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Updated: June 22, 2025
Thus basely did I free myself to enjoy the society of Biddy and Osiris, with lovely carved glimpses of Isis thrown in, to say nothing of Seti I and Rameses II. Trying to push into the background of my mind the nauseating thought of my vow and its fulfillment, I helped Brigit and Monny take snapshots of King Seti showing his son Rameses how to lasso, and also to catch by its tail the most fascinating of bulls.
I knew that, after this, Monny would give me a good deal of her society, even though she might not have forgiven me for bolting to haul down the Cook ensign, in the midst of her confidences. But in truth I have not guessed the secret! My wits go wheeling round it, like screaming swallows who see a crumb. I get a glimpse of the crumb, and lose it again.
I didn't say, 'I will. I shall not be able to tell you until to-night." The patronizing tone in which Anthony spoke this sentence was worth to me everything I had gone through in the last half hour. "But I want to settle things this morning or not at all," said Monny, reverting to type: that of the spoiled child. "I am sorry," replied the man of the green turban.
For the girl had invited Biddy to Egypt "because she attracted adventures," and because Monny badly needed a few, her life having been, up to the date of starting, a "kind of fruit and flower piece in a neat frame." Now, perhaps Monny wouldn't laugh; but it was not the time to speak of new dangers.
They kill and pound it up to make it good, and soon they eat in honour of the genelmen and ladies who have been so kind this naice trip." "I should like to kill them!" gasped Monny, preparing to cry, and flinging herself into Biddy's arms. "Oh somebody give me a hanky quick!" We all felt mechanically in our pockets; but I, being nearest, was first in the field.
The camels roared with rage and surprise; the camel-boys swore Arab oaths; the fire sputtered, and what became of the half-cooked lamb I shall never know. We rushed for the dining-tent, all soaked in an instant, with the exception of Brigit and Monny, whom "Antoun" protected with a long cloak.
What I expected was a reply in kind, an hieratic acceptance or a demotic refusal; either one would be good practice for Monny. But not a hieroglyph of any description came. I had to go on as if nothing had happened. To be ignored was less tolerable than being refused. Monny's silence began to get upon my nerves; and to make matters worse, there was that desert trip hanging over my head.
"For goodness' sake, what makes them think that?" "I don't know exactly how the story started, but it seems authentic. Have you known them long?" "Only since Naples. But " "Then you can't be certain whether it's true or not?" I paused, swallowing an answer. So this was the explanation of the Monny puzzle! Yet it was but the first word of another enigma. Who was responsible for the wild story?
After a few arguments, we agreed with "Antoun," as we usually ended by doing, and soothed our restlessness by visiting Mr. Bronson to tell him of our disappointment. If it hadn't been for Monny, I think the Consul would have taken the point of view that he was now "out" of the affair, but Monny, sapphire-eyed with generous zeal, is rather irresistible.
He was cowed, then conquered. At last I dared to say: "May I?" He nodded. Instantly I tore the letters into as many pieces as there were collars. Afterward, when we walked off the boat, arm in arm, I dropped them into the water. We got back to the engineer's before the picnickers had finished their belated Turkish coffee. Bailey took the vacant chair between Rachel Guest and Monny Gilder.
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