And the lights of the Loulia were like a line of fiery eyes staring across the Nile.

XLIII

When Mrs. Armine got into the night train at Luxor, heard the whistle of the engine, felt the first slow movement of the carriage, then the gradually increasing velocity, saw the houses of the village disappearing, and presently only the long plains and the ranges of mountains to right and left, hard and clear in the evening light, she had a moment of almost savage exultation, as of one who had been in great danger suddenly and unexpectedly escaping into freedom.

At last she was alone, unwatched by the eyes of affection and of perhaps menacing suspicion and even hatred.  How had she endured so long?  She wondered, and could scarcely tell where she had found her courage.  But though now she felt exultation, she felt also the tremendous strain she had undergone.  She knew that her nerves were shattered.  Only in happiness could she recover.  She must have the life she wanted, and she must have it now.  Otherwise she was “done for.”  Was she going to have it?

And soon the exultation passed, and again fear beset her.  Even if she found Baroudi in Cairo, what reception would she have at his hands?

With anxious fingers she took out of her dressing-case the gilded box he had given her, and opened the lid.  But, having opened it, she dared not look at herself in the glass, and she shut it sharply, replaced it in the case, and leaned back in her corner.

“I won’t bother,” she said to herself; “I won’t worry.  To-night I must sleep.  I must look my best to-morrow.  Everything now may depend on how I look when I get to Cairo.”

And she shut her eyes with the determination to be calm, to be tranquil.  And soon she went to bed, determined to sleep.

But of course she did not sleep.  Quietly, then angrily, she strove to lay hold on sleep.  But it would not come to her wooing.  The long hours of darkness wore gradually away; the first pale light of the new day crept in to the rocking carriage; the weary woman who had been tossing and turning from side to side, in a sort of madness of restrained and attenuated movement, sat up against her crushed pillow, and knew that there was probably some new line on her face, an accentuation of the sharpness of the cheek-bones, a more piteous droop at the corners of the mouth.

As she sat there, with her knees drawn up and her hands hanging, she felt that she was uglier than she had been only the day before.

When the train reached Cairo, she pulled down her veil, got out, and drove to Shepheard’s.  She knew an address that would find Baroudi in Cairo, if he were there, and directly she was in her room she sat down and wrote a note to him.

     “Shepheard’s Hotel, Tuesday morning.

     “I have come to Cairo for a day’s shopping.  Can I see you?  If so,
     please tell me where and at what hour.