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It was morning, and Dion was about to embark in the Albanian's boat for a row on the Bosporus when he saw Mrs. Clarke's thin figure approaching him under a white umbrella lined with delicate green. She was wearing smoked spectacles, which made her white face look strange and almost forbidding in the strong sunlight. "I can't come," he said.
But Felix happened to be watching Bosko, and noted the black rage that convulsed his face when the Arab dropped dead at his feet. The Albanian's feelings mastered him only for an instant. He began at once to harangue the crowd again, evidently offering to lead his own horse out of harm's way, and loudly bidding his frightened comrade to do likewise.
The intensity of her sudden outburst startled him as the strength of the current in the Bosporus had startled him when he plunged into the sea from the Albanian's boat. "You have been brought up in another school," she continued slowly, and with a sort of icy bitterness. "I forgive you."
First he loaded him with the kettle-drums, then he took off all the Albanian's finery, hung it on the end of his lance, and so rode toward the camp. Valentine and his comrades met him when he was already half-way there. Simplex made the most of his victory.
When she was gone he took the Albanian's boat and went out on the Bosporus for a row. The man and he were both at the oars, and pulled out from the bay. When they had gone some distance they had been rowing for perhaps ten minutes the man asked: "Ou allons-nous, Signore?" "Vers Constantinople," replied Dion. "Bene!" replied the man. That night Mrs.
Camera Oscura. Mourzuk Couriers. The Kidnapped Circassian Officer. Old Yousef, the Renegade. Dine with the Greek Doctor on a Carnival Day. An Albanian's Revenge. Greece and its Diplomatists. Officials of Mourzuk. An Arab's estimate of God and Mahomet. What is Truth? Improvements of the Commandant of the Troops. How English Politics taste in The Desert. Visit to the Grave of Mr. Ritchie. 22nd.
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