Three Weeks

by Elinor Glyn

  CHAPTER XI

  The next day was Sunday, and even through the silk blinds they could hearthe rain drip in monotonous fashion. Of what use to wake? Sleep isblissful and calm when the loved one is near.

  Thus it was late when Paul at last opened his eyes. He found himselfalone, and heard his lady's voice singing softly from the sitting-roombeyond, and through the open door he could perceive her stretched on thetiger, already dressed, reclining among the silk pillows, her guitar heldin her hands.

  "Hasten, hasten, lazy one. Thy breakfast awaits thee," she called, andPaul bounded up without further delay.

  This day was to be a day of books, she said, and she read poetry to him,and made him read to her--but she would not permit him to sit too nearher, or caress her--and often she was restless and moved about with theundulating grace of a cat. She would peep from the windows, and frown atthe scene. The lake was hidden by mist, the skies cried, all nature wasweeping and gloomy.

  And at last she flung the books aside, and crept up to Paul, who washuddled on the sofa, feeling rather morose from her decree that he mustnot touch or kiss her.

  "Weeping skies, I hate you!" she said. Then she called Dmitry in a sharpvoice, and when he appeared from the passage where he always awaited herpleasure, she spoke to him in Russian, or some language Paul knew not, afierce gleam in her eyes. Dmitry abased himself almost to the floor, anddeparting quickly, returned with sticks and lit a blazing pine-log fire inthe open grate. Then he threw some powder into it, and with stealthy hastedrew all the orchid-silk curtains, and departed from the room. A strangedivine scent presently rose in the air, and over Paul seemed to steal aspell. The lady crept still nearer, and then with infinite sweetness, allher docility of the first hours of their union returned, she melted in hisarms.

  "Paul--I am so wayward to-day, forgive me," she said in a childish,lisping voice. "See, I will make you forget the rain and damp. Fly with meto Egypt where the sun always shines."

  And Paul, like a sulky, hungry baby, who had been debarred, and nowreceived its expected sweetmeat, clasped her and kissed her for a fewminutes before he would let her speak.

  "See, we are getting near Cairo," she said, her eyes half closed, whileshe settled herself among the cushions, and drew Paul down to her untilhis head rested on her breast, and her arms held him like a mother with achild.

  Her voice was a dream-voice as she whispered on. "Do you not love thoseminarets and towers against the opal sky, and the rose-pink granite hillsbeyond? And look, Paul, at this peep of the Nile--those are thewater-buffaloes--those strange beasts--you see they are pulling thatridiculous water-drawer--just the same as in Pharaoh's time. Ah! I smellthe scent of the East. Look at the straight blue figures, the lines sopleasing and long. The dignity, the peace, the forever in it all.... Nowwe are there. See the brilliant crowd all moving with little haste, andlisten to the strange noise. Look at the faces of the camels, disdainfuland calm, and that of an old devil-man with tangled hair....

  "Come--come from this; I want the desert and the Sphinx!

  "Ah! it is bright day again, and we have all the green world between usand the great vast brown tract of sand. And those are the Pyramidsclear-cut against the turquoise sky, and soon we shall be there, only youmust observe this green around us first, my Paul--the green of no othercountry in all the world--pure emerald--nature's supreme concentratedeffort of green for miles and miles. No, I do not want to live in thatsmall village in a brown mud hut, shared with another wife to that gauntblue linen-clad man; I would kill them all and be free. I want to go on,beloved--on to the desert for you and me alone, with its wonderful passion,and wonderful peace...."

  Her voice became still more dreamy; there was a cadence in it now as ifsome soul within were forcing her to chant it all, with almost the lilt ofblank verse.

  "Oh! the strange drug of the glorious East, flooding your senses withbeauty and life. 'Tis the spell of the Sphinx, and now we are there, closein her presence. Look, the sun has set....

  "Hush! hush! beloved! we are alone, the camels and guides afar off--we arealone, sweetheart, and we go on together, you and I and the moon. See, sheis rising all silver and pure, and blue is the sky, and scented the night.Look, there is the Sphinx! Do you see the strange mystery of her smile andthe glamour of her eyes? She is a goddess, and she knows men's souls, andtheir foolish unavailing passion and pain--never content with the _Is_which they have, always regretting the _Was_ which has passed, andbuilding false hopes on the phantom _May be._ But you and I, my lover, mysweet, have fathomed the riddle which is hid in the smile of our goddess,our Sphinx--we have guessed it, and now are as high gods too. For we knowit means to live in the present, and quaff life in its full. Sweetheart,beloved--joy and life in its full----"....

  Her voice grew faint and far away, like the echo of some exquisite song,and the lids closed over Paul's blue eyes, and he slept.

  The light of all the love in the world seemed to flood the lady's face.She bent over and kissed him, and smoothed his cheek with her velvetcheek, she moved so that his curly lashes might touch her bare neck, andat last she slipped from under him, and laid his head gently down upon thepillows.

  Then a madness of tender caressing seized her. She purred as a tiger mighthave done, while she undulated like a snake. She touched him with herfinger-tips, she kissed his throat, his wrists, the palms of his hands,his eyelids, his hair. Strange, subtle kisses, unlike the kisses of women.And often, between her purrings, she murmured love-words in some strangefierce language of her own, brushing his ears and his eyes with her lipsthe while.

  And through it all Paul slept on, the Eastern perfume in the air stilldrugging his sense.

  It was quite dark when he awoke again, and beside him--seated on thefloor, all propped with pillows, his lady reclined her head against hisshoulder. And as he looked down at her in the firelight's flickeringgleam, he saw that her wonderful eyes were wet with great glitteringtears.

  "My soul, my soul!" he said tenderly, his heart wrung with emotion. "Whatis it, sweetheart--why have you these tears? Oh! what have Idone--darling, my own?"

  "I am weary," she said, and fell to weeping softly, and refused to becomforted.

  Paul's distress was intense--what could have happened? What terrible thinghad he done? What sorrow had fallen upon his beloved while he selfishlyslept? But all she would say was that she was weary, while she clung tohim in a storm of passion, as if some one threatened to take her out ofhis arms. Then she left him abruptly and went off to dress.

  But later, at dinner, it seemed as if a new and more radiant light thanever glowed on her face. She was gay and caressing, telling him merrytales of Paris and its plays. It was as if she meant to efface allsuggestion of sorrow or pain--and gradually the impression wore off inPaul's mind, and ere it came to their sipping the golden wine, all wasbrightness and peace.

  "See," she said, looking from the window just before they retired to rest,"the sky has stopped crying, and there are our stars, sweetheart, come outto wish us good-night. Ah! for us tomorrow once more will be a gloriousday."

  "My Queen," said Paul; "rain or fine, all days are glorious to me, so longas I have you to clasp in my arms. You are my sun, moon and stars--always,for ever."

  She laughed a laugh, the silver echo of satisfaction and joy.

  "Sweet Paul," she lisped mischievously, "so good you have been, so gentlewith my moods. You must have some reward. Listen, beloved while I tell itto you."

  But what she said is written in his heart!