs. 
 Brett. She spread out both her hands and pouted in a 
 way Adolphus thought adorable. " It really is ridicu- 
 lous. If I were that, should I have come to such a 
 quiet place ? I am so lonely and defenceless ; it seems 
 very cruel to be so misjudged." 
 
 Adolphus took her hand. He was in love and, being 
 youthful, stalked on planes of high resolve and knightly 
 purpose. 
 
 "Never call yourself defenceless while I live!" he
 
 296 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 cried aloud. " Do you — can you — feel so lonely now 
 that I am here ? " He asked to have the right to guard 
 her. She smiled sadly, declaring she was much too old 
 for him. 
 
 "Old? When you're only twenty-three!" he reas- 
 oned with her. " In six months I shall be of age, and 
 my own master. With you to fight for I could make 
 my way to anything. Say yes, my dearest ! Do, for 
 pity's sake, say yes ! " 
 
 Mrs. Brett said "No" often, but so gently, submitting 
 all the while so willingly to his caresses, that her refusal 
 seemed the sweetest of surrenders. 
 
 He told his mother solemnly in private that he must 
 marry Mrs. Brett or die of longing. 
 
 " At any rate I can trust her not to be so foolish," 
 was the cross rejoinder. " She knows which side her 
 bread is buttered, if you don't." 
 
 But Mrs. Draycott, though she spoke thus firmly, was 
 not without misgivings of a lively kind. She honestly 
 believed her son to be uncommonly attractive, and knew 
 young women sometimes lose their wits. 
 
 Elise Courvoisier, informed by Marie and Adele of this 
 development, was happy at the turn events were taking. 
 
 " Mon Dieu! I do not blame the little lady!" she 
 chuckled as she tidied up her kitchen. " I also, if con- 
 demned to such a senseless life, should commit follies 
 only to be doing something. And after the treatment 
 she received from Madame Draycott, it is only pleasant 
 to enslave the cherished Adolphe. He stays six weeks 
 instead of two, at forty-nine francs a week. One has 
 nothing to complain of. We are all content."
 
 THE POULTRY-YARD 297 
 
 But, in making this complacent survey of the situa- 
 tion, Elise had forgotten the Brazilian, that umbrageous 
 fowl. He of the dark, scarred face, the frowning brow, 
 had permitted Mrs. Brett's flirtation with Adolphus on 
 the understanding, plainly stated in a talk with his en- 
 chantress, that its only object was revenge on Mrs. 
 Draycott. When he found that it was otherwise, that 
 Mrs. Draycott, instead of being furious, connived at the 
 affair, the world flashed black and red before his mad- 
 dened eyes. 
 
 It was some time before he could come face to face 
 with her, since she divined his state of mind and shunned 
 encounters. But at length, one afternoon, he spied her 
 from a window sitting out beneath an apple-tree among 
 the pastures. Out he strode. She started up on his 
 appearance, hoping to escape. He overtook her, shook 
 her roughly by the arm, and insisted that she should 
 explain her conduct instantly. She did her best to 
 pacify without contenting him, and all the while kept 
 moving towards the house. At last, when they were ten 
 yards away from the door, she freed her arm by a 
 tremendous effort, and then ran indoors, exclaiming : — 
 
 "You have hurt my arm, Monsieur!" She was in 
 tears. 
 
 This scene of her release took place just underneath 
 the window of the chamber where Adolphus slept. The 
 young man happened at the moment to be in that 
 chamber, near the open window, studying his appearance 
 critically in the looking-glass, smoothing his hair, ad- 
 justing his smart neck-bow, brushing his eyebrows and 
 his small moustache — a ceremony he performed ten times
 
 298 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 a day. Hearing the altercation, he rushed out to Lily's 
 rescue. Flushed and trembling, he confronted the angry 
 Brazilian, screaming: — 
 
 " Monsieur, how dare you lay hands on my fiancee ! " 
 
 The retort came quickly, like a thunder-bolt, destroy- 
 ing reason. "Take that and that, and that and that, 
 insolent monkey ! " Two slaps on either cheek and a 
 painful wrench at his nose, and with a final snap of the 
 fingers, the Brazilian vanished. 
 
 When Adolphus overcame the fearful shock, it was to 
 realize the need of bloodshed to wipe out the insult. 
 Trembling like a leaf, and white as death with rage, he 
 went and spoke to the Italian captain staying in the 
 boarding-house, who brightened up at prospect of a duel. 
 He bade Adolphus be at ease ; he himself would provide 
 a second witness — a Belgian gentleman of experience in 
 such affairs — and arrange everything. 
 
 " No doubt," he said, " our adversary will select the 
 two Messieurs Escoffier ; they are friends of his. The 
 father is all one could desire, but the son is frivolous. 
 Never mind. We shall agree very well. You wish the 
 meeting to take place as soon as possible ? " 
 
 "As possible," Adolphus echoed shakily. 
 
 "It is easy, since the frontier is but two steps off. 
 We will go this evening and select a spot within the 
 forest. Your affair can be adjusted to-morrow at the 
 sun-rise. Leave all to me and think no more about it." 
 
 But the doomed youth could think of nothing else. 
 He felt removed from all mankind, upon heroic heights. 
 The usual conversation of the boarding-house appeared 
 degrading ; and he endured it with extreme impatience.
 
 THE POULTRY-YARD 299 
 
 He wished to talk alone with Lily, but she kept her 
 room till dinner. That evening there was great excite- 
 ment in the Pension Courvoisier, for the story of the 
 quarrel had leaked out. Mrs. Draycott's absence from 
 her place at dinner caused much whispering. Mrs. Brett, 
 who came down to the meal, looked pale and was 
 unusually silent. Her eyes filled with tears when any- 
 one addressed a word to her. The desire of everybody 
 was to learn the place and hour of the duel. It was so 
 thrilling — a sight to be seen but once in a lifetime; and 
 all the girls had cameras ! But nothing could be said 
 openly, in the presence of the principals, who stared 
 glumly at their plates, Adolphus fearing greatly that his 
 nose still showed a redness from that awful wrench. He 
 felt it burning. 
 
 At the close of dinner Mrs. Brett received a call to 
 Mrs. Draycott's room, and exchanged scared glances 
 with Adolphus as she rose from table. 
 
 Mrs. Draycott, rude old tyrant that she was, was on 
 her knees. She besought her son's seductress to undo 
 her work, to stop the wicked duel. This acknowledg- 
 ment of her supremacy, though tardy, was flattering to 
 Mrs. Brett. It even made her feel some slight com- 
 punction. The sight of a mother in such depths of grief 
 was most affecting. But what could she do ? 
 
 " I have no influence," she sobbed despairingly. " God 
 knows I would prevent the duel if I could. I have 
 implored Adolphus. But he will not listen. He says his 
 honour is at stake. That hateful honour ! Oh, why was 
 I ever born? Why will men always fight about me?" 
 
 " That you know best ! " said Mrs. Draycott in her
 
 300 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 usual tone. " You are a foolish, a wicked, and a danger- 
 ous woman. Chiefly foolish to begin with, but the 
 others follow. If my son dies his blood is on your 
 hands." 
 
 " Oh, cruel ! " hiccupped Mrs. Brett as she withdrew 
 in tears. 
 
 Half an hour elapsed, and then Adolphus came into 
 his mother's room. Kneeling beside her chair, he put 
 his arms around her. 
 
 " Mother ! " he whispered, " don't be hard on Lily. 
 It is not her fault. That beast pulled my nose — think 
 of it, Mother ! — with his beastly, yellow fingers. After 
 that, of course, I must fight him, if I don't want to feel 
 myself disgraced for life." 
 
 "I wish I'd never sent you to school in France and 
 Germany," his mother sobbed ; " though at the time 
 it seemed the best thing I could do. Englishmen don't 
 fight duels. Oh, my boy ! my boy ! Don't do it ; go 
 away to-night. I'll give you money to amuse yourself! " 
 She showed a little key. " Don't talk to me about these 
 people. What does their opinion matter? They are 
 nobodies. You will never see them again." 
 
 She wished to rise, but he compelled her to keep seated. 
 
 " Mother," he implored, "don't make it harder. Don't 
 embitter this last evening. It may be the very last we 
 spend together. I've got to fight this man, or else 
 despise myself for evermore. Surely you wouldn't have 
 your son a coward ? Whatever pride I have I get from 
 you. Do be nice to me ! And promise to be kind to 
 Lily if I fall. She is so young, so friendless " 
 
 While this tragic scene was going on in Mrs. Draycott's
 
 THE POULTRY- YARD 301 
 
 room, the other boarders were endeavouring by every 
 means to find out what arrangements had been made for 
 the great duel. The Italian captain was impervious to 
 hints, so was his colleague, a redundant Belgian. The 
 attack soon concentrated on the younger Monsieur 
 Escoffier, a mercurial student whose head was turned by 
 the attentions paid him. Girls — reserved English girls — 
 came near to kiss him. He could not long resist such 
 blandishments. Taking one damsel apart — with the 
 marked approval of the others, though he did not see 
 it — he swore her to the deepest secrecy, and then informed 
 her. She left him and sped back to tell the others. 
 
 Elise Courvoisier had been informed at dinner-time by 
 Marie that something serious was wrong among the 
 boarders ; she could not tell what. Made anxious by 
 the tidings, the mistress bade her handmaids leave no 
 stone unturned to learn the matter. They presently re- 
 turned, declaring that there had been a fight between 
 Monsieur Adolphe and the Brazilian. Enraged by fear 
 of losing one or other of the disputants, Elise announced 
 a wish to wring their necks, and a resolve to talk to both 
 of them on the morrow. Late in the evening, Marie ran 
 to her with eyes of horror, crying out that there was 
 going to be a duel. 
 
 "A duel!" 
 
 Mademoiselle grew stiff with rage, her face went purple. 
 
 In her house, a duel, perhaps loss of life! The impu- 
 dence of the insurgents took her breath away. If she 
 could show indulgence in due season, she preferred 
 severity ; and now the time had come to be severe. She 
 would lock all the fools in their bedrooms till they found
 
 302 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 their senses. But no, they were too artful, and besides 
 — the windows! She must somehow learn their plans 
 and circumvent them. As a first move she went off to 
 question Mrs. Draycott, in wrath, without her wonted 
 mask of smooth obsequiousness. There was no need of 
 questions. The anguished mother told her grief at once. 
 
 " My good Mademoiselle, I know not what to do, I am 
 so troubled. A dreadful thing has happened. That 
 Brazilian . . . insulted Monsieur Adolphe. They are 
 going to fight. It is all the work of that ignoble woman. 
 Did I not always tell you she was dangerous?" 
 
 " And why, Madame," demanded Mademoiselle with 
 arms akimbo, "do you wait till late at night to tell me 
 this? If warned earlier, I could have informed the can- 
 tonal authorities, and procured a force of police." 
 
 " Ah, my dear Mademoiselle, it is all useless ! They 
 will fight across the frontier." 
 
 "The frontier? I deride it! Where, and at what 
 hour, have the goodness to inform me ? " 
 
 " I do not know. My son has told me nothing." 
 
 "Be ashamed, Madame — you, an old lady, whom I 
 thought so reasonable ! — not to have informed me sooner ! 
 It is my affair. If any of my pensionnaires transgress the 
 law, my management of my establishment is blamed. I 
 am disgusted with you." 
 
 Leaving Mrs. Draycott sore dismayed, Elise Courvoisier 
 went on her course of inquisition. In the passage she 
 met Marie and Adele. 
 
 " Meess Smeeth," they said in breathless eagerness, 
 "knows all that it is possible to know about the duel. 
 Five other demoiselles are with her in the bedroom.
 
 THE POULTRY-YARD 303 
 
 They are preparing all their things for taking photo- 
 graphs." 
 
 Ordering the domestics off to bed, for it was now near 
 midnight, Elise, without knocking, entered Miss Smith's 
 room. 
 
 "Well, Mademoiselle, so there is to be a duel, is it 
 not so?" she exclaimed derisively, "and we are all 
 enraptured. It will afford us such a charming spectacle 
 — such a delicious picture for our album of photography. 
 The spectacle of blood flowing, of sudden death, is so 
 agreeable to ladies gentle, well brought up." 
 
 For five minutes she continued in this vein of satire, 
 emptying all the vials of her pent-up scorn upon the 
 heads of the astonished girls. When, in the end, she 
 asked to know the place and hour appointed for the 
 duel, Miss Smith, in tears, related all she knew. 
 
 "Good, then it shall be stopped, this atrocity," said 
 Elise grimly. "But, mesdemoiselles, prepare your 
 cameras. There will be still a charming tableau." 
 
 The girls had a vision of gendarmes stepping in between 
 the combatants, and were consoled to think that they 
 would not be robbed of a dramatic scene. But Made- 
 moiselle intended nothing of the sort. She despised the 
 males of her kind, however named and uniformed, and 
 except against an army could do best without them. 
 
 Long before sunrise there were surreptitious movements 
 in the boarding-house. Figures slipped out by twos and 
 threes towards the forest. The last of these inquisitives 
 had some time vanished in the shadows before Adolphus 
 and his witnesses emerged. 
 
 The young man was pale and dressed more care-
 
 304 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 lessly than usual. He wore a jaunty air, and talked with 
 nonchalance to his companion, the Italian captain, who 
 walked beside him with extreme decorum. The portly 
 Belgian followed, hard of breathing. The only sign of 
 nervousness Adolphus showed was that he kept raising 
 and extending his right arm as if he needed to make sure 
 of its obedience. The trio passed up through the trees 
 to the appointed glade and there stood talking very care- 
 lessly. All around the little clearing there were clumps 
 of thicket, hiding the feet of tremendous pine-trees, 
 which formed endless vistas, shifting kaleidoscopically 
 if one walked about. The odour of the dew-drenched 
 leaves was heavy on the morning air. Soon there 
 appeared the other small procession, the Brazilian looking 
 corpse-like, but as fierce as ever. Salutes were then ex- 
 changed ; the ground was measured. Escoffter pere 
 produced a case of pistols, remarking that he never went 
 abroad without them. The Italian captain and the portly 
 Belgian were proceeding gravely to inspect the weapons ; 
 the principals had taken off their coats and stood in 
 readiness, when, with loud cries of "Gare a vous, tas 
 de coquins ! Polissons ! Chenapans ! " three stalwart 
 female figures rushed out from behind some bushes. Each 
 bore a pail and a mop. Setting down the pails close 
 by the startled group, they soaked the mops and dabbed 
 them in the nearest faces, saying, " There ! It is for pigs ! " 
 The Italian captain spluttered and protested hotly ; the 
 Brazilian shrieked out curses in his native tongue; the stout 
 and easy-going Belgian, after one good taste of pig-swill, 
 fled the scene. So did the two Escoffiers. Adolphus, in 
 the face of insult and complete defilement, stood his ground
 
 THE POULTRY -YARD 305 
 
 indignantly, till he caught sight of English ladies taking 
 snap-shots. Then he too turned and fled. He was the 
 last to run. " Well done ! Mademoiselle ! " he heard the 
 cry behind him. 
 
 The Brazilian left the boarding-house that very morning 
 after a vain attempt to wrest apologies from Mademoiselle, 
 who promised to hold back his luggage if he went off 
 without paying, as he wished to do. His going made 
 Adolphus ready to forget his own spoilt suit and outraged 
 feelings, since at all events he was left master of the field. 
 But, to his chagrin, Lily too gave notice of departure. 
 She had received, she said, a letter with important news, 
 which made it necessary for her to go at once to Geneva 
 with her children. She vouchsafed no details ; and when 
 the time came parted from him sweetly, but in a way 
 which told him plainly that it was for good. When she 
 was gone, more than one friend informed him that Mrs. 
 Brett could not endure a breath of ridicule. The scene 
 in the forest, of which she had been forced to hear so 
 many versions, all ridiculous, of which, too, she was even 
 shown developed photographs, she resented as a personal 
 affront and felt disgust for all concerned in it. 
 
 Mrs. Draycott would have welcomed her departure had 
 
 Adolphus not been stricken down by that event. Fearing 
 
 for his health, she wished the woman back with all her 
 
 heart. Indignant though she was with Mademoiselle for 
 
 sousing her beloved son with pig-swill on a par with mere 
 
 assassins, she would have stayed on at the Pension 
 
 Courvoisier, where she was comfortable, but for the 
 
 manifest depression of Adolphus. As it was, she also 
 
 took her flight before a week was past, carrying her son 
 
 20
 
 306 TALES FROM FIVE CHIMNEYS 
 
 away to gayer scenes, where he might find distrac- 
 tion. 
 
 Though her poultry-yard was thus depleted for a time, 
 Elise Courvoisier was not at all distressed. She had 
 asserted her rightful supremacy, and those who did not like 
 it could repair elsewhere ; the loss to her establishment 
 was merely temporary, the gain in manners and good 
 discipline would last for years. Spectators of her prowess 
 on that August morning were charmed with what they 
 called her eccentricity. They wrote to friends in England, 
 France and Germany. It was a free advertisement, 
 enabling her presently to fill the vacant perches with fowls 
 as paying, but less cock-a-hoop. The fear of her was on 
 them all thenceforward, and things went smoothly. 
 
 " With all their airs and follies," she informed her gossips 
 in the village, " they are quite easy to govern for one who 
 has studied their habits. One must not let them fancy 
 they can have their way. If they are not punctual to 
 meals they go without them. After being hungry once or 
 twice, they mend their habits. Things broken must be 
 paid for within the week. Candles must be extinguished 
 in the bedrooms at a certain hour. Fighting or slanderous 
 talk will be punished by expulsion. As for a duel, I have 
 punished that with pig-swill, but if the thing occurs again, 
 I shall use liquid dung, I let the fact be known. A few 
 strict rules and for the rest indulgence. Thus I rule them." 
 
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 By the Author of " Big Tremalae " 
 
 Mills & Boon will issue shortly a notable long novel 
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 MARY MORELAND 
 
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 Mills S Boon's Six-Shilling Novels 
 
 Piet of Italy Dorothea Fairbridge. 
 
 The Man in Motley 'Jom Gallon. 
 
 Olga Nazimov W. L. George. 
 
 Flower of the Moon Louise Gerard. 
 
 The Swimmer Louise Gerard. 
 
 A Tropical Tannic . . . Snd Edition Louise Gerard. 
 
 The Leech Mrs. Harold B. Gorst. 
 
 Sons of State Winifred Graham. 
 
 The Enemy of Woman 3rd Editimi Winifred Graham. 
 
 Mary Uth Edition Winifred Graham. 
 
 The Needlewoman ....... Winifred Graham. 
 
 The Love Story of a Mormon . . Winifred Graham. 
 
 Guinea Gold tad, Editio-n Beatrice Grimshnw. 
 
 When the Red Gods Call . 3rd Edition Beatrice Grimshaw. 
 
 Edward Racedale's Will Mark Hardy. 
 
 Entertaining Jane Millicent Heathcote. 
 
 Clark's Field Robert Herrick. 
 
 The Common Lot Robert Herrick. 
 
 His Great Adventure Robert Herrick. 
 
 The Web of Life Robert Herrick. 
 
 One Woman's Life . . Snd Edition Robert Herrick. 
 
 The Progress of Prudence . . . . W. F. Hewer. 
 Crump Folk Going Home .... Constance Holme. 
 
 The Lonely Plough Constance Holme. 
 
 Joljn Ward, M.D Arthur Hooley. 
 
 No - «9 Snd Edition Edgar Jepson. 
 
 Pollyooly Snd Edition Edgar Jepson. 
 
 Arsene Lupin Jepson and Leblanc 
 
 The Enlightenment of Ermyn . . . Harry Jermyn. 
 The Adolescence of Aubrey .... Harry Jermyn. 
 
 High Stakes Ruth Kauffman. 
 
 Jehanne of the Golden Lips . 3rd Edition F. G. Knowles-Foster. 
 
 The Written Law F. G. Knowles-Foster. 
 
 The Net of Circumstance .... Mr. A Mrs. O. L'Artsau. 
 The Confessions of Arsene Lupin . Maurice Leblanc. 
 
 °*3 Snd Edition Maurice Leblanc. 
 
 The Frontier Maurice Leblanc. 
 
 The Phantom of the Opera .... Gaston Leroux. 
 
 The Jacket . . j ae k London. 
 
 The Mutiny of the Elsinore . 3rd Edition Jack London. 
 John Barleycorn .... 3rd Edition Jack London. 
 The Valley of the Moon . 6th. Edition Jack London. 
 
 South Sea Tales Jack London. 
 
 Smoke Bellew i,th Editurn Jack London. 
 
 A Son of the Sun . . . 3rd Bdition Jack London. 
 When Ood Laughs . tnd Edition Jack London. 
 
 The Music Maker* Louise Mack. 
 
 The Marriage of Edward .... Louise Mack. 
 
 Attraction Louise Muck. 
 
 Outlaw's Luck Dorothea Mackellar. 
 
 3
 
 " There is always a new Mills 8 Boon Novel " 
 
 Grandpapa's Grandaughter .... Mary E. Mann. 
 
 Through the Window Mary E. Mann. 
 
 Bound Together . . . . 2nd Edition Mary E. Mann. 
 
 Men and Dreams . . . 2nd Edition Mary E. Mann. 
 
 The Yoke of Silence (5«.) .... Amy McLaren. 
 
 The Prince Thomas Metcalfe. 
 
 The Cost 2nd Edition L. G. Moberly. 
 
 VViLsam 2nd Edition S. C. Nethersole. 
 
 Mary up at Gaffries . . . Uth Edition S. C. Nethersole. 
 
 Ripe Corn 2nd Edition S. C. Nethersole. 
 
 Calico Jack 3rd)Editi<m Horace W. C. Newte. 
 
 The Sins of the Children . 2nd BdMion Horace W. C. Newte. 
 
 The Ealing Miracle Horace W. C. Newte. 
 
 Guppy Guyson W. M. O'Kane 
 
 With Poison and 5 word W. M. O'Kane. 
 
 Harm's Way Lloyd Osbourne. 
 
 The Boomers Roy Norton. 
 
 The Plunderer Roy Norton. 
 
 Stories without Tears . . 2nd Edition Barry Pain. 
 
 White Heat Pan. 
 
 The Adventures of Captain Jack 3rd Edition Max Pemberton. 
 
 Lily Magic Mary L. Pendered. 
 
 Pbyllida Flouts Me Mary L. Pendered. 
 
 An Englishman Mary L. Pendered. 
 
 At Lavender Cottage . . ... . Mary L Pendered. 
 
 Two Young Pigeons Mrs. H. H. Penrose. 
 
 Something Impossible Mrs. H. H. Penrose. 
 
 Burnt Flax Mrs. H. H. Penrose. 
 
 The Brat Mrs. H. H. Penrose. 
 
 Tales from Five Chimneys .... Marmaduke Pickthall. 
 
 The Tracy Tubbses (3*. 6d.) .... Jessie Pope. 
 
 The Stairway of Honour. . 2nd Edition Maud Stepney Rawson. 
 
 The Court Favourite Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. 
 
 The Relations Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. 
 
 The Swashbuckler Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. 
 
 The Silence Broken . . . 2nd Edition Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. 
 
 The Queen's Hand . . . 2nd Edition Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. 
 
 Nigel Ferrard .... 2nd, Edition Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. 
 
 Long Furrows Mrs. Fred Reynolds. 
 
 An Absent Hero Mrs. Fred Reynolds. 
 
 The Gondola Rothay Reynolds. 
 
 The Yaliants of Virginia . . 2nd Edition Hallie Erminie Rives. 
 
 Her Last Appearance A. Nugent Robertson. 
 
 Force Majeure Patrick Rushden. 
 
 Mr. Sheringham and Others .... Mrs. Alfred Sidgwick. 
 
 The Flame of Daring Harold Spender. 
 
 One Man Returns Harold Spender. 
 
 The Call of the Siren . . 2nd Edition Harold Spender. 
 
 Kicks and Ha'pence Henry Stace. 
 
 All ward E.S.Stevens. 
 
 4
 
 Mills 8 Boon's Six-Shilling Novels 
 
 Sarah Eden 3rd Bdition E. S. Stevens. 
 
 The Long Engagement . 3rd Editio-n E. S. Stevens. 
 
 The Veil 7th Edition E. S. Stevens. 
 
 The Mountain of God . . Uh Edition E. S. Stevens. 
 
 The Lure 3rd Edition E. S. Stevens. 
 
 The Earthen Drum . . Snd Edition E. S. Stevens. 
 
 Beyond the Shadow . . . Snd Edition Joan Sutherland. 
 
 Cophetua's Son .... Snd Edition Joan Sutherland. 
 
 The Hidden Road . . . 3rd Edition Joan Sutherland. 
 
 Moyle Church-Town John Trevena. 
 
 Stormlight Lady Troubridge. 
 
 The Olrl with the Blue Eyes . . Lady Troubridge. 
 
 The Woman who Forgot Lady Troubridge. 
 
 The First Law .... Snd Edition Lady Troubridge. 
 
 The Cheat Lady Troubridge. 
 
 Body and Soul .... Snd Edition Lady Troubridge. 
 
 A Creature of Circumstance .... Lady Troubridge. 
 
 Spice of Life Mrs. G. de H. Vaizey. 
 
 Grlzel Married Mrs. G. de H. Vaizey. 
 
 The Adventures of Billie Belshaw . Mrs. G. de H. Vaizey. 
 
 An Unknown Lover Mrs. G. de H. Vaizey. 
 
 Sport of Gods .... 3rd Edition 11. Vaughan-Sawyer. 
 
 The Lizard H. Vaughan-Sawyer. 
 
 Mary Moreland Marie van Vorst. 
 
 Big Tremaine .... Snd Edition Marie van Vorst. 
 
 His Love Story (5«.) Marie van Vorst. 
 
 The Two Faces Marie van Vorst. 
 
 First Love Marie van Vorst. 
 
 The Girl from His Town Marie van Vorst. 
 
 Mr. Perrin and Mr. Traill . Snd Edition Hugh Walpole. 
 
 The Prelude to Adventure Snd Edition Hugh Walpole. 
 
 The Unknown Woman Anne Warwick. 
 
 Toddle 3rd Edition Gilbert Watson. 
 
 Chapman's Wares H. B.Marriott Watson. 
 
 Ifs and Ans H. B.Marriott Wateon. 
 
 Tess of Ithaca Grace Miller White. 
 
 The Wind among the Barley Snd Editio-n M. P. Willcocks. 
 
 Memoirs of a Buccaneer Robert Williams. 
 
 The Friendly Enemy * T. P. Cameron Wilson 
 
 The Prince and Betty . . . ' . . P. G. Wodehouse. 
 
 The Honourable Derek It. A. WoodSeys. 
 
 The Court of the Gentiles .... Mrs. Stanley Wrench. 
 
 Ruth of the Rowldrich Mrs. Stanley Wrench. 
 
 Happy Endings I. A. R. Wylie. 
 
 The Temple of Dawn . . Snd Edition I. A. R. Wylie. 
 
 The Red Mirage . . . Uth Edition I. A. R. Wylie. 
 
 The Daughter of Brahma 5th Edition I. A. R. Wylie. 
 
 The Rajah's People . . . 8th Edition I. A. R. Wylie. 
 
 Dividing Waters . . . . Uh Edition I. A. R. Wylie. 
 
 In Different Keys I. A. R. Wylie. 
 
 5
 
 MILLS & BOONS SHILLING NOVELS 
 
 Picture Covers. Crown 8vo. Is. net. 
 
 THE NEW YORK HERALD says: " They have long ago 
 acquired the reputation for the production of original books." 
 
 The Author 
 
 Ashes of Incense 
 
 Eve— Spinster 
 
 Shop Girls 
 
 Sister Susie - Spinster (?) 
 
 The Woman Who ! 
 
 The Girl who Saved His Honour 
 
 Cardillac 
 
 *The Bill-Toppers 
 
 His First Offence 
 
 The Peer's Progress . 
 
 The Prodigal Father . 
 
 Tales of King Fido 
 
 "Within the Law 
 
 The Blue Bird's-Eye 
 
 Swift Nick of the York Road 
 
 When the Red Gods Call . 
 
 The Bolster Book 
 
 Sons of State 
 
 The Love Story of a Mormon 
 
 The Needlewoman 
 
 The Enemy of Woman 
 
 Mary 
 
 Pollyooly. . . 
 
 The Confessions of Arsene Lupin 
 
 813 (A New Arsene Lupin Adventure) 
 
 * Arsene Lupin . . . Edgar 
 
 The Square Mile . 
 
 The Socialist Countess 
 
 The Sins of the Children 
 
 The Lonely Lovers 
 
 Sparrows: The Story of an Unprotected Girl 
 
 Lena Swallow: A Sister to "Sparrows" 
 
 Living Pictures .... 
 
 The Adventures of Captain Jack 
 
 Beware of the Dog 
 
 Thomas Henry 
 
 *D'Arcy of the Guards 
 
 Santa Claus (The Fairy Story of 
 
 *Tne Marriage Market 
 
 *The Dollar Princess . 
 
 •The Count of Luxembourg 
 
 The Mountain of God 
 
 The Veil . 
 
 John Cave 
 
 Life .... 
 
 Jepso: 
 
 The Cheat 
 
 The Woman who Forgot . 
 
 Body and Soul 
 
 The Prelude to Adventure 
 
 Mr. Perrin and Mr. Traill 
 
 The Daughter of Brahma 
 
 The Rajah's People 
 
 Dividing Waters . 
 
 For Church and Chieftain 
 
 * Novel of the Play. 
 
 6 
 
 the 
 
 Play) 
 
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 " Mastering Flame." 
 
 Anon. 
 
 Arthur Applin. 
 
 Arthur Applin. 
 
 Arthur Applin. 
 
 Arthur Applin. 
 
 . Robert Barr . 
 
 Andre Castaigne. 
 
 J. Storer Clouston. 
 
 J. Storer Clouston. 
 
 J. Storer Clouston. 
 
 J. Storei Clouston. 
 
 M. Dana and E. Forest. 
 
 George Edgar. 
 
 George Edgar. 
 
 Beatrice Grimshaw. 
 
 Harry Graham. 
 
 Winifred Graham. 
 
 Winifred Graham. 
 
 Winifred Graham. 
 
 Winifred Graham. 
 
 Winifred Graham. 
 
 . Edgar Jepson. 
 
 Maurice Leblanc. 
 
 Maurice Leblanc. 
 
 n and Maurice Leblanc. 
 
 Horace W. C. Newte. 
 
 Horace W. C. Newte. 
 
 Horace W. C. Newte. 
 
 Horace W. C. Newte. 
 
 Horace W. C. Newte. 
 
 Horace W. C. Newte. 
 
 Horace W. C. Newte. 
 
 Max Pemberton. 
 
 Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. 
 
 W. Pett Ridge. 
 
 L. E. Shipman. 
 
 Harold Simpson. 
 
 Harold Simpson. 
 
 Harold Simpson. 
 
 Harold Simpson. 
 
 .E. S. Stevens. 
 
 . E. S. Stevens. 
 
 . W. B. Trites. 
 
 . W. B. Trites. 
 
 Lady Troubridge. 
 Lady Troubridge. 
 Lady Troubridge. 
 
 Hugh Walpole. 
 
 Hugh Walpole. 
 
 I. A. R. Wylie. 
 
 I. A. R. Wylie. 
 
 I. A. R. Wylie. 
 
 . May Wynne.
 
 MILLS & BOON'S 
 
 Shilling Cloth Library 
 
 Is. net each volume (postage 3d. J 
 
 The volumes include Novels and General Literature by the finest writers 
 of the day. In a number of cases the books will be published for the first 
 time, two of these being by the American " Kipling" — Jack London— and 
 published exclusively in this library, never having before been issued in 
 Great Britain and the Colonies. The First volumes will be : 
 
 South Sea Tales 
 
 When God 'Laughs 
 
 The Road. (Entirely New) 
 
 The House of Pride. (Entirely New) 
 
 A Son of the Sun 
 
 Smoke Bellew 
 
 Children of the Frost 
 
 The Cruise of the Snark 
 
 The Iron Heel 
 
 John Barleycorn 
 
 An Odyssey of the North 
 
 Valley of the Moon 
 
 The Call of the Siren 
 
 The Frontier 
 
 The Room in the Tower 
 
 Down our Street 
 
 Love in a Little Town 
 
 Because of Jane 
 
 Aunt Augusta in Egypt 
 
 Twenty- Four Years of Cricket 
 
 The Czar's Spy 
 
 Who Giveth this Woman 
 
 The Hidden Road 
 
 Life 
 
 Cumner's Son 
 
 The Haven 
 
 The Order of Release 
 
 Sporting Stories 
 
 Jack London. 
 
 Jack London. 
 
 Jack London. 
 
 Jack London. 
 
 Jack London. 
 
 Jack London. 
 
 Jack London. 
 
 Jack London. 
 
 Jack London. 
 
 Jack London. 
 
 Jack London. 
 
 Jack London. 
 
 Habold Spendeb. 
 
 Maubice Leblanc. 
 
 E. F. Benson. 
 ("The Yorkshire Classic") 
 
 J. E. Buckbose. 
 
 J. 
 
 J. 
 
 J. 
 
 E. 
 E. 
 E. 
 A. 
 
 Buckbose. 
 
 Buckbose. 
 
 Buckbose. 
 
 A. Lilley. 
 
 William Le Queux. 
 
 "William Le Queux. 
 
 Joan Sutherland. 
 
 W. B. Trites. 
 
 Sir Gilbeet Parkeb. 
 
 Eden Phillpotts. 
 
 H. de Vebe Stacpoole. 
 
 Thobmanby. 
 
 Daily Express. — "The best collection of anecdotes of this generation. 
 
 When the Red Gods Call 
 
 Guinea Gold 
 
 The Man from Nowhere 
 
 The Rajah's People 
 
 The Red Mirage 
 
 The Valiants of Virginia 
 
 In Search of Each Other 
 
 Beatbice Gbimshaw. 
 
 Beatbice Gbimshaw. 
 
 Victob Bbidges. 
 
 I. A. R. Wylie. 
 
 I. A. R. Wylie. 
 
 Hallie Ebminie Hives. 
 
 Sophie Cole.
 
 MILLS & BOON'S 
 
 SIXPENNY NOVELS 
 
 Picture Covers. Demy Svo. 
 
 MILLS & BOON are issuing a new series of Copyright Novels 
 by the foremost Novelists of the day. They are printed 
 from large type on good paper. The first volumes are : 
 
 Calico Jack. By HoeaceW.C.Newte, Author of "Sparrows." 
 Globe. — " Calico Jack is no mere creature of invention, but the real thing." 
 
 The Sins of the Children. By Horace W. C. Newte. 
 
 Globe. — "A strong convincing picture of life." 
 
 Lena Swallow. By Horace W. C. Newte. 
 Living Pictures. By Horace W. C. Newte. 
 
 Glasgow Herald. — " None of them is less than brilliant." 
 
 The Lonely Lovers. By Horace w. C. Newte. 
 
 Daily Chronicle. — " A very vivid rendering of tense human passion and 
 emotion." 
 
 The Summer Book. By Max Pemberton. 
 
 The Adventures of Captain Jack. By Max Pember- 
 ton, Author of " The Summer Book." 
 Punch. — " What he has to tell is so deftly told that I spent an excellent 
 afternoon a-reading his volume (Mills &, Boon)." 
 
 A Golden Straw. By J. E. Buckrose, Author of " Down 
 Our Street." 
 Daily Graphic. — " A story of invincible freshness and charm." 
 
 The Pilgrimage of a Fool. By J. E. Buckrose. 
 
 Globe. — " Far and away above the ordinary novel." 
 
 Fame. By B. M. Croker, Author of " Angel." 
 Scotsman. — " A clever workmanlike novel, always bright and entertaining. 
 
 The Quaker Girl. The Novel of the Play. By Harold 
 
 Simpson. 
 
 The Education of Jacqueline. By Claire de Pratz, 
 
 Author of " Elisabeth Davenay." 
 Observer. — "Jacqueline is a darling." 
 
 The Silence Broken. By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds, Author 
 
 of "Nigel Ferrard." 
 freeinan's Journal. — " A most suitable book for the summer holidays, filled 
 from cover to cover with love and romance."
 
 MILLS & BOON'S 
 
 MY YEAR SERIES 
 
 My Spanish Year. By Mrs. BERNARD WHISHAW. 
 With 20 Illustrations from Photographs. Demy 8vo. 
 ln.v. Qd. net. 
 Westminster Gazette. — " A vivacious and charming record.'' 
 
 Timet. — "Has real value as an interpretation of Spain to English 
 people." 
 
 /*<<.'// .V. im. — " An admirable volume in an admirable series." 
 
 My Japanese Year. By T. H. SANDERS. Illus- 
 trated. Demy 8vo. Id*. 6d. net. 
 Pro/cxo, Kimura Yamaguchi, Higher Commercial School, Japan. — " I 
 have read this book through in manuscript, and observe that the author 
 does not pretend to be profound and authoritative or comprehensive on the 
 subjects he deals with, but with rare humour and intimacy he gives vivid 
 descriptions of the seasons and climate, the people and society, customs and 
 maimcis. institutions and culture, and so forth, and in a very informal 
 manner the author introduces bis personal experiences and witty obser- 
 vations. The author has lived in the country long enough to understand 
 fairly well the real life of the people, and yet without losing the faculty 
 of being impressed with things new and strange and fresh enthusiasm to 
 observe and learn all things which might come within his reach." 
 
 My Italian Year. By RICHARD BAGOT. With 25 
 
 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. Second Edition. 10s. <6d. net. 
 
 The Observer. — " 'My Italian Year' will tell the reader more about the 
 
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 Also Popular Edition. With 16 Illustrations. 2s.6d.net. 
 
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 ordinary Russian." 
 
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 and interesting, and at the same time vivid, pictures of social, domestic, 
 political, and ecclesiastical life of Russia." 
 
 ranch. — " It is the best work of its kind I have seen for years.' 
 
 9
 
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 My Cosmopolitan Year. By the Author of "Mas- 
 tering Flame " and " Ashes of Incense." With 24 Illus- 
 trations. Demy 8vo. 10s. Gd. net. 
 
 Times. — "Here we have the fresh and breezy comments of one who has 
 ' seen the cities and known the minds of many men.' " 
 
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 My Parisian Year. By MAUDE annesley. With 
 16 Illustrations from Photographs and 1 in Colour. 
 Demy 8vo. Second Edition. 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette. — "The 'joie de vivre' radiates from its pages . . . 
 never dull or commonplace." 
 
 Observer. — " Lots of wrinkles ... a sprightly book." 
 
 Evening Standard. — "What Max O'Rell did for our countrymen Maude 
 Annesley does for his." 
 
 Scotsman. — " Convincing as well as highly entertaining." 
 
 My German Year. By I. a. r. wylie, Author of 
 
 "The Rajah's People." With 2 Illustrations in Colour 
 and 18 from Photographs. Demy Svo. Second Edition. 
 10s. Gd. net. 
 
 Evening Standard. — " Should be read by every household. We have 
 seldom read a more interesting book." 
 
 Westminster Gazette. — " A wise, well-informed, and very readable book, 
 with some delightful fresh information and shrewd criticisms." 
 
 My Irish Year. By padraic colum. with 12 Fuii- 
 
 page Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 Bystander. — " Intensely interesting." 
 
 Athenceum. — " Full of interest and charm." 
 
 Freeman's Journal. — "An epitome of Irish life, compounded of tears 
 and laughter, despair and exaltation, with a strong leaven of hope running 
 through it, to be re-road and digested by all who desire to know the real 
 Ireland." 
 
 Sunday Times.— "A pure literary joy." 
 
 10
 
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 "So auspiciously inaugurated with Miss Wylie' s and Mrs. 
 Gostling's volumes."— LIVERPOOL COURIER. 
 
 " They teem with interesting information about people and 
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 Rambles Around French Chateaux. By 
 
 FRANCES M. GOSTLING, Author of " The Bretons at 
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 Manchester' Courier. — " Amusing, interesting, delightful." 
 Birmingham Daily Post. — " Very instructive, very amusing." 
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 iibies in the Black Forest. By I. A. R. wylie, 
 
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 Rambles with an American in Great Britain. 
 
 CHRISTIAN TEARLE. With 21 Illustrations. 
 
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 L.ce-iyool Courier.— "An interesting and ingenious account of a literary 
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 Daily £xpress. — "Good and wholesome reading." 
 
 11
 
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 Illustrations in Colour by JACK B. YEATS and 25 from 
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 Pall Mall Gazette.—" Mr. Lyntl's delightful book, which he presents with 
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 Guardian. — " The work of a real student of Dante." 
 
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 Rambles in Holland. By E. and M. 8. GREW. 
 
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 Aberdeen Free Prees. — " A delightful book about a delightful country. 
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 Daily Chronicle.—" It is altogether a joysome time, with sanshine and 
 merry episode to ensure success." 
 
 18
 
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 What I Know. Reminiscences of Five Years' Personal 
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 IS
 
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 14
 
 ROMANTIC HISTORY 
 
 The Hero of Brittany : Armand de Chateau 
 
 briand. Correspondent of the Princes between I'rarn 
 
 and England, 1768—1809. By E. IIERPIN. Translated 
 
 by Mus. COLQUBOUN GRANT. With 8 Illustrations. 
 
 Demy 8vo. 10s. Gd. net. 
 
 Armand de Chateaubriand was a cousin of the famous French author 
 r.e 6 de Chateaubriand. The book presents a very faithful nnd pathetic 
 picture of Brittany during and after the great Revolution. Armand was a 
 tine sportsman, and served with Condffa army; but he spent his days 
 ng the Channel, often in great peril, for the purpose of embarking the 
 escaping emigranta, and bringing back such men as were assisting the 
 return of the Bourbon princes. 
 
 The Man Who Saved Austria : The Life and 
 
 Times of Baron Jellacic. By M. HARTLEY, Author of 
 
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 8vo. 10s. Gd. net. 
 
 Bookman.— " A capital account of the life and times of Jellacic. Ex- 
 oeedingly readable." 
 
 A Mystic on the Prussian Throne : Frederick- 
 
 WUliam II. By GILBERT STANHOPE. With 12 UIub- 
 t rations. Demy 8vo. 10s. Gd. net. 
 
 Homing Post.—" We congratulate Mr. Stanhope on a very genuine piece 
 of work." 
 
 The Life and Times of Arabella Stuart. By 
 
 M. LEFUSE. With 12 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 1 0s. Gd. 
 
 net. 
 
 Qlobt. — "An ex traordinarily interesting book." 
 
 Pall Mail Gazette.— "A vivid picture of a remarkable and unhappy 
 woman aud of the times in which she lived, loved, and suffered." 
 
 A Queen's Knight : The Life of Count Axel 
 
 de Fcrsen. By MILDRED CABNEGY, Author of "Kings 
 and Queens of France." With 12 Illustrations. Demy 
 8vo. 7s. Gd. net. 
 Liverpool Courier.—" Far greater than that of the ordinary novel U the 
 interest in the story of his life as told in this book." 
 
 U
 
 Mills & Boon's Catalogue 
 Roman Memories, in the Landscape seen 
 
 from Capri. Narrated by THOMAS SPENCER JEROME. 
 Illustrated by MORGAN HEISKELL. Demy 8vo. Is. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 To make the great historical suggestiveness which the country around 
 and near the Bay of Naples possesses for the cultivated observer assume a 
 more distinct form in the consciousness of visitors to these shores, is the 
 purpose of this book. It begins with the old myths and continues down 
 through the surprisingly large number of Roman events associated with 
 this district to the end of classical times (476 a. d.), keeping the local episodes 
 in their due relation to the general current of ancient history by giving 
 an outline thereof, which makes it of value as a general sketch of Roman 
 affairs. 
 
 Margherita of Savoy. By signora zampini 
 
 SALAZAR. With a Preface by RICHARD BAGOT. 
 Illustrated. Demy 8vo. 10s. Gd. net. 
 
 In the present volume the part played by Margherita di Savoia in 
 encouraging every legitimate and practical effort to enlarge the sphere 
 of feminine action in her country, and to employ feminine influence as an 
 intellectual and civilising influence instead of confining it entirely within 
 the walls of palaces and cottages, is described by Signora Zampini Salazar 
 both accurately and faithfully. 
 
 In Cheyne Walk and Thereabout. By REGINALD 
 
 BLUNT, Author of " Paradise Row." With 22 Illustra- 
 tions. Demy 8vo. 10s. Gd. net. 
 
 To say that Cheyne Walk is the most interesting, historic, and delightful 
 6treet in all England might strike a stranger to Chelsea as rather an 
 extravagant claim, yet these pages go far to support it. 
 
 The English Court in Exile : James II. at 
 
 St. Germain. By MARION and EDWIN SHARPE 
 GREW. With 16 Illustrations. 15s. net. 
 
 Spectator. — " Should certainly be read by all students of the revolution ; 
 an exceedingly interesting and readable book." 
 
 Atlienaum.— "Not a single uninteresting page. We had no idea so good 
 a book could be written on such a story." 
 
 Truth. — " Excellent . . . picturesque and impartial." 
 
 The Court of William III. By edwin and 
 
 MARION SHARPE GREW. With 16 Illustrations. 
 Demy 8vo. 15*. net. 
 
 Morning Post. — " Done with fairness and thoroughness. . , . The book 
 has many conspicuous merits." • 
 
 U
 
 Mills & Boon's Catalogue 
 
 The Romance of the Oxford Colleges. By 
 FRANCI8 GRIBBLE. Popular Edition, with 12 Illus- 
 trations. 2*. 6d. net. 
 
 Westminster Gazette. — " Does not contain a dull page." 
 
 The Romance of the Cambridge Colleges. 
 
 By FRANCIS GRIBBLE. With 16 Illustrations. Crown 
 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Times. — "Slay bo cordially recommended." 
 
 Truth. — "The history of the colleges in a blight and readable form with 
 an abundance of anecdotes." 
 
 Aberdeen Free Press. — " Not a dull page." 
 
 The Romance of the Men of Devon. By 
 
 FRANCIS GRIBBLE, Author of " The Romance of the 
 Oxford Colleges," etc. Witt a Photogravure Frontispiece 
 and 16 Illustrations. Crown Svo. 6*. 
 
 The Lady.— " A delightful volume." 
 
 Dundee Advertiser. — "Written with a charm and ease which are de- 
 lightful." 
 
 The Story of the British Navy. By E. KEBLE 
 CUATTKRTON. With a Frontispiece in Colour and 50 
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 Naval and Military Record. — "Contains practically everything which the 
 average individual wishes to know." 
 
 Royal Love-Letters : A Batch of Human 
 
 Documents. Collected and Edited bv E. KEBLE 
 CHATTERTON. With 12 Illustrations. Demy Svo. 
 10*. 6d. net. 
 
 The Petticoat Commando : or, Boer Women 
 
 in Secret Service. By JOHANNA BRANDT. With 
 13 Illustrations and a Map. Second Edition. Crown Svo. 
 6s. 
 
 Globe. — " This is a book of unusual and fascinating interest. It is a real 
 life romance of the Boer Secret Service, and of the extraordinaiy courage 
 and heroism of the Boer woman. The whole story is told with great .^kill, 
 and the book, as a whole, is worth keeping as a memorial of ihe yreat 
 South African War." 
 
 DaU -. — "As valuable as it is interesting. None who are in- 
 
 terested in South Africa's future Bhi old fail to read it." 
 
 17
 
 FOR EVERYDAY LIFE 
 
 Nerve in War Time. By edwin l. ash, m.d, 
 
 (Lond.). Crown 8vo. Is. net. 
 
 Nerves and the Nervous. By edwin l. ash, 
 
 M.D. (Lond.). New Edition. Crown 8vo. Cloth, 3s. &d. net. 
 
 Daily Express. — " One of the most refreshing books published for soej» 
 time. Dr. Ash not only probes into exactly what one feels when one to 
 nervous or worried, but the treatment to so free from fads that it does even 
 an unnervy person good." 
 
 Mental Self-Help. By edwin l. ash, m.d. (Lon&x 
 
 Assistant Physician Italian Hospital, London ; Physician 
 for Nervous Diseases to the Kensington and Fulham 
 General Hospital. Author of " Nerves and the Nervous." 
 Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. 
 Aluenceum. — "A lucid little book. His style to clear and convincing." 
 
 About Baby. By francis tweddell, m.d.. 
 
 Alumnus Bellevue Hospital, New York, and W. BARK- 
 LEY, M.B., B.Ch. (Southfields). With an Introduction 
 by the Matron of the Hospital for Sick Children, Grea T . 
 Ormond Street. Crown 8vo. Is. net. 
 
 Etarth and Home. — " A most comprehensive guide to tho correct bringing 
 up of a child from birth." 
 
 * Can't Waiters M ; or How You Waste Your Energies. 
 
 By EDWIN L. ASH, M.D. (Lond.), Crown 8vo. Is. net. 
 
 A Manual for Nurses. By Sydney welham, 
 
 M.R.C.S. (late Resident Medical Officer, Charing Cross 
 Hospital). With Diagrams. Crown 8vo. 2s. <od. net. 
 Paper cover, Is. net. 
 
 British Medical Journal. — "A useful reference work for nurses both 
 •arly and late in their career." 
 
 Child Nurture. By HONNOR MORTEN, Author of 
 " The Nursery Nurse's Companion," " The Nurse's Dic- 
 tionary." With a Frontispiece in Photogravure. Crown 
 8vo. '6s. 6d. net. 
 Standard. — " Admirably practical — full of useful knowledge." 
 
 Household Accounts. By RUPERT deakin, m.a... 
 
 and P. J. HUMPHREYS, B.Sc. Fourth Edition 
 Crown 8vo. $d. net. 
 This little book contains information which to of real value to every on* 
 who hag the control or management of a house. 
 
 18
 
 SPORTS AND PASTIMES 
 
 England V. Australia. By P. F. WARNER. Popular 
 Edition. Demy 8vo. 7s. &d. net. 
 Sporting Life. — " The book is one that every cricketer should possess." 
 
 Twenty-four Years of Cricket. By ARTHUR a, 
 
 LILLEY. Popular Edition. 1*. net. 
 
 The Beaufort Hunting Diary. By H. stuart 
 
 iNZIBS. With an Introduction by the DUKE OF 
 
 BEAUFORT, bize 13£ x 8J. Cloth, 7s. 6d. net. Second 
 
 Edition. 
 
 Morning Post. — "The thanks of many a hunting man will have beea 
 earned by Mr. Stuart Menziea." 
 
 Ladies' Field. — " The very sight of this well-arranged diary reminds on t 
 how much one has lost by not keeping an exact diary." 
 
 The Motorist's Pocket Tip Book. Bv GEOFFREY 
 
 OSBORN. With 13 Full-page Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo. 
 
 Leather. 5s. net. 
 
 Scottish Field. — "Contains in the clearest, most condensed, and most 
 practical form just the information one wants." 
 
 The Chauffeur's Companion. By "A FOUR-INCH 
 
 DRIVER." With 4 Plates and 5 Diagrams. Waterproof 
 Cloth. 2s. net. 
 
 The Lady Motorist's Companion. By "A four- 
 
 LNCH DRIVER." With 7 Plates and 4 Diagrams. 2s. &/ 
 net. 
 
 British Mountain Climbs. By GEORGE D. ABRa 
 HAM, Author of "The Complete Mountaineer." With 
 18 Illustrations and 21 Outline Drawings. Pocket size. 
 Leather, 7s. Qd. net. Cloth, 5s. net. 
 Sportsman. — "Eminently a practical manual." 
 
 Swiss Mountain Climbs. By GEORGE D. ABRA- 
 HAM. With 24 Illustrations and 22 Outline Drawings 
 of the principal peaks and their routes. Pocket size. 
 Leather, 7s. Gd. net. Cloth, 5.*. net. 
 
 Country Lift. — "As essential as good climbing boots."
 
 Mills & Boon's Catalogue 
 The Golfer's Pocket Tip Book. By G. D. fox, 
 
 Part-Author of " The Six Handicap Golfer's Companion." 
 Fnlly Illustrated. Pott 8vo. Leather. 5s. net. 
 Harry Vardon says : — " It is a very handy little book." 
 
 The Six Handicap Golfer's Companion. By 
 
 "TWO OF HIS KIND." With Chapters by H. S. COLT 
 and HAROLD H. HILTON. Hlustrated with 15 Photo- 
 graphs of Jack White (ex open champion). 2s. Gd. net. 
 Popular Edition. Paper cover, Is. net. 
 
 Golf Illustrated. — "The author's aim is to teach inferior players how to 
 rsduee their handicaps to at least six. There is a great deal of sound advice 
 hi the book, and its value is greatly increased by two excellent chaptere by 
 Mr. H. H. Hilton and Mr. H. S. Colt." 
 
 First Steps to Golf. By G. S. BROWN. With 94 
 Illustrations by G. P. ABRAHAM, F.R.P.S., and 9 Dia- 
 grams. Crown 8vo. 2s. €>d. net. 
 Daily Graphic. — "A most lucid guide for the benefit of the beginner." 
 
 Letters of a Modern Golfer to his Grandfather. 
 
 Arranged by HENRY LEACH. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Outlook. — "A book in which the human interest is as marked as the 
 practical instruction." 
 
 Club Bridge. By Archibald dunn, Author of 
 
 "Bridge and How to Play it." Crown 8vo. Popular 
 Edition. 3*. net. 
 Svening Standard. — "This is, in fact, 'the book.'" 
 
 Royal Spade Auction Bridge. By ARCHIBALD 
 
 DUNN. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 25. Qd. net. 
 
 rmingham Post. — "An exhaustive discussion of the many debatable 
 points in connection with the systems of play at present in force. Mr. 
 Dunn's reasoning is logical and his suggestions valuable." 
 
 The Rifleman's Companion. By L. R. tippins. 
 
 With 6 Illustrations. 2s. 6d. net. 
 
 The Aviator's Companion. By D. and henry 
 
 FARMAN and Others. With 21 Illustrations. 2s. <od. net. 
 
 20
 
 Travel and Adventure 
 
 The Philippines Past and Present. By dean 
 C. WORCESTER. With 128 Full-page Illustrations. 
 2 Vols. Demy 8vo. 30s. net. 
 
 Morning Post. — "Mr. Worcester's knowledge of the Philippines is on- 
 surpassed." 
 
 The New Russia : From the White Sea to 
 
 the Siberian Steppe. By ALAN LETHBRIDGE. With 
 95 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 16s. net. 
 
 This book derives its title from two sources. In the first place, the 
 region traversed, although unknown in the main to Western Europeans 
 and to a large extent ignored even by native Russians, offers a wondrous 
 promise for the future. This promise has been emphasized many times 
 by the War, and has led to a tardy recognition by the Russian Government. 
 
 In the second place, it deals with Russia in a state of transition, due 
 also indirectly to war legislation. The most potent equation of this new 
 area ls undoubtedly the suppression of the vodka monopoly. While in the 
 main a book of travel, embracing a visit to the famous Solovatz Monastery 
 in the White Sea, an excursion into the upper reaches of the river Kama, 
 and a journey through the Siberian Steppe almost as far as the Chinese 
 frontier, it also contains material for thought. 
 
 Chapters are devoted to the wonderful opportunities awaiting the 
 British capitalist, the British manufacturer and the British trade if they 
 will but wake up to the fact that Northern Russia and Siberia are no 
 longer synonymous with perpetual snow and lonely inhospitable solitudes, 
 but rather with potential Canadas which have already shown their capa- 
 bilities for profitable exploitation. 
 
 The Cruise of the Snark. By JACK LONDON. 
 Fcap. 8vo. ls. net. 
 
 Scotsman. — " Makes a fresh and strong appeal to all those who love high 
 adventure and good literature." 
 
 Daily Graphic. — " We have to thank Mills & Boon for publishing thid 
 remarkable world's cruise." 
 
 Two Years with the Natives in the Western 
 
 Pacific. By DR. FELIX SPEISER. With 40 Illustra- 
 tions. Demy 8vo. 10.*. &d. net. 
 
 Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News. — "A really valuable book of 
 travel." 
 
 Paily Chronicle. — " Supplies valuable material for a knowledge of races 
 lov. down in the scale of culture in his detailed account of their social life, 
 behef, and customs." 
 
 31
 
 Mills & Boon's Catalogue 
 The Wonderful Weald and the Quest of the 
 
 Crock of Gold. By ARTHUR BECKETT, Author 
 
 of " The Spirit of the Downs." With 20 Illustrations in 
 
 Colour and 43 Initials by ERNEST MARILLIER. Demy 
 
 8vo. 10*. 6d. net. Popular Edition. Large Or. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Dally Telegraph. — "A charmingly discursive, gossipy volume." 
 
 Sunday Times. — " He adopts the quest in the Stevensonian manner, and 
 
 creates the right atmosphere for the vivid presentment of the history and 
 
 romance of the Weald. He knows the Weald so well, and can chat about 
 
 it with such unobtrusive communicativeness, such a charm of literary 
 
 allusion, and such whimsical humour, that we journey with him delightedly, 
 
 and come to its end with regret." 
 
 My Slav Friends. By rothay Reynolds, Author 
 
 of My Russian Year. Illustrated. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. 
 net. 
 
 Tramps through Tyrol. By. F. w. stoddard 
 
 ("Dolomite"). With 20 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 
 Second Edition. 7s. <od. net. 
 
 Standard. — " The outcome not of a mere holiday scamper, but of long 
 residence. In his good company we explore the Dolomites, the Brenner 
 Pass, cross the Fanes Alp, and make acquaintance with such delectable 
 places as San Martino, Molveno, and Cortino — to say nothing of Innsbruck 
 and Meran. He tells us a good deal about shooting and fishing and the 
 delights of the swift ski. Altogether ' Tramps through Tyrol ' is an alluring 
 book. ' Try,' we say, therefore, ' Tyrol,' and take Mr. Stoddard's delightful 
 ■ Tramps' with you." 
 
 From Halifax to Vancouver. By b. pdllen- 
 
 BDRRY. With 40 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net. 
 
 Daily Chronicle. — "Well written, well arranged, full and complete." 
 
 Switzerland in Winter. By will and carine 
 
 CADBY. With 40 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. 
 
 This is a lightly written and entertaining description of all that has to 
 do with the life led by Winter visitors to Switzerland. It treats in a 
 comprehensive way of such varied subjects as journeys, sports, indoor life, 
 expenses, and climate, and has two carefully written chapters on the 
 important subject of where to go. 
 
 To those who know Switzerland in Winter this book will be welcome, 
 and to all those who are contemplating their first visit it will be indis- 
 pensable, as it contains the condensed essence of the writers' fourteen 
 years' experience. From the study of its pages the intending traveller 
 may easily decide which is the Winter centre best suited to hia individual 
 taste and pocket. 
 
 Home Life in Hellas : Greece and the Greeks. 
 
 By Z. DUCKETT FERRIMAN. With 19 Illustrations. 
 Demy 8vo. 8s. net. 
 
 22
 
 BOOKS FOR CHILDREN 
 
 The Children's Story of Westminster Abbey. 
 
 By G. E. TROUTBECK, Author of " Westminster Abbey " 
 (Little Guides). With 4 Photogravure Plates and 21 
 Illustrations from Photographs. Crown 8vo. 5«. net. 
 Popular Edition, 1*. net. School Edition, Is. 
 
 Scotsman. — "A volume with many merits as a gift-book for the young 
 is 'The Children's Mtory of Westminster Abbey,' of which the author is 
 G. B. Troutbeck. It is attractively written, and contains many splondid 
 photographs. Its chief object is to point out to British children how they 
 may follow the great outlines of their country's history in Wostminster 
 Abbey, from the days of the far-off legendary King Lucius to those of 
 King Edward VII." 
 
 Stories from Italian History Re-told for 
 
 Children. By G. E. TROUTBECK, Author of "The 
 Children's Story of Westminster Abbey." With 22 Illus- 
 trations from Photographs. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. 
 
 Tatler.— "Those stories are so vivid and so interesting that they should 
 be in every schoolroom." 
 
 Kings and Queens of France. A Concise History 
 of France. By MILDRED CARN EG Y. With a Preface 
 by the BISHOP OF HEREFORD. With a Map and 4 
 Full-page Illustrations. Crown 8vo! 3*. Qd. 
 
 Westminster Gazette.— " Miss Carnegy has arranged her work so well that 
 the chief periods of the romantic history of France stand clearly out, and 
 she has chronicled the most dramatic events in a manner which is bound to 
 KTipthe young imagination. The book serves a good and a double purpose ; 
 it is plesismtly and accurately instructive, and it has its use as an easy 
 reference book to the more obvious events in French history." 
 
 Queery Leary Nonsense. Being a Lear Nonsense 
 Book, witli a long Introduction and Notes bv the EARL 
 OF CROMER, and edited by LADY STRACHIE of Sutton 
 Court. With about 50 Illustrations in colour and line. 
 Crown 4to. 3*. Gd. net. 
 
 Daily Telegraph. — "A book full of fascinating absurdity, and the true 
 spirit of the King of Nonsense." 
 
 The Lear Coloured Bird Book for Children. 
 
 By EDWARD [-EAR. With a Foreword by J. ST. LOE 
 STRACHEY. 2s. Gd. net. 
 
 28
 
 Mills & Boon's Catalogue 
 Francis Chantrey : Donkey Boy and Sculptor. 
 
 By HAROLD ARMITAGE, Author of " Chantrey Land,' 
 " Sorrelsykes," etc. Illustrated by CHARLES ASHMORE. 
 2*. Gd. Also School Edition, Is. 
 A wholly delightful book, giving a sketch of the life and work of Sir 
 Francis Chantrey, the milk boy who modelled the statue of the Duke of 
 Wellington opposite the Royal Exchange, and the Sleeping Children in 
 Lichfield Cathedral. Mr. Armitage writes with spirit, and he is a master 
 of vigorous phrase-making. He gives many romantic details about 
 Chantrey's boyhood, and tales about him and his donkey that are particu- 
 larly attractive to children. Scott, Wordsworth, and most of the famous 
 men of his time, were modelled by Chantrey, and monuments by him are 
 to be seen in London, Liverpool, Dublin, Edinburgh, Glasgow, etc. The 
 clever pen-and-ink illustrations by Mr. Charles Ashmore are exactly in 
 tune with their subjects. 
 
 The Duke of Wellington. By harold armitage. 
 
 Illustrated. Crown 8vo. Is. 
 
 A Little Girl's Cookery Book. By c. F. BENTON 
 
 and MARY F. HODGE. Crown 8vo. 2s. &d. net. Paper, 
 
 Is. net. 
 
 Daily Telegraph.— •" A capital idea. Hitherto the manufacture of toffy 
 
 has represented the limit of nursery art in the direction indicated, but this 
 
 volume contains excellent recipes for dishes which children will find quite 
 
 easy to make, and their elders to eat without misgivings. Every father, 
 
 mother, uncle, and aunt should make a point of presenting their child 
 
 friends with a copy of this useful and practical book." 
 
 A Little Girl's Gardening Book. By SELINA 
 
 RANDOLPH. Crown Svo. Cloth, 2s. Qd. net. Paper, 
 Is. net. 
 Aberdeen Free Press. — " A first-rate book." 
 
 Manchester Courier.—" All children love gardens. This book will make 
 them genuine gardeners." 
 
 Letters to Children about Drawing, Painting, 
 
 and Something More. By JOHN MEADE. Crown *vo. 
 2s. &d. net. 
 A charming book which will fulfil a long-felt want. 
 
 24
 
 ON MATTERS THEATRICAL 
 
 A Century of Great Actors (1750-1850). By 
 
 CECIL FERARD ARMSTRONG, Author of "The 
 Dramatic Author's Companion," etc. With 16 Illustra- 
 tions. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d net. 
 
 Standard.— "An interesting series of pithy biographies— concise and 
 entertaining." 
 
 World. — " An interesting and useful book." 
 
 Bookman.— " Very alert, very scholarly, and entirely readable." 
 
 A Century of Famous Actresses (1750-1850). 
 
 By HAROLD SIMPSON, Author of " Yvette Guilbert," 
 "A Century of Ballads," etc., and MBS. CHARLES 
 BRAUN. With 18 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 10*. 6d. 
 net. 
 Illustrated London News.—" We have seen no book of bygone actors 
 giving a better idea of their acting." 
 
 A Century of Ballads (1810-1910), Their 
 Composers and Singers. By HAROLD SIMP- 
 SON. With 49 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net. 
 Popular Edition. Large Crown 8vo. 6*. 
 Daily Express. — " Deals brightly with a most fascinating subject." 
 
 The Garden of Song. Edited by HAROLD SIMPSON. 
 Fcap. 8vo. 2.i. Hrf. net. 
 Scotsman.— " An excellent anthology of lyrics that have been set to 
 music. They are, for the most part, songs that have enjoyed a wide 
 popularity, and this collection of lyrical gems forrcB a very desirable 
 little volume." 
 
 Shakespeare to Shaw. By CECIL FERARD ARM- 
 STRONG, Author of "The Dramatic Author's Com- 
 panion." Crown 8vo. 6*. 
 A thenceum.— " The dramatists— Shakespeare, CongTeve, Sheridan, Robert- 
 son, Sir A. W. Pinero, and Mr. Shaw— have been selected as landmarks 
 of English drama. The method adopted by the author is the separate 
 examination of every play of his subjects with criticism of the qualities 
 of each." 
 
 26
 
 Mills & Boon's Catalogue 
 An Actor's Hamlet. With full notes by louis 
 
 CALVERT. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. 
 Daily Chronicle.— " Full of illuminating insight." 
 
 The Dramatic Author's Companion. By CECIL 
 
 F. ARMSTRONG. With an Introduction bv ARTHUR 
 ROURCHIER, M.A. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 
 2s. 6d. net, 
 
 Times. — " This is a very useful book, and there seems little omitted which 
 will he of practical service to an aspiring playwright. All about different 
 kinds of plays and their production, contracts, placing MSS. (with an 
 excellent covering letter), facsimile MS., copyrights, etc." 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette. — "The best book of its kind we have seen. Its author 
 has not only a wide knowledge of plays, but a sound judgment both from 
 the artistic and popular standpoint. His advice is always practical." 
 
 The Amateur Actor's Companion. By violet 
 M. METHLEY. With 8 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 
 2s. Gd. net. 
 The aim of this book is to be a more complete and more up-to-date 
 
 handbook upon Amateur Theatricals than has yet appeared. 
 
 The Actor's Companion. By CECIL F. ARM- 
 STRONG. With an Introduction by ARTHUR BOUR- 
 CHIER, M.A. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. 
 
 Whilst having no pretensions to teaching the difficult art of acting, this 
 book will be found to contain many practical and useful hints to the 
 young actor. The author, associated as he has been for many years with 
 one of the larger West End theatres, has had exceptionally good 
 opportunities of studying the inner workings of a theatre, the technical 
 requirements of the actor, and the many considerations besides that of 
 mere talent necessary to ensure success on the stage. Two special chapters, 
 one dealing with Scientific Voice Production and the other with the Art 
 of Gesture, are contributed by well-known experts. 
 
 Peter Pan : The Fairy Story of the Play. 
 
 By G. D. DRENNAN. With a Photogravure of Miss 
 Pauline Chase as Peter Pan. Fcap. 8vo. Leather, 
 2s. Qd. net. Popular Edition, Crown 8vo. Paper, Qd. 
 School Reader Edition, with an Introduction by A. R. 
 PICKLES, M.A. Cloth, 6d. 
 
 Santa-Claus : The Kinemacolour Fairy Play. 
 
 By HAROLD SIMPSON. With 34 Illustrations. Crown 
 4to. Is. net. 
 
 Votes for Women. A Play in Three Acts. By 
 ELIZABETH ROBINS. Crown 8vo. Is. 
 
 26
 
 VOLUMES OF VERSE 
 
 Deportmental Ditties. By harry graham. 
 
 Profusely Illustrated by LEWIS BAUMER. Fcap. 8vo. 
 Third Edition. 3*. Gd. net. 
 
 Daily Graphic. — " Harry Graham certainly has the knack.'' 
 
 Daily Chronicle. — "All clever, generally flippant, invariably amusing."' 
 
 Canned Classics, and Other Verses. By 
 
 HARRY GRAHAM, Author of " Deportmental Ditties," 
 "The Bolster Book," etc., etc. Profusely Hlustrated by 
 LEWIS BAUMER. Crown 4to. 3*. Gd. net. Also 
 Fcap. 8vo. 3s. Gd. net. 
 
 Times. — "As fresh as ever." 
 
 Evening Standard. — " One long delight." 
 
 Founded on Fiction. By LADY SYBIL GRANT. 
 With 50 Illustrations and a Cover Design by GEORGE 
 MORROW. Crown 4to. 3*. Gd. net. 
 
 T. P.'s Weekly.—" A book of chuckles." 
 
 Daily Chronicle. — " The vivacious offspring of a witty mind." 
 
 Times.—" Mr. Morrow's pictures fit the verses like a glove." 
 
 Ships and Sealing Wax. By HANSARD WATT. 
 With 40 Illustrations by L. R. BRIG HTW ELL. Crown 
 4to. 3s. Gd. net. 
 
 Daily Mail. — "Very clever and amusing, the humour enhanced by 
 quaint illustrations." 
 
 Through the Loopholes of Retreat. By HAN- 
 SARD WATT. With a Portrait of Cowper in Photo- 
 gravure. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. Gd. net. 
 
 Daily Chronicle. — " Mr. Hansard Watt has hit upon the happy plan of 
 placing poet and letter-writer side by side, so that the two voices may 
 blend in unison. The volume lias a select passage of prose and verse for 
 every day in the year, and the whole ia a pleasant and surpriseful store- 
 house of good things. Mr. Watt prints for the first time a letter from 
 Cowper to his friend Joseph Hill : it is full of interest, and lends an 
 additional charm to the volume." 
 
 87
 
 FOR THE CONTEMPLATIVE MIND 
 
 Involution. By lord ernest Hamilton. DemySvo. 
 
 7s. (>d. net. 
 
 Daily Graphic. — " Extremely interesting, an honest and lofty endeavour 
 to seek the truth." 
 
 The New Theology. (Sixteenth Thousand.) By the 
 Rev. R. J. CAMPBELL, M.A. Fully revised, and with 
 a New Preface. Crown 8vo. Is. net. 
 
 St. Clare and Her Order : A Story of Seven 
 
 Centuries. By the Author of " The Enclosed Nun." 
 With 20 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. Is. &d. net. 
 
 Catholic Times. — " Fills a gap in our religious literature." 
 
 The Town of Morality : or, the Narrative of One 
 who Lived Here for a Time. Ry C. H. R Second 
 Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Daily Graphic. — " In short C. II. R. has written a new ' Pilgrim's Progress,' 
 a passionate, a profound and stirring satire on the self-satisfied morality of 
 Church and of Chapel." 
 
 The Enclosed Nun. Fcap. 8vo. New Edition. Cloth, 
 2s. Qd. net ; Paper, Is. net. 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette. — " A remarkably beautiful piece of devotional 
 writing." 
 
 Unposted Letters. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Daily Express. — "Full of tender memories. There is something about 
 them peculiarly touching and very human." 
 
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