XII

Soon after half-past eight that evening, when darkness lay over the Nile and over the small garden of the villa, a tall Nubian servant, dressed in white with a scarlet girdle, spread two prayer rugs on the terrace before the French windows of the drawing-room, and placed upon them a coffee-table and two arm-chairs.  At first he put the chairs a good way apart, and looked at them very gravely.  Then he set them quite close together, and relaxed into a smile.  And before he had finished smiling, over the parquet floor behind him there came the light rustle of a dress.  The Nubian servant turned round and gazed at Mrs. Armine, who had stopped beside a table and was looking about the room; a white-and-yellow room, gaily but rather sparsely furnished, that harmonized well with the fair beauty which moved the black man’s soul.

He thought her very wonderful.  The pallor of her face, the delicate lustre of her hair, quite overcame his temperament, and when she caught sight of him and smiled, and observed the contrast between the snowy white of his turban, his scarlet girdle and babouches, and the black lustre of his skin, with eyes that frankly admired, he compared her secretly to the little moon that lights up the Eastern night.  He went softly to fetch the coffee, while she stepped out on to the terrace.

At first she stood quite still, and stared at the bit of garden which revealed itself in the darkness; at the dry earth, the untrimmed, wild-looking rose-bushes, and the little mimosa-trees, vague almost as pretty shadows.  A thin, dark-brown dog, with pale yellow eyes, slunk in from the night and stood near her, trembling and furtively watching her.  She had not seen it yet, for now she was gazing up at the sky, which was peopled with myriads of stars, those piercingly bright stars which look down from African skies.  The brown dog trembled and blinked, keeping his yellow eyes upon her, looked self-consciously down sideways, then looked at her again.

From the hidden river there came a distant song of boatmen, one of those vehement and yet sad songs of the Nile that the Nubian waterman loves.

“Sh—­sh—­sh!”

Mrs. Armine had caught sight of the dog.  She hissed at him angrily, and made a threatening gesture with her hands, which sent him slinking back to the darkness.

“What is it, Ruby?” called out a strong voice from above.

She started.

“Oh, are you there, Nigel?”

“Yes.  What’s the matter?”

“It was only a dreadful-looking dog.  What are you doing up there?”

“I was looking at the stars.  Aren’t they wonderful to-night?”

There was in his voice a sound of warm yet almost childlike enthusiasm, with which she was becoming very familiar.

“Yes, marvellous.  Oh, there’s the dog again!  Sh—­sh—­sh!”

“I’ll come down and drive it away.”