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Armine looked at him she remembered the descriptive phrase that set him apart from all the people of Luxor. He was "the praying donkey-boy." Why had Ibrahim engaged him for their expedition to-day? She had never had him in her service before. In a low voice she asked Ibrahim the question. "He is a very good donkey-boy, but he is not for my lord Arminigel." Mrs.
The surprised servants of the villa, who had had no notice of their master's arrival, hastened to throw back the shutters, to open the windows, letting in light and air. And Ibrahim once more began to look authoritative, for it seemed that Hamza's reign was over. From henceforth only Meyer Isaacson gave food and drink and "sick-food" to "my Lord Arminigel."
Once again Isaacson heard of him, and now of his almost legendary wealth. Then came a flood of gossip in pigeon-English. Hamza was presently mentioned, and Isaacson learnt of Hamza's pilgrimage to Mecca with Mahmoud Baroudi, and of his present service with "my Lord Arminigel" upon the Loulia. Isaacson did not say that he knew "my Lord."
Very soon Isaacson knew that Mohammed, "the best donkey-boy of Luxor," had been driven out to make room for Hamza, while "my Lord Arminigel" had been away in the Fayyūm, and that now Hamza had been permitted to take Ibrahim's place as the personal attendant on my lord. "Hamza him wait on my lord, give him his drink, give him his meat, give him his sick-food" i.e., medicine 'give him everythin'.
The soft crack of a duck-gun came to their ears from far off among the tamarisk bushes beside the green-grey waters. "I dessay my Lord Arminigel him goin' after the jackal to-night." The dinner in camp that night was quite a joyous festival. Nigel brought back two duck, Ibrahim made a fine fire of brushwood to warm the eager sportsman, and Ruby was in amazing spirits.
You come to meet the good doctor who him curin' my Lord Arminigel. He bin here very long time." "He's here already?" Ibrahim smiled reassuringly. "Very long time, my gentleman. Him comin' here to live with us till my lord him well." And Ibrahim turned, gathered together his gold-coloured skirts, and mounted the stairs to the upper deck. Isaacson hesitated for a moment, then followed him slowly.
"All this very interestin' for my Lord Arminigel," said Ibrahim, softly. Mrs. Armine said nothing, but she went on staring at Ibrahim. "P'r'aps my gentleman go out to-night. If he go, you take a little walk with Ibrahim." He turned, and pointed behind her, to the distance where the rising sand-hill seemed to touch the stooping sky. "You take a little walk up there." Still she said nothing.
She did not feel that she really cared. "All the men sleepin', except Hamza. Him watchin'." The tents of the men were at some distance. She looked, and saw no movement, no figures except the faint and grotesque silhouettes of the hobbled camels. "I say that I follow my Lord Arminigel." They started into the desert. As they left the camp, Mrs.
When at dawn the wind died down, and at last slumber, like a soft wave, came stealing over her, the last thing she saw with her imagination was Hamza, straight, enigmatic, grave, holding an upright wand in his hand. Or was it the ginnee, who had come in out of the night to meet "my lord Arminigel"? What was that? Was it the ginnee moving, speaking?
Before he could say a word she had crossed a little terrace, disappeared through a French window, and vanished into the villa. Ibrahim smiled, hung his head, and then murmured in a deep contralto voice: "The wife of my Lord Arminigel, she does not want Ibrahim any more, she does not want the Nile, she wants to be all alone."
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