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Updated: May 3, 2025
I persuaded Sir John that window-tables were the least desirable, owing to draughts, and returning to my room, had four minutes to dress or risk further rows. After dinner Miss Hassett-Bean burst into tears because she was alone in the world owing to the marmoset's death from seasickness; and now that she was growing old nobody cared to talk to her.
He hinted that it would be well to make the best of things; but Cleopatra, with her royal memories, is not good at making the best of what she doesn't like. She wants what she wants, especially in her own Egypt, where things ought to know that they once belonged to her. Miss Hassett-Bean is quite as exigeante, in a different way, more Biblical, less pagan.
They are old; I'm young, and I shall enjoy thinking I've done something nice for people I thoroughly dislike, as much as they will enjoy having their own bathroom." "If Mrs. Harlow could hear you calling her old!" gurgled Biddy. "Well, she is old. And she's perfectly horrid, much more horrid even than Miss Hassett-Bean; so I'd rather give my suite to her and her husband than any one else.
It consisted mostly of Arabs determined to take our photographs or sell us scarabs which Miss Hassett-Bean refused on the ground that she disliked things off dead people. But on the fringe lurked a few Europeans, amused to see so large a caravan setting forth; and the men of our party, hitherto proud of their curtained helmets and desert get-up, became self-conscious under a fire of snapshots.
It seemed, or so I was told "for my own good" by Miss Hassett-Bean, that the Candace people thought it "snobby" for me to have indulged in a private dinner-party, and to have hustled them off in a drove to the Sphinx while I went leisurely with my smart friends. They knew all about the feast on the roof, and were of opinion that they ought to have been there.
A woolly black lamb with a particularly engaging facial expression was being hospitably entertained by all our men with the exception of the chef. They formed an admiring ring round it, taking turns in feeding it with bersim, and patting its delightfully innocent head. It was difficult to say which was happier, the charming guest or its kind hosts. "How sweet of them!" said Miss Hassett-Bean.
He did not want Miss Hassett-Bean and Mrs. Harlow to be saying: "Look, my dear, at the tragic, private farewell Antoun Effendi and our American Beauty are having!" Since Philae, there would have been no use in trying to conceal his feelings for Monny from Brigit or me. Therefore we made useful chaperons, and could be regarded as dummies.
Not at all! People's trunks were missing, or in the wrong rooms. It was I who had to sooth alarms, and calm rising storms. It was I who must assure Mrs. Harlow that her room was really preferable to that of Lady Biddell; and Lady Biddell that she, and not Miss Hassett-Bean, had the best in the hotel. Still, I had ten minutes to dress for dinner. Like Mr.
No eye so dull that it could not see how the shadows on land and water were painted at evening with a blue glaze, like the bloom on old scarabs and mummy beads, and broken bits of pottery that art cannot copy now. In her way, even Miss Hassett-Bean felt the charm of the Nile, and its shores of brown and emerald and peacock-purple. "I don't call it scenery," she explained.
I hear that Miss Hassett-Bean cried with cold as she dressed, and put on two of everything; but she is luckier than the younger women. Monny and Mrs. East, though warned that nights would be chill, have come clothed in silk and gossamer, and have brought low-necked nightgowns of nainsook trimmed with lace.
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