OCR Text |
Show -.. that seems to lead to a land of~~ .-,_ .~1. ~ . ~~ promtse. 1'S:-=~ · ,-, ~ It must be glorious to be perfect- . 1 · ?=- -""'~;)!l.~~~t::f;,-i ly free! Africa and its people had "' roused in Lady Wyverne a spirit of _..·~.:.:__adventure which often lies dormant in those who are highly capricious, and this spirit of adventure extended its arms to the Spahi, as to a magician who could give it what it longed for. Benchaalal's voice died away, ending in the air, like a thing thrown up towards the stars. Lady Wyverne took up her book again. But all the fascination of Paris had evaporated from its pages, which now seemed arid and hard as the pavements which echoed with high heels. She thought of naked brown feet treading softly in African slippers. Again Benchaalal sang. She knew quite well why he was singing. It was his summons to her "6 to come out to him. And she was not going to obey. She was soon going to shut the persiennes, undress, put out the light, get into bed. She looked at the bed. It was intended to be slept in. And she would not sleep. How utterly impossible it would be to sleep! The chanson des vacances did not sound very gay to her ears. She did not know what it meant, but fancied it a song of the sadness of the desert. As she listened to it she thought of the morrow. Certainly \ they would go away on the morrow. Once more she would be isolated with Crumpet. Her intercourse with the Spahi had opened her eyes thoroughly to the nullity of Crumpet-except -'~ when he was angry. She felt certain "'-that if he were really roused to anger, her husband could be impressive, even - terrible. But otherwise-! There \~was something tragic in possessing a |